Liberated Heart (Windy City Book 4)

by Measha Stone

  "You don't want to talk me out of it?"

  "Would that work?"

  "Probably not," he admitted. There really was no probably. Erin would get what was coming her way.

  "Then nope. Besides, as terrified as she looked, she looked equally guilty. She needs you to help her with the guilt as much as anything else." Alyssa nodded at Brandon over at the bar. "Busy night." In a blink of an eye she was gone, headed toward the bar where Brandon and another member were in a heated discussion. Probably over a tab.

  After quickly looking around to see if anyone else wanted to interrupt him before he got to his wayward girl, he headed to the private room. She probably had gone through a million scenarios in her mind over what he had planned, and she probably figured she'd be getting a spanking.

  As he approached the closed door to the room he took a moment to take a deep breath and check his anger. There was no way of fully alleviating his irritation, but he wanted to make sure no part of him was acting out of an emotional state. He needed a clear head to deal with her.

  When he pushed the door open, he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to find, but he had not expected to find Erin lying on the floor in her apology position. Her clothing was still on, probably because she wasn't confident someone else wouldn't be walking into the room before him or with him.

  He saw her eyes move, and her head twist a bit to see him, but he didn't let his gaze meet hers. Instead he shut the door firmly. He twisted the knob on the door that would change the sign on the other side to read occupied.

  "Get up." He turned around and leaned back against the door, one boot flat on the wood surface, while the other remained planted on the ground. "Get up," he said again when she hesitated. "You don't get to apologize yet. You haven't earned the right to apologize." He folded his arms over his chest and watched her with a steel gaze.

  She slid up to her knees, placing her hands on her thighs. Short brown curls framed her face, giving her an innocent look, but she was anything but innocent. Her tan blouse had wrinkled while she lain on the ground, and her pleated skirt inched up her thighs while she began to bunch the material into her fist. "I'm not sure—"

  "You don't get to talk either," he snapped before she could finish her thought. Her mouth clamped shut, and she swallowed hard. "You'll only answer when I ask a question. If you speak out of turn I'll gag you. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, sir." She looked up at him, trying to connect their gazes, but he wouldn't give her that. Not yet. First he needed answers.

  "When did you decide to sell the house?"

  "It's the best—" He was at her side in one large stride, his hands in her hair, twisting it around his fist and pulling her head back until her face tilted up and met his glare.

  "I didn't ask you why you decided to sell the fucking house. I asked you when." He gave her head a little shake, ignoring her wince of pain. "Answer."

  "A few days ago." Her voice was raspy. A tear slid from the side of her eye, and he caught it with a single fingertip. He wiped it across her lips, then released her hair, walking back to his spot at the door.

  She swiped her hand over her lips and took a few breaths to calm herself.

  "When did you make plans with Jonathan to go to dinner?"

  "I didn't. Okay?" She closed her eyes when he started to step toward her again. "After I let him know I wanted to sell," she answered quickly.

  "Did you call him?"

  "No, sir."

  "Did he call you?"

  "No, sir."

  "Tell me all of it. Quickly." He stood with his feet apart, hovering over her with his arms crossed. He imagined he looked quite the sight, some had told him how terrifying he could appear when in full discipline mode, but he didn't know of any other way. This was him, the true him.

  "I decided to sell the house because I don't need it. It's too far away from work, and you." She glanced up at him, but when she received no reaction, she continued. "I texted Jonathan that I was having a realtor do the assessment. Once I had the papers drawn up for the listing, I texted him that I needed his signature and did he want to meet at my work to sign. I said I'd leave them at the front desk, and he could sign and leave. He insisted on meeting. In case he had questions or something like that." She spoke rapidly, he had to focus on every word to keep up with her.

  "So this took a few days then. You had to call a realtor, you communicated with Jonathan. But not once in all of this did you say a fucking word to me."

  "No, sir I didn't."

  "Go on with the rest." His lips tingled from keeping them pressed together so tightly.

  "I agreed to meet him at a deli not too far from here."

  "Were you allowed to meet with him without me knowing?"

  She looked up at him, then turned away. "No, sir."

  "Are you allowed to hide things like this from me?"

  "No, sir." She sniffled as she looked away from him.

  Alyssa had been right about the guilt; he could see it weighing on her. "So instead of telling me the truth, telling me all of this, you lied to me and said you were going out with Kelly for dinner." When she said nothing he bent at his waist to get closer to her, but didn't touch her. "Do I have that right?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Because you knew if you told me, I'd tell you that I was going with, or that you weren't going at all." He let her gaze meet his finally, and he was a little surprised to see a trace of defiance sparkle in her brown eyes.

  "Yes, sir. You would have insisted on coming with me, and I didn't want that. I wanted to handle him on my own."

  Bradley could understand that. With all of the arguing with her friends over her state of fragility, he should have known she might want to take her ex on by herself.

  "And instead of telling me that, in a respectful way, and not all this fucking defiance you're showing me right now, you decided to take it all upon yourself to fucking decide what to do. Do I still have it right?"

  She didn't answer right away. She mulled it over. A soft blush crept over her face. "I didn't think."

  "That pretty much says it right there, girl. You didn't think." He tapped two fingers to her temple. "Because if you had come to me and told me you wanted to handle him on your own, that you wanted to be able to do that for yourself. I would have fucking said okay. I may have waited outside the restaurant to hold you when you were done, or in case you decided you needed me, but I would have let you do that. You are not some helpless bird. You have two strong feet to stand on, I wouldn't get in the way of that. But you didn't give me the fucking choice. You made that decision for yourself and for me. You didn't submit to my authority, or my rules. You did what you wanted to do and said Fuck you to me."

  His voice hadn't risen at all, but her tears built up as though it had. "No, that's not true, I didn't think that."

  "As my submissive who makes the rules, me or you?" He held her chin between two fingers.

  "You do."

  "As my submissive who follows the fucking rules?"

  "I do."

  "And what happens to my little sub when she disobeys and lies?"

  "I get punished," she whispered.

  "That's right." He let her go and stood to his full height and looked around the room. There were two cabinets in the room containing implements. One was his personal cabinet that he kept at the club for when he wanted some fun. Lugging everything back and forth between the house and the club didn't make much since when he owned the place. The second cabinet was for public use.

  Each piece of equipment and toy were cleaned thoroughly after the private rooms were used. A member could use the room free of charge, but to get the key to the toy chest, they needed to pay a cleaning fee.

  Aside from the cabinets, two pieces of equipment had been brought into the room at his request: the spanking bench, and the St. Andrews Cross. Erin would leave the club feeling the heat of his flogger both front and back.

  "But you didn't just tell a little lie or break just any rule.
Understand that this punishment is going to be severe, Erin."

  Her chin thrust outward, and her eyes followed his gaze toward the cabinets. He could see from the corner of his eye her fingers start to twitch, and her throat work as she swallowed again. Her chest had begun to rise and fall at a quicker pace. The next half hour would be trying for her, but she wouldn't be alone, he would be with her every step of the way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Erin's heart pounded in her ears. Sweat began to mass produce all over her body as she watched him walk toward the closed cabinets. Though they were locked, she had time enough while she was waiting to guess what was inside of them. Had Bradley informed everyone what he was going to do to her that evening? Had he told everyone how she lied and betrayed his trust?

  A short while after his text, came a few more from Kelly, apologizing for letting the cat out of the bag and reprimanding her for not letting her know the cat was inside the damn bag to begin with.

  "Remove your clothes." Bradley's direction swept over the room, the silky smooth deep tone of his voice reminding her how hard she had fallen for him. Without hesitation, she slipped out of her shirt and pants, folding everything and stacking her clothing in a pile near the door of the room.

  When she turned around to face him, his eyes bore into her. His eyes. A connection he would demand from her, and one she would be hard pressed to hold. She had made him angry, but much more than that, she had disappointed him.

  In his right hand he held a long wooden paddle. During their play times together she'd learned how much she hated wooden implements. At first she had thought they would be thuddy, but she learned quickly how untrue that was. The sting of his paddles bit into her skin more than his belt. Maybe the way he used it, or the way she felt it, either way, she disliked the wooden paddle, and he knew it.

  If it were a different situation, maybe she would have found the whole thing entirely erotic. His black tank top showcased how fit the man was. His tattoo was partially hidden on his shoulder, but she could make out most of it on his arm. The warm lips that could bring her to orgasm too damn quickly, and with such skill, were thinned and pressed firmly together. Nothing about his stance suggested play. This was all business.

  "Tell me why we're here." His sharp words cut through the room.

  A chill ran over her bare skin and she fought against the urge to cover herself. Even if only to cover her chest, to have something hidden from his gaze.

  "I went to see Jonathan without telling you, and I didn't correct you when you assumed I was going out with Kelly. And I didn't tell you about my decision to sell my house." She clenched her hands at her sides, and it occurred to her that it might not be just the fact that she hadn't told him about her decision that upset him. "I'm not moving in with you. I mean, that wasn't my plan. I wouldn't do that without talking with you. The house will take a while to sell, I'm going to start looking for a place of my own." She hadn't thought his face could grow darker, but before her eyes a shadow crossed over his features. A storm brewed in his eyes, and his lips were actually turning white from the pressure he'd put on them. Had she misread his irritation?

  He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, as though needing a moment to collect himself. She tried to hold steady, but damn if she didn't want to throw open the door to the room and sprint home. Naked or not.

  "You decided to get your own place? And you didn't tell me? Didn't even open that for a discussion?" The low calm of his voice unsettled her even more than the heated glare he shot at her. "I'm not sure which transgression to address first!" He waved the paddle in the air in an exasperated gesture. "No. I do. Bend over the bench. We'll address the lying. Where you'll be living we can discuss tomorrow. When we both have had time process this evening. Because I wasn't bullshitting you, pet. This is going to be a severe punishment. Use your safeword if you need a break, but there will be no escaping what you have coming. I will stop if you use your safeword, but it only pauses the punishment. Do you understand?"

  He'd still called her pet, at least that was something. "Yes, sir." She almost didn't hear herself, her vocal cords nearly paralyzed.

  He pointed to the bench with the paddle, and she took one shaky step after another until she had reached the cushioned bench. She wasn't new to the apparatus; he'd fucked her over one only a few days ago when she met him for dinner after work. Having a boyfriend who owned a dungeon came in handy for an evening tryst.

  "Shouldn't we lock the door?" she asked.

  "No. There aren't locks on the doors to the private rooms." He explained and pointed at the corner of the room. A small video camera pointed at her. "If security sees a submissive calling her safeword, and the dom isn't paying attention to it, they can get in without having to break down the doors or having to fuck around with a key."

  Her blood ran cold. When they'd played at the club the previous times, it had been either in the main room or his office when he wanted to fuck her. His office had a lock. "You mean someone is watching this?" Her hands rested on the bench, feeling the cool leather beneath her, but not finding any relief from the heat in her body.

  "Does that bother you, pet? You've been spanked, flogged, hell I've even belted you in the main room. People saw you then. What's so bothersome now? That someone is watching you be punished? That they know you've been a very naughty girl and need to have that sexy ass of yours paddled? Do you think they haven't seen this before?"

  Another wary glance up at the camera, and she took a steady breath. Her limbs trembled, her eyes filled with tears and her chest ballooned with pressure. The paddle clunked to the floor and his hands were on her a moment later.

  Cupping her chin, he brought his nose close to hers, until they were near to touching." Give me your eyes, Erin. Your eyes." He commanded her to obey in a smooth controlled voice. She managed to open them, not even realizing she'd clenched them shut. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his hand. "It's just you and me. Forget the cameras. They are here for your safety, nothing more."

  She tried to nod, but his hands were holding her face steady. "Take slow breaths. Breathe for me baby."

  After all the rules she'd broken, all the things she'd done wrong that day, he was trying to soothe her worries? Where did this man come from? Once she had her breath back under her own control, he released her and placed a soft kiss to her lips. The warm tingle his kiss left on her lingered after he pulled away.

  "Are you ready, bad girl?" He picked up the paddle again and moved away from the bench to give her room to get into position.

  "Yes, sir." One more quick glance at the cameras, and she made her way to the kneeling portion of the bench. Her stomach fluttered with nerves, and her hands were already a sweaty mess as she brought herself over the bench. Her breasts pressed against the leather and her hands reached for the grip bars.

  He had tried to soothe her. At a moment when she felt panic and fear, he'd pushed aside his anger and brought her back to her safe place. With him.

  After everything he'd done for her over the past several weeks, all he asked in return was her obedience. Just follow his rules. Yet she couldn't bring herself to do that when it came to dealing with Jonathan. He might have said she couldn't go alone, but when she forced herself to look at the truth of the matter, she knew he would have been reasonable. It's how he did things. All she had to do was submit to him. And she'd fallen flat on her face.

  Isn't it what she wanted? Isn't that why she'd gone to the club that first time? Easy to submit to his sexual dominance, it turned her into a gooey mess just to be stared down by him when he held his flogger in hand. But submitting to his rules outside the bedroom, when it came to something she wasn't sure she'd have her way, she had failed him.

  "Don't fly away on me, pet." His warm hand grabbed her ass roughly, squeezing and kneading until she let out a gasp. "You stay with me. Do you understand?" No moving off into happy subspace, got it.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered be
fore pressing her forehead to the leather. Her chest ached with her regret.

  "I know you are." His hand stroked over her ass, as though he were priming it for what would come next. There would be very little in the way of a warm up. Steadily his hand began to come down on her upturned bottom. A slow warmth began to spread across both cheeks. Not really hard, but not soft either, making her dangle in the little space between pain and pleasure.

  "Punishment isn't about making you sorry for what you did, it's about paying the price for it. Consequences, pet." He stopped spanking to rub her cheeks. His fingers were rough as he moved over her skin. When his nails bit into her flesh, she squealed and jerked her body forward. "Do that again, and I'll restrain you," he warned her and gave her three hard swats to the curve of her ass. "If you need a moment, what do you say?" He lightly slapped her left thigh.

  "I say mercy."

  "Yes, and if you say it, I'll give you a few moments to collect yourself. If you need to me to stop entirely what will you say?"

  "I'll say red." Her stomach soured, the longer he drew out the beginning the stronger the knot in her stomach twisted.

  "Yes. But that won't get you out of your punishment. It will only delay it. Do you understand?"

  "Yes sir." She nodded but didn't think he was even looking at her anymore. His hands pulled her cheeks apart and she could feel his undivided attention being paid to her back hole.

  He didn't comment, didn't even touch her, just let her stew in her own embarrassment of what he was doing. Her face heated, and a new layer of regret began to form. All she had to do was be honest with him that morning. Have a conversation. Instead, she'd done what she wanted and not thought about him. Not entirely true, she did think about him, and then tore the decision away from him about what should have happened. A true submissive wouldn't have done that. A true submissive would have given him the issues and let him lead her, or talk with her. He'd never once dismissed her thoughts or feelings, and a true submissive wouldn't repay that sort of understanding and caring with deceit.