by Avery Gale
Fischer wasn’t sure a woman’s simple act of trust had ever affected him more. He’d seen the indecision in her eyes and had practically been able to feel how torn she’d been downstairs. He would bet his inheritance the shock had been wearing off and she’d already started feeling guilty—playing every possible scenario over in her mind and always coming back to the erroneous conclusion that if she’d been with her parents this wouldn’t have happened. And even though he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her, that wasn’t what she needed. Right now the beautifully bare submissive standing in front of him needed to be reminded that she was right where she belonged. She needed to know he and his brother would protect her even when it conflicted with what she thought she wanted. And she needed to feel the safety in consistency, and that meant holding her accountable for her behavior and following through on the punishment she’d earned.
Fischer had learned a lot during the time he’d worked for Cameron Barnes, the man might not have Fischer’s ability to hear the thoughts of those around him, but Cam was the most intuitive Dom Fischer had ever met. The man known as Master C had taken Fischer under his wing and mentored him, teaching him that there were times the words moving through someone’s mind were often little more than self-talk and therefore not entirely reliable measures of their true feelings. Recognizing the difference between what someone told themselves they should want and what their body craved was the difference between meeting the submissive’s needs and just fucking—the difference between pushing a sub’s boundaries to broaden their horizons and simply achieving the satisfaction of having power over another person.
Stepping forward to take the shoes from her trembling fingers, Fischer wrapped his hand over hers, holding her hand and her gaze for several seconds before speaking. “Do you trust me, baby? Do you trust me to give you exactly what you need?” He’d deliberately emphasized the word need, because he had no intention of giving her what she wanted—no, this was all about what she needed to still the turmoil he could see quickly overwhelming her. In that moment, Fischer had never been more grateful for the time Cam had spent tutoring him because every nuance of Lara’s body language was practically shouting her need and Cam had taught him how to recognize all the signals. Taking her dress had exposed her physically, but he’d known taking her shoes would make her feel a whole new level of vulnerability—it was part of the reason subs were rarely allowed to wear shoes in the club.
Lara’s sky-blue eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t let them fall. Fischer watched her fight to pull herself out of the mental fog she was battling just enough to put on a brave face. “Yes, Sir, I trust you.” So brave, but so fragile at the same time. Was it any wonder she enthralled him? Everything about her drew him in—and it had since the moment she’d walked through the front door of the club looking like the innocent she’d been.
“Thank you, pet. I intend to honor your trust by reminding you that a good Dom always keeps his word. If I didn’t punish you as I told you I would, your mind would process that inconsistency and abstract it to any number of other circumstances. I want you to know—to know without question—all the way to the depths of your soul, that both Peter and I will always keep our promises.” Looping the straps of her shoes over the end of the handrail where he’d hung her dress at the back of the elevator car, he turned back to her with deliberately measured movements. He wanted to give her mind time to process everything that was happening. Ordinarily, Lara’s mind processed information at a pace worthy of a Mensa member, but this evening her thoughts were bogged down by all the emotional turbulence of her parents’ disappearance.
It was his job to push all the disquiet aside, giving her mind and body the break it needed. The success or failure of the next half hour depended in equal parts on her ability to put herself fully in his care, and his ability to push her just enough past her usual boundaries to clear out the emotional sludge weighing her down.
“Slide your feet into the toeholds. Perfect, now lean forward and grab this bar.” He’d chosen a bar low enough so she’d be forced to push her ass out, displaying it beautifully as if it were lifting and reaching for the strokes he planned to give her. But the toeholds weren’t adjustable and she was a petite little thing, so her sex was going to be very exposed and those sensitive tissues definitely couldn’t take the lashes his leather belt would lay across her ass so his placement was going to have to be very precise.
Lara wasn’t a pain slut, so this would certainly be a punishment, but he knew it was going to take a lot to get her out of her head. It was going to be a delicate balancing act—skating on the edge between giving her enough to push her where she needed to go, and steering clear of anything extreme enough to destroy the trust they’d already built.
Chapter Four
The fucking elevator was locked and that could only mean one thing. Peter took off for the stairs at a dead run, he was going to kick Fischer’s ass for taking off with Lara before he’d finished with his team. And if his little brother was fucking their sub in the elevator, he was going to be doubly pissed because his cock was so hard he was sure he could use it to pound nails and running up stairs with a hard-on was torture. Watching Fischer play with her downstairs had almost made him come in his pants and he hadn’t done that since he’d been old enough to drive for fuck’s sake. Reaching out mentally, he asked, ‘Where the hell are you?’
His brother’s answer confirmed they were in the elevator, but Peter was unprepared for the scene he found when he rounded the corner to peer into the small space. Seeing Lara naked, her small bare feet shoved into toeholds and gripping one of several bars he hadn’t even known were there brought him up short. But it was the red stripes across her upturned ass that had him freezing in his tracks. ‘What the fuck are you doing? This is too much.’
‘No, it’s not. It’s exactly what she needed. Stay quiet and watch her—really watch her.' Peter wanted nothing more than to cram his fist in his brother’s smug face, but he also knew if they intended to make this work long term they would have to work together and that meant appearing to have a united front. Any differences in opinion would have to be resolved out of Lara’s presence. She was much too perceptive and would be able to use any disagreements between them to her advantage—even if she didn’t do it consciously, it would still happen. Peter had seen subs play Doms against one another all too often.
By the time Fischer finished with Lara’s punishment and ordered her to kneel on the floor, she was sobbing and babbling about how sorry she was to have disappointed them. When he started to move to her Fischer stopped him with just a look. Peter didn’t know what his brother was planning, but it was obvious he didn’t think their scene was over yet.
Sobs racked her petite frame and Peter had to clench his hands into tight fists to keep from reaching down and pulling her into his arms. When she finally calmed enough to hear Fischer’s words, he asked, “Tell us the rest, cupcake. You have to trust your Masters not only with your pleasure, but also with your pain, and most of all with your fears.” Peter heard the hitch in her breathing and watched as her tear stained face tilted up, her gaze moving between them. Even with eyes swollen from crying and her tiny up-turned nose bright red, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But he held himself back, staying completely still because he knew she was watching—waiting to see if there was any indecision between them. And in an instant he knew exactly what Fischer had been trying to give her. His brother had known what their sweet sub had needed to purge the emotions she had been trying so valiantly to hold inside downstairs.
Seeing their united front, she deflated as if someone had stuck a pin in a balloon. Sagging, her shoulders curving in, she gave in again to hiccupping sobs, but these were entirely different. Through her gasps Peter barely heard her words, “I’m so scared they’re dead. I should have been there. I was always the one to warn them when trouble was brewing because I’d hear the rumors first. I was small and everybody d
iscounted me because of that. They thought I didn’t speak their language because I didn’t go to their schools so they spoke freely in front of me. I should have gone back. I was supposed to go back when I graduated. But I didn’t…I…I was too busy having fun.”
Peter was relieved when Fischer leaned down and scooped Lara into his arms. ‘Grab her things and push the recessed button to the left of the control panel before you release the doors. If our members find those little features the damned elevator will be stopped all the time.’ Peter didn’t doubt that—hell, it was a perk he hadn’t even known about until today, and now he was more than a little curious what other secrets Dark Desires might hold. But for now, his focus needed to remain on Lara—she was going to need their support, and he had a strong suspicion they were going to need to watch her like hawks lest she decide to investigate her parents’ disappearance on her own.
After sending the elevator on its way, Peter stepped into the office and watched as the wall panel that hid the steel door slid closed, smiling at the way it virtually disappeared into the wall. Yes, he really did need to talk with Fischer about what other secrets Dark Desires held. Turning his attention to the open door at the other side of the office, Peter listened as Fischer spoke softly to Lara, trying to soothe her by assuring her that she’d done exactly as he’d asked, and praising her for venting her frustration because it wasn’t healthy to bottle those negative emotions up inside. “Sweetheart, Peter and I are honored that you trusted us enough to tell us your fears. It makes me sad that your sweet ass had to pay such a hefty price to get your mind to let go. I don’t know who taught you that whole ‘suck it up and handle it alone’ mentality, but I’d sure like to point out the error of their ways to them.”
Peter smiled at Fischer’s words. Yeah, he’d like to be in on that ‘come to Jesus meeting’, too. He couldn’t help wonder if her parents had ever allowed Lara to be a child. From what he’d learned, she’d been born in a small village where her parents were working at the time and she had essentially been raised by nursemaids until she was old enough to begin school. He’d wondered more than once how a couple of missionaries had been able to afford the household help, but had chalked it up to the destitute financial conditions plaguing the nations they’d lived in.
Her mother and father had homeschooled Lara, beginning her studies when she’d only been three years old. But by all accounts they’d only overseen her education, she was for the most part self-taught from what he’d been able to ascertain. And when he’d looked through her background information and seen what all she’d accomplished since returning to the U.S., he’d been amazed. He had to admit, he agreed with the notes Cam had made in her file that she needed to focus her efforts in a more linear direction—racking up numerous bachelor’s degrees didn’t really make much sense. Perhaps diverting her attention back to her education would help keep her from making a play to join the investigation of her parents’ disappearance? They needed to find something to distract her. Peter agreed with the rest of the team—something was off about the whole situation, but none of them had known exactly what was tripping their internal alarms.
Discovering Homeland Security was involved had definitely been a game changer. Lara probably hadn’t considered the implications of that piece of the puzzle. If she’d even been listening close enough she would have surely figured it out though because none of them had done anything to disguise their frustration. But since Fischer had been playing with her at the time, Peter seriously doubted she’d heard much of what was being said. Damn his brother had been having fun, Peter had seen it in his eyes—hell, he’d practically been able to feel Lara’s sweet syrup sliding through his own fingers when he’d connected to Fischer. Peter’s concentration hadn’t been for shit, so he’d deliberately blocked their connection because he really had needed to concentrate on the impromptu sit-rep the Wests had called.
When Peter stepped into the hidden bedroom Cameron Barnes had built just off his office, he was pleased to see the contractors had finished the updates Fischer had initiated after they’d taken the helm at Dark Desires. Cam’s preference for “stark” in his personal areas hadn’t appealed to Peter or Fischer. He might give Fischer a ration of shit about his interest in aesthetics, but damn if his younger brother didn’t have a real gift for making their surroundings perfect. Fischer had described the apartment Lara had been living in as a hovel, and the men Cam had hired to move her into his penthouse when he’d hired her as a nanny, had been even less charitable in their descriptions. It wasn’t because she didn’t have good taste, it had been all about economics, and Fischer had been thrilled to have her input on the redecorating project.
Peter had understood she was a college student and even though he had opted to live at home while attending college, he’d had enough friends that he understood students’ sub-standard living conditions were par for the course. But he’d read the background work Cam had done on Lara, and he wondered how grandparents with a net worth to rival the assets of many small nations could allow their only granddaughter to live in an area so rough the local police steered clear after dark. Peter and Fischer had planned to ask her about her relationship with her family, but had been waiting until after the Barnes’ wedding, all the planning had drained their time and energy. But now, it looked like they would be having that conversation sooner rather than later.
Fischer understood that for him personally, being a Dom was more than a sexual lifestyle choice, he’d always viewed it as the foundation of his personality. All of his interactions with other people were affected in some way by his Dominant persona. He’d seen the way people reacted to his physical appearance and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t used it far too often, but his air of authority was what had the more lasting impact. Physical attraction was overcome quickly if a person was an ass. But he’d recognized early in life that most of the people he met were naturally attracted to power. The allure of an authoritative personality was almost magnetic under the right circumstances—hell, he’d watched in amusement as Cam demonstrated the point in the checkout line at the local supermarket one afternoon. They’d been discussing the topic while driving back to the club and his boss had simply pulled into the parking lot of a grocery outlet store, smiled and said, “Watch and learn.”
Cam’s influence on Fischer as a sexual Dominant couldn’t be overemphasized. Fischer was wise enough to know some of the things Cam had taught him served more as behaviors to avoid rather than practices to follow. His former boss had reminded him more than once he should never discount the value of a bad example. Cameron Barnes was one of the most self-aware people Fischer had ever met; Cam had claimed it was one of his most valuable assets and it was one Fischer strived to achieve. And right now he was painfully aware of the fact his cock was about to burst from the pressure of wanting to sink into Lara’s sweet heat.
By the time he’d calmed her enough that he knew she was actually hearing his words, he leaned down and brushed his lips softly over her ear, “You did so well, baby. I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of the way you took your punishment. More importantly I’m humbled and honored that you trusted us enough to be honest about your fears. I meant what I said, cupcake—we don’t just want the good, that wouldn’t be fair to you or to us.”
Peter sat down on the small table facing the sofa where Fischer held Lara and took one of her small hands, holding it between his much larger ones. Fischer watched in amusement as Peter seemed stunned for a few seconds at how tiny her hand was compared to his own. ‘She is petite, and vulnerable right now—but at her core, she really is remarkably strong.’ Anyone else would have probably missed Peter’s quick nod, but Fisher understood his brother almost imperceptible gesture of agreement. “We want the woman who submits so beautifully. The one who entrusts her body to us, knowing we’ll give her everything she needs. But we also want the woman who needs to be held all evening because she had a trying day or because she’s worried about someone she cares about. W
e want the woman who knows she can express her opinions without fear of the consequences—as long as she does so respectfully. Most of all we want the woman you are here.” Peter placed one of his palms flat over Lara’s heart and Fischer saw tear tracks down her blotchy cheeks again. Damn, she was going to be dehydrated at this rate.
Fischer nodded to Peter who then stood and held out his hand for Lara. They moved her into the attached bathroom and into the shower quickly. They hadn’t tackled the remodeling of the bath yet, so it was still woefully inadequate in Fischer’s opinion. He’d never been a big fan of minimalistic décor and this small room was next on his list for a makeover. The stark contrast of black accents against the bare white floors, fixtures, and walls was almost a shock to his senses after the much softer tones they’d used in the bedroom. As he and Peter set records for getting out of their clothing, he shook his head, “This room makes my eyes hurt. Let’s get our girl clean and get the hell out of here.” The soft snicker he heard from behind the glass shower door was about the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. ‘Damn, I love hearing her laugh.’
‘I agree, and it occurs to me that we don’t hear it nearly often enough.’ Fischer agreed, but he wasn’t entirely sure how to fix it—but he did know who to ask, and he made a mental note to call Tobi West first thing in the morning.