“Um…”
“No, Bunny. I don’t want to punish you. That would be like…” Punishing the sun for bringing warmth and light. He closed his eyes and shook his head at the rather sappy thought as he unbuttoned the cuffs on his white dress shirt. “No, I won’t punish you for a spirited negotiation, which ended with you on your knees.” He looked over his shoulder, watching her as she beheld his tools displayed on the walls.
“I did that, didn’t I?” she replied softly as she ran a finger across the falls of his flogger collection, setting the strands to swinging. She paused at one that was comprised of small lengths of chain and had sharpened goat horn fragments set into the ends and at intervals throughout and gave him such a doubtful look it was comical.
“No, Bunny. Although I do plan to earn a level of trust with you that includes that one as an option. You’d be surprised what I can do with it as well as how it would feel.”
“That would be one hell of a negotiation, Sir. Hard limit, for now.”
“I assumed as much already. I would never do anything to you that even approached drawing blood or breaking your skin.”
He shook his head and smiled when she let out the breath she was holding and moved on to the green suede flogger. He was rolling up his sleeves to just below his elbow when he looked up to find her staring at his hands, even though a museum’s worth of BDSM implements hung or stood on display in the dungeon. She watched his hands…and she smiled.
He let out a slow, deep breath, calming his heart rate, attempting to marshal his self-control as his cock swelled and throbbed with need. “Does this frighten you?’
“What? All of this?” She waved a hand at the gags, masks, whips, canes, floggers, and other instruments of pain and pleasure. “No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I know the man. At least I think I do,” she replied as she came to stand directly in front of him. “And I trust him.” She bit her lip, and a twinkle came into her eye. “Except for the chain flogger. Use that on me and just know you have to sleep sometime, Mister…Sir.” She punctuated her sass with a big grin and bounced once on the balls of her feet, a move guaranteed to draw his eyes to her lovely breasts.
He cupped her breasts in gentle hands, and she drew a deep breath as he thrummed both reddened, still swollen nipples. “Ache?”
“You know they do, Sir. How may I serve you?” She lifted her wrists to him, which brought the big red lollipop front and center. Her eyes sparkled with warmth.
Wrapping his fingers around the stick of the mostly untouched lollipop, he said, “You done with this?”
She licked her lips and nodded. “Yes, Sir. I mostly thought it might help with the naughty-girl attitude tonight.”
Joseph chuckled. “I don’t think you needed any help with the attitude. But it was cute, and I definitely enjoyed the naughty girl. Very much,” he added as he tossed the lollipop in the waste can.
He pointed to the bed. “Face down, please.”
Bunny cast a look around the dungeon. “You have all these contraptions to shackle me to and you want me on the bed?”
“You and I are starting with a clean slate in my dungeon, but that is one.”
He unbuckled his belt and yanked it from his belt loops. At the snick and slap of the leather leaving the belt loops, she gasped and froze. She put up a hand and darted her eyes around the room as if looking for a place to hide. The hunted look was gone as soon as it appeared.
He quickly hung the belt on the valet with his coat and stroked her shoulders until she met his gaze. “I want you on the bed because it is late. I’m tired. And I can see that, although you’ve rallied, you’re tired, too. I want you relaxed for this.” He ushered her onto the bed.
She snorted. “Easy for you to say. Relaxed is not what I’m feelin’ right now.”
She paused on her hands and knees, looking up at him for direction, and he crowded in behind her just a bit.
“I need to know, fiammetta. Did you think I would beat you with my belt?” She flinched. “Bunny, has someone beaten you in that manner?”
“Just an ass-preservation reflex, Sir.” She tried for humor, but he heard the underlying emotion.
He was glad he’d chosen the bed…and the flogger.
He placed his hand in the center of her back and applied light pressure until she lay down on her stomach.
Chapter Seventeen
Bunny let out a deep sigh as he gathered her hair and moved it forward in front of her. She’d watched a few flogging scenes in the club and reassured herself as she recalled the looks of bliss on some of the faces of the flog-ees. But what had they experienced in order to get there? Was there a wall of pain they had to push against until it propelled them somewhere else where pain felt good? Could she handle that? Especially when she’d been freshly reminded of what it was like to be on the receiving end of a belt? Few things could set her on alert like that telltale sound.
“You’re thinking so much, fiammetta, I can practically hear the gears grinding in your head,” he said as he reached down to the corners of the bed, lifted ropes that had cuffs at the ends, and began cuffing her arms into a spread-eagle position.
“Sir, do you sometimes think we’re making a mistake, you and me? You said yourself, several times, I have a background you don’t know much about.” She worried that all kinds of messy stuff would come out if they took this step, but the greater part of her heart ached to have this experience at his hands, to give him what he wanted.
“True. I know enough to take you where I want you to go tonight, and I trust you to give me the rest in your own time.” He paused as he slipped the garter and long sock from one lower thigh and calf and then cuffed that ankle. His fingers trailed along her skin in a slow caress, which relaxed her a bit. She grinned, recalling the notion she’d had early on that Doms were likely to withhold touch or affection, not a belief he’d subscribed to, evidently.
“What if I’m just too complicated?”
He removed the other sock and garter and cuffed the other ankle, and then his warm hand slid from her shoulder blade to her hip in a soothing arc. “You’re one of the most complicated women I’ve ever known, Bunny, no doubt. But I won’t complain about the process of getting to know you, understand you, although I could do without the working with heights the way you do. That’s my own personal opinion.”
She chuckled, recalling his bulgy eyes when he’d seen her on the tower. “I appreciate that, Sir. About the other…stuff, though, I’d like to just forget it all.”
“Does it affect the way you live now?”
“Not really.”
“Except for breaking ties with your family.”
“That was strictly self-preservation, Sir.”
A shiver raced up her spine as a light, tickling sensation crossed the bottom of her foot and slid up her calf.
“Eyes closed now, Bunny.”
She complied and shivered as goosebumps followed the trailing cool strands of the flogger as it drifted up her thigh. She pressed her cheek into the silky fabric of the bedspread covering the massive bed.
He repeated the motion on her other leg, and the shivers became waves, rushing in and receding like a tide as he lulled her. It almost tickled, and her flesh grew more sensitive with each leathery stroke. She inhaled a shaky breath and then let it out.
“Tell me why your hair is red,” he murmured, running his hand along the inside of her thigh, his palm feeling rough and heated against her skin.
“To be different. Tristan and I are both pale blonds, just like our parents, if you hadn’t guessed that I’m a natural blonde by, well you know… Right after I moved Tristan out of my dad and stepmother’s fancy house and cut ties with him and the rest of that family, I wanted to make a visible change. I found a reasonably priced salon the next day. Tristan helped me pick the red. He said it was a happy color, and he wanted me to be happy again. Sweet boy.”
Joseph paused his stroking to massage the large muscles
in the backs of her thighs. “You’re a strong woman, Bunny. Where did your father live?”
That one took her by surprise, considering all the obvious questions he could’ve asked. “The Dominion, Northern San Antonio. It was my stepmother’s house. After my mother died, my father remarried. His wife and her family were all wealthy.”
He continued massaging her thighs and calves. “Keep going.”
“Before Mom passed away, we’d lived simply, in a middle class neighborhood. He’d begun dating within a few months of Mom’s funeral. I heard a friend telling him he needed to move on, to not dwell on her death. Evidently he took that advice to heart.”
“How old were you?”
“Eighteen. Tristan was three. I was old enough to move out then, but it felt as if I would be abandoning Tristan to my stepmother’s family. Several of her children still lived at home, and they were…rough kids. Because of his head injury, he had special needs, and it was obvious Roberta, my stepmother, wanted to relegate him to a fulltime babysitter. At least his caregiver was sweet to him. I would’ve brought her with us if I could’ve afforded to. I was enrolled at a community college before I’d graduated from high school so I continued on with my education. My stepmother didn’t approve of my career path and wanted me to attend one of the universities. But I knew what I wanted to do, and so I persisted. After graduation, I moved out on my own.”
“And Tristan?”
“Stayed with my dad. Doctors couldn’t tell us with any degree of certainty what to expect with Tristan’s development. I worried about him, but it was a busy time for me, and I believed Dad would take care of him. On a couple of visits, I’d noticed the other kids were bullying him, teasing him and picking on him for being slow. I fussed at Dad and my stepmom about it, but they just shrugged it off, and Dad told me it was how boys in a family established a pecking order, only he was tiny compared to all of them. He somehow mysteriously broke his arm, playing with the kids, my stepmom said, and chalked it up to ‘boys being boys.’ I couldn’t get him to talk to me about it. He seemed so hopeless. I was pretty upset by it, but my dad cut me off and told me to mind my own business and stop being so dramatic.”
“Anyway, I got a job with a local IT company and began working fulltime. For a while, the only time I saw Dad and Tristan was rare weekends and holidays. I didn’t accept handouts from Dad or my stepmother. Life was a struggle at times, but at least that way they couldn’t put pressure on me. I enjoyed my work, and I lived life on my terms.”
Joseph gave a soft chuckle. “I can imagine.” The flogger landed on the back of her thigh with a soft whiff. She rubbed her cheek against the bedspread and smiled as another and another landed. “Continue, fiammetta.”
“I came home—if you want to call their mansion a home—for Christmas. My key didn’t work in the lock, and I had to knock and wait to be admitted by their housekeeper. I asked about it, and Roberta told me there had been break-ins in neighboring areas, and she waved off my request for a new key. I was okay with that because it was their house and I no longer lived there, but then I saw Tristan.” Her cheeks grew hot at the memory and she pressed her lips together to still their trembling.
The soft whispering blows of the flogger landed again and again, and she said, “Sir, wouldn’t you rather I be quiet?”
“No, I’d rather hear what happened next.”
Swoosh. The leather strands landed in a random pattern up and down her legs, her butt, and her back and shoulders, a warm caress that even the troubling memories couldn’t dampen.
“Roberta had been married twice before and, besides the kids still living at home, had several grown children who were older than me, as well as a large extended family. Some of them had kids of their own by this time. We’d never bonded with any of them. They were all there. Many of Dad’s and Roberta’s work colleagues and friends were there as well. With all of us present, Roberta made a show of introducing the kids as she handed out their gifts, mentioning their degrees and careers, and pointedly left Tristan and me out. All of the friends were ones he’d made after marrying her, so for all the guests knew, we were servant’s kids. I didn’t mind that neither Tristan nor I received gifts, and I’d whispered to him that I’d brought him something extra special. Mom had never been materialistic, and I embraced her philosophy. At one point, Tristan disappeared from the gathering.”
She sniffled, and her movement brushed her cheek against cool tears drenching the bedspread. She couldn’t believe she still had that many to shed.
The warming flash of the leather falls on her skin was a comfort, as was Joseph’s regular breathing and movements, keeping her in the present.
“Tristan had looked so miserable when I’d arrived, and I thought it was because he was just having a bad day or coming down with a cold. I felt guilty for not looking in on him more regularly and promised myself I’d do better for his sake. I found him in the basement game room, with Roberta’s grandkids.”
Joseph’s inhalations and exhalations marked the passing seconds. The flogger continued landing until she began to feel as though she was under an electric blanket, warm and safe. Comforted. She could continue on.
“He was twelve by then,” she whispered. “But so scrawny you would’ve thought he was nine or ten. Two of the boys his age had him on the floor, holding him face down and rubbing his face against the carpet. When I broke them up, they told me they were teaching ‘the idiot’ to wrestle. Two against one. Real fair. He had rug burns on his face, arms, and hands, and I realized how long he’d been down there with them. He was crying as I held him, and he begged me to save him. Tristan may have a brain injury, but that doesn’t make him an idiot.”
She flinched at the sharp flash of the flogger on her thigh but continued on, welcoming the sting.
“I tried to carry him out of the room, but one of the little bastards tripped me, and we both hit the floor. I’m short for my height, but they made the mistake of thinking I couldn’t defend myself. All hell broke loose, and I busted someone’s nose, I think, fighting them off.”
“Where were the other adults?”
“Upstairs, drinking and enjoying their Christmas. One of the older boys, a teenager who was big for his age, got me by the neck, trying to defend his sibling, who I had pinned to the carpet telling him off. Another one unbuckled his belt and yanked it off and began beating me with it. That sound kind of scares me now. I couldn’t breathe and passed out. Tristan was screaming when I came to—”
“Fuck.”
“I thought one of them had me pinned down to the carpet, doing to me what had been done to Tristan, but I soon realized it was Tristan on top of me, protecting me.”
“What happened?” Joseph asked as he trailed a hand down her tingling thigh. He moved around to the other side and continued the flogging. Her skin felt as if it vibrated under his hand.
“The screaming drew the adults eventually, and it was obvious my father was shocked when he barged into the room and found us like that, in the center of the pile. He picked us up, looking at Tristan and then at me, and questioned the other kids. You know how kids are. We were the odd men out, the stepkids.”
“And he believed them?”
“We were his kids, and we looked as if we’d been put through the meat grinder, but he didn’t do anything. I wasn’t even surprised. I felt such guilt, Joseph, thinking I’d left Tristan to deal with crap like that while I moved on with my life. Roberta came barreling downstairs with her mother and my stepsiblings in tow, and she let me have it. She said I was the only adult in the room at the time, never mind that half the kids outweighed me and towered over me. She blamed me and said I’d be liable if any of her grandbabies needed the emergency room and told me to go back to the trailer park I came from, that there evidently was a trailer trash gene, and I must’ve inherited it from my mother.” She drew in a deep shaky breath, remembering the judgment and hatred in Roberta’s eyes.
“My face was raw, and I couldn’t speak. I don�
�t know how long that bastard had me by the throat after I passed out. By the way, that’s why…”
“The collar is an issue?”
“Yeah. I have a hard time with anything around my throat. Shirt collars, turtlenecks, jewelry. I’m sorry. I know a collar is important between Doms and subs—”
“It’s not an issue for me, only one of safety for you. Continue,” he murmured, even as he continued, delivering a hot stroke to her ass cheek.
“Dad didn’t correct Roberta when she said that to me. Yes, I lived in a mobile home at that time, but I can promise you that the park I lived in was warmer and friendlier than the crowd I faced in that house every time I visited. He didn’t say anything to her and didn’t apologize to me. I told him I would take Tristan upstairs to get him cleaned up, and then we’d both leave. At first he argued with me, that I couldn’t handle Tristan, but she put a stop to it. And it was then that I knew Roberta controlled him, just like everything else in her world, and she’d wanted Tristan out at the first opportunity. I cleaned us both up, packed him up, and stopped only long enough to ask Dad to forward his shot records, a copy of his birth certificate, and any other important papers to me. They arrived a week later.”
“Did you go to the ER?”
She gave a minute shake of her head. “It would’ve raised too many questions. We were both sore, scabbed, and achy for a few days, but we were fine.”
“You should’ve gone to the ER.”
“And risk losing the right to have my brother with me? No. Besides, I’ve had enough of ER visits and making up stories about ‘mysterious’ injuries to last a lifetime.”
Her words were murmured so quietly, Joseph knew she was talking more to herself than to him. Grinnie had given him a clue about Bunny’s less than ideal childhood the first time they’d met. Knowing she would explain in her own time, he let the comment slide.
“No one questioned why you suddenly had a twelve-year-old living with you?”
Bunny and the Beast [Divine Creek Ranch 22] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) Page 21