by Keta Kendric
“I’ll be honest with you, Doc. I’m not like anything you’ve had before. Some men like to have sex, some like to fuck, some even like to get rough.”
He pointed a finger into his chest as his glare penetrated mine and had me hanging on to his every word.
“I will be brutal.”
Speechless, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t say a damn word in response. What was I supposed to say? His words scared me as much as they excited me. Like the way he’d sent panic jetting through me and put me through pain before he turned it all around and gave me delicious pleasure. Now, his words were scaring the hell out of me and turning me on at the same time.
“Once I’m done with you, Doc, you’ll need recovery days. But, I won’t spring it on you too fast. I’ll get you to my level in stages.”
Still speechless, I sat listening. “Stages?” That one word was squeezed out among the jumble of questions and confusion swirling around in my head. What in the hell was he planning to do to me?
“Yes. Stages. Its imperative that I build you up to the kind of fucking I like to do.”
“Build me up?” I was a parrot. As much as I talked and rambled, I was unable to form a proper sentence.
“Yes, Doc. Build you up. If I fucked you the way I’m picturing in my head right now, you’d never let me fuck you again. I’m talking grown man kind of fucking. Wild and nasty fucking. The kind of fucking that’s going to have us calling for people who died before we were born. The kind that’s going to have your lower half numb. The kind that’s going to have your pussy wet enough for me to drown in. The kind that’s going to have you tipping and limping through the house instead of walking—”
“I get the point, Ansel,” I exclaimed, raising my hand when it was apparent he wasn’t going to stop until I said something. As much as I hated my body for reacting, his nasty words were making me hot. I’d be damned if he didn’t know it too.
“Once you’re mine, no one else is allowed to touch you. If the marks I leave on your body don’t tell a story, I will have failed you and myself. And I’m not talking about physical bruises. I’m talking about marking your body to respond to my commands. I’m talking about marking that pussy to respond only to my dick.”
With wide, unblinking eyes, I swallowed, and my loud gulp sounded. Whether it was his intention or not, he was making me wet all over again. My chest bounced up and down, chasing every exhausted breath. My foggy mind searched for words, but my tongue was weighted down by bricks, stalling my ability to speak.
“I’ll ask you once more,” he voiced sternly as his unyielding gaze held me in place. “Are you going to be my submissive?”
I nodded—eager, terrified, anxious, and scared. As quickly, I changed my mind and shook my head when I realized what I was agreeing to.
“Doc, why must you keep testing me? You’re playing with fire.”
My shoulders shrugged, feeling bold all of a sudden. “Because the last man that dictated my life was nearly successful in putting me into the grave.”
I knew when a man intended to hurt me. Ansel didn’t want to hurt me in the traditional sense of the word—he wanted to turn me inside out. He wanted to turn me into his obedient little plaything.
He raised a brow. “I have no intention of shoving you into a grave, Doc. But, I can guarantee you that I will be shoving something inside you that you will never stop begging me for.”
The confidence that he spoke with, hinted that he could back up his words, and I’d lived too long in the shadows not to try this new experience that he offered.
Ansel could well be the man to bring out that side of me that I fantasized about. The side I was too afraid to explore, and thanks to my family, had never gotten to experience. Did I want to cross that bridge with Ansel? Hell yes! Was I brave enough to tell him yes? I don’t know.
The fury in his gaze warned me that he didn’t like my indecision, but he didn’t act on it. Instead, he walked back to the closet and hung Dr. Pepper back in there. He turned those blazing green eyes on me.
“Next time, we are going to have a different kind of conversation.”
I didn’t know how to reply to his comment, so I nodded and glanced up at him through my lashes.
Ansel scared me. However, the one thing in my corner that he didn’t count on was that fear had been keeping me company for three years. In dealing with my family, being scared was as much a part of me as breathing.
8
Regina
After a fresh shower, I talked myself into not being a chicken and left my room. Surely Ansel wasn’t going to attack me again.
I descended the stairs and found the coast clear. I stood in my favorite area of the apartment near the chaise. I’d fallen asleep there for three straight days.
The view of the city was alive. Light glimmered from the stories of apartments and offices, marking the movement of life. The muted and distant view painted a picturesque scene I’d never tire of. Pedestrians walked about below as cars sped by. Cyclists weaved in and out of the traffic and the crowd, experts at avoiding collisions. Squinting, I made out mouths moving, shouting and conversing as they bumped into each other, acceptable behavior in the thick of the roving action.
My gaze was drawn to the balcony and my second favorite area—where the pool was located. The dancing body of blue water, with the sun bouncing off of it, brought an instant smile to my face. Although I loved to swim, sitting next to the slushing music the water created relaxed me.
After I stood at the balcony door and stared out into the sparkling water, I retreated to the couch. The large television projected the show, The Doctors, but the show eventually watched me as I snoozed.
Unaware of how much time had passed, Ansel was sitting beside me on the couch by the time I was fully awake. He held a rag up to his nose as his eyes flirted with me. Was his nose running? Had he come down with a cold? My forehead creased as I aimed to piece together his actions.
Upon closer inspection, I found that Ansel wasn’t wiping a runny nose. He took deeper sniffs from the rag, his teasing gaze on me as his chest rose and fell. He closed the space between us on the couch when I tossed my feet over and let them fall to the floor. A teasing smirk graced his handsome face, daring me to question his actions.
“How was your nap, Doc?”
“Okay,” I replied as my curious gaze followed his hand and the rag in it.
More often than not, I found it difficult to drop my gaze from his once he had it. However, at this moment, something in me resisted the strong pull.
His hand sat on his lap. It wasn’t a rag he held. It was thin and silky, a pale blue material that was clutched in his fist.
At the realization of what the rag was, my mouth dropped open, and I lost my ability to form words. My gaze crept up his arm and found his amused face.
“Oh. My. God. You’re a pervert. I know those are not my panties? Where did you…? How did you…?”
My full questions refused to cross my lips, although I already knew the answer. This crazy man had gone into my dirty clothes and taken my panties, the ones he’d made me come in.
“Damn, you smell good. I knew it,” he commented before taking another deep sniff as he observed my awestricken face and frozen body.
What was I supposed to say? What in the hell was I supposed to do in this situation?
“Starting next week, I would like to start training you on how to protect yourself. A few self-defense techniques, maybe some knife work.”
He stated this like I hadn’t discovered him sitting there sniffing my panties. My words remained hanging in my throat as I glanced at the hand that cupped my panties falling back into his lap.
My lips parted and closed several times as I fought to fix my pinched face. On one hand, I was flattered that he liked my scent, but on the other hand, I was conflicted and stunned that he’d do something so appalling.
My lids slid closed for a second, remembering who I was dealing with. Keeping a level head would help
me get through this arrangement with Ansel for the next couple of weeks. He wasn’t typical. He damn sure wasn’t proper. He was arrogant. Uncouth. He did whatever the hell he wanted and dared you to question his actions. In this case, I got the impression that he was baiting me. I believed he wanted me to question him about my undies, but I wasn’t going to.
“I’d like that. I’d like to know how to protect myself. I can’t have a Knox man protecting me for the rest of my life. So, learning how to protect myself is best.”
One of his brows lifted as he assessed my posture and took in my response to his statement. He was just starting to realize that I wasn’t as gullible as he might have thought.
9
Ansel
This damn woman was determined to make me break my own rules and fuck her right here on this couch. As much as I’d love to punish her again, I kept a level head and reminded myself of the standard of discipline I sought to maintain with Regina.
“You took your punishment well today, Dr. Regina.”
She didn’t reply, but the defiance mixed with the curiosity in her gaze bent my lips into a smile. She wasn’t a pushover, and I liked that aspect of her. However, I wasn’t sure what I’d do next if she told me no again.
“Will you be my submissive?”
“You made me orgasm with all my clothes on. What do you expect me to say?”
“I expect you to give me an answer. The right answer.”
“And if I don’t?” she questioned, with one of her brows raised.
Regina had no idea who the hell she was playing with. She was pouring gas on an out of control blaze, but I believed she knew what she was doing. The defiance in her was pissing me off, turning me on, and had my dick hard enough to crack concrete.
A part of Regina was afraid of me, but there was also a part of her that wouldn’t allow herself to be fully dominated. It was that spark in her I’d noticed the moment I’d met her. It had glowed through her sadness and burned through her fear.
That spark would make her the most exciting submissive I’d had. Regina wasn’t like the others who only sought domination. Those that allowed me to get away with shit I’d hoped they’d dispute. I believed Regina would challenge me, and I liked it. When my lips started to curl into a smile, I suppressed it and prepared to answer her question.
“If you don’t give me my answer,” I leaned in and placed my lips against her ear, “you will be punished repeatedly until you give me everything I want.”
When she turned her face to meet mine, I didn’t back away and neither did she. Our faces were inches apart as we breathed each other’s air.
“I’ll be your submissive under a few conditions,” she stated, her gaze on mine.
What the fuck? She was giving me conditions now? The spark in Regina burned hotter than I imagined. I’d never been opposed by a potential submissive. I’d never even shopped for one. Subs chased me or were recommended. They did whatever I ordered them to do, which was follow my every command. Regina was the one I’d had to persuade.
“What conditions are you proposing?” I questioned, curious as to what she’d ask for.
“Will you explain what it means to be your submissive, and will we get to be regular people or will we always be in Dom and Sub mode?”
Hell, I’d tell her whatever the hell she wanted to hear as long as she gave me what I wanted.
“As my submissive, the main thing, the number one thing I’ll require of you is your trust. Like I told you earlier, forget whatever you’ve heard. Our relationship will not be about me getting off on punishing you or doing dirty, freaky, and nasty things to you all the time. My aim is to explore you, learn what your deepest darkest desires are. Find your pleasure zones and stimulate them. Push you to embrace your sexual appetite, to experience pleasure and discover new desires and indulge in them. Eventually, I’ll teach you to find the same in me. I’ll inflict pain to stimulate pleasure. I don’t do humiliation like some Dom’s because it doesn’t do shit for me.”
“And you think that I could be a good submissive?” she questioned, still unsure of herself.
“Yes, Doc. I not only think so, I know you would. However, I must stress that this is not a traditional relationship. There won’t be any pillow talk, snuggling, or candlelit dinners, but it will be mutually satisfying in other ways.”
She sat patiently, hanging on to my every word. I appreciated that she asked questions—that she wasn’t falling into this with blinders on. I’d underestimated Regina.
“Bondage, Domination, Submission, and Masochism. Some embrace it as a lifestyle. Some treat it as a dirty little secret they don’t want anyone else to know about. Some treat it as a fad or phase they go through. It means something different to each individual.
“Embracing it doesn’t mean that you lose who you are. It means that you have preferences that are beyond what society deems normal. There are D/s who switch. They enjoy each role, but each partner would have to enjoy switching. For some, this lifestyle is more about power and control than it is about sex. Some love the control, and some can’t go without being dominated.”
Regina’s interest was written in her body language. She leaned closer, tilting her head as her ears perked a bit. Her gaze bounced back and forth from my lips to my hand gestures.
“For some, to have their power stripped away and to allow another complete control, it provides them the ultimate high, the best thrill, the most pleasurable sexual encounters. There are dungeons and clubs that cater to the specific needs of the D/s team or specifically to single males or females. Some people have a desire to be spanked or tortured or tied up. Some may crave choking or may want to watch a male or female masturbate so they can get off. Hell, I’ve seen some that like to get enemas.”
This revelation raised her eyebrows but didn’t deter her curiosity.
“Some men may enjoy dressing in women’s clothes or some may want to dress like a baby. Some wish to fulfill rape fantasies where they are the victims or the attacker. People are willing to seek ways to satisfy their needs no matter how debauched society sees them. Society may see perverts, but we are merely people who have identified and accepted that we prefer something different.
“The people who embrace BDSM are not pedophiles or sexual deviants. Most are normal people that simply have extra needs. Rather than go through life unfulfilled because they have kinky desires, they seek places or like-minded individuals that give them an outlet to have those needs satisfied. The life is portrayed as dark and evil on television and in magazines because they focus on pinpointing the negative and most extreme cases.”
Regina soaked in my words, anxious for me to reveal more.
“Being my sub means that you will learn to trust me enough to tell me anything, ask me anything. I’ll be your therapist when you need one, your mentor, your helping hand. I know that it’s not easy to blindly trust someone, and I impose strict guidelines on myself so that you’ll gradually give me your trust. I would like to have enough of your trust in me that you’ll know without a doubt that I’d keep your best interest at heart, your safety, and your well-being. That I’ll protect you from any physical or mental harm.”
Her gaze volleyed back and forth from my gaze to my lips as she continued to absorb my words. Her stiff posture was more relaxed now, her raised shoulders lowered, her heightened eyebrows leveled.
“I hold myself to a standard that I’ll never push you past your breaking point or make you do something you don’t want to do, and that if you tell me to stop, in voice or body language, I will stop. I will not make you perform sexual acts or any other kinds of acts without asking permission. I will not force you to do anything you are not comfortable with. I may persuade you, fuck that, I’ll persuade the hell out of you, but I’ll always respect your final decision.”
The smile in her gaze revealed that she liked what I was saying. I hoped she believed what I was saying.
“We won’t be transformed into two people that are stuck in
D/s mode. We will still be normal people. As normal as a gun runner and a cartel member can be,” I stated teasingly.
She failed to hide the grin that twisted her lips, aware that she and I were a lot of things, but normal wasn’t one of them.
“Certain words are triggers. Body language is a trigger. And sometimes I just want to be a fucking kinky freak. If you believe you need a break and don’t wish to partake in some of the explicit acts that we might engage in, I’ll respect your choice. If you no longer wish to be my sub, I’ll respect your choice to walk away.”
Everything I was saying to Regina was the truth, except one thing. Letting her walk away from me wasn’t in my plans. I struck down the demon inside me that craved nothing more than to hold this woman captive, fuck her every chance I got, and never let her go.
She squinted at me as I forced my mind back to the subject at hand. There was a river of questions churning in her brain.
“If being your sub is as good as you make it sound, why did your other subs leave? I remember August and Shark mentioning that you break women to the point that they run and hide from you.”
I tilted my head, grasping how seriously she was taking this and realizing she had a memory about a hundred miles long.
“A proper, well-disciplined Dom takes his time and learns everything necessary to keep his submissive happy and loyal. When I break a woman, I don’t break her so that she’s non-functional. I break her out of her own mind so that she doesn’t let her own thoughts ruin her pleasure and foul her fantasy the way she imagined it going down. There is no torture. There is no abuse. If you don’t like what’s being done to you or if you believe you’re being pushed past your threshold, you simply use your safe word. I take pride in the fact that I’ve never pushed a sub any further than she wanted to go. I don’t understand why they leave, but I respect their choice and don’t chase after them if they choose to walk away. The lifestyle is not for everyone.”