Truly Helpless: A Nature of Desire Series Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  “Let me go,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw.

  “In time. Let’s get you settled down first.” She unhooked his cuffs from the collar, but left the chains attached. “Sit all the way down on the floor.”

  He started to comply; she began to walk away. And then everything happened so fast, even in hindsight, she wasn’t sure how he’d done it.

  She’d seen him fight three men in the ring with brutal ferocity, and still she’d underestimated how he could use those skills.

  He was on his feet, had spun her around toward him. With one loop and a shriek of metal, he had the slack of the chain wrapped around her throat. One hand held it taut, his other in her hair, holding her fast against his body.

  He had her in mass and power, which was clear from the unshakable strength of the hold, his mouth a twisted slash beneath the blindfold.

  The most dangerous situation involving a prisoner was when he invaded an officer’s personal space like this, leaving very little maneuvering room to strike back.

  “I said”—his voice wasn’t steady—“let me go.” His body twitched, which meant his fist did as well, twisting the links of chain on her throat. They bit into her flesh, pinching, and the blood vessels started to constrict.

  He could kill her. The idea jumped from surreal to real in a heartbeat. She’d fucked up, not realizing how close to the top she’d brought his darkness. Aftercare for him should have been her cutting a wide swathe around him, turning off the light and leaving him to lie here for about half an hour, working through a mass of emotions far blacker than a dark room. But she didn’t want to leave him alone with that. She didn’t want him alone in the dark.

  “Duncan,” she said, trying to ignore the break in her voice from restricted air flow. “You’re hurting me. Scaring me some, too. Please let me go.”

  A split-second calculation and risk, which name to use. She didn’t overthink it.

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s over. Right?”

  He didn’t sound as if he was talking to her, but she answered anyway, forcing her fear at bay. It just fed devils; it wouldn’t help her at all. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a sub try to strangle me, so I don’t have a protocol for it. I could try to knee you in the balls, but I think you’re ready for violence.” She swallowed and it was painful against the unrelenting steel links. “I think you’d rather lie down and let me curl around you, stroke your hair and hold you.”

  His lips became a straight line. “That’s what you do to a child. I’m not a fucking child. I was never a fucking child. I want to fuck you. I’m tired of you holding it out of reach like a fucking carrot.”

  She realized his cock was starting to stir again, the violence fueling his arousal. “Bringing me to climax wasn’t enough?” She softened her voice with the query, kept it calm. “You didn’t like that?”

  Something flickered over his expression, at least what she could see of it around the blindfold. “Yeah, I did. I wanted…to do that.”

  “Yes. And you did it. Honestly, purely, and with a hunger that took my breath away. The kind of sub any Mistress would want.”

  His grip hadn’t increased, but it was tight enough. As her lungs tried to expand, she forced herself to take shallow breaths.

  His lip curled. “Don’t want to be any kind of sub, faceless…only faceless for you. But don’t want you to care…want you to stay apart. Above me. Don’t get down on the ground with me.”

  The words didn’t make sense, but she thought she picked up enough of the underlying meaning that it heartened her. It was like he was trapped in worse-than-usual sub-drop, a post-session state of mind where a sub floundered in dark places, often thanks to triggers inadvertently tripped during the session.

  “Then let me go.” Carefully, she lifted her hand to his on the chain and lightly stroked his knuckles. Blood was pounding in her ears, but she pushed past the roar to move her hand to his nape, her other to his biceps, caressing. A soothing touch. “Right now.”

  Clamping down on his neck, she slammed her elbow into the side of his head, twisting her torso to knee him in his side. When he staggered, she shoved him back, breaking his hold. There was a terrifying yank on the chain that bit into her throat like a dog’s teeth, but then he’d let go and it loosened. She ducked out of the loop and backpedaled out of his range.

  He didn’t pursue, though he looked as if he was about to blindly charge her. If he did, depending on how fast he came at her, he’d dislocate his shoulders when the chains went taut. Training kicked in and she was prepared to move forward, strike against his biceps with all her strength to shove him back again. The tactic could prevent him doing himself that kind of damage.

  Though never mind what he’ll do to you if he gets hold of you again, girlfriend.

  “Prison guard.” He breathed through the pain, bending over to brace his hands on his thighs. His breath was short from the shot to the midriff. The side of his face was red from the impact of her elbow. “Fucking forgot that.”

  “Correctional officer, and yeah, you did.” She took a breath. “You got a little lost all the way around. You back?”

  He shook his head, and dropped to his knees. “Stay away. Just leave me here. I’m sorry. Fucking sorry. That wasn’t how I wanted that to go.” His voice broke, startling her, but he’d turned away. As his fists clenched, every muscle in his back tensing, she reached for the wall, because another wave of lightheadedness hit her. This one came from the cold, hard realization of what could have happened. Her throat hurt. Those chain links were going to leave marks.

  Don’t be a fucking child right now. Be the woman and badass Mistress you know you are.

  She went to her cabinet as he spoke dully. “I’ll go. I won’t bug you again. Tyler was right about me.”

  “Of course he was,” she said briskly. “The man is right about everything. But what you’re thinking he’s right about is the wrong thing. Don’t start with the self-pity crap or you’ll piss me off worse. You tried to choke me. You fucked up. We’ll deal with it.”

  He removed the blindfold. She saw a flashing, dangerous eye as he tilted his head her way, but there was desperation there, too. She quelled her gut reaction, which was still trying to get her to run far, far away from an imminent threat.

  She tossed a new set of steel manacles on the floor in front of him with a sharp clank and thud. “Ankles.”

  They were combination locked, so once latched, the only way out was with the combination. She crossed her arms.

  He stared at them. He wasn’t meeting her eyes. Shame or something else? “What if I tell you I’m done? Safe word and all that, let me the fuck out of here.”

  “I’d say you’re a chickenshit. In addition to being a poor date. Choking me, then taking off.”

  His jaw set. “This isn’t a fucking joke. I could have hurt you. I would have hurt you.” His fists clenched anew. She wondered if he had permanent crescent scars on his palms from how often he fought himself with that physical tell. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “So don’t.” She hardened her heart against the anguish she heard behind the harsh words and pointed to the manacles. “Trust me to make sure you don’t get a second chance. You feel like shit right now about what you did, right?”

  He nodded, wariness in the gesture. “So do I,” she said bluntly. “You scared me, and I don’t like that feeling. I won’t let you make me afraid of you, Marius. You go now, I think about how you scared me and the way things could have turned out, until I paralyze myself with what ifs. For your part, you’ll do something stupid, like go to a fight to punish yourself, and end up in a coma or dead. I’m not going to permit you to do that.”

  “How’re you going to stop me?”

  She blinked. “Those chains are looped over a load bearing beam. I reel them back in, and you’ll only have as much slack as I want to give you. I could turn out the lights and leave you here for a week with a couple jugs of water. I’d throw food in once a day.”

>   She met his furious, confused gray eyes. “If I think it will save your life, I’ll do it and won’t think twice. Or, you could put on the goddamned manacles.”

  He stared at her. Slowly, almost like an old man, he turned toward the restraints.

  “Before you put them on, use this.” She moved to the far wall, making sure her stride was confident. Drawing back a curtain, she revealed a small bathroom with a pedestal sink and commode. “I won’t have you getting an infection from the sound. After you’re done, I expect you to put on the ankle cuffs, then put your arms behind your back and roll onto your stomach. Keep the chains untangled.”

  She turned her back on him to move to a cabinet and peruse additional supplies she intended to use. She gave him visual privacy, but was pleased when she heard him use the sink to wash his hands afterward, the chains clinking against the ceramic bowl. As she heard him move back toward the center of the floor, she paid out more slack on the chains so he could lower himself to a seated position. She moved to the back wall to lean against it and watch him with a dispassionate expression. It also prudently kept her out of range.

  He locked the cuffs on his ankles. His expression was stone, eyes cold, but he did it, then rolled on his stomach, adjusting his arms so his knuckles rested against the small of his back. The chains to the wrist cuffs swayed above him.

  Picking up a baton, she telescoped it with a snap, so he’d know she was prepared to use it if he tried anything. She locked the ankle cuffs to one another with a combination clip, and did the same to his wrists. Then she pulled up his ankles and latched them to the wrist cuffs so he was in a hog tie. She used two rolled-up hand towels between his ankles and knees to cushion the joints.

  As she did that, she was squatting next to him. Since she was only wearing his shirt, she noted his gaze coursing over her breasts, full and firm beneath the open garment, and then down to her pussy. The folds were soft and still damp, thanks to his beautiful mouth. After she finished securing him, she ran her fingertips down over her labia and dipped between, collecting the residual moisture and tasting herself. He swallowed, his body tensing in an appealing way, muscles hardening. From the shift of his hips, she expected his erection was reviving again. Extremes of emotion tended to arouse a male, and she fully expected the shaft would stay stiff and jutting until he calmed down. She could use the former to help the latter.

  She’d brought one other item with her, and she picked it up now, fitting it over his head with a short, firm tug. A head mask, followed by a scold harness that she buckled over his skull, fitting the metal piece in his mouth that held down his tongue and was kept in place by the straps around the jaw and back of the neck.

  The head mask was of a thin fabric that would allow him to see through it, though more shapes than details. Which meant he could see her silhouette. Standing, she used her foot to shove him to his side and pressed her sole against it, letting him feel her weight, the psychological advantage of her standing over him. Dominant, in control.

  “Look at that naughty cock, getting all messy at the tip. It may fuck up your radar, but a woman taking complete control gets you off like nothing else. The problem is, every time you find joy and quiet in it, you fuck it up, Marius. It’s a pattern.”

  Her tone went from sensual, biting tease to stern and uncompromising. “You’ve always been a pain in the ass and arrogant motherfucker, but now you’re just looking to burn your whole life down, aren’t you?”

  He said something against the metal piece that couldn’t be understood and she was sure hurt, because the metal had barbs that dug into tender flesh if the wearer didn’t keep his mouth still.

  “You don’t get to talk anymore tonight, so you might as well stop trying.” She came back down to his level, stretching out on her hip in front of him. Her brief hesitation at getting closer to him, even with him bound where he couldn’t hurt her, pissed her off. So she slid right up against him, caressing his stretched lips and moving her touch down to his chin and throat. Then over his chest and nipples, pinching and scraping hard so he quivered.

  “Looks like I have you at my mercy for the rest of the night.” She trapped his cock between her bare thighs. As anticipated, the organ was a hot, thick bar of steel beneath her flexing muscles. It wasn’t just because of the violence of the past few moments. As she’d known, true to his sub nature, he responded to her taking the upper hand, binding him, rendering him helpless. He fought the things that were so good for him, poor boy.

  His body was vibrating with a self-imposed stillness, laden with all the emotional energy churning inside him.

  “You wanted to fuck me?” Reaching down, she gripped his balls, digging her nails into their heavy weight and rough texture so he sucked in a breath and pushed against her touch.

  “You don’t fuck me. I fuck you. When and how I say I will. Try that intimidation shit with me ever again, there won’t be enough of your body left to find.”

  She thought of his broken words about wanting to be faceless. There was a risk in going down a path she wasn’t sure she fully understood yet, but hell, she’d already chosen territory tonight most Mistresses wouldn’t have. “You’re my creation, my slave. Mine. You wear a face for the whole world, but not for me. You get to take it off here and be faceless. You’re nothing here. Only mine.”

  He made a noise, a sound that was desolation, relief and need at once. She gripped the back of his neck, this time in a firm, caressing hand. “Tyler gave you a chance to come back. Through me. He wouldn’t have done that if he thought you were a lost cause.”

  He shook his head, as if to deny it, but she dug her nails in deeper. He strangled on a sound caught between rage and pain. He could handle the latter. She’d seen him take much worse.

  “You fucked up at the club with Siren on purpose. What happened just now was because you lost control and you had no idea how to deal with it. There may be fucking demons hiding deep inside you, Marius. But you don’t have to be one. We’re not done. We’re just beginning.”

  She let him go to stroke his testicles and caress his cock, rubbing her pussy over it. He made another noise, this one more of a growl. He was straining against her. She could detect the flick of his lashes against the fabric of the mask.

  “Would it help if I let you loose, bad boy?” she whispered. “You could overpower me, fuck me however you wish. You’d believe you’ve taken away my choices and given yourself up to that darkness once and for all. Is that really what you want? You stand on one side of that line and you do everything you can to push up against it, to convince everyone you’ll make that step. But you won’t fool me again. You can’t get yourself to step across. Because it’s not you. The monster isn’t you, Marius.”

  She caught his face in both hands, fingers hooking the straps of the harness, nails digging through the thin covering on his face. “You remember what I told you, the story of the goddess in her workshop? She’s not going to step out of your way so you can throw her creation into hell. Not on her watch.”

  He tried to shake her off, tried to move away. She knew how to deal with that.

  Hooking a leg over his hip, she pressed her calf against his buttock. Drawing out the packet she’d slipped into his shirt pocket when she’d visited the cabinet, she tore open the condom. The sound had him freezing again, and a groaning protest escaped him as she rolled it upon his erect member, her fingers caressing. She brought her lips to his ear.

  “You want to be punished, but I don’t deal in pain. That only feeds your demons. I demand you give me pleasure, serve me as a sub should. The way I know deep down you want to do it, even when it causes those demons to turn on you, and try to tear you apart. I don’t yet know why, but when you trust me enough, we’ll figure it out together. Then I will kick their asses and tell those fuckers to back off. Because you’re mine.”

  He might be protesting, but his cock wasn’t. Emitting a pleased little noise at his impressive size, she pushed herself down on him one laborious inch at a t
ime. Even at a somewhat awkward angle, it felt good. He felt good.

  His body flexed but he was moving with her, adjusting, so she could get him all the way in. When she was seated to the hilt, she tightened her leg further over him. She wished she’d tied him a different way so she could roll over and ride him, but this would work for now. While it took time for a climax to build in this position, he was utterly helpless to whatever she wanted to do, which suited her overriding goal.

  “There you are,” she crooned, tipping her head back on her shoulders. “Goddess, what a cock you have. I may keep you locked up here as my sex slave for a few weeks anyway. Make you use up all that fighting energy serving me.” She stroked his flank, his taut buttock, which pleased her even more.

  She pushed up, then back down. It caused a slow, slow rub of his pelvis against her clit, the friction of his cock on the inside keeping her sighing and moaning out her pleasure in little bursts. She watched his face, the pressing of his lips against the metal piece, the twitch of his facial features beneath the molded texture of the mask. She ran her thumbs over the curves of his eyes, down his cheeks to his jaw, hooking back into the collar and holding him there to aid her up and down movements.

  “Like riding on the waves,” she purred, breathless. “Oh, fuck, you feel good. And you’re so hard…I know you want to come, but you take care of me first. Yeah, you’re nodding. That’s what you want, Marius. Not because you want to screw with my head. But because it brings you peace. Pleasing a Mistress. You’ve been denying yourself that for so long…punishing yourself. That’s not your job. Only a Mistress can punish you the way you need.”

  The climax rose high and she took that wave, surfing it with long cries and undulations of her body against the wall of his. It was a good, solid orgasm, more surface and purely physical than she desired, but it still shuddered through her with power. She gripped Marius’s chest with her nails, digging into the crisp layer of hair, her leg flexing along his ass.

  “Now, baby,” she murmured. He came at the command, groaning against the barbs of the scold. His hips bucked back and forth with no rhythm. He was just a mindless, big, strong animal, responding to her demands.