by Lynda Aicher
Her whimpers were like sweet music that drove him higher. The ability to control someone’s desires to this extent, to have the person submit to him completely and to allow him to see to those needs was what gave Deklan the rush. Knowing he was the one who could help.
He spanked her again, loving the sting that resounded in his palm each time his flesh met hers. She was so close. Fuck, he was close. Control was his refrain yet with her he was barely hanging on to it.
He looked up the length of her and let out a low groan. Her hair was damp with sweat, her lips full and red from his kiss. They blended with her cheeks and skin, which were flushed a deep pink. Her eyes were dark with need and leveled directly at him under heavy come-fuck-me lids.
“Deklan,” she breathed.
Gone. That’s the word that flashed in his mind. He was gone. “Come, Kendra.”
He plunged three fingers deep into her vagina and bit down on her clit while giving a hard tug on the nipple chain. She screamed, a shallow cry that was filled with the dark edge of pleasure that came with the rush of pain. Her eyes squeezed tight and her pelvis worked in small thrusts that matched the clenching of her vaginal muscles. Then her whole body tensed in a spasm that reached clear to her curled toes and fingers.
Drill routines, gun assembly, fucking sandpits full of fleas—he dragged his thoughts through every damn one to keep from coming in his pants like a goddamn sixteen-year-old. Yet he kept himself centered on Kendra. He sucked on her clit and worked his fingers in her until the crest ended and she started to slide back down, her muscles unclenching in a slow wave of satisfaction.
Releasing her, he turned off the vibrator and eased it from her body, going slow to lessen the ache. He stood, making a harsh swipe at the sweat that stung his eyes. Taking measured breaths through his nose, he savored the moment, simply enjoying the view. Kendra’s eyes were closed, her head resting limp to the side, her chest heaving in gulps of air that pushed her ruby nipples high as she continued to float in the after-bliss of the orgasm.
Before he thought about his actions, Deklan undid the spreader bar at her knees and fell forward, grabbing her chin to plunder her mouth in a hot, desperate kiss. The groan that filled their joined mouths came from deep in his chest. He wasn’t soft or gentle. Now he was all raw need as he took over her mouth, tongue-fucking her in time with his hips as he ground his erection against her open, sensitive sex. The leather of his pants slid and rubbed over her primed and ready clit, the moisture from her orgasm easing the action.
Her nipples brushed his chest, two hard points of overstimulated nerves that he knew hurt. Yet she reveled in it. Arched into him while opening her mouth to accept all he gave her.
“Who am I?” he growled against her lips.
She opened her eyes and exhaled, “Deklan.”
Her second orgasm shot through her with a suddenness that shocked them both. She tensed and moaned into his mouth and he pulled back so he could hear it. See her. Her eyes were clenched tight, her chin thrust up, making the cords on her neck tighten in strain. The low, keening sound that came from her open mouth was as beautiful as her expression.
She crashed just as quickly, every muscle seeming to go lax once the euphoria passed. She sagged into the table, her breath coming in short pants that passed over his jaw in little wisps of thanks.
His sweat dripped onto her chest and his breath came in the same accelerated pace that matched hers. His pulse raced and he clenched the edge of the table, searching for direction. The throb in his dick was almost unbearable, yet he couldn’t come. Wouldn’t come.
The Scene was for Kendra, and she didn’t need that.
He shoved away, cursing himself for his loss of control. God, what had happened? He thrust his hands through his damp hair and ground his teeth against the desire that burned within him. He was seconds away from ignoring the contract and going against everything he believed in just to plunge himself deep within her. What the fuck?
Two steps, and he was out of her line of sight. Keeping his back to the mirror, he slammed his hand down his pants, squeezing the shit out of the base of his cock. A slick string of pre-come clung to his wrist, taunting him with the soon-to-be-glue that would rip out every hair it dried to when he was finally able to remove his fucking pants.
It was no better than he deserved.
The air hissed through his teeth, the long draw of breath chasing back his pending failure. Another breath and he released his vise grip on his betraying prick, confident that he was back in control.
He had to be.
Turning around, he was back in his Dom role. He lowered the table until Kendra was lying flat and started to undo the straps that held her arms.
Fortunately for him she was still pretty much out of it, floating in the aftermath and exhaustion that usually came after an intense Scene. Deklan diverted his focus from his own wants to his duty of caring for her. He gently massaged each arm after removing the straps, helping to speed up the blood circulation and ease the ache that would have set in from the unaccustomed position.
He took his time, enjoying the feel of her skin under his palms, admiring the outline of muscle that was so defined for a female. It was almost a selfish act, his care for her, because of the enjoyment he was receiving. He finished her arms and grabbed a towel to remove the moisture from her brow and neck. Small tendrils had curled once again at her temples and nape and he looped his finger through one, the softness teasing over his skin. She was starting to stir when he took off the waist belt and smoothed away the dampness that had gathered on her ribs under the tight binding.
He took extra care removing the chain from her nipple rings, keeping the touch to a minimum. Her nipples were a deep red and looked tender as hell. There was cream that would help them. He’d make sure she left with some.
Deklan was standing between her legs removing the ankle bindings when he looked up to see her watching him from under heavy, sultry lids.
She wet her lips, her voice hoarse and raw sounding. “You can come on me.”
His chest constricted as his dick jumped at her offer. It was a sucker-punch to his gut that spoke to every possessive dominant gene in him. The instant urge to come was right there, teetering on the edge at her offer. Fuck. The curse was harsh and feral-sounding in his mind. The visual of him standing over her, his ejaculation over her stomach and breast marking her as his, was almost too much to resist.
“No,” he bit out, yanking his attention to the leg cuffs. His fingers fumbled on the buckle before he finally got the first one off and he moved to the other.
“Why?”
The simple question barely reached his ears over the noise of the Dungeon, the sounds that were just coming back into his consciousness and a solid reminder of why he couldn’t. Not here.
Not with her.
He straightened to lean over her, bracing his arms on the table until his nose was just inches from hers. He stared into eyes that had gone wide and told her the truth. “Because you deserve better.”
Her shallow inhale was her only response as her eyes searched his—hunting for the lie, he was certain. He brushed a soft kiss over her lips and finally she blinked, a flutter of lashes that foretold the emotions churning and building behind her bright blue eyes.
He backed off to retrieve the blanket from the chair he’d positioned in the corner earlier that day. “Come on,” he said, easing an arm around her to help her up. “The Scene’s over.”
She let him move her, scooting her back on the table so she could sit as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She was starting to shake, the endorphin and adrenaline crash beginning to hit her.
Before she could object, he scooped her off the table and carried her to the chair, positioning her across his lap so she was cradled against his chest, facing the wall. She started to struggle, pushing away, but he held firm.
“No, Kendra,” he said into her hair as he maneuvered her head to rest on his shoulder. “Just relax. I got you.
It’s okay. It’s safe.”
Incrementally she did, listening to him even now.
He picked up the water bottle once he was certain she wasn’t going to bolt and offered it to her. “Here, take a drink.”
This time she didn’t resist, just opened her mouth and let him hold it for her, accepting the water as he poured some into her mouth.
She curled into him then, almost as if that last little act of submission was the one that finally broke her. He’d expected this, had planned for it even with the chair, blanket and water. But it still ripped at his heart when the tears came.
They were soft, quiet sobs that vibrated through her back and puffed against his skin. He wanted more than anything to take her pain away. Simply annihilate the internal torment that was causing her so much grief.
He understood that for many it was the need to quiet that inner pain that inflamed the craving for the external pain. It was cleansing for some, a focus for others and still something altogether different for another.
There was no one reason why anyone was called into needing pain or submission or dominance or any of the fetishes The Den catered to. It was the simple acceptance that they existed and needed a safe outlet that had been one of the driving forces behind opening the club in the first place. Helping others get what they need without shame or judgment.
Yet even with all his experience, understanding and acceptance, the whisper of doubt hovered on his conscience. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain if this was truly helping Kendra or only harming her more.
Chapter Thirteen
Kendra hid in the cocoon of the blanket, surrounded by Deklan’s strength, and let the tears fall. She shivered, the chills racing under her skin, leaving tingling pinpricks of sensation that seemed to shimmer without sinking deep.
She was still floating, slowly coming out of her submissive head space. It was quiet there. No worries or stress. No recriminations or shame. Just the strong arms of her Dom...yeah, her Dom keeping her safe. Deklan might not want her to call him Master or Sir, but after that Scene, there was little question that he was her Dom.
How in the hell had she let that happen? He was supposed to be just a Dom, not her Dom.
Kendra knew enough to go with the tears. To let them fall and release the ache that had burdened her soul for so long. She’d given her trust to Deklan and he hadn’t abused it.
No, he’d cherished it.
Even after her panic attack he’d pulled her back, calmed her down and then gave her exactly what she’d wanted. The incredible mixture of pain and pleasure had been beyond anything she’d imagined.
Eric had been mostly about the pain, with her pleasure being an afterthought. Deklan had been the other way around, just like last time. It was clear that her enjoyment was his first priority. It was both a comforting and unsettling realization.
She wasn’t certain how long she sat like that, bundled in Deklan’s arms, but eventually the tears stopped and the fog around her mind started to clear, bringing her into the moment. The consistent slap of a paddle worked into her consciousness and she smiled when she found she was automatically counting the number of hits. She was up to fourteen before she made herself stop.
She blinked then wiped her nose and face on the edge of the blanket, the scent of powdery laundry softener seeming completely out of place but decidedly normal. Without asking, the bottle of water was back at her lips and she took the offered drink almost on reflex. The liquid was cool and welcomed on her raw throat. She took another swallow before finally shaking her head to indicate she’d had enough.
“Doing better?” Deklan’s voice was low and intimate and matched the light brush of his lips as they pressed a kiss to her temple.
She swallowed, blinked back the new tears. “Yeah.” She cleared the roughness out of her voice before continuing. “Thank you,” she said, staring straight ahead at the black wall. Deklan had kept his public promise but still managed to offer her some semblance of privacy.
“Are you telling me the truth, Kendra?” The light teasing that was blended with the question made her smile.
“Yes, Deklan,” she said, emphasizing his name with a hint of sarcasm. “The Scene was good. More than I expected actually.”
“How so?”
Maybe it was the lull of coming out of her sub space or the security she felt within his embrace, but she found herself answering openly without fear. “You gave me pleasure too.”
He shifted to the side and tilted her chin up until she could see his face. His brows were drawn together, his eyes intent. “It hasn’t been like that for you before?”
“No...well, maybe. But if it was, it’s too far back for me to clearly remember.”
“Then why?” He looked truly baffled. “What drew you to this lifestyle?”
She tried to turn away, uncomfortable with his questioning, but he gripped her chin, keeping her still. Angered, she scowled and pulled away, ducking her head back against his shoulder. Her brain suddenly caught up with her actions and she held her breath. Damn it. It was that exact defiance that had always gotten her in trouble with Eric.
Deklan only chucked. Instead of punishing or reprimanding her, he removed the clip he’d put in her hair and gently combed his fingers through the strands, tugging lightly to get the tangles out.
There it was again. A simple act of kindness that reminded her he wasn’t Eric. Not even close.
Exhaling, she relaxed once more. She debated for a moment on if she should respond when he didn’t seem to be demanding an answer. Yet maybe that’s what made her want to answer him.
“It was curiosity at first,” she started, tucking her hands under her chin to draw the blanket closer. “Rebelliousness too. The first time I went to a club was with a group of college friends pumped up on liquid courage and all daring each other to see what it was about. Only I really liked what I saw. Of course, I couldn’t say anything, but I didn’t forget it. Or how it had made me feel.”
“And how was that?”
“Excited, turned-on, envious...of the submissives. I was watching a woman being flogged and then whipped by her Master and instead of horrified like some of my friends, all I could think was I wanted to be her.” She remembered back to the first sight and the light bulb of recognition that had gone off within her. “To me, it was beautiful.”
“When did that change?”
The warmth that had been creeping back within her at the good memories was suddenly frozen as her mind switched over to her recent past. “Eric,” she whispered, the chills returning to race under her skin.
Deklan tightened his arms around her, hugging her to him. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
Did she? Yes, no, maybe. Another tear slipped from her eye to run down her cheek and she let it fall, concentrating on the slow path it made down the side of her face. Before she could fully understand why, she found herself admitting weakly, “I don’t know where to start.”
He brushed her hair from her temple then tilted her chin up to kiss her softly before he spoke. “Start wherever you want. I’ll listen.” That was all he said, but his eyes communicated so much more. In their deep blue depths she saw compassion and understanding.
The impulse took her and she leaned in to kiss him, absorbing as much of his strength as she could take from his soft lips and tender touch. She pulled back and searched his face again. “You’re not acting like much of a Dom right now,” she said before she could think to halt her thoughts.
He flashed his half-grin, a short chuckle escaping with it. “And how’s a Dom supposed to act?”
“You order me to talk and don’t give me a choice or allow me to hide.”
His eyes narrowed. “In a Scene, maybe, if it’s right. But this isn’t a Scene.” His thumb caressed her jawline. “We’re two people talking now. You share what you want.”
She swallowed. “Would you force me to talk about this during a Scene?”
“Only if you wanted me to, but that k
ind of trust is built over time. And I haven’t earned it.” He sighed and pulled her close until his lips grazed her forehead in the gentlest of touches that made her heart ache in wonder and longing. “A Dom isn’t any one stereotype. It’s my job to give each sub what they need, but there’s no single way to do that. The last thing you need is to be forced into doing anything. I don’t work like that. Submission that is forced holds little attraction compared to submission that’s given freely.”
She curled into him, his words replaying in her mind. Submission given freely. The black wall before her melded until it became a screen flashing back the mistakes of her past, highlighting with 20/20 hindsight exactly how naïve she’d been. But then, she already knew that.
She thought of all the times her safe word had been ignored until she was told she had no safe word, that her Master knew when she’d reached her limit. Or the very first time Eric forced her to cancel her plans with her friends then punished her for questioning him. The slow evolution from mutual consent to abuse that she let happen.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Deklan’s voice jerked her back to the present. She closed her eyes to block her mental slideshow and nodded.
“During our Scene, what triggered your panic attack?”
His hand was back, combing her hair, the strands threading through his fingers until they reached the end and fell back to ruffle against the side of her face or down her back. The lethargy of the action calmed her with its slow, repeated consistency.
She wanted to hide from the question and avoid the shame that came with it; however, that wouldn’t help. So she dug her nails into her palm and forced the answer out. “I was enjoying it too much.”
“What?” The confusion was evident in his voice.
She cleared her throat and took the second to get her words right. “You were whipping my legs and it hurt, but I was thinking about how good it felt. How much I loved it all. The vibrator, the chain, the flogging...I shouldn’t like that. It’s so wrong.” She gasped out the end, her voice cracking on the last word.