Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender

by Opal Carew

  “You do.”

  “Say my name, Corinne. Who do you belong to and only to?” Nate drove into her again and gave her clit another light caress.

  She dug her toes into the mattress and curled her fingers as another rush of sensation washed over her. “You, Nate. Only you . . . Master . . .”

  Nate’s lips pulled back from his teeth. He looked savage. “Come for me now, Corinne. Come for your Master.”

  He pulled out of her then rammed into her. The flat of his hand struck her ass at the same time his other hand flicked her clit.

  Corinne screamed, her body bucking against her bonds. Nate’s arms wrapped around her, holding her steady and safe in his embrace. Then he came hard, gripping her hips as he thrust into her, his own body bucking, his teeth grinding together.

  After, while Corinne was still quivering with aftershocks, Nate’s lips brushed the back of her neck. “I’ll get these ropes off you now, sweetheart.” He lifted her and set her on her knees on the mattress. Working the knots he said, “You must be starving. You didn’t each much dinner.”

  One side of Corinne’s mouth lifted. “I was distracted.”

  Nate laughed. “Wait until next time.”

  Her eyes widened. “There’s going to be a next time?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  Her sex tightened. Corinne squeezed her upper thighs.

  Nate growled softly. “Looking forward to it, I see.” He licked her neck. “Soon.”

  He sucked her pulse into his mouth. Corinne gasped. “And after we eat, can we play again?”

  Nate groaned. “We can play all night.” He grinned. “By the time I get you home, it will be time for you to come into the office. You’re going to be asleep at your desk.”

  Corinne looked up into his eyes. “I was thinking I would sleep here tonight. If that’s okay.”

  Nate gave her a tender smile. He brushed his knuckle gently down her cheek. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

  He finished untying her. He tossed the rope onto the bed then sat against the headboard and took his time gently rubbing her arms and legs. A line appeared on his brow. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

  Corinne’s throat tightened with emotion. How could she explain to Nate what his concern meant to her? What being here with him meant to her? “I don’t hurt, not anywhere. Because of you.”

  She lifted his hand from her shoulder, stopping his light massage, and kissed his fingers. She got out of the bed.

  Nate raised a brow. “Corinne?”

  She dropped to her knees at the side of the bed but didn’t lower her gaze. She wanted him to see all that she was feeling. “I thought I knew what love was, but I didn’t. Not before you, Nate. I love you. You own me body and soul.”

  Nate stared into her eyes for a long moment then he reached down and lifted her up off the floor and into his arms. “You own me every bit as much. You have for years. I love you, Corinne. God, I love you.”

  He moved his mouth over hers as if it had been months rather than moments since he’d last kissed her. He wasn’t the only one doing the kissing, the only one holding on with a death grip. She held him just as fiercely, her finger nails leaving their crescent shape on his biceps.

  She had never loved Steven the way she loved Nate. If she had, she never would have been able to put herself first, before him, and leave him that night.

  But Nate . . . Her heart squeezed so hard it felt as if it stopped. She would never be able to walk away from Nate. No matter what he did to her . . . No matter what she drove him to do. If it truly had been Nate in that dungeon with her, she would have died there. If she lost Nate, she wouldn’t survive. She wouldn’t want to.

  Foreboding moved down her spine like an icy finger. Steven’s specter, his eyes black and hollow like empty pits, flashed in her mind. It was as if she were looking into her own grave. She sucked in a breath. The hair on the back of her neck rose. One fingernail cracked against Nate’s muscle.

  “Hey?” Nate drew back.

  “I scr-atched you.” Her throat felt bone dry. Her voice came out in a squeak. “I’m so-rry.”

  “Forget that.” He gripped her chin. “You’ve lost the color in your face. What’s wrong?”

  Corinne shook her head. “No-thing.” She shook her head again. “Nothing.”

  Nate frowned. “A hot bath now and I’ll feed you in the tub.” His frown deepened. “Wait here, baby. I’ll run the water.”

  As he walked away, Corinne began to shake.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Kitten . . . kitten . . . kitten . . .”

  Corinne hung on the hook. The whip struck her. Again. Then again. The rapid blows with no break in between cut off her breath.

  “So quiet. Not hard enough? Lucky for you I’m just getting started.”

  Steven’s voice came from behind her where he wielded the whip.

  “You were made for this,” he went on. “You won’t admit it. You want to play the victim. But we know the truth.”

  Steven lowered the whip. Corinne lacked the strength to hold up her head and it drooped onto her chest. She heard his footsteps slap against the concrete floor then his shoes filled her range of vision. The pristine white athletic shoes that he favored when at home, only not so pristine now. The shoes were flecked with her blood.

  “Now, slut, beg me for more.”

  Steven grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head up so their gazes met. Corinne’s eyes sprang wide. It wasn’t Steven. It was Nate. Corinne screamed.

  “Corinne! Open your eyes! Baby, you’re safe! You’re okay!”

  Corinne jerked awake. Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer. Her body was bathed in sweat.

  She cried out and batted the hands on her shoulders that were holding her in a steel grip. Moonlight streamed in through the open blinds, lighting the room enough that Corinne could make out her surroundings and Nate leaning over her. It was Nate holding her. Nate calling out to her. She was in his bed.

  “Corinne. Look at me, sweetheart. You’re with me.” Nate moved one hand from her shoulder and reached up to cup her face. “Corinne?” His hold tightened a little when she failed to respond.

  Gulping air, she struggled to sit up. Nate lifted but didn’t release her once she was upright. Part of her didn’t want him to. She needed something to anchor her, to keep her in the here and now, but in this moment that something couldn’t be Nate.

  She made a soft sound of panic and jerked against his hold. He let her go.

  “I’m okay.” She gasped another breath.

  “The hell you are.”

  No, she wasn’t okay. She was the furthest thing from okay. She drew her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She felt shredded inside.

  “Fuck, you’re shaking.”

  He grabbed the comforter and moved toward her with it. She scooted back, hitting the headboard hard.

  Nate stopped moving. He looked like she’d driven a knife through him, but he said,

  “It’s all right. I’ll stay right here. I won’t touch you.”

  She’d wounded him. The last thing she ever wanted to do but she couldn’t make it right with him. All she could do was say, “I’m sorry.”

  Regret and remorse filled his eyes. “I don’t need an apology, baby. You can’t think I care about that. You were screaming. Terrified.” He stopped speaking, then swallowed before continuing. “What was that about? What were you dreaming?”

  She huddled more into herself and shook her head.

  “You have to know I can’t leave things like this. Talk to me, baby.”

  Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

  “I can’t stand to see you crying and I won’t stand by while something is obviously tearing you up inside.” His voice hardened. “You’re entitled to some privacy, but I can’t give it to you when you’re like this. I won’t give it to you. Talk to me, Corinne. Now.”

  Her throat burned and tightened. She drew herself into a tight ball. “I dreamed about
that last night with Steven.” Her voice was whisper soft.

  Nate’s eyes went as hard as flint at the mention of Steven. “Have you had this dream before?”

  “Every night for the first year. Less after that.”

  Nate tensed. “And you had the dream tonight.”

  She nodded.

  Nate’s mouth pulled tight forming two white slashes. “Tell me.”

  Starting then stopping then starting again, she told him about that last night with Steven.

  Nate’s nostrils flared. “Fucking bastard.”

  Corinne’s mouth quivered. “Tonight the dream wasn’t exactly the same.”

  He eyed her. “What was different?”

  She looked up at him. His face blurred with her tears. “Tonight it wasn’t Steven in the dungeon with me. It was you.”

  * * *

  Hearing Corinne recount that last night with Steven, every muscle in Nate’s body tensed with a rage he’d never known before. It was a living breathing thing inside of him. If Steven were here now, Nate would surely kill him.

  But more than rage ate at him. Nate hadn’t realized how much it would hurt him to know the full extent of what Steven had done to Corinne. There were subs in the lifestyle who slipped through the cracks. There were those who called themselves Dominants but who used the designation and the lifestyle as a means to hurt and degrade. Predators came in all walks of life. Nate hadn’t realized how much it would hurt him to know Corinne had been one of those subs.

  Tonight, rather than Steven as her abuser, she’d dreamed Nate was in Steven’s dungeon with her, torturing her, telling her she was the catalyst of her own abuse. The way she sat, so still, so pale, huddled into herself, afraid of him, gutted Nate. It tore him up inside that she felt the need to protect herself from him.

  And not just from him, but from herself. He ran a hand through his hair. Steven had worked on her relentlessly, feeding her self-doubt, fostering her self-blame. He’d used her need for some pain with play against her.

  Nate twisted his mouth sourly. He didn’t need to wonder what had triggered tonight’s dream. They’d played again tonight. The last time they’d played and included pain, hadn’t Corinne told him that the bite of pain she thrilled to only proved that she was wired wrong? Tonight’s play only supported her deep-rooted belief.

  No matter what was done to her, how much pain was inflicted on her, she would believe she’d instigated it. She accepted that as a foregone conclusion. She fully expected that one day Nate would be driven to abuse her too.

  She was afraid that he would turn on her eventually, yet she wasn’t running as far away from him as she could. And why not? Because she believed she was responsible. Fuck. Perversely, Nate wished she would go, would leave him, take that measure to protect herself. Then he’d be sure that she knew she wasn’t responsible for his actions. That anything he chose to do to her was on him. That he owned that.

  Nate looked at Corinne, the woman he loved. He felt helpless, powerless. It wasn’t Steven, Nate had to fight, but Corinne. How did he fight Corinne herself?

  Chapter Twelve

  He was losing her. She was losing herself. Nate could feel it. Right after the dreams started, Nate had stopped all play, wanting to give Corinne time, but her agitation only increased. She needed that part of her life as much as air to breathe.

  Nate considered removing any pain play, but that wasn’t right for either one of them. They were both wired for pain. They both needed the edge of pain play, he to inflict it and she to receive it.

  So Nate reinstated their play. He increased the frequency of their sessions, thinking, hoping, consistency and constancy were what she needed. That the more time she spent with him at play, and saw that he never crossed the line, she could begin to overcome her fears that one day he would. But the nightmares continued.

  She hadn’t stayed at his place since the night of the first dream. Instead, she suffered through them on her own.

  He was sure she wouldn’t tell him how often she had them at all if he didn’t press her, but then he didn’t need her to tell him. He could see for himself how ravaged she was. Her eyes were dull. Shadows darkened the skin beneath them. She’d lost weight.

  Now, seated across the table from him in his kitchen, her gaze was lowered, her hands in her lap. The meal he’d prepared for her was left virtually untouched. And she was quiet most of the time, only speaking when spoken to.

  When they played, she was with him. In those hours, Nate could feel that it was just the two of them. But after, when her mind wasn’t overwhelmed by her senses, her fears took hold.

  She came to him readily to play. Was one of the reasons she agreed to the many sessions was to speed up the time when he would turn on her? She seemed to be in a constant state of heightened agitation, as if she were living waiting for the ax to fall.

  He would cut his own throat before he would do her damage. Nate’s reassurances that nothing in her could cause him to harm her weren’t working.

  He’d gotten in touch with Corinne’s therapist in California and the counselor had recommended a colleague who was local. Corinne had resumed her therapy. But therapy wasn’t an overnight fix.

  She couldn’t go on like this. He released a slow breath that shook. He was half out of his mind watching her fade right before his eyes. His body went cold, in the grip of a fear he’d never known before.

  He knew what he needed to do for his sub. In his gut, he’d known it would come to this. But he hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. To put her through it. And if he made a mistake . . . His gut clenched. If he made a mistake, there would be no bringing Corinne back.

  * * *

  Nate pushed back from the table. He hadn’t finished his meal. Corinne wondered about it, but then saw he had that look in his eyes. The one that both melted her knees and melted her heart and she knew his mind was not on food.

  Nate loomed over her. “On your knees. Naked.”

  Corinne’s pulse picked up and she felt a stirring inside her for the first time since their last session. All that was so wrong in her life fell to the background. Anticipation clawed at her and buzzed in her stomach like a swarm of bees. She couldn’t get to Nate’s bedroom fast enough but when she started in that direction, he halted her.

  “In my dungeon.”

  Corinne froze.

  Nate’s eyes went cold. “There’s a mat on the floor. I want you on it.” His voice was harder than she’d ever heard it.

  Corinne remained in place. Her feet unable to move.

  He raised an eyebrow. His lip curled. “Did you not hear me?”

  Oh, yes, she’d heard him. And she’d heard what he hadn’t said. This was her nightmare come to life.

  Cold sweat broke out on her body. Fear sweat. Her hand was slick when she twisted the knob on the door that led to the dungeon.

  Nate was a step behind her. He flicked on the lights. The room was dimly lit but with enough light that she could make out her surroundings and the various pieces of equipment he had against each wall.

  Her eyes went to the hook in the ceiling and her blood turned to ice. She undressed then knelt on the mat beneath the hook. She tried to keep her gaze off the hook above her but even without looking at it, it loomed over her, an ominous, terrifying presence.

  Nate seemed oblivious to her fear as he went to a table in one corner and stood with his back turned to her.

  Corinne shivered. The room wasn’t cold. Nate must have planned this in advance and turned up the heat because the room temperature was more than comfortable. From what Corinne had experienced with Steven’s dungeon, it took a while for the room to warm. Even now, Corinne could feel the warm air blowing through the numerous vents around her.

  No, it wasn’t the temperature of the room that had her shivering and had her teeth chattering.

  Nate turned and faced her, his gaze unreadable. His eyes tracked her. He touched a switch on the wall and the hook began to lower.

  Co
rinne’s breathing hitched. Her pulse kicked up. She saw he was holding something. Two pairs of cuffs and a length of chain. Her mouth went dry.

  His steps slow, deliberate, he made his way to her then stood towering over her. “Your hands, Corinne.”

  An icy coldness filled her. Something inside her felt as if it had died. So this was what it felt like to be completely without hope. Could Nate see that in her eyes? Even if he could, she knew it wouldn’t change anything that was about to happen and she didn’t wish that on him. None of this was his doing, but hers. Steven had been right.

  As he continued to watch her, Nate’s grip tightened on the chain. His expression, though, didn’t alter, didn’t soften. His eyes continued to bore into her, his gaze implacable. “There is no democracy inside this dungeon. You are mine to do with as I choose. Whatever I choose. Hands. Now.”

  This was going to happen . . . Of course it was going to happen. Her gaze rose again to the hook so like the one in Steven’s dungeon. She saw herself as she had been, hanging from that hook. Bloody. Brutalized. Terrified. As she soon would be again.

  Her breathing shallowed, came too fast. Her heart felt like it would pound right out of her chest. She held out her hands. They were trembling.

  Steven hadn’t used cuffs, but plain, coarse rope. Nate’s cuffs were lined with a soft plush fabric. They wouldn’t abrade her skin. Didn’t Nate realize that? Steven had certainly known that.

  Nate shackled her wrists and ankles, then attached the cuffs to the chain and the chain to the hook. He ran a length of the chain from her ankles up to the hook, spreading her legs as far apart as they would go, making it impossible for her to close them. Though she didn’t understand the reason for it, he added a harness around her waist which he also fastened to the hook.

  He removed his shirt. For the first time since she’d seen his upper body bared, the power and beauty of it didn’t arouse her. She shuddered with fear at what all that strength would do to her.

  He flung his shirt on a bench. He went back to the wall, touched a switch there and the hook began to elevate. Her arms rose above her head until they were fully extended and then the movement stopped, leaving her on her knees.