by Selena Kitt
And then Mason had done the unthinkable, after my daddy had promised him the world. He’d told him no thanks. That he’d make his own way. Daddy had insisted he continue to live in his apartments, because his mother would have worried. And Daddy had even given him grudging respect for refusing him.
I took the coffee cup and kept my gaze on the dark liquid. Anything but look at him. No doubt he was chalking up last night to yet another of my raves. It seemed all he had to do was enter my view and I turned into a lunatic. Add liquor and oh, God, I was so much worse.
One corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Do you remember what we talked about—after you threw yourself at me?”
My jaw sagged and I drank another gulp. I’d done what?
“Liar. You’re just trying to embarrass me.”
“Uh-huh. I don’t lie, Angel. You know that. You pulled up your skirt and showed me that pretty waxed pussy and said—it’s broken. No fixing it. No orgasms there. Then you crawled over my lap, thighs spread, and offered me a fuck, just to prove it.”
Angry tears filled my eyes.
“Stop it. You know I was drunk. Why are you torturing me? Does it make you feel superior?”
“I’m not telling you this to hurt you, Angel.” Mason sighed. “I’ll repeat what I said to you last night, what you made me promise in return for pulling down your skirt and going to sleep.”
All I could do was shake my head, a tear sliding down my cheek as I waited to hear what humiliating thing I’d made him promise.
“You aren’t broken, Angel.”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear any more.” A sob worked its way up my throat. “You’ve had your laugh. Plenty of blackmail material. Just undo these cuffs.”
“As I explained last night…” he said, giving me another of those dark, brooding stares. “I’m not a drug dealer or whatever it is you think I am. I keep to myself because my… preferences… are my business. And I didn’t want my private life crossing Frank’s and embarrassing him. Baby, I’m a Dom. Do you know what that is?”
I began to nod, but under his steady glare, shook my head, admitting my ignorance. I knew the term, but only in a Fifty Shades kind of way, and I was sure he’d only laugh if I mentioned the book.
“I train women to be submissives. How to live in the lifestyle. I help a naturally submissive woman discover who she really is.”
“You spank them?”
“Sometimes, but that’s not what it’s really all about. And that’s as far as I got with you last night, because you asked me to spank you, to prove I was wrong about what I thought your problem might be…”
My mouth went dry, and I ducked my head again to sip my coffee before curiosity got the best of me. Once I had control again, I tilted my chin upward, giving him my bitchiest, iciest look. “What did you decide my problem was?”
“First, I want to you to admit your problem to me, out loud, no booze-induced confession. You, telling me, your stepbrother, what pushed you to the brink.”
“Oh, hell no.” I shook my head.
“But I already know, Angel. Why is it so hard?”
“I was drunk.”
“Something I would never permit in one of my subs. It’s why I refused your request last night. Now, tell me.” He waved a hand at my shackles. “We have all day. You can sit there with your bare pussy on my leather couch, but I won’t unlock your restraints. Not until you tell me.”
“Why? You must love this. Seeing me this way.”
“I love seeing my leather cuffs caressing your wrists. I’ll admit that much. But I don’t love the fear I see in your face, sweetheart. Tell me.”
A sob caught me by surprise. The way he’d talked about the cuffs, he sounded as though he thought they were beautiful. And I knew my makeup had to be ringing my eyes like a raccoon’s mask, and my hair was likely a knotted mess. I held back another sob, and lifted my chin higher.
“If I tell you, you’ll set me free?”
“I promise.”
Clearing my throat, I glanced away. Saying it out loud was unnerving enough without having to meet his knowing gaze.
“I’ve never had an orgasm,” I said, my voice sounding raw to my own ears. I held up my hands, silently asking for my freedom.
“First, I’ll tell you what I promised.” He reached out and tugged on the chain between my wrists, an action that reminded me I was completely at his mercy. Suddenly, a curl of arousal tightened my belly.
By his smile, he knew how he affected me. “I said I’d prove that you are very far from broken, that you only needed the right… care and loving… to find pleasure. That I could give that to you. If you placed your trust in me.”
My mouth opened to deliver a scathing refusal, but the hitch in my breath stifled the words. Mason wanted to give me love and care? Why that thought was so arousing, completely confused me.
“Think about it, Angel. You and me. Here. If you decide you want to let me teach you, all you have to do is knock on my door.” While I stared, he dug into his pocket and brought out a tiny key. He unlocked the cuffs, letting them slide off my wrists.
I shot up from the sofa, ignoring the throbbing pain building in my head.
“If you decide to take me up on my offer, be sure to wear these.” He handed me a paper bag, the top folded closed.
Without giving him a glance or a word, I grabbed the bag and stormed away.
* * * *
I managed to avoid him for days. It wasn’t hard. He had his own entrance to his apartment. I pretended illness and let the staff bring my meals. When Daddy came to check on me, I made sure to ruffle my hair to make it look as though I hadn’t stirred from my bed.
“Do you need to see the doctor?” he asked, his finger under my chin, tilting my head so he could study my face.
“I’ll be fine. I’m just tired, Daddy.”
“Well, you rest. Mona and I are headed to the Hamptons for the week. I hate leaving you this way.”
I leaned toward him and hugged his large frame. “I love you, Daddy.”
A kiss landed on my hair. A sigh sifted the hair beside my cheek. “I want you happy, Angel-mine.”
I didn’t respond, because he would have known anything I said to reassure him would be a lie. Pasting on a smile, I leaned back. “Have fun. Be sure to make Mona swallow her Dramamine before you take her out in the yacht.”
We shared a smile.
“Mason will be around.” His gaze sharpened. “I’ve already spoken to him. He’ll check in to make sure you’re okay.”
And to make sure I didn’t end up in jail, I was sure.
When he left, I flounced onto my bed. Mason and I would be alone in this big old house. The thought was... disturbing. Would he be entertaining company? If I swept into his room, would he have some pretty slut bent over one of his padded benches with her ass in the air, ready to be trained?
Staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help the images that filled my mind. I remembered how good it had felt when Heather pinched my nipples and when I’d awoken with leather banding my wrists. That tug he’d given the chain connecting them had caused a thrill way out of proportion with the action.
Could he be right?
Was it possible he could give me what no other man had ever managed? What I’d never managed with anything less than a turbo-drive vibrator?
Hours passed. Darkness crept in to fill the corners of the room. I lay nude, my fingers playing in my cunt, slightly aroused, but only because I was thinking about what might await me two floors below. My gaze went to the paper bag I’d left on my dresser, the top crumpled closed because I’d opened and closed it so many times to stare at the items he’d given me.
Did I dare?
Before I could talk myself out of it, I showered and shaved, leaving my body clean except for a light application of my favorite lotion. Then I tore open the bag and put on the things he’d insisted I wear, sliding on a silky robe before padding barefoot through the house, down the stairs, out the side
door and through the garden to the back of the house. The well-lit entrance had a camera. I flipped back my hair and raised my face to it as I rapped the brass ring in the bull’s nose affixed to his door.
I stood with my heart thudding, my face heating, my body so restless my thighs rubbed. But the door never opened.
Frowning, I reached for the ring again and gave the door a harder knock. The look I gave the camera could have peeled paint, but still, he left me waiting. Or was he gone? Had I angsted over this for nothing?
The intercom squawked. “Go away, Angeline.”
But I was there, ready to explore. I needed something. If he knew a way to break open my internal restraints, I couldn’t let him turn me away. Pride be damned. I unfisted my hand and took the key to the restraints and slid it through the old mail slot on the door, listening as the key tinkled on the tile flooring inside.
Then leaning toward the speaker, I managed to say the words, “Fix me. Please, Mason.”
After another minute, the door creaked open.
I met Mason’s steady stare. For a long moment, neither of us moved, and then he stood back, opening the door wider. And although he didn’t invite me with a word or gesture, I stepped over the threshold.
“First,” he said, holding up a hand to halt me. “Your safe word is suicide.”
“Safe word... suicide?” I nodded, gulping. I hated the word. Hated the fact he’d seen me at my lowest.
He turned to walk away. Without looking back, he gestured to the coat rack. “Leave your robe there.”
Somehow, I didn’t feel naked. Not with a leash hanging from the side of the leather collar around my neck, and wrist and ankle restraints snug against my skin. I followed, walking with my head tilted high, a flush heating my cheeks—not from embarrassment but from a simmering excitement.
He wore a snug gray t-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare as he padded ahead of me, down the hallway to his special room. I couldn’t help but ogle his tall, well-muscled frame. Sure, I’d noticed plenty of times just how handsome he was. Chiseled features, dark, brooding eyes...
But he was stepbrother. I wasn’t supposed to think any of that.
Now I shivered at the thought of his touching me... intimately. When he’d first come to our home, I’d had a huge crush on him, something he’d squashed quickly with his rude refusal to let me dog his steps. He’d been selfish about his privacy, even as a teenager. As a man, he’d become this mysterious person who joined us on occasion for dinner and all but ignored me—especially when I was misbehaving, which was most of the time.
He’d give me a searing look and I’d pout right back. Had we been flirting, even then?
The realization made my breath catch.
He paused beside a sleek, padded bench—meant for spanking, I knew, because I’d googled every piece of furniture I remembered from my last visit.
His long pause was its own command. I took a deep breath and knelt on the padded rest and slowly folded my body over the bench. Still silent, he moved around me, connecting slender chains to my wrist restraints, then coming behind me to arrange my knees, spreading them, before latching my ankle restraints. He removed the leash and set it on the cabinet beneath his implements, then reached for a flogger.
Just the sight of him whipping the flanges against his open palm made my juices flow.
He returned and squatted beside me, his gaze locking with mine.
“I’m going to warm your ass, Angel. Give you what you deserve. If at any point it becomes too much, use your safe word and I’ll stop. If you at any point you change your mind about being here, with me, use the word ‘freedom.’ I’ll release you and let you go without another word—but don’t ever come back here. Do you understand?”
My eyes widened, but I nodded. He reached out and caressed my lower lip with his thumb. “You can trust me, Angel. I won’t ever hurt you. Not too much, anyway. But I need to gauge how much punishment you can take.”
Again, I nodded, knowing he had to be reading some of the emotions swirling inside me in my eyes. Yes, there was trepidation, but also hope. And strangely, I did trust him. Sure, he was an asshat sometimes, but…he was my stepbrother. He was family. I knew he wasn’t going to really hurt me.
Not too much, anyway…
When he stood and moved behind me, I felt warmth rush across my cheeks and breasts. He was staring at my pussy and ass. Did he like what he saw? Did he like that I’d shaved for him?
I heard air whoosh through the flanges and jerked just as they struck my behind. The stroke wasn’t painful, just shocking. He followed with several more, hitting a different spot each time until my entire ass grew hot. The strokes were rhythmic, and produced a very odd effect. Although I knew I’d bear a welt or two, they served to strangely lull to my senses.
My breath evened out, then deepened. My head dropped. The heat burning my ass suffused my pussy, engorging my sex, making me wet. Arousal stirred and grew, steadily. When the first pop landed on my labia, I groaned.
The strokes halted and a big, warm hand cupped my sex. I moaned. I couldn’t help it.
“You have a lovely pussy, Angel. It’s wet and red. But you won’t come like this. You aren’t permitted to come. Do you understand?”
“Why not?” I raised my head and tried to angle it to glare at him. “Isn’t that the point?”
“Your orgasm is mine to command. You won’t come until I allow it,” he told me. “So whatever I do to you, I want you fight against having an orgasm until I tell you it’s okay.”
I shook my head, confused. This made no sense. Orgasm was the whole point, wasn’t it? Like, he was supposed to be fixing that part of me. Now I was supposed to not come?
Strangely, already, I was hot, primed. Close. Closer than I’d ever been with another person in the room, anyway.
“Mine, Angel.” His hand covered me, cupping my mound completely. “You can’t come until I allow it. Tell me so, or I stop right now.”
I huffed a breath, ready to scream at him. My body was tense. If the pleasure rose just one more increment, I’d be fucking there. His fingers plucked my hooded clit, and again, I jerked. With my ass and pussy on fire, and now my clit being teased, what he asked, no demanded, wasn’t fair.
“Fuck you.”
“No, I may fuck you, but not tonight.” His voice was so smooth. Soft as silk. But hard, too. There was a steel in it that cowed me. “That gift will come when you’ve learned a little discipline.”
His hand slid away, and they he clapped my pussy again—so hard it stung.
I gasped and went rigid. But he was already plucking at my clit again, using my own fluids to slick his fingertips. He squeezed and pinched until my moans and whimpers filled the room.
“It’s torture!!” I bit out.
“Not torture, sweetheart. I want your clit exposed. Engorged. Because when it is, I’ll make you come with the flogger. I’ll stroke you so sweetly, you’ll come unraveled. Do you want that?”
His voice had its own buttery texture. Soft but firm. Hot and cold. My clit grew, expanding until I felt the hood begin to slide away. And then the flogger slid off my skin and I held still, breathless.
The next lash caressed my labia and clit. My breasts tightened, my lungs cinched. A quiver worked its way down my spine to shiver through my thighs.
Again and again, he gave me those rhythmic strokes until my cunt was burning. I mewed like a kitten and wriggled against my restraints.
“Not yet, Angel,” he crooned. “Wait. Be a good girl.”
I began to sob, unable to hold back the soft hiccupping cries. I’d felt orgasms before, but they’d been pale, limp things—and although I didn’t allow this one to fully flower, I knew with everything I possessed, this would be different. This would be more.
Gratitude mixed with my anxiety. Hope unfurled along with anguished desire. Stroke after stroke fell—long and short, soft and stinging—until I lifted my ass as high as my restraints would allow and begged silently for r
elease.
“Baby, now,” he finally said, his voice thick and ragged.
As though I’d been sitting on a rocket, I shot over the precipice, so hard and fast, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t make a sound. I hung there for the longest time, his fingers working my clit, slow drugging circles that expanded the explosion outward, prolonging it.
When, at last, I fell back to earth, I hung over the bench, every limb quaking. I was aware of him moving around me, freeing me, but still I couldn’t move. Then hands slid beneath me, and I was lifted.
His chest was bare. When he’d removed his shirt didn’t matter. That I could smooth my cheek against his sweaty chest and breathe his musk was pure bliss. He walked to an arm chair and lowered himself, arranging me again, this time with my legs over an arm, my head snuggled in the corner of his shoulder. I was nude and thankful for the fact because everywhere my skin touched his tingled with awareness.
“Do you see, now, how it could be between us?” he murmured against my hair.
“Yes,” I said, sighing, not wanting to think about what he really meant. Right that moment, I wanted to be his forever, not just some girl he was training to be with some other Dom.
His slipped a hand between my thighs and began to swirl in my still wet entrance. Then he kissed my temple. “Yes, Sir.”
And because I knew he had the power to bring me back to the brink with his lazy, swirling thumb, I snuggled closer and whispered. “Yes, Sir.
* * * *
A month later, I let myself into his apartment with the key he’d given me just the day before. What had been his message when he’d handed it to me? Was I being given the freedom to come and go because I was a convenience? Or did it mean more?
As always, the moment I crossed his threshold, my skin began to tingle. My nipples peaked, a slick of moisture glazed my thighs. The past month had been a revelation. I wasn’t broken, it turned out. Just... untapped.