by Selena Kitt
Dara stood there, hands clasped in front of her, face still pale, as she waited for whatever came next.
"Let's have some rules." God, he was so not ready for this. "It's obvious you're comfortable with rules and restrictions, so let's set some down. That work for you?"
She dipped her head.
"I want to hear the answer," he insisted. "There will be no mistake here."
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. So rule one. Do not walk or sit around with your head down. We are not on a high protocol here. I want you to behave in a normal fashion, as if you were just visiting a friend."
She looked up at him, eyes filled with confusion.
Then it struck him. She might not have any idea what a normal relationship was.
"That means; don't wait on me unless I tell you to. Don't hide in the corner with your head down. If you want something, I give you permission to take it or ask for it." He sure wasn't ready for any of that yet.
She frowned. "Sir?"
"Dara, was this your only D/s relationship? Your first? How long were you involved in it?"
"Yes to the first two questions. And f-five years. Sir."
Jesus!
A hell of a lot of damage could be done in that time by a Dom who was just pretending, and whose single goal was to have a servant and inflict pain.
"The man you were with? I promise you he's not a real Dom. True Masters respect their subs and treat them accordingly. I hate it that the one big experience you've had was with an asshole like this. There are plenty of good Masters around, you know."
She stared at him. "If you say so."
"I do. If I—" He gave himself a mental shake. "Never mind. So you have the first two rules. We'll have to make up the rest as we go along. To begin with, I'm going to teach you to relax."
She wrinkled her brow again. "Relax?"
"Yes." Of course, he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that, since he was a jangled ball of nerves himself. But he was smart. He'd think of something. Then it came to him. "In fact, I order you to relax."
She looked confused. "I don't know how to do that, Sir."
Neither did Zane, not anymore. Yet here he was, in the middle of the storm of the century, with a scared submissive who needed his help, whether she wanted it or not. He could barely take care of himself these days, much less another person. And a damaged one at that.
Suck it up, asshole. Make it about someone else for a change.
Zane swallowed a sigh. "How about if we go out on the porch? We can watch the rain from there. It's covered so we won't get wet. Rain always used to make me feel better."
When I was a kid and not a wreck of a person.
Dara gave him a skeptical look but when he waved at the porch, she headed toward the door. The air had a clean, fresh smell to it, the kind that rain always brought with it. Zane wished the storm could cleanse his brain the way it did the landscape. He took Dara's hand, feeling the fragility of the bones. It was a wonder the wind out on the bay hadn't just blown her away.
He was careful not to hold her hand too tightly. He was at a loss how to proceed because he had no idea what things he might do that would send frightening signals to her. He closed his eyes in an effort to center himself—and bam! Out of the blue an image of Dara, naked, snapped into his brain. She was on her knees, head bowed, her rich sable hair falling over her face, hands behind her back and bound with a silken rope. Clothespins, instead of jewelry, were attached to her nipples, which had turned a deep rose color. Her ankles were bound, also, and a cord linked the bindings of wrists and ankles. A satin cloth served as a blindfold.
He saw himself in front of her, nude…
Fucking damn!
In an instant his cock, which had been dormant for weeks now, swelled to a painful state of arousal and an aching feeling surged through his balls. In one hand, he held a flogger with a thick handle and multiple tails of the softest leather. His fist clenched in automatic reflex and he forced the image from his brain. With the frightening scars on her body, he was pretty damn sure Dara would not be receptive to flogging of any kind.
Flogging of any kind? Get your head out of your ass, Zane. She wouldn't be receptive to anything.
Fate was playing evil tricks on him. For the first time in days he hadn't thought about the goatfuck in Afghanistan or relived the bloody scene of the ambush. The desire to be with a woman in a scene gripped him with unexpected suddenness, and the woman he wanted was so far off limits she might as well be sheltered behind a brick wall.
Well, fuck it all.
He wanted a beer more than he wanted his next breath, but he didn't need to cloud his brain or smother his common sense with more drinking. He reminded himself that his entire focus had to be on Dara, her history, and what to do with her.
"Dara." He cleared his throat. "Do you have family you can go home to?"
"No." Again her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her answer.
"None at all?" Even he had family, although he'd distanced himself from them, not wanting to subject them to his nightmares or the fucked up person he was at the moment.
There was a long pause before she spoke again.
"They were killed in a car accident five years ago."
"That's when you met your Dom," he guessed. He wondered if she'd always been this subdued. It sure made her a prime target for men like the one she'd been with.
"He helped me."
Yeah, I'll just fucking bet he did.
"How did you meet him?"
"I, uh, was dating a guy who took me to a private club. I met Sir there and he took me home with him." She paused. "And kept me."
Zane wanted to ask just how all that came about, but he sensed she didn't want to share any details. This guy had to be a real piece of work to prey on a woman who was in such emotional turmoil. He guessed she'd had latent submissive tendencies and the visit to the dungeon had unlocked the door to them. How unfortunate for her that the man who offered her the security she'd been seeking turned out to be more of an abuser than a real Dom. Somehow he'd find the name of the club where they'd met, talk to the owner or manager, and make sure this guy never got his hands on a victim again.
"He said he would take care of me." The pain that laced her words told him the story more than anything she said.
Zane sat in the Adirondack chair and pulled her tense body into his lap. Every part of him was focused on driving away her fear, on making her feel safe.
Then he'd better send that message to his dick, which was singing a loud chorus of I Want You To Want Me.
He pulled in the frayed edges of his control.
"You can relax, Dara. I'm not going to hurt you. God knows I'm too much of a mess myself."
He stroked her back with the lightest touch, just as he'd done inside the cottage. They sat there for the longest time, neither of them speaking, just listening to the rain beat down and watching the swirl of whitecaps out in Estero Bay. She was so tense he was sure that with just the slightest pressure she'd fracture, but as they sat there, little by little, her posture began to ease. With great care he pulled her a little tighter to his body, telling himself he was making a huge mistake, but he seemed unable to fight the way he was drawn to her.
Unbidden, the image that had invaded his head earlier blasted into place again. This time, instead of a flogger, he held an ultraviolet wand in his hand. Dara was still on her knees but rather than bindings around her ankles, her bound wrists were attached to a collar that circled her neck.
"Do you live here all the time?"
The question startled him, coming out of nowhere the way it did.
"To tell the truth, I don't live here at all. It belongs to a friend. He's lending it to me," he said.
More silence.
"You don't like being around people." It was a statement, not a question.
He gave a rough little laugh. "Not these days I don't."
"So you aren't happy being around me." Her voice might b
e low but it cut straight to his gut.
"That's not what I said." He wanted to scream in frustration. Instead he took in a calming breath and chose his words carefully. He had no idea what words might be triggers for her or would set her off in one direction or another. "This is different. This is an emergency situation. I might want isolation, but I'd never turn my back on someone who needed help."
More silence. Zane kept stroking her back, aware that she continued to relax under his touch. He'd learned early on that being a good Dom also meant taking very good care of a sub in all kinds of situations.
"I could make you feel better about this," she whispered.
He might have been more excited about the offer if the situation was a lot different and his mind wasn't so fucked up.
"Dara, I don't think that's such a good idea. Especially under the circumstances."
She looked at him through lowered lashes. "Maybe this is what I need to show me all Doms aren't the same."
Before he could stop her she slid from his lap and dropped to her knees between his legs. Her slender fingers reached for the fly of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping before he had a chance to stop her. The next thing he knew, she had his cock free and her lips closed around it. She had barely stroked her tongue over him when he clasped her head between his hands and drew her away from him. The hardest thing he'd ever done.
She looked up at him, both puzzled and frightened. Sweet Jesus, give me the wisdom to handle this right.
"You don't like that? Oh. God. Am I doing it wrong for you?" The fear was back in her eyes again and etched on her face. The sudden tension in her body was visible.
"You're doing it just fine, Dara." More than fine, as a matter of fact. "But you don't owe me anything and I don't expect anything of you."
"No?" She gave him a quizzical look. "But I thought—"
"I know what you thought and you're way off base. You don't owe me anything. Don't have to perform any services. Don't—"
"But what if I want to?" she interrupted.
Zane stared at her. "You don't even know me. Know anything about me. I could be an axe murderer for all you know."
A tiny smile curved her lips, the first sign of joy he'd seen from her. "An axe murderer would have left me in the middle of the bay to drown."
"But—"
"Besides. There's something about you…" She cocked her head and studied him. "You aren't like… him. Or other men I've met with him. You're different. You make me feel different."
She's just doing this because she feels grateful. She's doing it because the Dom she's been with is a primo asshole and I'm probably the first male that's been decent to her in five years. I need to keep it in my pants.
But that was going to prove impossible, since Dara already had it out of his pants and was giving it more than its share of attention.
"Please let me do this," she begged. "I think it's the first time I've really wanted to for a long time."
And that struck hard at his core. He would just have to make this work. For both of them. At least when he got her back to shore she'd have one pleasurable experience with a Dom to carry with her.
Chapter Three
Zane had been positive that the disaster with Lily had wiped out all his desire to be in a D/s situation again, or any kind of sexual situation, at least until he got his shit straightened out. But there was something about Dara; her fragility, her lack of any artifice, that flipped a switch inside him. Made him want her with a sudden, explosive fierceness.
Go figure.
Maybe this is what both of you need, for different reasons.
He leaned back in the Adirondack chair and watched as she stroked his hard length with her slim fingers before lapping every inch with her tongue. Bolts of pleasure shot through him, arousing him. Her small hand inched down between his thighs to cup his balls and give them a gentle squeeze. Heat that he'd never expected to feel again blasted him, scorching his nerve endings. The sight of her on her knees before him, head bent low as her tongue and her lips worked his cock, knocked away the last of his reservations and breached the wall that had sprung up around him. His inner Dom that had shut itself away surged to the surface.
He threaded his fingers in her long, silky hair, winding it around his hand and gripping it so he could guide her head.
"That's it. Work that tongue. Make me feel good. Make me come."
As his climax began to build he tightened his grip on her hair, forcing her to move her head this way and that. He wanted to prolong the feel of her tongue and her mouth but his body, so unexpectedly aroused, had its own ideas. The orgasm roared up from deep in his belly and blasted through him, gripping him like an iron fist.
His cum spurted into her throat, his cock pressing against her tongue. He gritted his teeth as he erupted again and again. Only when the last drop had jetted from his body and his muscles relaxed did he realize how tight his grip was on Dara's hair—and the pain it must be causing her. Forcing himself to unclench his fingers, he loosened their grip and smoothed the soft fall of hair against her head. He stroked her head, then slid his hand around to cup her chin in his palm. When he forced her head up so he could look into her eyes he was almost afraid of what he would see. The last thing he expected was her plump lips curved in a tiny smile of satisfaction.
"Did I please my Master?" Her soft voice was growing on him, soothing the raw edges of his nerves.
He had half a mind to tell her what she'd done hadn't been necessary, but he caught himself just in time. It was obvious this was a necessity to her, whether as a way to thank him for rescuing her, or as a way to service a Dom who didn't underline everything with a streak of cruelty. Either way, she looked more at ease than he'd seen her since he'd hauled her into the bowrider. When she ran her tongue over her lower lip, his breath caught in his throat. The combination of the appearance of such pure innocence and the things he suddenly wanted to do to her—things she might be receptive to—made him feel something, want something for the first time since he'd come home.
Could he do this? Would he be able to handle it?
He would take this in small steps, he decided. He'd test just how willing she was, how tuned into things. If he'd misread this, if she showed any resistance or reluctance at all, he'd pull back. But as much as he wanted her to submit to him on so many levels, he didn't want it to be out of gratitude or overlaid with residual fear. He would begin with something other than pain. She'd had enough of that, and he wasn't sure either of them would be able to tell whether the pain he inflicted was sensual or not. No, he'd start with something that let her know she had given control to a Dom who would not abuse that right.
He leaned forward, placed his hands beneath her elbows, and urged her to her feet.
She looked at him with an expression of anxiety. "Did I satisfy my Master?"
Zane decided that insisting he wasn't her Master was getting them nowhere. If it helped her—and it damn sure helped him—for this short period of time, he could fulfill that role for her. But first he wanted to get them both inside again. He'd hoped the storm would ease the disquiet enveloping her and help him get his own shit together. But for what he had planned, inside worked a lot better.
"Yes," he told her at last. "You did well, girl."
"Thank you, Sir."
Again the smile, transforming her entire face, easing the lines of tension in her body. It was obvious that, despite the abusive situation she'd run from, the structure of D/s was very important to her. A security blanket. A good Dom would take the time and patience to teach her self-worth, and the real importance of the gift of submission. She wouldn't be here that long, but he'd do his best to bring her a little pleasure. Maybe pleasure for both of them.
"We're going inside." He rose from the chair, holding his jeans in place with one hand. "Before that, however, you need a safeword. I insist on it."
He always did. Different subs had different limits, and he'd never push one beyond hers. When Dara didn't
say anything, he snapped, "Now, girl. What is your safeword?"
She looked down at the floor, something she seemed to be doing a lot of. "I-I don't have one."
"You what?" Zane thought he'd misheard her.
"I, um, do not have a safeword, Sir." She was whispering now.
Anger surged through him, but this time it was icy cold, the kind that made you want to kill someone. The world of BDSM had a hard and fast rule; no safeword, no play.
"And why not?" He made his voice as gentle as he could. He didn't want to frighten her when it seemed they were making tiny strides here.
She stared at him as if he was speaking a foreign language.
"My Master said I didn't need to tell him how much pain was too much, or what I didn't like. It was his job to make those decisions for me."
If the asshole had been standing in front of Zane at that moment he would have gladly broken every bone in the guy's body. He had destroyed part of the key concept of the D/s relationship—trust. It was supposed to be a power exchange, but apparently this guy got off on having all the power himself. No wonder Dara was so beaten down and had risked her life in this storm to find safety.
Zane opened the door and urged her ahead of him. When they were inside he led her over to the big armchair, sat down, and tugged her to stand between his legs. He wanted her with a physical desire so overwhelming that not even the exquisite orgasm she had just given him sufficiently took the edge off. For so long he'd felt nothing but pain, and now—now his salvation was in the form of this sweet but damaged woman. He must be losing his fucking mind.
"Listen carefully to me." It was a struggle to keep his voice calm and even. "Never, ever, ever, let anyone tell you that you don't need a safeword. You hold that power. You can tell your Master just how far he can go and just how much you can tolerate."
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "And he will stop?"
"Yes. That is, if he's a trained Dom. If he isn't, never go anywhere with him outside of a club." He blew out a breath. "So now let's find a safeword for you. Your choice."