by Trent Evans
Fuck! What’s happening to me? I’m not this person!
My frantic thoughts had my breath coming even faster, my chest rising and falling as I knelt in those stocks. I looked down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes as I said it.
“I… I don’t know. Please… please take it out. It’s… it hurts.”
“It’s supposed to hurt, dear boy. You’re being punished. It’s going to hurt even more when you graduate to the larger ones. I won’t lie to you about that. But like everything else here, you’ll endure it — and eventually, you’ll come to crave it. Because it pleases me.” Her black heel tapped the concrete. “I want you to look at me.”
I did, hating it, the way her cool gaze regarded me, as if this were a minor diversion for her. Most of all, I hated how I didn’t want to look away from those beautiful eyes. How they offered me something, just at the edges of my awareness, deep in their depths. Was it solace? Comfort? Refuge?
How about absolution?
“Tell me why your cock is hard. I wonder. Is it because of the plug in your ass, stirring things within you that you had no idea existed?” Her head tilted, her crimson lips quirking. “Or is it the pain?”
“No.” I shook my head as I said it, a reflex. It couldn’t be true.
“Maybe it’s the fact that you’re finally seeing the truth of things. It’s beginning to dawn on you that you have no control here. None. Not even over your own body’s reactions.” She leaned close, her sweet perfume all around me, making me breathe it in, the scent somehow comforting. It was… familiar. “Maybe it’s the fact you’re thinking about it right now. That one word. How easy it would be just to say it, to let it slip from your lips. How it would release you — and imprison you. It would open so many doors. So many things you might learn about yourself, your desires, your body, what it is you really need.”
She leaned back then, and I found myself pushing against the stockade, wanting to maintain even one moment more of that closeness.
What are you doing?
I’d lost track of time, whether it was day or night. Disorientation threatened to completely unmoor me. But that scent — it was concrete, it was real, it was something I knew.
It was her.
Despite the fact it was the scent worn by my captor, my tormentor, it was a comfort. In this dark pit of hell, I was ready to grasp onto almost anything, something to keep me anchored to the here and now, to the known. The real.
You’re in trouble here.
I no longer denied it. She was winning. I was starting to forget why I was fighting, why I struggled. Wouldn’t it be easier to just give in? Maybe I could regroup, think things over?
“Quinton, I expect an answer to any question I pose to you.” Her mouth firmed. “I’d hoped to avoid having to use the cane today…”
“No!” I swallowed, my tongue and mouth hopelessly dry. “It’s just… a reaction. I don’t know why.”
“I don’t think you’re telling me the truth, but we’ll set that aside for now.” She posed an elbow upon her knee, leaning forward and propping her chin on her hand. Her fingertips drummed lightly against her cheek, her dark eyes glittering. “Right now, I want that one simple word from you. You know what it is. I know you’re already feeling it inside, no matter how much that hard plug must be distracting you. You want to say it, you want that release of the burden of your freedom, the burden of free will.”
“No… I can’t! This is insane.” I waved my head from side to side, the frustration and fatigue and fear weighing me down more and more by the second. “Just stop this.”
“We don’t stop until you show me you’re ready.”
“Ready? W-what do you mean?” I dropped my head, the blood pounding in my temples. “I’m ready to… do what you want. That’s what you asked, right?”
Anna’s voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Then say it, stubborn boy.”
For God’s sake, don’t do it, Quinton!
“Please… I can’t,” I rasped, my voice breaking, the shame flowing through me at my welling eyes. A desperate hopelessness threatened to drag me down to the abyss.
For a moment, she said nothing, merely watched me, a gorgeous, terrifying statue of a dark goddess, demanding only obedience, promising only agony in return. Then she smiled, and the sight of it filled me with a relief more profound than any I’d ever experienced in my life. I didn’t know why, yet, but I knew I was on the verge of turning the page, starting the next chapter. Embarking on a new journey.
The question was — to where?
Anna drew close, her slender hands pressed to my cheeks. Her face was but a breath from mine, her pleasing scent so strong now it was dizzying. Those sharp, keen eyes searched mine, my face in her hands. Then, with another beaming grin, she brought my forehead to her soft lips. It was the first true kindness I’d experienced in weeks, and until that moment, I’d had no idea how much I’d missed even simple tenderness, a touch that didn’t hurt. It made my whole body tremble, like that first draught of liquid to a man dying of thirst.
Her lips moved against my skin, her voice a feline purr. “It’s going to be so hard, Quinton. So difficult for you. I don’t doubt this one bit. But I want it anyway. I want everything.” Then her words were but a murmur, filled with the twin promises of hope and despair. “Give in to this. Give in to me.”
I raised my head slowly, meeting her smoldering gaze. “I surrender.”
Chapter 10
“Kathryn, how do you even get anything done with a view like this?”
Columbia Center, its smoked glass facade dominating the skyline of Seattle, was the tallest building on the US west coast. And Kathryn Forster owned a penthouse there so exclusive it wasn’t even listed in the skyscraper’s directory.
A massive plane of glass formed an entire wall of the penthouse, affording a commanding view of the south side of town, the vital artery of I-5 pouring into the city, the giant white gantry cranes at the terminus of Elliot Bay, two sprawling stadiums, even Boeing Field in the distance.
The statuesque blonde, dressed in pale gray slacks with a matching fitted coat, pressed the cold drink into Anna’s hand, the ice, drowning in the amber liquor, clinking against the glass. “The Trust keeps me so busy these days I hardly have time to even come up for air, let alone enjoy a view.”
Sipping the scotch, Anna grimaced, the liquid burning all the way down. “I don’t know how you drink this shit. Pure gasoline.”
“It grows on you.” Kathryn slid onto the couch, groaning softly as she slipped off one of her heels, letting it thump against the deep brown of the pile carpet. “Have a seat, for Christ’s sake. Unless you’re itching to get outta here for some reason.”
Anna stood a moment longer at the window, glancing toward the east as if even there in the city she might be able to keep her eye on him.
Quinton.
With a sigh, she joined her good friend on the sofa, allowing herself a rare moment of relaxation as she sank into the plush cushions, her hand caressing the soft, cool leather.
Neither spoke for some minutes, instead gazing out on the silent city, ever working beneath a sky the color of pale slate.
“Erica says hi,” Kathryn murmured. “Surprised me, actually. I think she’s afraid of you.”
“She’s lucky I don’t like girls.” Anna winked at the blonde. “I might have to show her how a real Domme works.”
“Bitch,” Kathryn growled over the rim of her glass, taking another sip.
“How is she, by the way? Have her in a cage in your bedroom?” Anna lifted a finger toward her friend. “Was it you who was into the pet thing, or was that Blaine?”
“We both see the appeal, I think. My dear husband can’t keep his hands off her, most of the time.” Kathryn shrugged, her ice blue eyes sparkling. “I mostly see her when he wants me to discipline her.”
“Jesus, and you’re okay with that?”
“It works for us.” Kathryn’s grin had a distinct predatory note. “I rath
er like it that way, actually.”
Anna shook her head, but couldn’t help smiling at the woman. As one of the very few women in the Trust who enjoyed holding the reins, Kathryn had always been fascinating to her. That the woman also happened to be a force of nature, both in the courtroom and in a shadowed dungeon, only made her all the more magnetic. Though the Trust was undoubtedly dominated by powerful men, there were a few women, like Kathryn, who wielded considerable influence of their own.
As one of the few sexually dominant women of the Trust though, Kathryn herself had always shown a natural affinity for Anna, despite her unusual status within the organization. Not exactly a full member, and yet much more than a mere associate, Anna held a unique position.
Until recent events, Anna had liked that just fine too, allowing her to bypass most of the intrigue and internecine strife that periodically roiled the Dominion Trust.
Now?
That looked to be changing.
“You didn’t ask to meet me to discuss my slave.” Kathryn kicked off her other heel, tucking her bare feet under her. “You know the invitation is open to sample her anytime you’re curious. Hell, Blaine would get off on that like probably nothing else. He enjoys, uh, showing her off. So, what is it then?”
“It’s him.” Anna sighed, drawing once more from her drink, gritting her teeth at the burn.
Kathryn watched her for a moment, her eyes hooded, studying her from over the rim of her glass. “Tough nut to crack, that one.”
“I don’t know how to handle this.” She didn’t know why she blurted the confession, but it felt good to say it out loud.
“Don’t tell me the terrifying Anna Shaw has finally found one who’s gotten to her?”
She waved her glass at the cool blonde lawyer. “It’s not that he’s gotten to me. But there’s… something missing. A piece I haven’t found.”
“I imagine Grayson hired you to make sure that didn’t matter. I doubt the man cares about any of Quinton’s… pieces.”
Anna locked her gaze with her friend’s. “But his father does.”
“And so do you, it seems.” Kathryn tipped her glass back, not breaking eye contact. “You didn’t expect that, did you? We all pictured Quinton as a twisted, amoral little psycho. Let me guess. Not that simple?”
Her shrug was slow, as uncertain as the thoughts that warred within her. “I know nothing is ever that simple. But if I were to say I had him figured out, I’d be a liar.”
“Unusual for you, Shaw. You’re like the sub whisperer.” Kathryn’s eyes flashed. “You normally have a man eating out of your hand — or off the floor — by day two. Losing your touch?”
“He’s no submissive.”
Kathryn leaned forward, setting her glass down on the carved cherry wood of the coffee table. “I’m guessing Grayson’s money — and his terms — dictate such a detail doesn’t matter. Yes?”
She merely nodded. No doubt it was part of the attraction to the deal for Grayson. What better way to humiliate the man who’d defiled Genna than to make that man into something he wasn’t — whether he wanted to be or not.
It wasn’t that simple though, which was at the heart of what troubled her.
“I’m surprised you took the contract, honestly.” Kathryn stroked her chin with one slender finger. “After Greg left, I’d thought you’d retired from it.”
“Retired from what? Men?”
Kathryn’s sculpted brow quirked. “Among other things.”
There was a time she had considered it. That she and Greg had parted ways amicably, as friends even, didn’t help with the pain of it, with the nagging belief that it was somehow a failure on her part. That she’d failed him.
“This isn’t about Greg.”
“When are you going to fucking let that lie?” Kathryn snatched the drink from the table again, draining the remaining contents, then poising the glass upon her bent knee. “He took a sub. Did you know that?”
“I heard.”
The news of Greg’s new girl had burned, twisting in her gut in a way nothing else had. She’d actually seen him with the curvy little woman at the last Gathering of The Trust, the pretty auburn-haired girl gazing at him with the devotion Anna once thought she’d seen in Greg’s own eyes as he looked up at her from his knees.
It was a reminder, in a way, of how long he’d been hers… and of how wrong it had been to try to make of him something that he’d never be. He’d always fought her, always chafed under her control, her rules, her chains. No matter how he reacted to being conquered, to being subjugated — and he had — deep down, they both knew the truth of what he really was, of the desire to be in control he could never ignore for long. He wasn’t a submissive either, regardless of how many years he’d spent at the end of Anna’s leash.
Finally acknowledging that reality was an acknowledgment of something else, the one thing that was even scarier than letting go of the man she’d come to love. That a tiny, secret part of her would always love.
It had been an acknowledgment that she’d been wrong about him. How many others might she have been wrong about? How many square pegs had she forced into round holes?
That second-guessing of her own judgment, of her own capabilities, was insidious. It made her doubt every certainty in her life.
Leaving that all behind looked more and more appealing as time went on.
Until the moment she’d opened the letter from Grayson Corddray.
“Why did you take the contract? Hell, you don’t need the fucking money. Is that ballbuster Darynn still working for you? What was her name?”
“Hauser.”
“Cute — but a little butch for my tastes. Not to mention the fact she could probably kick the shit out of me with one hand tied behind her back.”
Anna chuckled. “Try both hands.”
Staff Sergeant Hauser had more martial training than any two men Anna had ever met. But there was a lot more to Darynn than the ability to handle herself in a jam. There was a tenderness, a kindness the gruff woman rarely let anyone else see.
“What about that juicy little piece? Red hair, petite. Jesus, she’s got a pair of tits on her that could turn me into a lesbian.”
Anna laughed even as she rolled her eyes. Kathryn Forster was infamously open-minded and, well, adventurous. If they were pretty, and most importantly, submissive, the rapacious blonde really didn’t care if the person was a man or a woman, gay or straight.
“Her name’s Ivy McClellan.”
Taking her first tentative steps into the idea of switching, the sweet little submissive had asked Anna if she could give her some tips. It was impossible to resist the gorgeous woman… and as it turned out, Anna had just the sort of opportunity she suspected Ivy might have in mind.
“You need to send her out here for a visit. I’ve got a nice, supple strap Blaine had made for me to use on Erica. Perfect for little Ivy, I think.”
“You’re incorrigible. Unfortunately for you, she’s not into women.”
Kathryn gave her a knowing smirk. “Give me a nice hour with her — my strap and those luscious boobs of hers — and I’ll convince her to expand her horizons.”
The appealingly sadistic visual Kathryn’s words conjured up notwithstanding, Anna shook her head. “She’s off limits.”
“For now, perhaps.” Kathryn undid the last remaining button of her coat, slipping it off, leaving her in only a sleeveless cream blouse that showcased her tanned, gym-toned arms. Her dark, prominent nipples quite visible through the black lace pattern of her bra hinted at by the thin, sheer top. “I’m patient.”
“Erica not enough for you?” Anna knew it wasn’t smart to bait the tigress, but she couldn’t resist — and it helped her not think about what really weighed on her mind.
“My slave is more than enough for any woman — but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate others. Trust me when I tell you, Erica’s used to it. And she knows very well what I expect.” Kathryn crossed her legs, her nails tapping the
side of her thigh. “Wouldn’t be the first time my slave’s watched me use another girl. But don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.”
“And that is?”
“Changing the subject.” Kathryn tsked playfully. “He must have you tied up in knots. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite like this before. You still want to stick with your bullshit story that he hasn’t gotten to you?”
The insightfulness of the cool-headed lawyer never ceased to irritate Anna, even as she admired the woman for it. Perhaps on some level he had affected her — though she still wasn’t as yet prepared to say how.
“Say he has — as a purely academic exercise.”
Kathryn pursed her lips dramatically. “Right… academic.”
“What would you do? Have you encountered this before?” Anna dropped her glass onto the table with a loud thunk, sighing. “This is stupid. Who am I talking to? You’re approximately as unflappable as a goddamned mountainside.”
Kathryn’s laugh was loud and long, her head thrown back. Finally, she fixed her keen eyes upon hers again, the mirth gone from her now sober gaze. “Once.”
“Who?” Anna wasn’t fully successful in keeping the shock out of her low voice.
“Erica, of course.” Kathryn stood, smoothing her slacks down her shapely hips as she padded to the window, laying a hand against the glass as she looked back toward the couch. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
Kathryn’s nails, the glossy white tips of the French manicure drawing the eye, drummed against the glass. “At first, I didn’t do anything about it. But I found myself being harder and harder on her. I’d spank her to tears just to see them streaming down her face. At first, that was fine — Erica relished it. She was — and is — so eager to please. But it wore her down, eventually. Nothing was enough for me but her pain.” Kathryn looked out the window again, her voice softening. “I was stupid though. It was Blaine who saw it, of course — he always does. It was only when he took me in hand that I could see what I was doing. I was risking the bond that had developed between the three of us. Blaine was her source of pleasure and pain. I was only her source of bitter disappointment. I could tell she was beginning to hate me.”