by Nina Pierce
“In the beginning he treated me…like a queen.” Her words were smoother now, only her chin quivering with the horrific memories. “But after… After the wedding… It all changed.”
Derek embraced her from behind, pressing the heat of his body against her and sliding his cock between her legs. “How?” He whispered the question against her ear, his tongue tracing the delicate rim.
She shook her head, panic mapping deep lines across her face as the last of the tears rolled down her cheeks.
Quickly he released the clamps at her nipples, letting the chain dangle from her clitoris. She gasped at the wash of physical pain pushing away her trepidation.
“What he did was wrong, Sara. None of it was your fault.” Derek’s hands smoothed over her breasts, their sensitive points pebbled in his palms. Slowly he pumped his hips, his erection bumping up against the chain, stimulating them both. “He can’t hurt you now.”
“He separated me from my friends. From my family.” She drew a deep, shuddering breath as he continued to knead her breasts and toy with her nipples. “It was so gradual, I didn’t even notice until it was too late.”
“You mean you never left your house?” He smoothed his hand down her flat stomach and around the flare of her hip, sliding it between their bodies and once again toying with her anus.
“No…I mean yes, we left the house.”
She gasped when he pushed two fingers past her relaxed sphincter.
“Please, just this.” Her back arched, pushing his fingers deeper as he scissored against the tight muscle. “I don’t want to talk about Marc anymore.”
“A little more, Sara.” His teeth grazed the strained cords of her neck as he rolled the hard pearl of her nipple between his fingers, her body going liquid against him. “Why didn’t you ask for help while you were out?”
“Once I left without him.” Sara’s head rolled back against his shoulder, her heavy-lidded eyes losing focus. “But he came to get me and punished me for two, maybe three days. Not for pleasure, only for training. He bound and gagged me, using me on and off, rewarding me with food and water.” The tears started again. “But I blamed myself. I was his submissive. His toy. I never should have left.”
Derek slid his fingers from her ass and pressed the head of his cock against the rosebud opening. “Sara, no one has the right to hold you prisoner.”
“But I loved him. It’s what Marc wanted. My life became moments of making him happy. Being there when he wanted me. Sara was lost, and in her place was the shell of a woman who couldn’t find her way out.”
He pushed into her, sheathing his cock in the velvet channel of her ass. She shuddered in his arms, a contented sigh escaping from her lips. Derek held her, rocking his hips gently, giving her body time to accommodate him. “Why didn’t anyone come for you?”
“He made them believe I didn’t want anyone. In the end, there was no one left to save me. Besides, by then I believed I wasn’t worth saving.”
“You’re the strongest woman I know.” He buried his face in her hair, pulling her closer, wishing he could do more than listen. “Why didn’t anyone see? How could they not know?”
“Because Marc was that good. We went to clubs and came here to Paradise Cove every couple of months, but just for appearances. We visited with only Ethan. Marc told him this bungalow, the one we’re in now, was our retreat. Our getaway from the world.” A deep sob shook her body, the emotion rising from the depths of her soul. “But…”
Sweet Christ. How the hell had she managed to walk back in here?
“Enough pain, Sara. You’ve done so well,” he whispered. “No more memories. Just you and me.” He thrust into her, eliciting a moan of pleasure. Derek released the clamp from her clitoris and let the chains fall to the floor. His fingers circled the hard knot, knowing the ecstasy would wrap around the pain, enhancing her pleasure.
Despite her emotional outpouring, Sara bucked against his vigorous assault. She anchored herself against the mirror, her cheek pressed to its cool surface, her hands wrapped in white-knuckled fists around the frame.
His ecstasy mounted, pleasure tightening his balls and bunching in jolting spasms along his low back. His fingers dug into her ass as he pistoned his hips, slamming into her with quick thrusts that had them both quivering. Skin slapped against skin, the sound lifting with their strangled cries of bliss. Her ass was so fucking tight, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last, but he forced himself to focus on her.
Sara grew taut against him and he doubled the speed of his fingers against her clit. Her eyes squeezed tight, her mouth open in a silent scream as her orgasm slammed into her. He held her tight through every shuddering cry, pumping into her from behind as she spasmed in his arms.
Derek strained to control his own release. She’d worked hard for this reward and he wouldn’t deny her even one second of the rapture tearing her apart. Just as she was coming down, he reached up, squeezing her breast and pinching the nipple, his other hand feverishly working her sensitive flesh. Her body quaked and shattered as another orgasm rolled over her muscles.
When she cried out for her Master, he lost all control.
Ecstasy shot out along his nerves, his cock buried motionless in the silken heat of her ass. Hot jets of come filled her channel as wave after wave of bliss rocked his body.
They rode the last shudders of pleasure together, both of them completely exhausted from the physical and emotional strain. As he gently slid from her body, she sighed contentedly. Her heart hammered beneath his palm, her breath slowing, Sara melted against him, her head rolling back on his shoulder. Derek had held many subs coming down from subspace, but none had fit so perfectly in his arms. And damn if he didn’t want to stay here in this moment where trust and security surrounded them like the golden glow of the sun slanting through the windows.
He wasn’t sure when the storm had stopped, but it seemed to have cleared out as quickly as it had arrived. One more trial. One more push to exorcise the demons and he and Sara could enjoy the rest of their time at the resort.
And wasn’t that new? When the hell had she crawled under his skin and made him want her? But damn if the brave woman in his arms hadn’t made him feel whole again. Derek definitely wanted more time with her and hoped this weekend wouldn’t be the end for them.
But reality slapped him back to the present as anxiety pinched his heart. He’d broken down so many of Sara’s defenses, and if he’d done his job well—replaced the emptiness with gentle messages of self-worth and healing.
Jesus, he didn’t want to screw this up, especially since she’d become more than a damaged sub to him. What he did now would either heal Sara completely or push her into territory that would rebuild the walls he’d worked so carefully to destroy.
Derek dropped kisses along her jaw, whispering words of praise for all she had given him. “Sara, open your eyes.”
Her heavy lids fluttered as she worked to obey his command. Crystalline blue pools reflected her trust as she worked to push away the sexual haze and focus.
Gently, he turned Sara’s face back to the mirror, sweeping her hair away from her flushed cheeks. “Look at how beautiful you are.” He emphasized the compliment, his fingers brushing over the silver studs of the collar at her neck. He ignored the panic sparking in her eyes and mapping deep lines of fear across her forehead as his hand trailed up her arms to link with her hands still bound to the mirror. “My submissive. Beautiful. Giving. Compliant. Everything a Dom could want.” He lowered his head and bit her shoulder, letting the pain once again center her. “See what I see, Sara. A beautiful submissive willing to give everything to her Master.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“Open your eyes and look!” Derek’s loud words echoed off the walls. “You. Are. Beautiful. Say it.”
“I’m not.” The tears that had stopped shimmered once again. “I can’t!”
Her reaction confused him. Derek was sure he was reading her right. Sara
had gallantly trudged over the rubble of her past. Heroically faced the dark shadows taunting her. And now she only had this one last curtain to push through before finding the peace they both wanted for her.
Forcing her to believe in her own courage, Derek cupped her chin in his palm, forcing her to stare at her reflection. They’d come this far and he refused to let her stop without completing what had begun. “Sara, this is who you are. No one can take this from you.”
“No, stop! I can’t do this! I’m not—”
The sound of the door slamming against the wall stopped her pleas.
Ethan stormed across the room, knocking Derek away from Sara. “What the hell are you thinking?”
Sara was screaming, but Derek couldn’t make out any of her words as Ethan’s fist connected with his jaw, sending him spinning backward. Hot pain spiked through his head and blazed across his bloody thigh. Sparks of confusion danced in his vision.
“I trusted you, asshole! Now she’s covered in blood and screaming for you to stop!” Ethan bellowed. “I thought you could help her. Not fuck with her head.” His fist came up again, but Derek held his hands up in surrender.
Obviously, Derek had pushed too hard—again. And his sub was paying the price.
Knowing Ethan would repair the damage he’d inflicted, Derek turned and ran out the door, leaping over the two stairs and into the soft sand of the path. His feet couldn’t seem to move him fast enough to outrun his humiliation—or Sara’s heartrending cries of pain that tore at his heart.
Chapter Six
Sara fought against the bindings, screaming for both men to stop.
“Sara, it’s all right. Everything’s all right.” Ethan pressed his chest against her back, no doubt trying to make her feel safe, but it only added to the cloying desperation and fear choking her.
“Master!” The word dragged out in a mournful wail as she called after the only man who’d been willing to face her pain.
Ethan released one wrist and she clawed at the other binding. Confusion blinded her. She fought desperately against the sexual haze of endorphins and adrenaline, trying to figure out how everything had gone so horribly wrong.
“Sara, you’re safe. He can’t hurt you. There’s no need to fight.”
“Let me go!” As soon as the binding relaxed, she ripped her hand free and pushed away from the mirror, trying to get away from Ethan. “He needs me.”
“No.” He twisted her to face him. Even if his fingers hadn’t been digging into her shoulders, Ethan’s commanding voice alone would have stopped her cold. “You don’t owe him anything.” The ebony eyes raking her face glistened with pain. “Thank God I got here when I did.” He looked down her body, both of them seeing the blood that coated her legs. “Jesus, I thought he knew better. I’m sorry, Sara. So very sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen again.”
“No, the blood…it was an accident—”
“This kind of behavior is no accident, Sara. I heard your cries from the beach for chrissake.”
Ethan had misunderstood her pleas—but not Derek.
Derek had known what she needed and been brave enough to push at the final anchor holding her in the past. He’d seen her reaction to being called beautiful—Marc’s public command of absolute obedience—and had insisted she face it, to feel safe when she said it. Both of them understood that. Sara just hadn’t been ready to believe Derek was strong enough to hold back the wash of memories that would come when she pulled down that last barrier. She saw that now.
But she’d been wrong.
As clearly as the sound of the retreating Wave Runner carrying Derek away, Sara knew he’d delivered her safely through hell’s fires unscathed. She felt the truth of it kiss her unchained heart. Even as the burden of her past lifted, leaving her feeling lightheaded and free, she suffered the hollow emptiness of her Master’s abandonment. Her shoulders sagged with the loss.
“Sara?”
“Derek did it,” she said quietly, forcing her gaze to meet Ethan’s concerned expression. “He pushed and refused to take ‘no’ for an answer.”
Ethan pulled her into a fierce hug. “I know. I’m sorry. He’s too green. I shouldn’t have sent him here.”
A hoarse laugh escaped over the absurdity of the situation and the giddy happiness of realizing with Derek’s help, she’d purged herself of Marc’s ghost. “I do love you, Ethan, but sometimes even you are a blind ass.”
He set her away from him, gauging her sanity, and she laughed again.
“Trust me when I say, you sent the perfect Dom for the job.” She pushed out of his arms and spun so Ethan could examine all of her. “You’re looking at a new woman, my friend. The only baggage leaving XTC Resorts with me tomorrow is the one I can carry in my hand.”
Ethan’s mouth curved in a weary smile. “You sure you’re not hurt?”
“The blood’s Derek’s, he cut himself on the… Oh, never mind.” She headed to the door, remembering she had no way to leave. “How’d you get here? It seems my kayak’s drifted away in the storm and I need to find my Master.”
“I took off on a Wave Runner when said kayak drifted to the dock. I thought you’d capsized in the storm.”
“Nope.” Her smile made her cheeks ache. “Seems Derek saved my life twice this afternoon.”
* * * * *
Derek slugged down his tonic water, slamming the glass on the mahogany bar of the club and swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He’d like to have something stronger, but it wouldn’t do to face Ethan with alcohol in his system. He’d get stinking drunk tonight when he was back in Boston. Isn’t that what someone did to celebrate the beginning of celibacy? This weekend had been his last chance to prove himself a capable Dom, and he’d fucked it up good. Even if Ethan didn’t blackball him at every BDSM club on the planet, Derek would never step into another dungeon.
The screwup with Sara had only confirmed what he’d suspected eighteen months ago—he had no right dominating anyone. The experience brought only pain and misery to anyone foolish enough to submit to his stupidity.
He’d felt so confident as he’d pulled down her defenses, encouraged by her willing response to his masterful technique. In the end, his arrogance had blinded him and now Sara was paying for his inadequacies.
Sara. He’d left the bungalow hours ago, the Wave Runner unable to help him outrun his shame. He’d reached the main dock, covered in blood, and had taken himself straight to the medic for five stitches—without anesthesia. It was only the beginning of the penance he would pay for how he’d mistreated Sara.
Derek had thought he’d read her right. Thought he’d understood what she needed.
Never, in six years working in the dungeons, learning the nuances of submissives, had he ever pushed someone past their breaking point. Even before a safe word was uttered, a worthy Master knew when to stop. Knew when to switch gears and go in another direction to give his submissive what they needed to release their inner turmoil.
He’d thought Sara was ready, well on her way to healing. He’d arrogantly butted up against her defenses, unwilling to admit defeat. That is, until Ethan had burst in, acting as the conscience he’d steadfastly ignored.
But, Christ, he and Sara had been in sync. Like a final puzzle piece dropping into place, he’d heard it echo in his heart. As her body had shattered around his, he was sure he’d reached the core of her anguish. He’d desperately wanted her to clear that one last hurdle to rid the final hellish damage from her soul. Derek had pushed because, damn it all, she’d needed the physical pain to be the conduit for releasing her inner pain. It was textbook D/s.
Who was he kidding? Nothing Sara had told him had been in the textbook. She’d given herself to an asshole who’d used her gentle spirit against her. The bastard had held her prisoner for his own selfish satisfaction. Who did shit like that?
Arrogant idiots, that’s who. His fist slammed down on the bar, bouncing his drink, pain singing up his arm.
“Don’t.”
The soft voice startled him.
He turned to find Sara standing behind him.
The black leather corset, intricately laced up her ribs and belly, stopped just below her breasts, its shelf showcasing her mouthwatering tits. Decorative chains hung from the gold collar she’d worn last night, their ends looped around her pebbled nipples. A leather G-string hugged her mons, barely covering the silken flesh. A garter belt hung from the bottom of the corset and ran down her milky thighs, holding up black stockings that showed every curve of her never-ending legs, finishing in come-fuck-me heels that added four inches to her height.
Sara was breathtaking, and he had no right to be salivating over seeing her. His cock, not understanding this gorgeous woman was off-limits, jumped to attention nonetheless.
“Sara, sorry doesn’t—”
“Shhh.” She put her finger on his lips, the sweet scent of her wrapping around his nostrils, stealing his breath. “Derek.” She paused, her eyes and hand dropping simultaneously. “May I call you Derek?”
Christ, even after the way he’d treated her, she offered him respect he hadn’t earned. “I don’t deserve any other title.”
Her mouth curved and a small laugh escaped. “I beg to differ.”
The bartender stopped and offered her a drink, but she declined. Derek had no doubt she was headed to the Masters’ lodge for the training he’d been invited to attend. The Doms would be lucky to have her responsive body at the ends of their floggers and whips. Though he’d lost the right to be among them, he allowed his gaze to travel the length of her sinuous body, memorizing the details that would torment many future nights of loneliness.
“Would you like to take a walk?” she asked. “The evening is beautiful.”
His stomach clenched when her gaze dropped to his thighs. There was no way in hell he’d allow her to give him the honor of dominating her. He would accept whatever condemnation she threw his way. Sara deserved that much before he left. But her absolution wasn’t even an option. “Please don’t.” With a finger under her chin, Derek waited until her questioning gaze met his. “I will walk with you, but not as your Master. I don’t deserve that honor.”