Bind and Keep Me, Book 2

by Cari Silverwood

  He was my man. That would never change.

  This person was going to live in our house, eat our food, and maybe…try to do everything she could to escape. I would. If I were her.

  The other side of the coin? I sat back a little, thinking. We, Klaus and I, got to say precisely what she could, and couldn’t, do. That rocked my brain.

  The next streetlight showed her glare had drained away to be replaced by an unreadable flat expression. Then her mouth wobbled and she whimpered, just once, with her gaze fastened on me.

  I bit my lip and swung back into worried mode. This was a real girl. What were we doing? I’d never gotten anything worse than a parking ticket.

  Chapter 5

  Klaus

  As I carried the girl down the stairs to the room, I had a bad case of déjà vu. This was how my own introduction into the world of BDSM had begun; only I’d been asked to help Jodie enact a capture fantasy. From that had come our relationship of Master and slave. Though we’d evolved a little since then, and become more comfortable in our roles, and often I think we dropped into merely Dom and submissive, it had begun in the Room.

  Capitals seemed right for this place. Nah. I downgraded it to small letters. Pretentious bullshit.

  With her weight on my shoulder, my shoes made big hollow thumping sounds as we descended. The one muffled protest she made I settled with a smart thump on her behind, and a “Quiet!”

  As behinds went, hers was a nine out of ten. Soft, bouncy, well-formed, and not mine.

  There was going to be no leeway for her being petulant or rebellious in this enterprise.

  Down here, in the room, was our collection of BDSM toys and equipment—cuffs, chains, ropes, spanking bench, and rings bolted to the walls and floor and ceiling. Our dungeon that was soundproofed and mostly underground, and inescapable, as far as I knew. What would she make of all this?

  More importantly—would we ever be able to let her go?

  I went along the corridor, reached the door, and fumbled to open it while steadying the woman with one arm over her back. It snicked open and I booted the door to send it swinging inward. I clamped down on a shudder. This was so Hannibal Lector. Jodie and I—serial killer one and serial killer two.

  No way. No bloody way. I eyed the derriere of the girl, of…Stephanie—I chastised myself for forgetting her name—as I strode to the left hand wall where I’d long ago set up multiple bolted-in rings. Many fun times had been spent here while I kept Jodie pinned against the wall so I could torture her. She liked to hear Nine Inch Nails blasting out of the speakers while I flogged or cropped, or did whatever struck my fancy to her. Sometimes I’d played her Raindrops on Roses or a sugar-sweet Christmas song to add to the torture.

  But this girl wasn’t into BDSM, or us. This wasn’t an agreed-upon scene of fake forced seduction. I had to keep my dick in my pants. No matter how pretty or enticing she was. And, yes, she was enticing. My appreciation of the divine female form refused to go away and hide in a dark corner. I could control my voluntary actions but not my involuntary ones, like the hard on that had already arisen.

  There were reasons, good ones for what we were doing. I had to keep that in mind. Yes, and the best-laid plans of mice and men often blow up in our faces.

  Carefully, I went down on one knee and laid Steph on her side on the floor. I slipped my finger between the metal of the cuffs and her skin. The cuffs might leave a bruise, but the gap was correct and nerve damage unlikely. They’d be removed in a minute anyway. Since handcuffs were illegal in Queensland, I made a mental note to dispose of them ASAP.

  The ridiculousness of that—worrying about the handcuffs when we had a kidnapped woman in the basement. Be daring, I may as well hang onto the cuffs.

  By the time I heard the patter of Jodie’s footsteps on the stairs and she entered the room, I was busy collecting the bits and pieces I needed from the big timber toy box we kept down here. Cuffs, collar, leash and ball gag, just in case.

  “Close the door.”

  She obeyed, though without taking her eyes off what I was doing. The girl lay on her side where I’d left her, shivering and whimpering a little.

  Ignore that. She needed to know we were serious and now, right now, was the crucial introductory phase. Though I had to admit I wasn’t sure exactly how we were going to somehow get to the stage of being able to trust her.

  I massaged my forehead. Yeah, no idea. We had to wing it. Stockholm Syndrome? Plain ol’ brainwashing? Logic…mmm, no, cross that one out. And me, an accountant. Haha. What I really wanted, really, really wanted, was to see a business plan before we went a step further.

  One labeled, maybe, The Gentle Persuasion of Stephanie? I rejected that one. The Mean and Nasty Persuasion of Stephanie? Better. Gentle was for non-kinky accountants. I’d graduated. I had unplumbed depths and a great capacity for being mean and nasty. I was fairly sure I could even crack my knuckles in a pinch.

  I glanced at our scared victim—our victim in the cute little white dress that showed a peek of white underwear and butt cheek due to how the cloth had collected under her. I rose, unfolding my legs and taking stock. Fast and efficient might be best. I’d talk once I had her in place.

  When Jodie looked about to intervene I pointed at the floor and waited for her to kneel. The world might have been knocked off course but some things could stay the same.

  Stephanie was still shivering. I took a step toward her, thinking how I would fasten her to the wall, make her understand this was how it would be from now on—we held her reins. Her next whimper was even more pitiful. So terrified. And why wouldn’t she be?

  Fuck. Was this the way? How could you make someone trust you, which surely was needed before we could trust her, if all you did was scare them and order them about?

  Rapport. The word sprang up. We, Jodie and I, needed to form a bond with her so that trusting was part of the relationship. I stood there awhile, not sure how long, thinking, tapping my back teeth together in a habit I’d had since childhood but didn’t often do anymore.

  I crouched on one knee next to her and began swapping the handcuffs for the thick leather ones. I snicked each padlock in place to lock in the buckles—you’d need heavy-duty shears, a knife or the key to remove these. Once the ankle cuffs and collar were on I lifted her so she stood with her back against the wall. With her hands linked behind her, her virginal white dress, and her downcast eyes, Steph looked suitably chastened.

  I wasn’t stupid, though. She’d possibly knife us and run if she had the chance. Rapport, we needed that so badly. I knew what my mind was hinting, but going there was so wrong…

  “There.” I drew her chin up, gently, as if she was made of glass. “Eyes on me. Understand, Steph. You’re no longer in control of your life now. I am.” She cast a worried glance at where Jodie knelt, then at me, then at Jodie again. “She’s not going to rescue you. Jodie is my partner as well as my submissive. You’ll learn what that is. Jodie, get me a pair of scissors, please.”

  The scissors I’d taken from Steph were in the car along with the vacuum cleaner. More evidence to dispose of. When I’d first seen those shiny scissors, and the blood on her white clothes, I’d envisioned those scissors plunged into Jodie. What if? What if she had done that?

  Nothing, nothing, would stop me protecting Jodie. I’d do what I had to.

  I put my hand around Stephanie’s neck and thumbed her skin. “I’m not going to say much more tonight. Tomorrow we can sort things out correctly. Your duties, your position here. How I will punish you if you do wrong. It’s late. We’re all tired. You’re terrified.”

  She flinched and her neck moved in a tiny suppressed swallow.

  “It’s obvious that you are. You don’t need to hide it.” I leaned against the wall next to her. “I’m not going to murder you, or torture you.”

  “Are you going to rape me?” The flutter in her voice—more desperate nerves. She might crumble into a hysterical heap if I did the wrong thing, said the wrong w
ords.

  “I’m not into rape.” So true. But…but, but, but. There were other ways. My badass conscience whispered to me. We need this. We need a relationship. Unless you want to go to your deathbed with a woman’s skeleton in your fucking basement.

  God. I focused on her. For the first time, she looked back at me squarely.

  “Thank you for that.”

  “Just one of my weaknesses.” I gave her a bland smile. I might not do rape, but maybe I was contemplating seduction of a woman tied up in my basement—a small yet significant difference. But what if it was the best, the least traumatic way to achieve results, for all of us? I was not going to try beating her into submission. No fucking way would I try that.

  Jodie arrived and gave me the scissors. Watching the subtle change in Steph’s face, the relief as she saw Jodie had returned…

  As a way of cementing in place my dominance, I was going to strip her of the dress. But I had a small epiphany. Both of us were needed here. My sub or not, I could see a role for Jodie, maybe. It should be both of us.

  I fished the leather leash from my pocket, clipped it to the collar then to a ring on the wall. It was long enough so Steph couldn’t hang herself.

  “Come with me, Jodie.”

  Outside the room, I shut the door and cornered Jodie next to the door jamb. With my hands around her ribs beneath her arms, I bent and kissed her well. God, the warmth and swell of feeling. “It’s so good, being able to touch you again. So good.” With my nose buried in the hair above her ear, I breathed in, enjoying her scent and just being near her.

  “Me too,” she murmured shakily. “Me too, Sir.”

  After a minute I drew away. “We can’t leave her too long. So, here is what I’ve decided. This isn’t going to work, scaring her into doing what we want. We’ll end up with a woman who will maybe seem complacent, but underneath it all, she’ll want to do us damage. We need to make her want to be here. We need to make her like us.”

  She nodded, her eyes serious. “I guess. That sounds so incredibly impossible, though.”

  “If you’re agreeable, beautiful, I’d like to get close to her emotionally…maybe even sexually. Are you happy with that?” I kept my hands firmly on her body while I waited, content to feel the rise and fall of her chest.

  If she said no, I wasn’t sure where to go after that.

  “Sex? You’re talking maybe sex? With her? Us, doing that with her? After what she did to me? That’s so odd. So, maybe, wrong? You’re not talking force?”

  I shook my head and Jodie looked away at nothing for a few seconds.

  A fleeting hardness crossed her face. “Good, because that’s kind of what they did to me. I’m okay with this. On one proviso.” Her eyes narrowed and she prodded my chest with her finger in a “you’re-my-bitch” gesture I hadn’t seen for months. “You said this was just a you-and-me decision?”

  I grinned and captured that finger. “Careful. You might get that bitten off.”

  “Sorry, Sir. But, may I ask if, if we ever make it into bed, that I be allowed to…” She faltered. “I don’t know how to say this.”

  I waited. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this either. “Try me. Say what comes to mind.”

  “I feel really awful when I think of submitting when she is around. Like I don’t want to be seen as on her level. I want to grab her and rub her nose in this mess we have to deal with. It’s… No, I’m tired.” She rubbed her face. “I’m tired and I’m not sure what I mean.”

  Interesting. “I understand, I think.”

  This had potential. I nibbled and nipped a few of her fingertips while I thought. Her gasps while she attempted to pull them from my grasp were sad reminders of what we were missing. I kissed her palm. “We can try this and see where it goes. We’ll make sure you’re above her in the pecking order. Just don’t forget who is charge of you.”

  She hugged me. Her reply was muffled against my shirt. “I won’t, Sir.”

  “Here. Take the scissors. Just follow my lead.”

  We went back into the room and, as if we’d not left, I settled in beside Steph and put my hand to her neck.

  “Jodie, I want you to cut off her dress. No slave of ours is going about dressed on her first night.”

  “Slave, Sir?”

  “For the time being. Yes. Cut from bottom to top to reach, here.” I tapped the top of Steph’s cleavage and smiled inside at her jump. “Then the shoulders so it slides off.”

  “I’m not going naked!” Steph squirmed against my hold, and her shoulders shifted as if she tested the cuffs.

  “Stop!” I tightened my grip on her neck a tiny amount, felt the tension in the cords of muscle there. I was leaving her panties on but I didn’t think that would win me any points. “You will do as you are told. It is our dress, and this is not your body anymore. You belong to her, and to me. Understand that?”

  The stiffening of her body signaled the first defiance I’d seen since we’d arrived here. It was good to see feistiness being aired. Slapping it down was easier this way.

  “Understand?” I asked in a growl that spiked more fear in her eyes.

  I didn’t look away in the age-old challenge of one animal to another. The one who broke first lost. It was that simple.

  She dropped her gaze. “Yes.”

  “Cut the dress, Jodie.”

  “Okay,” she answered quietly, and she began.

  The central cut wasn’t really needed to get the dress off, but psychologically, when the dress parted, yes, I thought I’d like that. That revealing would be somehow more sexual. The mind was a big part of this process, of subduing Steph. For a second, just a second, I clamped down on my desires.

  But, I sighed, damn it. This was a new part of my life. I couldn’t afford to be squeamish. We’d set our course for immorality to preserve what we had. I had to embrace this, or give up and go under. If I wanted Jodie to end up with a pair of scissors in her back, go down the good road.

  No. Not me. I never gave up. I could be bad if I had to be. And if I was going to be bad, I would do it right.

  “Good work, Jodie.” She had reached the waist and I could see a hint of the smooth tanned skin of Steph’s thighs. “Keep going.” I stroked Steph’s neck some more, this time as deliberately and slowly as I would the neck of a woman I owned in every way—body and soul. “I want to see all of you, Stephanie.”

  After a moment, her lips seemed to part and the tiniest of shivers ran through her. I smiled. Maybe this was going to work.

  Chapter 6

  Stephanie

  Sometimes fear can be solid—it can be something that clogs your lungs and invades your blood vessels until you wonder if the next pump of your heart will see you dead.

  I had to stand there while my dress was cut, dead center up my body, with those scissors heading toward my breasts while he held my neck and Jodie looked up at me with a strange smile. Yes, I was terrified. And sickeningly, I was aroused also. This was like some strange erotic dream. Was I half-awake, trapped in a nightmare?

  His words, “I want to see all of you.”

  Shudder.

  His voice, a breath away, adjacent to my ear. He was still there. When he spoke, my hair stirred. Fuck. Go away. Leave me be. I just want to lie down and cry.

  I let my head go back until it tapped onto the wall and I shut my eyes, trying to keep out what was happening. But her fingers kept touching me. My thighs, my stomach, her hand touched, light as air, and moved on as she steadied herself. Or was her touch deliberate? My clitoris arose, unbidden. Those cold metal scissors kept advancing, and the hold on my neck was unrelenting.

  I was sick. I must be. Why else was my underwear dampening? Why else did I have to breathe in fits and starts while I prayed he was blind and didn’t notice?

  His words had made this happen. They weren’t going to kill me, or torture me, and he wouldn’t rape me…and that, I had believed. Why would he bother to lie? And then, god friggin’ damn him to Hell, he’d sa
id he wanted to see all of me.

  There was no way I could escape the sexual context. I’d never before felt so helpless and yet also so very much the center of anyone’s attention.

  What the fuck was wrong with me? Maybe it was the drugs? My legs were quivering from the prolonged tension. I needed him and her to go away, and leave me. I needed them to…

  “Go away!” I whispered forcefully. “Please. Go away! Stop this, please!” I wasn’t sure why I was being polite, except that, really, I was still very afraid.

  “No.” His hand tightened, a bar across my throat. “Do you really think we obey you?”

  Jodie with her scissors, kept snip-snipping through the cloth of my dress, and reached just below my breasts. “No. We don’t.”

  Her open hand slid up over my mons and I stiffened, my thighs tensing at the invasion, my mind stalling in place as silently I swore one word over and over. Then her hand came farther, and I could breathe again. She paused with her palm on my stomach before slipping higher.

  Even a second before she reached my breast I anticipated the pressure of her warm fingers, cupping me there, gently. Was I dreaming this? People had died tonight, hadn’t they? Leon and Melissa? This could not be real.

  As the blades snicked to within an inch of the neck hem, I choked out, “No. Please. Don’t.” I pulled at the wrist cuffs, testing them, though even if I were loose what would I do? Where could I go? I’d seen how strong and fast he was in the garage.

  “Don’t?” Jodie straightened and faced me, almost nose to nose. Her brown hair swung across her face. Her hand came up, and settled on top of his. The two of them held me. Her body came in. Her soft breasts pressed against mine.