My lips part as I take his meaning. No wonder he looks so dangerous. I woke the sleeping Dom.
He closes in, leaning down over me, trapping me between those sexy forearms. “And now you have to deal with me.
I scramble backwards, but there’s only so far I can go. “I’m sorry, but how was I to know that would happen? I thought you were on your way back already, that you’d like it.” There’s a little wiggle in my voice, my insecurities rearing back to life. What had I been thinking in making that video? It seemed like a good idea at the time is a really lame response when confront with an angry bear of a man who may or may not eat me alive.
“Like is too mild a word.” His blazing blue eyes trace over me. “Let me see it.”
“Connor.” I try but he claps a hand over my mouth.
“There are two acceptable answers. Use your safe-word, or say Yes, Sir and comply.” The ice in his blue eyes tells me he’s dead serious.
My whole body is shaking, whether from fear or anticipation I don’t know. I’d done this, tripped his trigger and now I need to deal with the fallout.
It’s tight quarters between his arms, but he isn’t giving an inch. I navigate myself onto my belly, then tuck my knees up, raising my ass higher in the air. He doesn’t wait for me to part my flesh, just does it himself without a word.
Humiliation burns through me as he circles the object stretching my opening with a fingertip. The snap of a plastic lid makes me jump. “What are you doing?”
His open palm smacks against my backside. I yelp, startled and he swats me again. He isn’t taking it easy on me and every instinct I have is screaming at me to wiggle away and protect myself from his wrath.
But I know this Connor, understand how his mind works. I crossed a line and he has to punish me for it to set things right. In some ways, he’s so much simpler to deal with than the Connor who left me.
Three more strikes and then he grips my hair in a fist, turning my head to the side. There’s no pain in his touch, only mastery, complete control. His face lowers until his breath caresses my skin.
“Not without permission,” he growls.
I’m not clear if he’s talking about the liberties I’ve taken with my body, the video or my asking a question. The confusion must be scrawled across my face.
“Do not speak without permission. I’ve given you too much leniency in the past, been too easy on you. I gave you enough rope to hang yourself by. That ends tonight. Do not speak without permission or unless I ask you a question or you get five more. Are we clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He nods and straightens. “You need more lube here, so you’re not too sore for what I have planned. Hold still.”
I desperately want to ask what he intends but then he’s removing the plug, squirting more cold lube inside me using his finger around the stretched aperture. I jump, surprised and he gives me another open palmed swat, commanding me to stay still.
I expect him to unzip his pants, thinking he’ll fuck me now, probably in the orifice he’s so carefully preparing. Instead, he reinserts the plug then wraps the comforter around me, securely trapping me inside and lifts me, blanket and all over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry.
Grinding my molars together, I barely refrain from asking him if he intends to carry me outside like this. Not only is it freezing, but his security teams are on patrol and I’m scared to death one of them will see. There’s humiliation and then there’s humiliation.
But instead of heading to the front door, Connor strides purposefully to the root cellar. What the heck can he be planning down here? I squirm, trying to look over his shoulder but he swats my blanket covered backside, a wordless command to stay still.
When Grandma Rose was alive this area was used for canning, pickling and other domestic chores. The trapdoor above leads to the small vegetable garden Pops used to tend, but had overgrown since the decline of his health.
I notice a bench along the far wall had been moved and another door, one I never noticed before stands open. It’s not really a door, more an opening in the cellar where cement blocks have been removed.
“What the hell?” I breathe.
Connor doesn’t discipline me for my statement, merely heads into the passageway.
I expect it to be dark, but tract lighting has been installed beneath the floor, which isn’t dirt at all, but some kind of metal grating. His steps echo in the space and I have no way of telling how long the tunnel extends.
“Are you afraid?” Connor murmurs, not even winded from carrying my trussed up self for such a distance.
“No.” I’m uncomfortable and nervous, but I trust him completely. Hopefully that won’t turn out to be a mistake.
“If you had any idea what’s going through my head right now, you would be.” His tone is flat, lacking inflection. I can tell his control is on a fraying leash, that I’ve pushed him to the edge of his comfort zone and he’s hell bent on returning the favor.
The tunnel seems to go on forever. Maybe it’s the sameness of the metal grating, the cement pillars providing support, but I have no sense of distance or direction. Blood has long since rushed to my head and my stomach is sore from being bounced against his shoulder. But it’s nothing compared to the apprehension of what waits for me on the other end. I’m hoping the long trek with my heavy self will diminish a bit of Connor’s endless stamina.
Finally we round a curve up ahead and step through another open door. I blink at the harsh lights. Even a 60 watt bulb seems bright after the dim tunnel.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from exclaiming. We are in Connor’s office, the one with the awesome fireplace and bearskin rug. I want to ask if he’s been using the tunnel since the first night he showed up in my bedroom. Explained why the other Connor denied having a key to my place. I have a feeling the other Connor doesn’t know about the tunnel any more than I did.
He sets me down in the wingback chair and turns toward his desk. Picking up a piece of paper he holds it before my eyes. It’s the safe, sane and consensual contract, the one the other Connor refused to let me sign.
Slowly I raise my gaze until it locks with his.
“You have a choice, Baily. One last chance to go back. If you don’t sign this, you can right back through that tunnel and we call it quits. For good.”
He’s serious. I search his face, a million questions churning through my brain. What will the other Connor say when he finds out I signed this contract against his express wishes? Can Connor the Dom really promise that we’d be through when he’s only at the helm part time? And what exactly does he have planned that is so far beyond what we’ve already done that he needs my signature to verify consent?
His eyes narrow. “I see it all going through your mind. I left him a note before, I can do it again. I started this and I’ll end it if I have to. Things have gone too far already.”
A buzzing fills me ears. Is he saying that he doesn’t want to marry me despite his doppelganger’s proposal? Funny with all my lists and questions I never thought to ask that one. “Is that what you want?” I whisper. “To end it? End us?”
His harsh features soften as he crouches down before me until we are at eye level. “You know better than that. It’s your insecurity talking, the same reasons you can’t answer him, can’t make up your mind. You don’t trust yourself. I can help you with that, but only if you trust me completely. I want to claim what’s mine, forever.”
His meaning sank in and I looked to the paper again, seeing it for what it really was. Another proposal, another promise of forever. By signing that piece of paper I was putting myself into his hands completely, trust that whatever he wanted to do to me, he was doing for me. For us.
Shrugging off the blanket, I reach for it, my hands shaking. My fear of losing him completely is far greater than any punishment he can dole out. “I need a pen.”
He doesn’t ask me if I’m sure, gives me enough credit that I know what I’m doing. His confid
ence in me outdistances my own. Gripping me under the arm, he leads me, naked to the desk. Handing me the pen, he waits.
I stare at the words, on the page. Safe, sane and consensual. “Permission to speak?”
“Granted.”
I turn to him. “Why does the other you not want me to do this? What is he afraid of?”
“That I’ll fulfill the fantasies we both harbor, the ones he tries to bury, to ignore and pretends he doesn’t have. He’s afraid I’ll hurt you, that I’ll go too far.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“I could, but I’m not going to, not until you sign.”
Sucking in a fortifying breath, I sign my name on the dotted line. A tremor takes me, hoping I didn’t just make a huge mistake.
Connor doesn’t hesitate to snatch the paper up. He moves to the side of the fireplace and press on what looked to be a stone, but slides back to reveal a safe. Punching in the combination quickly I hear a hiss and the door pops open. Stowing the consent form in the safe he relocks it and turns to face me.
“Come here.”
Chilled to the bone, I gladly move closer towards the fire, hoping the radiant warmth will ease me.
Wrapping a finger beneath my chin, Connor tips my head back. “You’re mine, now Baily. No matter what he does, how he tries to fuck it up, I will always come for you. Do you understand?”
My heart is thudding so hard against my ribcage I’m sure it’ll break free any second, just to be closer to him. “Yes.”
He raises an eyebrow and I hastily tag on, “Sir.”
A ghost of a smile crosses his face but departs quickly. “Let’s go.”
Casting a longing look at the bearskin rug I follow him out into the hall and down the back stairs into the basement. My nipples are so hard they could cut glass, partly from the cold air, but mostly from anticipation of what’s to come. I wish he’d rebundled me in the blanket before taking me wherever he’s going.
This portion of the basement is on the opposite side from the wine cellar and Connor’s workout room. I’m surprised when a blast of warmth hits me. He must have finished this room recently.
When he flicks the overhead lights on, I gasp, stunned by the display. He’s been busy creating this little dungeon. I don’t know what else to call it. There’s an X shape on the wall with metal cuffs dangling from it. Some sort of swing suspended in the middle of the room. A bench padded in black leather with a stand of paddles in various sizes lined up conveniently next to it. Chains coming out of the floor. Shackles hanging by the door. Coiled whips nestled beside a chest filled with Connor alone knows what.
It’s a room meant to inflict pain. To torture.
And I’d just given him permission to do it.
25
“Tell me what you did wrong.” Connor leads me to the bench.
My mind is blank, my pulse racing as I stare down at the smooth leather covering. It’s about waist high on me. My mouth is dry and my tongue darts out as I imagine all kinds of crazy scenarios. I look back to Connor and blink. What’s the question again?
“You didn’t wait for me to play,” he prompts. “You made that video hoping to get my attention. Well you have it now, Baily. My complete and undivided focus.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The sincerity is genuine. My eyes are fixed on the rows and rows of paddles. Why so many? Surly one could do the same job as the next.
“Baily, look at me.”
I can’t tear my eyes away from the gleam of varnished wood. That will hurt like hell on my already sore backside.
Gripping my chin, he forces me to look at him. “Remember you trust me.”
I nod, but my gaze wanders back to the paddles. I just want to get this over with.
Connor sighs. “Lie down on your back.”
Surly he isn’t going to hit my front half with one of those things?
“Stop thinking and do as I say,” he barks.
Startled, I jump to comply. The leather is smooth against my back. The bench is too narrow for me to place my arms comfortably at my sides. After a moment’s struggle I wrap them around my torso.
Connor shakes his head. “Let your hands dangle over the sides and scoot down a bit.”
My ass is practically hanging off the edge but I do as he commands. Cool metal caresses my fingertips on either side of the bench.
Crouching down, Connor straightens my left arm and snaps the cuff into place, chaining me to the bench. Reflexively I pull, trying to free myself but the metal bites into my wrist. I can’t seem to catch my breath, my lungs aren’t working right.
He studies my face and when I close my eyes he feathers a kiss over my parted lips. A small puff of air escapes, the only sign of my surprise at his gentle caress.
“Remember that you trust me,” he murmurs before chaining the other arm. His hand rest gently on my forehead, as though checking me for a fever.
I do. Trusting him may be my downfall but I’m not going to stop now. His surety instills me with confidence. I focus on taking one breath at a time and force my eyelids up.
“Good girl.” His praise warms my heart, dispels some of the tension. At least until he moves toward the mystery chest. I struggle to sit up but am held firmly in place by the bench. The thing in his hand looks like some kind of workout gismo, two elastic style straps, almost like bungee cords attached to a ball in the middle.
He approaches me and holds it out for my examination. “This is a ball gag. Open your mouth.”
Panic swells like a wave seconds before it breaks. If he gags me, I can’t use my safe-word. Why would he want that, unless it’s to keep me from screaming? “Permission to speak,” my voice is high, reedy.
Connor shakes his head slowly. “Denied. I’ve been too lenient with you already. Take your punishment as it comes. Open your mouth.”
My jaw is clamped down tight, my teeth locked together. I’m half an inch away from a total freak out. This is way too much, too far beyond my wildest imaginings. My eyes burn because I’m fighting tears. Even with my lids squeezed shut one escapes.
Gentle fingers stroke my jaw, massaging me. My lips part slightly and his descend over mine in a sweet caress. He lingers, licking at my lips. Coaxing me open. The hand caressing my face moves down, along my jaw, over my shoulder, leaving a wake of heat until he reaches my breasts. His calloused palms feels amazing on my chilled flesh, his fingers expertly working the tip, turning me on. I gasp for breath and he inserts the gag, though he doesn’t fasten it.
The tang of rubber fills my mouth, sharp, foreign but not totally unpleasant. I struggle for a moment, ready to spit it out but my eyes catch his. Ever watchful, his eyes are trained carefully, checking for how much I can handle. Connor won’t push too far, too fast, no matter how angry I made him. He might not do what I expect, but he won’t do anything to really injure or scare me.
He’s got this, I can trust him.
A slight nod, as though he’s reading my mind. “Lift your head.”
I do and he fastens the gag, keeping it in place.
Moving to the edge of the bench, I hear a scraping sound. I lift my head to see what’s going on. Metal poles extend out of the bottom of the bench, forming a V at the end. Surprise barely registers as he guides my left foot to one of the newly erected poles and tethers it there with a Velcro strap.
His eyes go to mine. “All right?”
My head bobs in affirmation. It’s odd, the more he confines me, the freer I feel. He’s choreographing this scene and I’m just a prop, not responsible for anything but being used however he sees fit.
The other leg gets trussed up like the first. Connor surveys my naked body, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Beautiful,” he whispers, his hands skimming down the backs of my bear legs.
I shiver under his touch, reveling in the way he explores every dip and hollow. Even though his caresses are slow and soft, an undercurrent of need grips me tightly. I forget the awkward position, don’t mind that my pussy an
d ass are complexly vulnerable to whatever he intends. As far as reprimand goes, being restrained for Connor’s exploration is divine.
“I’m a firm believer in making the punishment fit the crime.” He says, still stroking over my skin. “I did enjoy that little video. Twice on the trip back here.”
My eyes go wide as his meaning sinks in. He liked the video, it turned him on, made him come. So then why am I being punished?
His navy irises are almost completely swallowed by his dilated pupils as he surveys his territory. “You overstepped your authority. What goes into your body and when, that’s my call. Nod if you understand.”
My head bobs. I’m not sure I agree with his edict, but I’m in no position to fight it either.
“It’s important Baily, very important you understand. Your pleasure is mine to cultivate, to reap when I see fit. Wasting orgasms out of spite is childish, selfish and undermines my authority. Only with my permission, do you understand?”
My heart is beating erratically. This is a hell of a demand, he wants to be part of every orgasm I have from now until the end of time. Somehow that makes a marriage proposal seem almost trivial in comparison.
And I want it too, I realize with our eyes locked. I want him to make me come every day for the rest of my life, because he pleasures me in such a way that it transcends physical release and makes me feel beautiful, special. Desired. Why go back to just a quick little tingle when an ocean of possibility is mine for the taking?
A lifetime of commitment seemed the perfect answer to a lifetime of need.
He’s watching me, waiting for an answer. I nod slowly, trying to telegraph with my eyes that I get it now, that I understand.
He nods once too, our physical communication holding more weight than words ever could. Teaching into his pocket he withdraws his phone. I scowl, wondering who he could possibly be calling.
“Your expressiveness is so easy to read. I told you already, I want the punishment to fit the crime. A video for a video. A lack of orgasm for the one you stole.” Setting the phone on the paddle rack he says, “Whatever happens, you are not allowed to come.”
Caught Up In You: Edgeplay: The complete serial Page 21