by Brynley Bush
I struggle frantically against the chains. “Knives and needles are hell-nos,” I cry out.
He immediately stops, and for a moment I’m afraid he’s going to use the gag since I wasn’t supposed to speak. Instead, I can feel the weight of his body settle in front of me, and my body instinctively responds to the sheer nearness of him.
“I know your hard limits, Avalon,” he says quietly. He touches my face, exploring the fragile bones beneath my skin with gentle fingertips. Judging by his voice, he’s mere inches in front of me, his face even with mine. “I promise I won’t puncture your skin. We’re just going to explore some sensation play.”
He scrapes the sharp points of the glove lightly across my bottom. “When you can’t see and your mind must focus solely on your other senses, things sometimes feel more intense than they actually are. That’s part of the appeal of sensation play. Do you trust me?”
Somehow, at least when it comes to what he’s going to do to me in this moment, I do, despite the fact that he’s a self-proclaimed sadist. I have no doubt he will honor my limits, or at least creatively skirt them in a way I can handle.
“I trust you, Sir,” I say.
He kisses me softly, and I want to fall into the sultry, wet heat of his mouth. “Those may be the sweetest words I’ve ever heard from you. Thank you for your trust, Avalon. Now be quiet, or I’ll gag you,” he adds sternly, but I’m no longer afraid.
He continues to trail the glove over my body, but this time I enjoy the slightly scratching sensation like fingernails being run tantalizingly over my skin. Just when I’m getting used to the feel of it, he stops, and something cold—really cold—presses into my vagina.
I gasp at the icy intrusion. It’s thick and smooth and made of some sort of metal, and it’s fucking freezing. The shock of it has my pussy clenching around it. He works it slowly in and out of me, and in no time it has warmed to match the heat that’s burning inside me. It has ridges on it that touch some deeply hidden sweet spot, and I’m writhing in the restraints, the proof of my arousal trickling from between my legs when he pulls it out. I whimper in frustration. I feel empty, and I want the now warm thickness of whatever was inside me back.
Roman presses it against my stomach. “Do you feel that? Your body has generated all that heat just for me,” he says smugly.
A feather tickles my skin next, teasing the throbbing tips of my breasts beneath the clothespins and the now incredibly sensitive skin of my breasts. He trails it lower over my torso, laughing softly as my stomach convulses. He teases my mound before dragging it across the crack of my ass and up my back. I’m ticklish, and I breathe deeply, separating my mind from my body to shut down my impulse to squirm.
But Roman’s having none of that. He’s intent on keeping my body guessing and my mind fully focused on what he’s doing. I barely have time to process the abrupt change in sensation as he gently presses what feels like a small pizza cutter with sharp little points over my breasts. This time I don’t move; I trust him not to hurt me. He varies the speed and intensity as he works the wheel over my entire body, and it’s exquisitely agonizing and like nothing I’ve ever felt before. My whole body tingles from the extraordinary sensation, raising goose bumps. It’s delightfully sensual when he runs it lightly over my skin, and deliciously painful when he pushes down harder. I’m quivering with anticipation and longing when he stops. I brace myself for whatever new sensation he’ll introduce next.
It’s leather again, but I can tell by the feel of the thin strip that he trails over my body that it’s the whip. After several agonizing minutes, he pulls it between my legs so that the leather bisects the folds of my pussy, stimulating the throbbing point of need centered there. I moan. It’s becoming too much, all these sensations melding together, and I want to come.
“Please,” I murmur.
“What did you say?” he asks, scraping the thin leather masterfully across my clit. The pressure in me is building to an impossible threshold, and I can’t take it anymore.
“Please, make me come, Sir,” I beg louder, proud of myself for remembering the title this time.
He stops abruptly, and before I can protest, he’s pushing the ball gag between my lips and fastening it securely behind my head. I thrash about wildly in the restraints. I don’t want to be gagged. I feel completely out of control, and it’s terrifying.
“Rule number seven, Avalon. There are consequences to disobeying. I was very clear that you weren’t to speak.”
He presses something soft into my hand.
“Squeeze that.”
I squeeze, and the object in my hand squeaks.
“That squeak is your safe word for both slow down and stop while you’re gagged. I personally think it’s a vast improvement over Anthony,” he adds drolly.
He caresses every inch of me, and I sag in the cuffs. There’s nothing like the feel of Roman’s hands on my body, and despite the clothespins or maybe because of them, his touch feels even more exhilarating. Although I hate the ball that’s forced between my lips, painfully stretching my jaw, the gag somehow adds a titillating component. Maybe because it reinforces my vulnerability.
He worships my body with his hands and his mouth, driving me toward a need so great I’m afraid that the orgasm, when it finally comes, might level me. As he rubs and licks and bites my sensitive flesh, he occasionally tweaks the clothespins, causing the pain that has receded to a bearable level to crest again. He spears a finger into me, and I gasp. He adds another, fucking me roughly, but I’m desperate for his ruthlessness, and I welcome it. I’m close, my muscles contracting in tandem with the tension coalescing in my core, when there’s an intense sting as he pulls first one and then the other line of clothespins from my thighs.
I moan behind the gag, but I barely process the pain; my mind has been shut down by the more imperative demands of my body. He unclips the pins on my pussy lips, and every sensation between my legs intensifies as the blood rushes back. I’m mindless with a fierce craving but helpless to do anything but wait and hope that Roman will give me what I want. He fucks me forcefully with his fingers as the orgasm builds. I hover at the precipice, ready to fly. He angles his finger inside me, touching my G-spot at the same time that he yanks the clothespins from my breasts with a single tug.
“Welcome to my world, Avalon.”
I scream behind the gag as I unravel, the orgasm leveling me. The universe fractures and I’m caught up in the vortex of mind-blowing ecstasy, oblivious to everything but the pain and pleasure that have blended into some intoxicating mélange. When the convulsing waves racking my body finally dissipate, Roman unfastens my wrists from the chains overhead and brings my arms down in front of me, his fingers pressing into the muscles of my shoulders to alleviate the stiffness. He unbuckles the gag and removes it and then gently unties the blindfold.
I still feel ravaged by the force of the orgasm, and I’m a drooling, disheveled mess, but apparently Roman’s into that sort of thing, because he’s looking at me like I’m a goddess. With his hand firmly gripping my jaw, he seals his mouth to mine, and our tongues tangle hungrily.
“You’re going to destroy me,” he rumbles, his hands trailing down the sides of my body, careful to avoid the excruciatingly sensitive skin of my breasts where the clothespins were attached.
“I think it’s the other way around,” I whisper.
His hand moves lower, skimming the center of me that’s still opened wide to him by the spreader bar between my thighs. My pussy contracts, aching for the feel of his thick cock filling me.
Oh, God. Could he have felt that? He’s smiling like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. He slowly massages my clit, and I groan.
“Do you want me inside you, Avalon?”
In answer, I boldly grab his cock, encircling it with my fingers as I stroke the length of him. He grabs my wrist, stopping me.
“Our détente is over,” he says thickly. “Beg me to fuck you.”
I beg, and I beg shamelessl
y. Much later, after he’s taken me from behind and stroked me to another mind-bending orgasm, we lie chest to chest, his arms banded around me. I inhale the scent of him, of us, and I don’t want to be anywhere else.
“Do you know how perfect you are?” he asks, his hand roaming idly across my back.
“I’m hardly perfect,” I say.
“Ah, you’re wrong,” he says with that absolute certainty of his that dares anyone to contradict him. “You’re perfect for me. You love my hands on you whether they’re punishing or pleasuring you. You love the bite of pain if it comes on the heels of pleasure, and you have a surprisingly high pain tolerance.” He frowns. “Unless you’re not telling me when the pain starts to go beyond your threshold.”
“That’s not it,” I assure him as I reciprocate his caresses, exploring the hard expanse of his chest with both hands. I stop. “It’s just… I have a hard time feeling anything sometimes. I guess I’ve gotten pretty good at shutting down so I don’t get hurt.” I remember his words earlier. “But then you already knew that. How did you know?”
“Because one damaged soul recognizes another,” he answers, and I can hear the hint of sadness in his voice. “You’re a girl with secrets. One day, I intend to uncover them. Until then, I’m going to strip down your defenses until you stop hiding your pain and responses from yourself or from me. One day I’m going to destroy that armor you’ve built around yourself, Avalon, and you’re going to give me everything. I want all of you, Ava—your secrets and pain, your pleasure, your very soul.”
I fall asleep wondering if his words are a threat or a promise.
Chapter Eighteen
Ava
The next day my breasts are impossibly sensitive, but it was so worth it I don’t even care. I smile at the memory of the things Roman did to me last night, and then again this morning. The man has got a diabolically talented tongue.
We slept late and are spending a much-needed lazy afternoon dozing in the sun at the pool.
“Someone looks like they had a good time last night,” Tessa says with a giggle as she drops her pool bag on the empty chair next to mine. Roman has disappeared inside to make a phone call, and I blush as I look over at her.
“Is it that obvious?” I ask, horrified.
“You look content,” she qualifies as she sits down and pulls out a bottle of sunscreen, squirting a dollop into her hand. “That bruised look in your eyes when I first met you at the rooftop bar has faded a little.” She stops rubbing the lotion onto her already tanned legs and shoots me a look of bewilderment. “Although God knows how that’s possible. Your Dom still scares the shit out of me. He’s so imposing; he just oozes authoritative power. He’s what a few of the girls I met at the club in Chicago were talking about when they mentioned a Dom being a true master. Is he more human when you’re alone?” she asks curiously.
I laugh. “He’s definitely human, Tessa!”
“You know what I mean. Is he more easygoing and lenient than he appears to be every time I see him?”
“Sometimes,” I admit, thinking about the times he’s made love to me tenderly. I reach over to grab a bottle of water, and my arm brushes over my sore breasts, making me wince. “And sometimes he’s more ruthless.”
“Oh, my God,” she swoons, falling back against her chair.
I roll my eyes. “He does really like to tell me what to do, though.”
Roman appears at my side, scowling. “You need to put on more sunscreen.”
Tessa and I exchange glances, and she bursts out laughing. Roman looks from me to her, and his scowl deepens. Tessa immediately covers up her giggle with a cough, and the terror in her eyes has me smiling. Poor Tessa; if she only knew fear just turns him on more.
A few minutes later Luke arrives, and by late afternoon, we’ve been joined by Desiree and Stefan. Emmett and Rebecca are on the opposite side of the pool with Megan and Caleb, and it makes me sad that because of Rebecca’s and Roman’s unfounded jealousy, Emmett and I have barely spoken to each other since the auction. He does catch my eye from across the pool at one point and gives me a wink and a smile, and I realize how much I’ve missed him over the past couple of weeks.
On the other hand, it’s been interesting to spend time with other couples, and Stefan and Desiree give me a glimpse into a different kind of D/s relationship from Roman’s stark ruthlessness and Luke’s more informal style. While Luke seems to be playing at being a Dom sometimes, maybe because he’s so much less intimidating than Roman, Stefan exudes a quietly gentle but firm dominance, and Desiree clearly loves nothing more than pleasing him. I find myself hoping they’ll stay together after the show, although I know the odds are against it. I’ve watched enough reality TV to know that most relationships can’t stand the rigors of real life once the show is over.
“I’m headed upstairs,” Roman says eventually. “I’ve got to review a contract before eight o’clock eastern time. You want to stay a little longer?”
I nod. “If you don’t mind. Sir,” I add belatedly, earning a small smile.
“Come up in thirty minutes to get ready for dinner. Logan will be announcing information about the next round tonight.”
I agree to come up in thirty minutes, but fifteen minutes after he leaves, I find myself wanting to be up in the suite with him instead of hanging out at the pool with Tessa, Luke, Stefan, and Desiree. Besides, I’m starting to feel like the fifth wheel, and watching Luke tormenting Tessa with an ice cube has me wondering if Roman and I might have time to play a little before dinner if I go upstairs now.
“I’m headed upstairs,” I announce, gathering my bag. “I’ll see you guys at dinner.”
Emmett intercepts me at the elevators.
“Hey!” he says, wrapping his arms around me in a big hug.
“Hey, yourself.” I hug him back hard. He’s solid and familiar, and I feel a warm rush of happiness at his comforting strength that has seen me through so much.
“God, I was so worried you were going to get voted off after the paintball games. I did my damnedest to get Sabrina out so you could stay. I’m glad you’re still here!” he says, burying his nose in my hair for a long minute. He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length, studying me. “That is, if you want to still be here.”
“I do,” I assure him. “In fact…” I trail off as his eyes narrow. “What?”
“What is that around your neck?” he asks grimly.
My fingers fly to my neck and come in contact with the sterling-silver collar and padlock. “Oh. It’s a collar. Roman gave it to me.”
Before I can say any more, the elevator door opens, and Roman stalks out. His eyes flash angrily when he sees me with Emmett.
He gives Emmett a curt nod. “I finished early and came down to find you,” Roman says to me unsmilingly.
“I was just on my way up,” I say quickly, wanting to avoid a confrontation between the two men. I step into the elevator, and Roman follows me. As the doors close, the last thing I see is Emmett studying me with a puzzled look on his face.
An hour later we’re at dinner, where Logan announces the next round of the Power Games.
“Tomorrow night marks round four of the games, and unfortunately two more couples will be going home on Friday,” Logan begins. “Tomorrow’s games will take place in the Helix Room.”
There’s a murmur of excitement among the contestants.
“I know many of you have already visited the Helix’s signature club on your own, but tomorrow night the club will be open to the public for a special sneak peek, and our Doms and subs will be the main attraction.”
My gaze flies to Roman. Open to the public? His face is impassive, his eyes fixed on Logan as he continues.
“There will be certain requirements that will be outlined upon your arrival in the club tomorrow night, but you’ll have to wait to get the specifics.” He smiles. “Anticipation is half the fun, right?”
Roman’s mouth tightens slightly, and I fight back a smile. Mr. Always in Con
trol gets to see what it’s like to anticipate the unknown for a change.
“Doms—each of you will be showcasing a piece of equipment in the Helix Room with your submissive. Each Dom will draw to determine which piece of equipment they’ll be using, so you won’t be able to prepare ahead of time. Of course, creativity is encouraged and is how you will earn points with the audience.”
As we leave the restaurant, Tessa sidles up to me and surreptitiously presses a piece of paper into my hand.
“See you tomorrow,” she says casually.
Since Tessa obviously didn’t want Roman to see her give it to me, I palm the note and wait to open it until I’m upstairs and in the privacy of the bathroom. I skim it quickly, worried that Tessa’s in trouble. Except it’s not from Tessa. The note is written in Emmett’s distinct handwriting. Meet me early tomorrow morning in the gym alone. I need to talk to you.
I wake up early the next morning while Roman’s still asleep and take advantage of the opportunity to study his face without those intense gray-blue eyes staring back at me. He’s as gorgeous asleep as he is awake, but so achingly vulnerable it makes my heart hurt. I want to trace my finger across the sharp blade of his cheekbone just below the fringe of his impossibly long dark lashes and run my fingers through his adorably tousled hair, but I don’t want to wake him up. I get dressed in silence and tiptoe out of the suite, closing the door quietly behind me.
Emmett’s already in the gym, and judging by the sweat pouring off his bare chest, he’s been here for a while. I get on the treadmill next to his and turn it on as he turns his off.
“Why the cloak-and-dagger note?” I ask teasingly as I begin a light jog to warm up.
Emmett doesn’t smile back. “Why are you wearing Roman’s collar?” he snaps.
I look at him in surprise. Emmett never gets angry. “He gave it to me yesterday. He wants me to wear it for the rest of the games.” I don’t add the part about its function in reminding me of Roman’s ownership and control over me. “Why are you acting like it’s such a big deal?”