Slave of Duty

by Tawny Taylor

  Matt took the opportunity to check out her office. Dozens of framed photographs of Row and her husband occupied the bookshelves and desktop. Her computer was powered off. The room was tidy but far from spotless. It was lived in. In contrast, the rest of the house was immaculate. Pristine. He knew this because he’d been in her house before. Several times.

  But this time he was seeing things from a different perspective. He saw the cleanliness for what it was, instead of what he’d assumed.

  She returned a few minutes later, face flushed, body visibly tense. “I’m sorry about that.” She left the door open, sat behind the desk a good distance from Matt. “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, I needed to talk about something personal.”

  “Yes, you said that.”

  “It’s about domination and submission. You see, I’m a Dom.”

  Something flared in her eyes. “What?” Her chuckle was tight, forced. “No, not you.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I…just know.” Her fingers curled into a fist. Her jaw clenched.

  “You got a problem with Doms?” Matt asked, standing. It could be dangerous, but he knew what he had to do if he was going to get to the truth. He walked around the desk, looming over her. “Is it because your husband is a sadistic bastard? Does he call himself a Dom?”

  She was visibly tense, her shoulders, neck, face, arms. “He’s not sadistic. He’s a good man.”

  Matt moved closer and she flicked her gaze toward the open door.

  “You don’t believe that. I know it. But you sure as hell wished you did. Because then you wouldn’t be so angry.”

  “I’m not angry.” She made a damn good try at smiling, but the expression didn’t pass for anything close to friendly or warm.

  Matt looked into her eyes and instantly knew he was looking into the soul of a killer.

  He bent over her, whispering, “You show them who’s in control, don’t you? You make them beg for their lives. And then you take it.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Being a cop wasn’t enough for you. You needed more. More power. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Power. It’s like the world’s most addictive drug. It charges through your body, taking away all the fury for a little while.”

  Silence.

  “How long have you been killing, Row? How long have you been punishing him?”

  She said, her voice flat, “You don’t know anything.”

  “I know you’ve made sure I don’t get access to any more crime scenes. I know it’s because of you that I lost my case.”

  She shifted in her chair. “I wasn’t there when you shot that fed.”

  “No, but you were the one who gave me the tip. You were the one who sent me there. If I hadn’t gone, I wouldn’t have shot him.”

  She tried to stand but Matt shoved her back down into her chair. “My husband needs—”

  “You had me believing it was a Dom who’d overdosed on power. I should’ve known better.”

  “The profile fits.” She tried to move away. He was getting to her. He could see it. Her movements were jerky. Her breathing fast. The minute she put some space between them, he closed in again.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  She backed into the chair, stumbled and plopped down on her ass. “Deaton, you’re way off.” Her hands shook as she grabbed the desk’s edge, rotating the chair so she faced away from him.

  “No, I’m not.” He turned the chair back around, forcing her to face him, kicked it backward, sending it rolling into the wall behind the desk, then charged forward, trapping her between the wall and his body.

  She surged to her feet, eyes dark, cold. “Fuck off, Deaton. If my husband sees you—”

  He thrust his arms forward, caging her head. “Fuck him. Don’t you see? You were wrong. I am a Dom.” Then, hoping it would be the last straw, he cupped her crotch.

  Sure enough, she snapped. “Oh hell no, you fucking bastard!”

  He blocked her shot at his balls. And he fended off the right hook. But her next move caught him by surprise. She gave him an elbow in the jaw and he saw stars. He felt himself drop to his knees as glittering sparkles cut off most of his vision.

  He’d hidden his gun in the back waist of his pants. Blinking, shaking off the effect of her blow, he slid one hand around his body.

  She was standing over him now. And the fear was gone from her voice. “You’re all the same, aren’t you? All so sure you know what we want. I’ll show you what it’s like to be forced to beg.” She yanked open the drawer.

  Matt pulled his gun and leveled it at her. “Row, don’t make me shoot you.”

  “What the hell’s going on here?” Row’s husband charged into the room like a bull. “Why are you pointing a gun at my wife, you asshole?”

  “Row, are you going to tell him?” Matt asked.

  “Tell me what?” he growled.

  She didn’t speak. Her hands, holding a coil of speaker wire, started shaking. Her face went white.

  “What the hell is going on?” her husband, her tormentor, growled.

  Her jaw ticked. But she didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  “I said, what the hell is going on, bitch?”

  Her gaze snapped to her husband’s face. Her eyes narrowed. She dropped the cord and slowly raised her arms. “Prison can’t be any worse than this.” She sank to her knees and Matt scrambled forward, shoving his gun in his pants and yanking the handcuffs out of his pocket.

  “Don’t you fucking touch my wife,” Row’s husband roared.

  “She’s under arrest. For murder.” Battling with a mire of mixed emotions—relief, guilt, anger, sadness—Matt snapped the first cuff on her wrist. Row had been his friend. He’d trusted her. Respected her. More than any other cop he knew. His faith in human beings was being shot all to hell with this blow, and to say he was cynical before was one hell of an understatement. “Try to stop me, and I’ll charge you with assault.” After securing her other wrist, he pulled her to her feet.

  “Murder? You’re insane,” Row’s husband said, charging toward him.

  “No, he’s not insane.” Row’s quiet words stopped the man’s motion. “It’s true.” Her smile was evil, creepy, the kind of empty, soulless expression that made his skin crawl. “I’ve been killing you for months now. Over. And over. And…over. But you keep coming back. If only you’d stay in hell, where you belong, none of this would have happened.”

  “You stupid bitch.” Her husband’s sneer was glacial. “You’re a fucking cop, carry a gun, and you couldn’t get up the nerve to kill me.” He came closer, blocking the door. “You’re weak, worthless.”

  Matt felt her arms tremble. “Back off.” He tried to shoulder by, but couldn’t.

  Row’s eyes glittered. “I’m weak. But at least I’m free.” She jerked up her chin, meeting her husband’s icy glare. “You can’t control me anymore.”

  He smiled, stepped aside to let them pass. “We’ll see about that.”

  * * * * *

  The minute Matt had the paperwork completed on Rowley, he headed north. The entire drive, through the darkest hours of the night, Matt wondered if he’d walk into an empty, lonely building. Had Ben waited for him? Or had he gone home?

  Two hours, and one near-collision with a doe that had wandered out onto the road later, Matt’s car bounced down the winding, rutted driveway leading to his sanctuary. His headlights struck metal. A white flash temporarily blinded him as his lights reflected off Ben’s rearview mirror.

  Ben had waited.

  Matt’s heartbeat raced. He jerked the gearshift into park, cut off the engine and ran up to the building, eager to feel Ben’s arms around him. More than ever, he needed Ben now. His strength. His reassurance. His support. His guidance. How could he have become so dependent upon Ben so soon?

  He roughly shoved open the door and nearly ran smack-dab into Ben.

  Ben took one look at his face, clapped his hands
on either side of his head and kissed him. Their tongues tangled, lashed into the sweet depth of each other’s mouths. Stroked. Possessed. Claimed.

  Their limbs entwined. Their bodies flattened against each other. Their breaths blended. Hands grabbed, tore, pulled. Mouths explored, tasted, tempted. Before Matt realized it, he was nude. Ben’s hand cupped his heavy balls.

  “Fuck, I need you,” Matt said, breathless, his body burning from the inside out. “I’m glad you didn’t leave.”

  “I’m here. Not going anywhere.” Ben pulled back. “What happened?”

  “I can’t talk about it. Not yet. Help me shut off my mind. I don’t want to think.”

  Ben nodded. “Come here.” He led Matt into the living room, leaving him kneeling before the cold fireplace, and went back to the bedroom to get some things.

  Matt took the opportunity to get a fire going. He had a feeling neither of them would be sleeping for a while, at least a few hours. Minutes later, a crackling blaze was warming the room and Ben was back, Matt’s duffle slung over his shoulder.

  “I’ll make sure you don’t have the energy to think. For a long time.” Looking evil, in the best way possible, Ben dropped the bag at his feet. “I’ve been waiting patiently for you.”

  “I’d be happy to make it worth your while, Master.” Matt assumed what he felt was an appropriately submissive position, kneeling, head bent, hands resting on his thighs. “Command me.”

  “I think we’ll start with a reward. You’ve proven, with the exception of a few minor incidences, that you have the heart of a submissive.” Ben moved closer. “What shall be your reward?”

  Ben’s gaze flicked up but, remembering yesterday’s punishment, he immediately jerked it back down. “Are you asking me?”

  “Yes.”

  He stared at his hands as he thought. What would take him out of his head, make him forget about Row, silence her voice? He remembered the look on that submissive’s face. The one at The Den. “Will you bind me?”

  “I will.” Ben went to the kitchen, then out to his car. A minute later he returned with a wooden bench and some leather cuffs. His fingers grazed Matt’s skin as he strapped the cuffs on his wrists. “Why did you ask to be bound?”

  “I wish to feel powerless, completely at your mercy. I’ve never… I haven’t let anyone do this before.”

  “If you need me to stop, say the word red.”

  “Okay.”

  Ben positioned him so he was kneeling on the floor, his upper body resting on one end of the backless bench’s seat. He tied a rope to the cuffs wrapped around Matt’s wrists and then secured the rope to the underside of the bench so Matt’s arms were stretched over his head, running the full length of the seat. Bending down, until he was so close Matt could feel the heat of his body warming his skin, Ben whispered, “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Whenever I close my eyes, I can imagine you tied down, your legs spread, those ass cheeks blooming red from my caress.”

  A shudder of pure need swept through Matt’s body. “Yes. Oh yes.”

  “Do you want to feel my heat?”

  “I do.”

  “I’m going to give you what you want. And then I’m going to fuck you. Hard. Until you beg for release.”

  “Fuck, yes.” Matt curled his fingers into tight fists, clenched his body until every muscle was wound into a knot. His heart rate doubled, tripled, as Ben gathered the things he needed. And then, when the tails of his flogger skimmed over his upper back, his skin puckered with goose bumps. His breathing grew shallow, fast. His back arched as the muscles pulled even tighter. The tails softly, fleetingly trailed down his spine, over the curve of his ass.

  He heard the woosh and snap of the tails before he felt the sensation. It was a sharp sting on his left cheek. Hot. He jerked a little, not out of fear or pain but reflex. A second woosh. Another blow, this one on his right cheek. More stinging heat. A third, fourth. Heat. Burning. Spreading.

  “Ohhhhh…” He felt his body stiffen then relax as the warmth moved through his center. His cock hardened, his balls tightened. He ached to rub away the pounding, throbbing need building inside. “Fuck me, Ben. Please.”

  “Do you know how hot it makes me when you beg?” Ben asked as he ran his hands over Matt’s stinging flesh. The chafing amplified the pleasure-pain until Matt had no choice but to start rocking his hips back and forth. Ben pulled his ass cheeks apart, dipped a finger inside, two fingers.

  Matt tried to jerk upright at the sweet invasion, but he couldn’t. And that only made his need intensify to an almost unbearable level. “Goddamn it, Ben. Shit.” His hips jerked forward, but there was nothing there, no soft ass, no lean, muscular leg, not even the cushion of the bench to rub against. Just barely, despite the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, he heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then he felt the slick of lubed fingers, spreading cool wetness between his cheeks. Finally he felt Ben’s thick rod pressing at his entrance. Matt relaxed and Ben’s cock slid deep inside, deeper. “Fuck, yes.” He withdrew almost completely before slamming deep inside again.

  Perfect fullness. Absolutely exquisite. Pleasure. Pain. Almost unbearable.

  How could he have denied himself for so long?

  “So tight,” Ben murmured against Matt’s back as he angled over him. Ben’s hand skimmed down the side of Matt’s thigh before sliding around to cup his balls. Lubed fingers curled around his shaft, tight, wet. His hand slid to the base then back to the end, up and down in time to his thrusts.

  Matt saw stars. He fought against his restraints, trying desperately to rock back against Ben. He clawed at the bench’s seat, fingers hooked. His jaw was so tight he could feel the tension down his neck. He arched his back, lifting his ass as high as he could, begging silently for Ben to deepen his thrusts.

  “Dammit, Matt.” Ben’s movements became sharper. Instead of gliding in and out, Ben’s cock was ramming in and out. And instead of sliding up and down Matt’s cock, Ben’s hand was jerking, pulling hard at the flared head.

  Matt felt his body shaking. All of it. Everywhere. Wild, turbulent waves of carnal heat were crashing through his system. Sounds. Breathing. Groaning. Moaning. The crackle of the fire. Scents. Ben’s skin. The bench beneath him. Wood burning. Tastes. Ben’s kiss, lingering on his lips. All the sensations seemed to blend and then fade away, and all that was left was the pleasure. The pain. The heat.

  He felt his cum surging up his shaft. He cried out as throbbing ecstasy pounded through his body. Ben’s shout as he found his release came on the tail of his. Ben fucked him roughly, violently, perfectly until they were both boneless, exhausted. Sated.

  After withdrawing and removing the used condom, Ben untied Matt. Together they lay on the floor, side by side, gasping, watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

  “Now that’s the way to get a guy’s mind to shut down for a while,” Matt said as he let his eyelids fall closed.

  Ben’s hand found his. He said nothing, just squeezed.

  “I think I was missing something in my life,” Matt said.

  “D/s?”

  “No, not that.”

  “No?” Ben rolled onto his side and, propping his head up with his arm, gave Matt a questioning smirk.

  “Hey, I’ve been a slave for a long time. A slave to my job, to duty. That’s no way to live.”

  “I agree. Especially when you could be a slave to someone like me.” Ben kissed him. Against Matt’s mouth, he said, “You’re mine now.” Angling back, Ben gave Matt a stern look. “And while I know you have a job to do, I won’t share you with another Master. You got that?”

  “You bet, Master.” Matt reached for the leather cuff, waved it. “I’m ready to serve you, any day, any night.”

  “Ready? Not exactly.” Ben snatched the cuff out of Matt’s hand and fastened it around his ankle. “You may be willing to serve me, but you’re far from the picture of perfect submission.” Ben buckled the other cuff around Matt’s right ankle. “Remember w
hat I said about subs who try to take the power from their Masters?”

  “I do.” Matt tried to hide his grin. He failed.

  Ben sighed. It was an exaggerated sigh. One that said he was weary, which was a lie. “When do you have to get back to work?”

  Matt raised an eyebrow. “A few days.”

  Ben dragged the duffle closer, dug inside and pulled out a dildo. “Good. We have a lot of work to do. And not a lot of time. I’m going to make every minute count.”

  “Promises, promises,” Matt said, looking forward to his punishment.

  The End

  About the Author

  Nothing exciting happens in Tawny Taylor’s life, unless you count giving the cat a flea dip—a cat can make some fascinating sounds when immersed chin-deep in insecticide—or chasing after a houseful of upchucking kids during flu season. She doesn’t travel the world or employ a staff of personal servants. She’s not even built like a runway model. She’s just your run-of-the-mill, pleasantly plump Detroit suburban mom and wife.

  That’s why she writes, for the sheer joy of it. She doesn’t need to escape, mind you. Despite being run-of-the-mill, her life is wonderful. She just likes to add some…zip.

  Her heroines might resemble herself or her next door neighbor (sorry Sue), but they are sure to be memorable (she hopes!). And her heroes—inspired by movie stars, her favorite television actors or her husband—are fully capable of delivering one hot happily-ever-after after another. Combined, the characters and plots she weaves bring countless hours of enjoyment to Tawny…and she hopes to readers too!

  In the end, that’s all the matters to Tawny, bringing a little bit of zip to someone else’s life.

  Tawny welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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