Ultimatum

by Gemma James

  Ian pulled out a prescription tablet and wrote down his number. “Call me if you need anything. Or even if you don’t . . . well, you know how to reach me now.” His fingers brushed mine, lingering a few seconds as he passed me the slip of paper, and that familiar spark that had been dormant for so long sprung to life. My heart thundered in my ears as our eyes met.

  He started to move away. “Ian, wait—” I grabbed his arm. “There is something you can do for me.” I let go of his sleeve. “Can you keep an eye on Eve for me? You know, if you’re gonna be here?”

  “That’s not a problem. I can do that.”

  A lock of hair fell over his brow. I clenched my fists to keep from brushing it back. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you when you get back.” He hesitated a few seconds, and then noiselessly disappeared into the hall.

  3. TRAINED

  I barely remembered the drive to Gage’s place in Portland Heights. My GPS directed me there, but if I needed to repeat the trip without assistance I’d more than likely get lost. A wall of trees cradled his massive house, affording a sense of seclusion even though the city sparkled below. Willing my skittish feet to stay put, I rapped on the door.

  He yanked it open. “You’re late.” He took one look at my business suit and frowned. “Training you is going to be a challenge, I see.” The corner of his mouth turned up, as if he relished the idea. Gage gestured for me to enter the foyer. He grabbed my purse before I could protest and rifled through it. “Hand over your phone, too.”

  “I need it in case the hospital calls.”

  “I’ve arranged for them to call me in case of an emergency.”

  Wondering how he’d managed that, I reluctantly handed him my cell. He also took my coat, and then locked all of my belongings in a closet by the door. We stepped down into the living room. His home had been designed with a modern edge; vaulted ceilings, light oak flooring, and taupe walls that had surely never been victim to small, sticky fingerprints. His personality was stamped all over the sharp angles, the glass and steel.

  I didn’t get the grand tour. He ushered me to a door, which opened into a black hole of a basement.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll address me as Master when we’re alone.” He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “Is that clear?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I assure you, I am definitely not kidding, and the sooner you accept your place here, the easier it’ll be on you. You’ve just arrived, and already you’ve got two strikes against you, Kayla.”

  “For what?”

  “Disobeying me. I told you to come naked, and you arrived late.” He gestured for me to precede him down the stairs.

  “I had to say goodbye to Eve. I couldn’t disappear on her for the weekend without seeing her first.” I grasped his arm to keep from stumbling. He flipped a switch, and the basement flooded with soft light.

  The room was rectangular, dark and windowless, with deep crimson walls that matched the comforter on the king-sized bed; Gage had already laid several items on the end. A rack of cuffs, chains, whips, paddles, and God only knew what else hung on the far wall. An odd-looking bench sat in front of the display. Not certain what the X on the wall, the hooks in the floor and ceiling, or the plethora of items on the shelves were used for, I tore my gaze from the terrifying sight. A group of comfy chairs were arranged on a throw rug at the opposite end. Across from the bed a swanky bathroom, outfitted with a whirlpool tub and separate shower, could be seen through an archway.

  Gage fisted my hair and yanked me against him. “These are my rules. Remember them.” He trailed a hand down my throat, and his fingers settled on the buttons of my blouse. “Number one, don’t fight me. If you do you’ll be punished.” He slowly unfastened each one, taking the time to brush his fingers against my skin. “Two, unless I’ve given you permission to speak freely, always call me Master when we’re alone.” He slid his hand inside and palmed my breast. “And three, obey without hesitation. Do you understand these rules?”

  “I-I understand.” I forced the words past my quivering lips.

  He let out a low chuckle. “I don’t think you do. I think it’s time for your first punishment.” He gripped my hair even tighter. “Before we go any further, you need to choose a safe word.”

  “And if I say this word . . . you’ll stop?”

  “Yes. And then I turn you over to the authorities. Neither of us wants that.”

  “Then what’s the point in choosing a safe word? You know I won’t use it.”

  “Because what happens here will be on my terms, but ultimately your choice. I won’t move forward without it, so choose wisely, something you won’t forget or accidentally say.” He withdrew his hand from my breast and put a few inches between us. “It’s the only word that will save you from your punishment. Screaming, crying, begging me to stop, none of those tactics will work.”

  “You sick bastard.”

  “You might consider showing me some respect—I’m the only person standing between you and a jail cell.”

  “Rick.”

  “Rick what?”

  “Rick is my safe word.”

  “Who is Rick?”

  I wrapped my arms around myself. “Someone I don’t like to talk about.”

  “Answer the question. You’ll withhold nothing from me.”

  “He’s my ex-husband.”

  “An interesting choice for a safe word. Why’d you choose it?”

  “Because I don’t like to think about him, much less speak his name.”

  He whirled me around and curled his fingers around my wrists, then forced them to my sides. “Don’t ever close yourself off to me again. I want your legs open and your arms at your sides. Always.” He parted my blouse; the material slid down my arms and floated to the floor.

  Gage grabbed a thin strip of leather from the bed. “A collar to mark you as mine. It’s discreet enough to wear in public. Don’t take it off.” He encircled my neck, then reached for a set of leather cuffs. “Give me your hands.”

  Instinctively, I shook my head. “Gage, what are you gonna do?”

  His startling eyes pinned me. “I’ve been lenient. Until you agree to address me as Master, you’ll not be allowed to speak.” He grasped an odd ball contraption and mashed it against my lips. “Open your mouth.”

  Trepidation set in. “You don’t need to do this. I’ll call you Master.”

  “Yes you will. Now open your mouth.” I feared the command in his tone, the underlying threat that if I didn’t do as told, being gagged would be the least of my worries. I parted my lips, and the taste of rubber assaulted my tongue. He fastened the straps tight enough to make my jaw ache.

  “Whenever your mouth is otherwise engaged—” his lips curved into a wicked grin, and I could only imagine what he was thinking “—you can snap your fingers in lieu of saying your safe word.” He grabbed my hands and yanked them up, hooking them above my head. “Spread your legs.”

  My skirt bunched around my thighs as I obeyed, revealing a scrap of white panties. My pulse drummed in my ears, drowned out everything else as he kneeled down and fastened two more cuffs around my ankles. He placed a bar between them, ensuring I remained spread for him.

  Gage stood and slowly pulled on a tether. “On your toes.”

  My eyes grew wide as he hoisted me up, and an unintelligible sound escaped me. The position made my breasts jut out, caused my legs to wobble until I was able to gain balance. I shifted my wrists, but they wouldn’t budge. My arms and shoulders burned. How long was he going to make me stand like this? Better yet, what was he going to do?

  I had my answer a moment later. He grabbed a pair of scissors and moved toward me. I panicked, let out a muffled cry as he came closer.

  “Relax. I’m not going to hurt you. I want you naked.” He slid the cool metal along my skin and cut away my bra. Tears overflowed as my breasts spilled free, right into the warmth of
his waiting palms.

  Gage fondled them, weighed them in his hands, and his gaze zeroed in on my hardened peaks. “Perfect, just the right size.” He flicked his thumbs back and forth. I gasped for breath, vacillated between shame and arousal as every touch zinged to my core. Unable to take anymore, I tried to jerk away. He pinched each nipple and twisted, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the pain.

  “Look at me, Kayla.” He increased the pinch. I lifted my lashes, silently begged him to stop.

  “You’ve got spirit, and you’re stubborn. The more you resist, the more it turns me on.” He released me and bent to his knees again. I couldn’t stop trembling as he cut the skirt and panties from my body.

  “You’re so gorgeous strung up like that, helpless and open. Naked.” His gaze journeyed over me, finally arrived at the juncture between my thighs. “Red indeed.” He delved a finger inside. I shot to the very tips of my toes.

  “God, baby, you’re so tight. How is that possible after giving birth?” His warm hand smoothed across my abdomen, and he traced the wounds left behind from my four years of marital hell. “What happened here?” The question was a rhetorical one, since I couldn’t answer him verbally. “They look like knife wounds.” He thrust another finger inside, gliding in and out, never breaking eye contact. I was helpless to do anything but accept his invasion. My eyes drifted shut.

  “Don’t.” Another hard pinch of my nipple reminded me of his power. “I want you to watch me.” With a twitch of a smile, Gage circled my clit with precision. My belly clenched, and I throbbed deep within as liquid heat ignited between my legs. “You’re not allowed to hide your shame from me.” He closed his mouth over a nipple, teased with his tongue, lightly nipped.

  I squirmed as the fire in my body spread and intensified. God, it’d been so long. Too long. It was the only explanation for my reaction.

  “You don’t want to want me, but you do.” He stroked me languidly, caressing in a sensual rhythm that drove me out of my mind. “I’ve been watching you, Kayla, noticing those shy glances you aim my way when you think no one’s looking. If I didn’t think this would work between us, I would’ve had you thrown in jail.”

  My muscles tightened, and I shamefully moved against his hand. I hadn’t expected this, for him to make me want to come. A low moan escaped, and I almost did.

  He pulled away abruptly. “You’re not allowed to orgasm without my explicit permission. Like clothing, sexual gratification is a gift you must earn.” He grabbed my chin and brought his face close to mine. “Take this time to think about your behavior.”

  Gage stepped away and smiled, as if we were conversing about something as mundane as the weather. His eyes wandered to my breasts, and my nipples begged for his touch, his mouth. “The room is under surveillance, so trust I’ll keep an eye on you for safety reasons. I’m not a careless Master, but you must know where you stand with me. Disobedience will always earn you punishment. You’ll stand like that for an hour.”

  An hour? I let out a pitiful cry.

  He crossed his arms. “If you can’t handle it, snap your fingers now.”

  Using my only way out wasn’t an option, and we both knew it. Eve’s pale face swam in my vision. I’d do anything for her. Anything. I shook my head, and by doing so gave him the okay. His heavy steps pounded the stairs, growing fainter the further he climbed. He was leaving! Oh, God . . . an hour.

  Fear enveloped me like a stifling blanket; an hour loomed ahead like eternity.

  4. MASTERED

  Time had no measure. Seconds, minutes . . . they all bled into each other, until the only thing that mattered was the rampant ache in my muscles, the dimming of the room, the goose bumps forming on my skin as the chill set in. After a while I became numb. Listless. Found a place outside myself where I could tolerate existing. It was a familiar place, one I hadn’t visited in a long time. I sagged toward the floor a little more with each minute, heels refusing to touch ground, wrists taking the burden of my weight.

  And then I felt the warmth of his hands, grazing my ankles as he removed the bar from between my legs, circling my wrists and lifting . . . until they dropped like noodles at my sides. In a dizzying whirl, I slumped toward the floor. He engulfed me in his arms.

  “Open your eyes, Kayla.” His breath whisked across my face, tinted with brandy.

  I stared into his sapphire gaze . . . and felt nothing.

  He held me up with one hand and removed the gag with the other. “Have you learned your lesson?”

  I worked my aching jaw, and only then did I realize I had drool trailing down my chin.

  “Answer me. Have you learned your lesson?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m giving you one chance, because I know your punishment wasn’t easy. Show me the respect I’m owed.”

  My apathetic state diminished; swift anger welled and overflowed. I hated him. Truly despised him. “Go to hell, Gage.”

  He swept me up, threw me over his shoulder, and stalked to the bench.

  “What are you doing?” I cried.

  Ignoring my question, he dropped me to my feet. I grabbed onto the bench to keep from falling, which was a bad idea, because my actions only helped him position me. Gage pressed onto my back and wedged my knees apart. He strapped my hands, knees, and ankles in place, then adjusted the bench until my butt tilted up for easy access.

  The snap of leather sent ice through my blood. “What is that?” I cranked my neck around to see.

  “A whip.”

  “Don’t you dare hit me with that!” I couldn’t breathe. Everything flooded back, the beatings, the bruises and cuts. The fractured bones.

  “I told you what I expect from you, yet you continue to disobey me. If you can’t take your punishment, say your word and end it.” He punctuated his words with a swift strike to my ass.

  I jerked and cried out, and the whip whistled through the air again, a split second warning before he struck me a second time.

  Crack!

  He hit me again and again, never giving me a moment to catch my breath, never allowing the sting to alleviate before he escalated the pain with another strike. I sobbed and pleaded with every blow, and eventually I found that place again—the place I’d lived in for the duration of my marriage.

  Stop, stop, stop, stop . . .

  Finally he did.

  Tears drenched my face, and I couldn’t see him, though the sound of his breath, coming fast and hard, told me he wasn’t far. I ticked off the seconds in my mind, and stopped counting when his legs came into view.

  “Who am I, Kayla?”

  I lifted my head. He still had a death grip on the whip; his knuckles had gone white around the handle. “You’re my Master.”

  “That’s right. Don’t you forget it.”

  He put the whip away, then freed me from the restraints. “Don’t move yet.” He disappeared, only to reappear a few seconds later with a bottle of massage oil. He dripped some onto my back and went to work in rubbing the tension from my body. His fingers glided over my back and down my legs. I felt myself sinking, losing myself to the allure of my cloudy mind. Confusion niggled on the outskirts, and I vaguely wondered why he’d beat me, only to massage away some of the pain afterward.

  “Who am I?” His voice drifted above, rich and warm like hot chocolate. His hands chased the chills away from my skin.

  “My Master,” I mumbled.

  He gripped my hand. “You can get up.” Gage helped me to my feet, steadied me when I stumbled. “If you behave, I won’t restrain you.” He pointed to the bed. “Stand at the end and bend over the mattress.”

  The fog cleared, unveiling fear in its wake. He reached for the button of his slacks.

  “Please . . . Master . . .” I faltered. Would he be rough? Would it be quick?

  “Do it now, Kayla.”

  My legs shook as I moved clumsily across the room. He pressed a hand against my back, and my breasts and stomach slid along the satiny comforter.

  �
�Spread your legs.”

  On the verge of tears, I obeyed and opened for him. Chills traveled the length of my body; I couldn’t stop shaking. I jumped when he grabbed my hips.

  “Arms straight out in front of you.” He massaged my sore ass. “Good, just like that. I want you to remain in this position, do you understand?”

  I rested my cheek on the mattress as a tear escaped. “Yes, Master,” my voice cracked, and I heard the distinctive slide of a zipper, the tear of a foil packet. For several seconds I waited, barely breathing, muscles tense in preparation for his intrusion.

  He glided his fingers between my thighs. Keeping perfectly still, I bit down on my lower lip. Unwelcome warmth flared again, and I prayed he’d stop caressing and just get it over with already.

  “Please, Master, just do it.”

  “Oh, no, I’m not about to make this easy for you.” He probed me with his fingers. “Do you know how many times I had to get myself off in my office after watching you prance around in your skirts?” He groaned. “You’re getting wet, baby.”

  I arched my spine and bit back a moan.

  “God, you’re so responsive. I’ve wanted you for such a long time, wet and on the brink, begging for release.” He plunged in, filling me with his pulsating heat, slowly stretching until I felt nothing but him.

  I dug my fingernails into the bedding and closed my eyes in shame.

  “If you come, I’ll punish you.” His breath fanned across my back. “Don’t disobey me.”

  Yet the bastard took his time. I locked my jaw to keep quiet, trembled from the effort of holding back as he pumped in and out. I hated my body for betraying me.

  It’s only biology.

  I held on to that thought as he pushed deeper. “You feel so good,” he groaned. He increased his thrusts, exploiting a rhythm designed to send me spiraling out of control.

  I fisted the comforter, unwittingly let out a long moan. “Master . . .”

  “Don’t come, Kayla.”