Bonds of Need

by Lynda Aicher

  She cringed, pulling back before she could stop the action.

  “No.”

  His command made her freeze, her pulse increasing as the memories threatened to invade and ruin the opportunity. She kept her focus on the table, her doubts resurfacing, making the print on the contract blur.

  “Kendra,” Deklan prodded, his voice calm. “I’m not him. Whoever he is. I’m not him. Remember that.” He touched her chin and lifted it until her eyes met his. “Trust me. I will never abuse you. Never.”

  Never. God, how she wanted to believe that. She had to try. Releasing a long, slow breath, she forced herself to respond. “Yes, Deklan.”

  He smiled that crooked, half-lip curl of his, and she looked immediately for that hint of his dimple. The approval in his eyes was enough to make her almost return the gesture. “Look over the contract. Take as long as you need.” He stood, and the bench felt big and empty without him next to her. “I’ll be right over there. Signal me when you’re ready or if you have questions.”

  “Yes, Deklan.”

  He frowned, his brows coming together in a dark line over his eyes. His hand fisted where it rested on the table. “You can talk. In fact, I want you to talk. Your words aren’t something I ever want to control.” He moved away then, his stride sure and long.

  She stared at his back, too stunned to move.

  She could talk.

  A simple freedom. One she hadn’t even realized she needed. It was so common for a Dom to demand silence from a sub or to exert control over when a sub could talk that Kendra hadn’t even thought about having that option. But for him to give it to her...she didn’t know how to process that.

  Blinking rapidly, she looked down. The last of her doubts were removed by Deklan’s command. She forced her shaking hands to pick up the papers before she realized that wasn’t going to work and set them back on the table so she could read them.

  The music faded into the background as she read every line and processed every word. She’d made mistakes in her past, and she wouldn’t repeat them. Eric hadn’t given her a choice or asked what she wanted. And he would never have considered agreeing to a contract or negotiating terms. He was an abuser, not a Dom.

  She got that now.

  And Deklan was showing her what a real Dom could be like. The kind of Dom she wanted. The kind she was slowly coming to admit she needed to keep herself sane.

  * * *

  Deklan stood about twenty feet away from the private booth where Kendra sat reading through the contract. He leaned against a support beam, his arms crossed over his chest, giving her space but keeping her close. Even though it wasn’t official until she signed the contract, Deklan already thought of Kendra as his.

  Her brow wrinkled in concentration at certain points as she’d tilt closer to the pages before smoothing out again as she leaned back. The edge of her lip slipped in and out between her teeth in an absent way he’d bet she wasn’t even aware of.

  Jake stepped up and leaned against the other side of the pole. “Cali’s worried about her.”

  She wasn’t the only one. Deklan doubted Kendra knew how many people were worried about her. “I won’t harm her.”

  “I never thought you would.”

  “Yeah? You’re one of the few.”

  Jake grunted. “I’m sure Seth’s already raked you over the coals, so there’s no need for me to do it.”

  Deklan’s attention returned to Kendra as she leaned back against the booth and picked up the pen. She flicked the object back and forth between her fingers and stared down at the contract. Anticipation tightened his chest; he pushed away from the beam. This was it. She’d either sign or decline.

  He explained away the urgency that pushed at him as his instincts telling him she needed help. That’s why he was doing this. Right? Christ. Since when did he doubt himself? Yet the relief that hit when she leaned over and signed her name to the bottom of the contract was equal to any he’d felt walking safely out of a mission.

  “Cali doesn’t need to know about this,” Deklan said to Jake.

  “She’s going to find out.”

  “Maybe,” he conceded. “But it’s Kendra’s place to tell her. Not yours.”

  Jake ran a hand over the back of his neck before he nodded. “You purposely making my life hell?” But there was smirk on his face when Deklan turned to look at him.

  “No more than usual,” he answered back, grateful that the other man understood.

  Deklan shot Jake a tight grin then moved toward his sub, eager to get the night started. She looked up, her gaze holding on him, and everything else faded into the background with each step he took closer to her.

  His sub.

  Chapter Eleven

  Kendra vibrated with the tension that held her stiff as another moan and whimper wrapped around her, taunting her with its seductive lure. Or was it a warning? Her fingers ached in the tight grip she held before her, but she couldn’t loosen the hold. She stared at the ground, unable to make herself look up. Not at the room or the man or whatever piece of equipment was waiting for her.

  Deklan came up behind her, pressing his body to hers until his entire length heated and shielded her. “It’s okay, Kendra.” His breath ruffled close to her ear as he skimmed his hands up her bare arms. “You’re safe with me. Remember that.”

  She shivered, but it wasn’t from fear or cold. Deklan had led her straight to the Dungeon without any preamble. She was grateful for that. Her nerve might not have lasted if he’d prolonged the event after the paperwork was signed. And it was an event to her. A monumental one.

  Thankfully, Deklan got that. But then, he seemed to get a lot about her. More than anyone else ever had. Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallowed down the hope that rested in her chest. This was an experiment—a test. That’s all.

  Forcing her eyes open, she took a deep breath and inhaled the unique musky, pungent Dungeon scent of sex, sweat and leather. Only this one had the slight underlining hint of lemon that she remembered from last time. She turned her head toward him and inhaled again, catching that faint hint of sandalwood that was him. The tightness drained from her shoulders, her body sinking into his as if his scent was a magical muscle relaxer.

  “Safe word.”

  “Lilac,” she answered automatically, her mind sinking incrementally into the low, floaty mentality that made everything else go away.

  “Desires?”

  She frowned, confused by his question. “Sorry?”

  He nudged her hair aside to trail light kisses down the length of her neck. “Anything you’d specifically like for this Scene?”

  Stunned, she couldn’t answer. Again he’d hit her with the unexpected, giving her a freedom she didn’t know what to do with. She looked up and froze at the sight before her. They were standing in front of a huge mirror that went from the floor to at least twelve feet high and ran down three-quarters of the wall, clearly reflecting everything that was happening behind them.

  But the only thing she could focus on was them.

  He was all muscle and girth behind her, his hard body providing a wall that supported her thinner frame. Their black clothing seemed to blend together, her pale skin and blond hair standing out in striking contrast while his olive skin-tone and dark hair made him appear even more intimidating. He could crush her if he wanted, yet his hold on her was gentle. Almost caring.

  His lips continued their soft exploration against her skin, her blood heating under the distraction. It was incredibly erotic to see his tongue dart out to lick her skin at the same time that she felt the warm moisture brush the sensitive tissue.

  She reached back to grab his thighs, her knees going weak. It seemed like she was seeking proof that the image before her was actually them—her. Her firm grip on the smooth leather over hard, corded muscles grounded her only a little.

  In the next instant he nipped her, a sharp, hard bite at the juncture of her shoulder. Her muscles tensed and she moaned into the pain so unexpected bu
t so welcomed. Her eyelids drooped, but she wouldn’t let them close. She absolutely couldn’t take her eyes off their reflection.

  “Answer me, Kendra,” he demanded before he bit down again, catching just the barest amount of skin in a series of small, trailing nips. The pain was acute, intense and quick to fade.

  “No,” she finally managed after scrambling to remember the question. Her voice was low and full of gravel. “No desires.” She tilted her head, giving him more access to her neck. The persistent nibbles aroused her and made her hunger for more. The unspoken implication of her answer was that she trusted him. But then there was the safety of the contract too.

  “I have plans for you,” he murmured as his hands smoothed under her tank to stroke her abdomen. “Did you wear your nipple charms?”

  She shook her head. “No. Just the hoops.” His palms were warm and coarse against her belly and she arched into the touch, seeking the warmth. It felt so good, those caresses that were getting firmer, rougher, sensitizing her flesh with each broad pass.

  “Next time, you’ll wear the suns for me.” He moved his hands up her sides, and she lifted her arms without being asked. Her top was pulled over her head and discarded in one swift move. She let her head fall back to rest on his shoulder, her hands returning to grip his strong leather-clad thighs. The desire built within her and she eased her hands up to grab his firm ass.

  He looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark with lust, his features appearing soft and flushed, much like hers. Together they watched him move his hands over her stomach until they cupped the underside of her breast, lifting and squeezing the mounds without touching her hard, aching nipples.

  “These bras are the sexiest thing on you,” he murmured. She was so focused on what he was doing that his compliment barely registered. His butt flexed under her hands, and she swayed her hips just enough to feel the outline of his hardening cock against her ass. In return, he slipped a finger under the top edge of the black shelf-bra to run it over her breast, teasing without satisfying.

  The garment was a compromise—access without nudity. The silver nipple rings flashed in the light like they were signaling for attention. But he didn’t comply, which only made her nipples harder.

  “Who do you see?”

  Startled by his question, she gave him the obvious answer. “Us.”

  “Who am I?”

  A soft smile formed on her lips. “Deklan,” she breathed. “My Dom.”

  Without warning he grabbed both nipples in his fingers to pinch and pull on the tips, sending sudden jolts of intense pain radiating from her breast. She cried out, her knees bending and hands clenching as she winced against the surprise of the attack.

  “Yes,” she panted, her pussy contracting at the force of the need that pulsed through her. “More.”

  “This is what you ache for?” His question was more of a challenge that he backed by looping his pinkies through the nipple rings and tugging on them until the nubs were stretched tight.

  She arched her back, following the pain even while she begged, “Yes. Please.” This was only the start of what she ached for. But at the same time it was so much more than she expected. The contact with him, the touches and closeness—just like last time. He wasn’t detached and distant from this Scene, making her experience it. Instead he was right here with her, in the Scene.

  He let go of the rings and stepped back, his hands on her hips to steady her. He studied her in the mirror, her chest rising and falling in large, swelling breaths. “Skirt and shoes off. Then I want you on the table, on your back.”

  She licked her lips, needing the moisture. “Yes, Deklan.”

  The flash of approval that crossed his face warmed her to her toes. She wanted to please him as much as she wanted him to please her. With a small nod, he moved away to a metal cart along the wall next to the table. He lifted the cloth from the top, his broad back blocking her view of what she assumed were the toys he’d selected for the Scene.

  It was only then that the rest of the sounds of the Dungeon penetrated her consciousness. The cries and wails, coupled with the smacks and slaps, reminded her exactly where she was and why. Motivating herself, she removed her skirt and heels then picked them up with her top and set them in a neat pile by the mirror, even though Deklan hadn’t said to do that. Old habits were still ingrained within her.

  She avoided looking at her reflection as she turned toward the table. Somehow, seeing herself undressed and alone would have left her too exposed. The table Deklan had indicated could best be described as a modified massage table. It was about waist high, padded vinyl, only it was half the normal length. She’d never seen anything quite like it, but its design elements were pretty obvious.

  Stepping up, she sat on the edge and lay back like Deklan had instructed. It was only natural that she spread her arms out on the two pieces that extended horizontal from the sides. The table wasn’t long enough for her legs, but she easily found and rested her heels in the cups that were added to the table legs so her legs were bent and spread, exposing her lower half.

  Kendra stared at the ceiling, taking long slow breaths to control the rising panic that constricted her chest and threatened to take the moment away from her. She concentrated on the little things, like the material that was cool and sticky against her back, the exposed black beams overhead, the sharp edge of the table where it hit the back of her calves.

  Anything to keep her thoughts from the open, vulnerable position she’d willingly placed herself in.

  Heat flushed down her in a wave of prickling insecurity that had her breath hitching, her pulse increasing. Her hands fisted, and the stab of her nails in her palms gave her another focus. She squeezed her fingers tighter, her nails digging into her flesh, until her fingertips hurt from the force and she could ground herself in that slow throb of centered pain.

  Sinking into the self-inflicted pain, her muscles contracted, tensing her entire body from her arms to her abdomen to her legs. She clenched her teeth and simply felt the strength it took to maintain the strain.

  “Kendra.”

  Her head jerked toward Deklan’s voice, her eyes wide as she was startled from her internal struggle. He was at her side, his large presence instantly soothing. He smoothed his hand down her arm and her muscles relaxed, her control gone.

  “Who am I?” he asked her, pulling her away from the gulf that threatened to swallow her. “Say my name.”

  “Deklan,” she answered, her voice hushed and weak from anxiety.

  “Again.”

  She cleared her throat, gaining confidence in the small action as if she was clearing away the residual apprehension that lingered. “Deklan.”

  “Remember that,” he ordered, all firm Dominant now. But he wasn’t rough. There was no censure or blatant meanness in his voice or on his face. And she searched it hard, hunting for the warning sign—the sneer or the dropped brows or the narrowed eyes—only to find none.

  At his urging, she let him uncurl her fingers, the joints aching from the prolonged stress of her hold. He rubbed her palm where her nails had dented her skin, and she waited for his reprimand. His lips thinned briefly, but that was it.

  He grabbed the bands attached to the arm board. “I’m going to strap you down now,” he explained as he tightened the buckle, pulling it snug to hold her wrist firm before he did another strap around her upper arm next to her torso. He moved around the table, adding restraints to her other arm, a thick one across her lower ribcage just under her breasts, and around each ankle.

  With each strap that was cinched against her skin she struggled against the dual rise of excitement and fear. But he kept touching her, the heat from his hands giving her purchase as he warned her about each belt before he put it on.

  When he finished with the last restraint, Kendra took a moment to just feel the restriction. Instinctively, she tested them and found she had little room to wiggle or struggle. She closed her eyes and dug through the series
of emotions that rolled within her until she centered on the most prominent one.

  Contentment.

  How?

  It wasn’t rational, but it was there and growing stronger with each second that she recognized and accepted it for what it was. A foreign sense of quiet surrounded her as she let herself settle into the stillness.

  There was no fear here. No worries or anxieties. Just a peacefulness she’d almost forgotten existed.

  “That’s it,” Deklan said, his hands rubbing up her legs. “Trust me. I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

  She clung to that. “Yes, Deklan.”

  Kendra opened her eyes and lifted her head, searching for him. He stood between her legs, a hand braced on each of her knees. Maintaining eye contact, he dipped and exhaled, forcing his hot breath over the thin strip of fabric covering her pussy. It felt so good. Yet another tease, and she pushed against the restraints, trying to get closer.

  He grinned at her as he straightened, a hint of mischief lighting his eyes. “We’re almost ready. Just a few more things.” He bent down and picked up a spreader bar, which he placed between her legs, the large cuffs attached right above her knees. The bar was adjustable; he extended it until the stretch pulled on her inner thigh and hip muscles.

  Finished, he gave her pussy a parting caress with the barest brush of his fingers before he stepped to the side. She bit her lip against the whimper that almost escaped.

  Then she was distracted from everything as the table started to lift. The low grind and whirl of a motor came from the mechanism that tilted her torso up until the table was just past a forty-five degree angle. The bindings dug into her skin, holding her in place, and her quads adjusted to the added strain in their bent position as more of her weight pressed down on them.

  “What is this?” she questioned, looking to Deklan. She’d never seen or experienced anything like this table before.