Taken twice more, the others were as easy as a cock in her cunt once the immense one left her so wide open.
She was exhausted afterwards, whipped, fucked and used.
Carried to a berth outside the compartment Eden slept fitfully, the train a difficult place to rest. Waking once she found Jacob lying beside her, an odd surprise. He was sleeping too.
She was curious about him, seeing the soft look on his face, not a trace of scorn. Stroking him tenderly she couldn’t remember seeing him this way—so vulnerable and mellow, almost like a child of twelve innocently asleep. She could almost see his eyes twinkling beneath their closed lids. What was it inside him he guarded so well? she wondered. He had told her so little of himself in their years together.
When her fondling hand tickling him, he flicked it away in his sleep, then turned over so she had raise up on an elbow to look at him more. She smiled, hoping that he’d smile back, or at least see her in his dreams and be thinking of her. In the back of her mind she thought of her other master and how he’d be pleased that she was following his orders well. Yet though she remained obedient to that master’s command, giving Jacob her unwavering attention, her longing would remain for Adam alone.
With Jacob out for the night, Eden nestled back into the covers and stayed close to his side to feel his body warmth and try again to sleep.
***
Jacob kept her chained day and night, a tether at her wrist he never removed regardless of whether she was staying in his apartment, going to the recording studio or elsewhere. If she balked, he threatened her, saying he’d replace it with a collar if she complained again. When they ate she was chained to her chair, at night chained to the bed, and even in the evenings when he wasn’t using her, she was often chained to a chair in the corner of the living room where she would wait his further instructions. When she was outside the apartment there was no tether, but the cuff remained on her wrist. Though she tried to hide it, it was a rare day that someone’s eyes didn’t find it a curious accompaniment to her attire.
She bowed to Jacob’s command, took spankings frequently, and when he wanted to use her, she was eagerly ready. Funny, he wasn’t sloppy with his demands like he’d been before, but almost militarily precise in his demands—just as she always expected a good dominant would be.
She saw Adam once during that time, heartened when she gazed on his wondrous face. Yet, when they spoke he was hardly kind and loving as she hoped he’d be. She wondered if he’d given her up—suddenly ripping her away from the love they shared like she was so much baggage to discard.
***
One night with Jacob, she was sitting at his feet massaging them tenderly. It was an offering she willingly gave without being told, hoping that in the moment she might extract from him a piece of mildness, a hint at the man behind the vulnerable appearing person she saw when he was sleeping. Since the night on the train, she’d awakened twice to watch him for almost an hour—or until he turned over. She kissed him once on the nose, but he didn’t awaken.
Perhaps in the mellow glow of the room with the radiant light from the fire and a brandy to warm them, he’d open to her. Perhaps for just an instant, he’d let her peek inside his soul. He was reading the evening paper as he always did from beginning to end. His mood was peacefully content.
“Anything interesting there?” she ventured a comment.
A puff on his cigar made for a cloud of smoke about his head. He peered down at her over his reading glasses.
“Why would you ask?” he said.
“Sometimes I wonder what’s inside your head. How you think?”
He looked puzzled. “I’d think by now you would have figured that.”
“Or just what interests you?” she tried again. “Like why the newspaper fascinates you so much?”
“I like to keep aware of things. People fascinate me.”
“In what way?”
She could see that he was uncomfortable with the questions, but he didn’t refuse to reply. “Their moods. I like to shape moods like I shape yours.”
“And how do you want to shape mine now?”
“Into being quiet, seeing if you can get the ache out of my arch. I stumbled on it today?”
“Oh, I see.” She worked the arch of his left foot and watched as his head fell back against the chair and he closed her out. Pouring all the affection she could muster into him, she could feel an agitation brewing inside herself. “Why did you ask for me back?” she asked. Her hands dove recklessly into his flesh.
Waking from his stupor, he looked annoyed by the interruption. “It’s not really your place to ask.”
“But you could tell me?” She made herself sound as sweet and compliant as she knew how hoping for an honest answer.
He reached out over his paper and toyed with her curls.
“I like your hair now,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“But you don’t really look like the kind of woman I want.”
She was confused. “Then why have me?”
“Because Adam Cady offered you.”
“And that’s all?”
“Because I thought it would be a hoot to fool with you again, shock you, torture you, see what I could extract from you that I hadn’t already.”
“A regular swan song?” she suggested.
“Yeah, like that. You weren’t suppose to leave and you know that.”
“Did I hurt you?” she wondered.
“Hurt me? You’ve got to be kidding, you’re just a trampy bitch that manages to have an ear for music, a great cunt and a fine ass.”
“And that’s all you think of me?”
“What more do you expect in your position?”
“Nothing,” she whispered softly. “How does the arch feel now?”
“Getting better,” he acknowledged with a nod. “I should have had you do this a long time ago.” He went back to his paper as she finished with his foot.
***
The next day in the recording studio, Jacob interrupted her in the middle of a singing session. Taking her from the sound booth, he had Rye and three technicians pissed.
“What’s he having you do, sing?” Jacob asked when he pulled her aside. He obviously thought the idea was stupid.
“Some people think I have an interesting voice.”
“Yeah, I guess you could call it interesting,” he nodded amused.
“I need to get back to work.” She looked up at three producers, two technicians and several musicians waiting for her to continue.
“Too bad, Eden, you’re taking a break,” he replied.
“Jacob, I can’t. We’re right in the middle of this.”
“Tell them, and that’s an order, bitch!” he seethed angrily. He drew her by the tethered wrist out of the room and into the hallway. Rye met them at the door.
“What the hell’s going on?” Eden wrenched away from Jacob’s grasp. Her cuffed wrist was sore where the leather had dug into the skin. She rubbed it as she watched the angry men collide.
“She’s coming with me,” Jacob said. “When I’m done with her I’ll bring her back.”
“Hey, this is a recording session, you’re tying up time and money.”
“Do I care? Strap some balls on, Rye,” Jacob snapped. “Or maybe you don’t have them anymore?” He snickered, gazing beyond him to the female producer and technicians behind him. “Letting these women run your show? He turned to Eden, “are you coming with me or not?”
Eyeing Rye, she shrugged.
“Tell them, Eden,” Jacob said nudging her.
“It’s going to cost you money,” Rye warned.
She was stunned to the point of being unable to move. But thinking of Adam and the orders he’d given her to obey, she replied, “then it will have to cost me money.”
With Jacob chortling, she walked out with his hand reaching back to take hold of her cuffed wrist.
“Hey, you’re getting good at the obedience, brat,” he said.
They reached the back alley of the building, Jacob pushing her against a cold brick wall, the February chill going straight though her.
“I have my orders,” she said.
“You still doing this for Adam?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then you’re a better submissive to him than you ever were to me.” She didn’t believe that but she didn’t argue.
He stroked her face, a bizarre expression on his lips. And then seeming to soften, he leaned in and kissed her lips tenderly. He looked as though he loved her, his eyes dancing, but not as they sometimes did when she was scared of them. The word she’d use was adoration, a rare mood in Jacob.
“Why’d you do this?” she asked.
“Because I want you and I want you now,” he said.
“You’re horny?” She knew without asking, feeling the cock pulse in his pants. The heat of it was one bit of warmth against the cold around her.
“You think that’s all I am, horny?”
“Sometimes.”
“You know, maybe I’m just overcome with love for you,” he suggested.
It had been a long time since she’d seen this charming face and eyes that could wrap her in a sensuous cocoon of merriment and fondness.
“Is it love?” she asked.
“You tell me. But I can be kind, Eden. You needed more than thorns today.”
“So you throw me a little sweetness in a back alley in the middle of winter?”
“You’re warm,” he said. His hand was up under her skirt, feeling what was always hot. Unconsciously she moved against him generating more heat. At moments like this she could love him, let his kisses woo her, and the feeling of closeness wash over her.
“Yes, I’m warm,” she replied, responding to the kisses and his roving hands.
Hearing the melodious lust in her voice, they moved into a vacant building out of the cold. Though still bare and damp and chilly, it was a warm enough place to fuck. Taking his cock from his pants, he pushed her down between his legs and let her lap at the rising stalk.
Staring down at the woman between his legs, Jacob sensed this might be the last time he’d have her. The future was barreling down on them both. He was not a naïve man, an opportunist, yes, and he’d had his opportunity. He figured he wouldn’t be around much after today to pick up the pieces of a broken Eden. They’d be scattered everywhere when the poor woman discovered the truth about this last time. But all that didn’t matter, not at the moment, not when she was so absorbed in pleasing him with true submissive adoration. For just that moment, she worked his dick with the same eagerness she used when he picked her off the street and gave her world some substance. And for just a moment, he slipped back in time to remember it well.
His erection ready, he lifted her gently to her feet and laid her across an old wood table. With her ass to the edge, he entered her, and pulled her body close to his so he almost carried her full weight in his arms.
He heard her pleasure, felt her body buck against his and this was his reward. So yielding, so compliant, so thoroughly his. He wondered if this time Adam Cady was any where in her thoughts. She wouldn’t be forgetting him—maybe someday she’d come begging him to take her back. He thought of that … how he’d string her along, abuse her, use her until she was limp, fuck her soundly as often as he liked, then discard her as she’d discarded him. She’d be tainted goods by then. There was one bittersweet wince, a pained feeling, but he’d rather ignore that than let it suggest the affection he had for Eden was real. There was a lot of danger getting that close to any woman.
Eden, in a moment of wonder and confusion, felt as though she’d fallen under a warlock’s spell being loved as passionately as Jacob was now loving her in his arms. It was so familiar, as if she could start all over again with him. In that instant she imagined no other lover pleasing her like this. Not even Adam.
The feeling of love lasted just an instant—it was a brief fleeting feeling she wished was real. This was a Jacob she imagined many times, the one that she longed for and touched in rare moments of wonder. But it was not who Jacob really was. The truth was, for all his unpredictable changes, Jacob was as constant as the four seasons moving across the face of the planet. And this brief moment of affection was a season that would quickly pass. She could already feel his tenderness dwindling away.
They recovered in silence, neither knowing what to say. “I have to go back,” she finally told him. Jacob wasn’t any more endearing after sex than she expected he would be. There were no words of comfort, no sweet kisses or smiles. She stared at his haughty expression, the wicked look that was always in his eyes. She remained in awe of his power over her, how with hardly a protest he could pull her from the studio and agree to submit in an alley and an old warehouse. Such power was a heady aphrodisiac for a submissive woman. Would that ever go away?
***
Eden opened the door on a conference of five people waiting in the sound studio for her. They stared at her silently.
“I’m sorry I had to leave,” she apologized. Still, there was no movement among them, not Rye, the three technicians or the producer, Ginny Storm.
“Leaving isn’t important now,” Rye said. He looked beyond her to where Jacob stood some distance away. Rye’s dumbfound expression suggested that he was having trouble believing what had just taken place between his good friend and the shocked song writer.
“We just heard on the news, Eden,” Ginny chimed in when Rye couldn’t finish. “There’s been a shooting at the courthouse this afternoon. Adam Cady is in Mercy Hospital.”
“What!” Eden’s face drained like she was about to disappear.
“He’s in the hospital, a bullet lodged in his back. Should I take you there?” Ginny asked. Her face was so kind.
Silently computing her last hour, her thoughts raced fast. “How long ago?” she managed to ask.
“It happened about noon,” Ginny replied.
Eden looked at the clock, it was nearly four. She turned toward Jacob. “You knew, didn’t you?” she said.
He didn’t reply.
“I’ll take myself,” she told them full of fear and rage. Starting quickly for the door, she brushed by the scoundrel with the amused smile.
“Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” she half-heard Ginny’s voice sounding as though it was coming out of an echo chamber. Paying no attention, her hand was on the door when Jacob moved behind her.
“And if I order you otherwise?” he declared.
Eden paused…
“I’d go anyway, Jacob,” she said without hesitation. Shaking him off, her blue eyes glared at him icily. Then pulling the door open, she darted into the chilly air.
chapter fourteen
Eden held his hand for two weeks watching Adam’s face change in expression from day to day and sometimes hour to hour, as though he was dreaming, or internally waging a battle beyond the closed eyelids and his immobile body. The bullet fired by his own client had lodged close to his spine; and though removed, there was some anxious waiting before anyone would know if he’d awaken at all, let alone regain full use of his limbs.
It took some convincing to let the doctors allow Eden this much access to a man so close to death. She was not his wife or next of kin. But Ginny Storm, with a decided take-charge air, convinced the hospital staff, when Eden couldn’t convince them herself, that Eden Rose was the one to hold Adam Cady’s hand.
When he finally emerged from his coma, Adam would smile at her. Though it took some days before he was cognizant of the world around him, and a few more days before he could speak, each day felt like a gift to his worried lover. He knew her as the woman he loved, but it took some time for him to recall much about their life together, or his even his life as an attorney. Certainly, he was forgetting the incident that put him in the hospital.
When they finally began to talk, their conversations were filled with loving thoughts, Eden crying several times, letting loose her bound emotions befo
re his eyes. And though he was still weak, he seemed to remember that he was in charge of her, and that she required his guidance and his inner strength.
Eden noticed that though he remained the man she loved, he’d changed. Something in his manner was more vulnerable, and something more at peace.
As the days progressed, the pieces of his nightmare at the courthouse slowly returned to his fuzzy memory of that afternoon. Pieces of their life together at the cottage then became the framework for this recuperation. He was excited for every discovery he made in his own mind, and for every recollection, kinky, mundane or otherwise about their intimate past. The twinkle in his eye was uniquely titillating when he recalled such things like her debacle in his shed, and her first submissive act to him in the garden, and the day he took her to have her ass tattooed. His first command to her from the hospital bed was to bare her behind so he could see his initials on her left ass cheek. He made her do it without closing the curtain around his bed, with doctors and nurses passing by the intensive care window. Obeying the order, Eden was relieved to know that his desire to dominate her was as fresh as ever. His recovery would be complete.
If Adam remembered that his last orders had sent her back to Jacob, and if he remembered the promise he extracted from her not to leave the man, he gave no indication. That truth ignored, Eden hoped that either it would be a memory that remained buried, or perhaps following that command was no longer important. After all, she was pouring into him the love to heal him and listening attentively to the fears and distress that brought him to those wild moments on the courthouse steps. She accepted the anger he vented at those clients that betrayed him, his deep rage at the man that shot him, and the guilt, because he wasn’t enough of a man, or lawyer, to see this ridiculous outcome before it immobilized him. She held his hand for six weeks and listened to him speak, as his body healed and his mind composed itself so he became again the sane Adam Cady she knew so well.
It was April before Adam was ready to leave the hospital. The first signs of spring were becoming apparent in the warming air. Eden could smell the country beckoning her, the music and its unique fragrance drawing her back to the place she considered her haven away from the tumult of life. She couldn’t wait to write her music at the out-of-tune spinet and sing to her lover the results of her inspiration. There were a dozen fresh melodies swimming through her head and it was almost painful not putting them on paper.
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