Tied to the Tycoon

by Chloe Cox

  chapter 12

  Ava edged closer to the fire, wine glass in hand, and brooded. Jackson was planning something. Ever since she’d taken that stupid call from Alain while they were out walking, Jackson had had that look in his eye. That mischievous look that said he took as much pleasure in teasing her with offhand comments and allusions as he would in whatever it was that he had planned for her.

  That look, and the way it made her feel all warm and mushy about Jackson, was one reason for the wine. The other was the general goings on at Camp Kinkmas, as Ava had come to think of the Volare retreat. The wine was meant to relax her while Jackson went about his preparations, whatever they were, and she was left in one of the common great rooms with the other guests.

  The other guests at the BDSM Christmas retreat. Ava was pretty sure she’d never get over the fact that such a thing existed. The other guests, who had apparently planned some themed activities. The other guests, who included Lillian and her date, a cheerful looking salt-and-pepper gentleman who mostly seemed happy to have a date at all.

  Jackson had allowed her exactly one glass of wine while he was off making his “arrangements.” He didn’t want her impaired, he’d said. As Ava watched while people picked names out of a hat for Volare’s version of Secret Santa—whatever that entailed—she wondered if a glass of eggnog would technically be cheating. She didn’t often indulge, given her family history, but this seemed like an exception.

  The irony was, she wanted to be able to join in and have fun, even if she didn’t want to be anyone but Jackson’s Secret Santa gift. She just couldn’t. For some reason, this was one situation where she couldn’t become her usual social persona, laughing and playing along and charming everyone. There was some sort of block. She envied the others, though, having their fun. Even Lillian.

  Nope, do not think about that. Do not think about Jackson and Lillian…

  Ava’s phone buzzed again on the low table beside the couch she’d claimed as her own. It was probably Alain again. She thought she’d blown him off pretty effectively when he’d called earlier, with her breezy lie about a junket, but apparently she’d sounded like she was having too much fun. Alain had wanted to know where it was, and she was sure he was calling to figure out how to crash the party.

  The weird thing was, Ava still wasn’t all that concerned. Objectively, she reasoned, it was actually pretty freaking worrying. She’d put a lot into her advertising career, into outwardly making herself into the kind of person who succeeded in the advertising world. And Ava cared about being successful.

  Or she had. Whatever had driven her ambition before, this week seemed to be on the fritz. Right here, right now, with Jackson, it all seemed so totally alien to her. Like it didn’t just belong to some other life, but to some other person.

  My God, a few days of incredible sex, and I’m cracking up.

  Didn’t they say great sex was supposed to be good for you? Was supposed to totally bliss you out and make you all zen and focused? Leave it to Ava to lose her mind, instead.

  Because she was feeling pretty anxious right now. She should be totally relaxed, finally in a place where her sexual submissiveness wasn’t something she had to feel weird about, finally with a man she trusted, with no strings, and instead of being at ease, she was a total stress case. She did feel relaxed and at peace and safe when it was just her and Jackson. But somehow, having to face these people and be reminded that there was a real world out there…

  Maybe it was because she knew it would have to end. That she’d have to return to that real world.

  Maybe.

  Or maybe she was just nervous as hell about whatever it was that Jackson was doing that required an hour of preparation.

  “Ok, this is ridiculous,” Ava said to herself as she downed the rest of her wine. She was on an actual sex vacation; she could be a little more cheerful. Screw the anxiety, and screw what anyone else thought of her, and screw…

  “Just screw everything,” she muttered.

  “You only get to screw me.” Jackson had snuck up on her. He was standing just behind her, looking all rugged in his snow boots and cable knit sweater.

  “I am actually one hundred percent ok with that,” she said.

  He flashed her a grin before putting on his stern Dom face.

  “Get up,” he ordered.

  Ava shivered a little and stood up. She was glad to have Jackson back to herself, and glad to have something else to think about.

  He looked her up and down, and seemed to be studying her clothing. Was it not appropriate somehow? This was a pretty casual place, and besides, she was wearing what he’d brought for her. Just some leggings and a belted sweater dress and boots—nothing fancy, but still kind of classy.

  “Is this ok?” she asked, looking down.

  “It’s fine,” Jackson said, and hooked his fingers into her belt. Ava bit her lip and stayed quiet. She was already feeling the heat between her legs. He continued, “I have everything else we need. Follow me.”

  He set off at a brisk pace and she trotted after him, not caring now about what she did or did not feel a part of, or whether she was anxious, or what it meant to show this part of herself to other people. She stole a glance at the rest of the small weekend group as they left. They all had ice skates slung over their shoulders, and Ava remembered what Jackson had said about the quarry—it probably would be beautiful to skate there at night.

  But not nearly as gorgeous as the man who was leading her…somewhere.

  Outside?

  Jackson had led her to a side door and was holding up a giant white parka.

  “Put this on.”

  The parka was definitely overkill. It was only just cold enough for the snow to stay pristine and for their breath to hang in the air under the porch lights. Ava looked around as he lead her outside to the stone patio, expecting some sort of ice castle picnic or something. Instead, there was a two-person snowmobile just off the path. More like a sled, really, laden down with packages.

  “Are we delivering Volare Christmas cheer?” She smiled. “Handcuffs? Various unmentionables?”

  He laughed in a way that said Ava wasn’t in on the joke. “Kind of.”

  Ava inhaled deeply. She didn’t know what that meant, but maybe that was best.

  “Ok, but do you know how to drive that thing?” she asked.

  He looked at her, momentarily offended, and swung a leg over the seat. “I’d never be reckless with your safety. Get on.”

  She believed him. In fact, that was the one thing she felt certain of, and she grabbed hold of it in her mind, grateful to have something that made sense. She was already starting to feel disoriented again, drunk on anticipation and novelty and the previously unknown parts of her that kept surfacing with each new thing Jackson did to her, and it was nice to have something familiar and comforting. She did trust him. She straddled the seat and hugged Jackson tightly.

  “You ready?”

  She nodded into his back, and they were off. He went slowly at first, circling around the back of the huge house, leaving distinctive tracks in the otherwise virgin snow. In just a few minutes, they were far enough from the house that they relied on the moonlight, the pale light shining steadily on the expanse of snow. Ava had no idea where they were going. He’d started off in the direction of the quarry pond they’d seen the day before, but then he’d turned, and they were traveling up the side of a long hill with no evidence of other human beings anywhere.

  She hugged him a little tighter, and he sped up.

  Soon they were cresting the top of the hill, and Jackson slowed down as the coniferous pines started to get a bit thicker on the ground. By the time he brought them to a stop, Ava felt lulled into a kind of dream state. Everything around her was so beautiful, so peaceful. There was only the sound of Jackson crunching in the snow, of Ava’s breath.

  Actually, there was kind of a lot of snow. Ava looked down at her decidedly not-weather-proofed boots.

  “Jackson?”<
br />
  He had already gotten off of the snowmobile and was strapping the packages he’d brought with him to his back.

  “Jackson, I don’t know if these boots—”

  He didn’t answer except to lift her from the back of the snowmobile. He slung her around until he caught her legs and she was cradled in his arms.

  Ava bit her lip. She loved being tossed around. “That’s ok, too.”

  She thought she saw him smile in the dark, and then he carried her, not as far as it looked, just down a curved path and into a clearing that ended in what looked like a cliff. There was yellow light coming from below the edge of the cliff, lighting the smooth, flat rocks that emerged from under the snow near its edge.

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  He carried her over to the smooth rocks on the very edge of the cliff and set her down.

  “Stay there,” he said. Then he started rummaging about in his pack, leaving Ava to look around, rooted to the spot.

  She could see trees to either side, some quite close, and one with branches that hung over the edge of the cliff. Which, there was a cliff, and something below was lit…

  The quarry pond. They must be above the quarry pond. It would be beautiful right now to look over the edge, but Jackson had told her to stay put. She would. She looked more immediately around her, and saw that the rocks were bare because someone had removed the snow and then placed several propane-powered outdoor heating lamps in what looked like a very strategic semi-circle. She was actually getting overheated in her parka.

  “Take off the coat,” Jackson said behind her. She turned to find him messing about with some sort of complicated rope rig and froze, transfixed by what that implied.

  “I said: take off the coat, Ava.”

  Her eyes still locked on those ropes, she complied. She wasn’t even cold, surrounded by the heat lamps, but she shivered anyway.

  “Put out your hands,” he said, and walked towards her. He was lit very softly from below, from the light of the lanterns surrounding the quarry pond at the bottom of the cliff. It made him seem even more imposing. Ava extended both hands for him, wrists together. Somehow, she knew what he wanted.

  He tied her wrists together with a length of rope, using some fancy knot Ava had never seen before. Her sweater dress provided some cushioning so the ropes didn’t cut into her skin, but she wasn’t getting free without help.

  He led her by the length of rope closer to the edge of the cliff—very close, in fact. She could look down into the quarry if she bent over; on her tip toes, she could see the uneven snow cover on the blue ice, all of it surrounded by the glow of lanterns hanging from studs in the sheer rock walls.

  “Stay where you are,” he said again. He walked a few feet away and flung some sort of pulley-looking thing over the tree branch that extended out over the edge of the yawning quarry. Ava looked down and realized the line over the branch was the same one that bound her wrists.

  She swallowed.

  Jackson wasn’t done. There was another contraption rigged to the first. He was busy for what seemed like a long time setting everything up—he even climbed the tree and did some sort of complicated looking things up there. Ava actually preferred not to pay attention. She guessed that if she tried to figure out what would happen and how, she’d be distracted when it actually came to pass.

  Apparently it would involve rope.

  She took a deep breath.

  “Come here,” he said, motioning her a step closer to the edge. She was just close enough to see down into the quarry, but not quite close enough to be afraid. He pulled on the line, and slowly the rope that bound her wrists began to grow taut, pulling her arms up and out, towards the edge of the cliff. Ava watched him nervously. He stopped with her arms raised just above her shoulders, pulled forward slightly at the waist. She wouldn’t be able to walk in any direction but forward, and that was not an option for obvious, cliff-related reasons. She could see him grinning.

  Ava began to breathe a little faster.

  “Stay,” he said, this time lightly. She cocked her head and made a face, an instinctual, sarcastic gesture that she instantly regretted.

  Sort of.

  He only slapped her ass once, but it sent thrilling vibrations through her whole body. “I’m not falling for your tricks, Ava,” he said in her ear. “Next time, it really will be a punishment. Like not being allowed to come.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said quickly.

  He moved his hands down the sides of her legs and took hold of one ankle, moving it farther out to the side. Then he did the same to the other, spreading her legs a few feet apart. Even though she was fully clothed, it felt…vulnerable, with her body slightly bent at the waist. She had to arch her lower back slightly to keep her balance, pushing her ass up and out, like an invitation.

  She clenched at the thought and looked down. He’d fastened ropes securely around the ankles of her laced boots. She followed the lines of rope; each went towards the trees, into the dark.

  She was tied between two trees.

  Ava closed her eyes and savored the feeling. Even fully clothed…

  But Jackson was making some sort of noise behind her, going through that pack. She heard him crunch in the snow, heard a different sound when he reached the dry, flat area of rock. He was right behind her now. She could hear him breathing.

  Why isn’t he touching me? What is he—

  First, she just felt the sweater dress pull against her neck at the collar line as he pulled it back, getting some slack away from her skin. Then it began to fall away from her body. There was a rough, grating sound of cloth separating, of wool, of her sweater dress…

  Being cut off of her body.

  Oh my God.

  The sweater dress hung uselessly around her arms now, her back nearly naked to the night air and the heat of the lamps. There was a snapping sound, and her bra strap fell forward. She was bare. She heard a cutting sound to her left: he was slowly cutting down the length of the sleeve with a large knife, taking care to pull the fabric far away from her skin. She felt his breath on her bare skin, felt the warmth of the lamps and the chill of the winter air; she closed her eyes, and the dress was gone. She was naked from the waist up, her breasts already reacting, her nipples already pert.

  When she opened her eyes, she didn’t see him. For a wild moment, there was panic, and then there was a hand on her back, a large, calm hand, rubbing her up and down. She sighed, and he moved his hands around to her front, fondling each breast lovingly. He pinched both nipples at once, and laughed when she gasped.

  Then she felt a pull on the waistband of her leggings. She held her breath while he cut them away from her body, first down one leg, then the other. With the same deliberate care, he cut the thin waistband of her panties, first one side, then the other, and she was naked. With a great sigh, she gasped for air, her whole body breathing in the cold night, the simultaneous chill of the winter air on her nakedness and the warmth from the lamps and just the very nearness of him…

  She felt drunk. She wasn’t drunk. She’d had only one glass of wine. What was this?

  Where was Jackson?

  She didn’t know how long she stood there, naked and exposed and bound, before she became certain he was no longer near her. She was already feeling somehow outside of herself, feeling that time was distorted and sensation heightened. She couldn’t be certain; she couldn’t look behind her. It was just a feeling.

  “Jackson?”

  There was no answer.

  Ava now felt the cold wind on her bare cunt, on the wetness there. The sharp sensation focused her entire awareness there for one second, and then it abated and her conscious mind regained some semblance of its normal faculties.

  “Jackson?”

  He wouldn’t leave her out there, not tied and bare and vulnerable to anyone who came by. To any of the other guests. Any of the employees. Her entire abdomen tightened at the thought
, and the heavy pulse between her legs told her she was swollen and ready. Why did that thought excite her so much? She knew she should be scared, but in the same way she knew random facts about the world, not as something real and immediate and felt…

  She heard voices.

  The awareness of other human beings nearby shot through her body like an electrical current. Exactly like a current. Once, on her best friend’s grandparents’ farm when she was a kid, she’d touched the mildly electrified fence that surrounded the horse paddock on a dare. Her whole body had become a kind of rigid, static fire, and her mind had gone blank. This was exactly like that.

  She couldn’t have moved, anyway. She was tied.

  The wind rushed over her again, its cool caresses raising her nipples into hard, fine points, like the whole world was participating in this. Slowly, Ava’s mind became aware of more salient facts: the voices, more than one, male and female, coming from below. They seemed loud because they were echoing off the high stone walls of the quarry.

  The other guests had all been carrying ice skates…

  She saw them begin to arrive, clambering down the rough stone steps that had been cut into the earth, gathering together on the wide stone platform that reached out into the frozen pond. If they looked up, they would see her. She would be well lit by the lanterns, the angle of the cliff as it sloped down into the pond providing them a full view of her naked body, bent over and bound. She would be completely exposed, even to the people she’d been hiding from earlier.

  Ava began to shake. First her legs, then her arms, and finally, her core—all of it trembled. She didn’t dare call out, didn’t want to attract attention to herself, didn’t want to be seen. Didn’t want to be known. Oh God, more than anything else, she didn’t want to be seen for what she was, with no way of controlling it, no way of presenting herself as she wanted to be seen. Where was Jackson? Why was this happening? Where…

  This time, she heard the crunch of boots in the snow behind her. The furious trembling ceased, replaced only by the rapid sound of her breathing and the shouting laughter of the skaters below.