Craving His Command - A Doms Of Genesis Novella

by Jenna Jacob

  CRAVING HIS COMMAND

  A Doms of Genesis Novella

  Jenna Jacob

  Craving His Command

  A Doms of Genesis Novella

  Jenna Jacob

  Published by Jenna Jacob

  Copyright © 2017 Dream Words, LLC

  Kindle Edition

  Edited by: Blue Otter Editing, LLC

  ISBN 978-0-9982284-5-7

  If you have purchased a copy of this eBook, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book. This purchase allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. You do not have the rights to resell, distribute, print, or transfer this book, in whole or in part, to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer to peer program. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. If you no longer want this book, you may not give your copy to someone else. Delete it from your computer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  To

  Sean

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Jenna Jacob

  CHAPTER ONE

  Unable to find a comfortable position on the wooden bench outside the courtroom, Mercy O’Connor shifted her hips. She wouldn’t be comfortable until this nightmare was over. The wait was driving her crazy.

  This whole mess started three months ago. Davis Walker, a.k.a. Master Kerr, hadn’t stopped when she’d screamed her safe word and beat her ass bloody during a BDSM scene gone wrong.

  Forty-five minutes ago, Mercy had bravely taken the stand, ignoring Kerr’s intimidating glare, and focused on answering the questions her lawyer, Reed Landes, asked. After Jeremy Potts, Kerr’s lawyer, finished his cross-examination—hideously twisting her words—Reed did his best to deflect the damage done. Mercy wasn’t holding her breath. Her hopes of winning the case had flown out the window when Potts painted her as a kinky, perverted freak instead of the victim. She’d wanted to vomit long before she left the stand shaking with fury. Mercy had bolted from the courtroom and escaped to the ladies’ room to gather her wits and calm the hell down. But Kerr’s demented gaze still stained her brain.

  She knew she’d have to face the abusive prick when the verdict was read. Still, she couldn’t find the courage to step inside the courtroom again, so she’d parked her ass on the unforgiving bench and waited to be summoned.

  The nervous energy humming inside her threatened to burst free. Mercy rubbed her sweaty palms together and stood. As she paced, the heels of her black-bowed Miu Miu pumps clacked against the marble floor, echoing down the empty hallway like a cap gun.

  The door behind her creaked. Mercy spun to find Reed Landes storming toward her. His expression, furious and grim.

  “What happ—”

  The question stalled on her tongue as Kerr sauntered into the hallway wearing a smarmy, triumphant grin.

  The knots in her stomach coiled tighter. She didn’t need a psychic to confirm that her efforts to bring Davis Walker to justice had failed. The look on his face was proof enough. Obviously the judge hadn’t paid attention as Reed outlined the difference between consensual and non-consensual submission and Dominant ethics versus abusive predatory behavior. That, or maybe His Honor was so repulsed by the lifestyle he decided Mercy had simply gotten what she deserved.

  Dammit!

  Kerr turned his cold, maniacal grin her way. “Well, that didn’t take long. I still have time to make the afternoon munch and share the news about my victory. Should I save you a seat, Symoné?”

  Bile rose in the back of her throat when he referred to her as Symoné—the submissive name he’d given her years ago. Kerr’s assumption that she’d go around the block with him filled her with a white-hot rage. The manipulative prick might have fooled her once, but she refused to be stupid enough to fall for his guise again. He could try and lure her in that low, inveigling whisper—that once had turned her on—until he was blue in face. She was learning the true meaning of submission since joining Club Genesis, and it was nothing close to what he’d led her to believe.

  Mercy’s stomach curdled as memories of surrendering to Kerr rushed in her head. Intimate, embarrassing visuals flashed like a repulsive slideshow…images of her willingly kneeling at the asshole’s feet…worshiping his cock with her mouth as he fucked her throat. She could still hear his threats of reprisal if she failed to swallow all of his seed. Remembered him thrusting his pathetic cock inside her pussy and ass. Mercy wanted to bleach every humiliating moment that she’d allowed him to debase her from her memory banks. But she wanted to assuage the self-inflicted anguish and shame for letting him to play her like a damn puppet.

  She’d spent the first half of her twenties fascinated by the BDSM lifestyle. Three years ago, after stumbling onto a website geared toward Doms and subs, Kerr friended her. After talking online for weeks, he’d offered to train her. Mercy had been thrilled that a real-life Master was willing to sate her curiosity and teach her to be a submissive. Hindsight being what it was, she’d been ridiculously naïve and so damn gullible. Kerr had been convincing, she’d give him that, but his manufactured rules of the lifestyle and control he demanded she hand over had cost her dearly.

  The memories continued to spill inside her brain like acid.

  Kneel and open your mouth, slut. Prove you’re a sub.

  So she had.

  You don’t have any limits except the ones I give you. Our sessions aren’t over until I decide it.

  She hadn’t opposed.

  You’ll take my cock up your ass because it’s your duty to make me happy, whore.

  She’d let him.

  You’re my property. I’ll do whatever I want to you, and you’ll fucking thank me when I’m through.

  She hadn’t protested.

  You’ll never find a better Master than me.

  She’d believed him.

  If you can’t follow my commands, I’ll find a sub who will.

  She hadn’t wanted to fail.

  Kerr had brainwashed her into believing he was the only Master who’d provide her with the ultimate reward: submission. But it wasn’t submission; it was abuse.

  Mercy had been foolish and trusting. A mistake she wouldn’t make again.

  Her perception of submissive splendor now lay tarnished and stained in regret.

  Humiliation and shame stung the backs of her eyes. She swallowed the greasy lump of guilt lodged in her throat and clenched her teeth. She refused to give Kerr the satisfaction of watching her fall apart.

  “What do you say, Symoné…wanna hit the munch with me?”

  Once upon a time, she’d looked forward to the weekly social outing where members of the BDSM co
mmunity—well, Kerr’s online recruits—gathered and discussed the lifestyle over lunch. To her delight, Club Genesis held munches as well, though work and preparing for the trial had prevented her from attending them yet.

  She flashed Kerr a brittle smile. “There are no more munches. You’re the only one left of our group because you ran everyone off with that stupid stunt you pulled on me in your so-called dungeon.”

  “Oh, I’ve made new friends…friends who know what real submission’s about. Come on…I’ll introduce you. It’ll be just like old times.”

  The thought of Kerr luring more innocent subs to the slaughter filled her with dread. But overriding everything and scaring her senseless was the icy tone of retribution in Kerr’s voice. In the past, Mercy thought him a demanding and strict Dom, but the night he’d lost his shit and unleashed his dark side had changed her opinion.

  She was terrified of him. If Kerr ever got her alone, Mercy knew the authorities would never find her body.

  An icy tremor slid up her spine.

  “Why don’t you do society a favor and crawl back under the rock you climbed out of, Kerr?” Reed sneered.

  “Counselor!” Jeremy Potts—the sixty-something defense attorney, sporting a bad comb-over—admonished with a scowl. He clapped a protective hand on Kerr’s shoulder. “Stooping to browbeat my client, now, are you? I didn’t take you as the sore loser type, Landes.”

  “I didn’t take you as the type to champion the scum-sucking dredges of the earth, either,” Reed countered. “You that hard up for clients these days, Potts?”

  The defense attorney’s face grew crimson. The roadmap of broken capillaries on his nose and cheeks—suggesting a serious alcohol addiction—turned a mottled purple color. His nostrils flared and his bloodshot eyes narrowed in fury.

  Mercy gaped at Reed, wondering where the kind and understanding lawyer she admired and trusted had gone. His usual mild manners had morphed and he’d turned into a battle-ready warrior, armed with a tongue honed like a blade and a take-no-prisoners attitude.

  “Let’s go, Davis. Our work here is done.” Potts kept a seething glare locked on Reed as he gently nudged Kerr toward the elevator. “Until we meet again, Counselor.”

  It wasn’t until the two were out of sight that Reed’s palpable anger began to diminish.

  “Kerr and his lawyer are a couple of peaches, aren’t they?” Mercy drawled sarcastically.

  “They’re pieces of…work, that’s for sure.”

  “I take it the judge had zero compassion for a woman who willingly allowed herself be cuffed to a cross and beaten?”

  Reed’s lips thinned to a tight line. “Campbell’s a cantankerous old fuck. I knew when the original judge had to recuse himself and we drew Campbell, we were in for an uphill battle.”

  “Original judge? What do you mean?”

  “Judge Graham was first slated to hear your case, but he knew Kerr…conflict of interest. So Graham declined and the clerk assigned Campbell.”

  “Ah, I see. So…that’s it? It’s over?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Reed frowned. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to give you the reparation you deserve.”

  Mercy shrugged absently. “You warned me from the start this would be a long shot. I’m just thankful that you tried.”

  Reed nodded dolefully. “I doubt Davis Walker will bother you, but hang on to the restraining order I filed, just in case.”

  “It’s right here.” She patted her purse and put on a brave face. “Don’t worry. Kerr’s nothing but a bully. I won’t get close enough to the creep for him to hurt me again. I have a mean right hook I’m not afraid to use on him now.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Would you like for me to walk you to your car?”

  “No. Actually, mine’s in the shop. My friend Maple dropped me off. I’m supposed to text her when I’m done and she’ll pick me up. It’s all good.”

  “Okay. I need to head down the hall. I’ve got another case in about twenty minutes.”

  “Thanks for trying, Reed, but mostly, thank you for not judging me or the lifestyle the way Campbell did.”

  “You’re welcome, Mercy. I’ve never…I mean, I don’t have any personal experience with…ah…” A light blush stained his cheeks as he stammered uncomfortably. “You’re welcome.”

  Mercy bit back a grin. “Good luck with your next case.”

  “Thanks.”

  As Reed turned and walked away, she descended the stairs to the first floor, where she sent off a text to Maple. Before stepping outside, Mercy darted a glance both inside the lobby and over the courthouse grounds. Kerr was nowhere to be seen. But then, he had a lunch date with new potential victims. Mercy was certain the prick would garner a butt-load of sympathy because some crazy sub tried to send him to jail.

  She slung her scarf around her neck and tugged the collar of her coat together before she pushed past the heavy glass door. A blustery November wind blew off Lake Michigan, sending brittle leaves of red, russet, and golden yellow to swirl at her feet. The wind bit her cheeks, and she was thankful she’d worn the brushed wool pants of her Dolce suit, instead of the skirt.

  Peering up the street, she watched for Maple’s red, sun-bleached Hyundai hatchback while business professionals hurried along the sidewalks, hunched over like trolls, shielding themselves from the cutting wind.

  Still discouraged the court case was over, Mercy was also relieved. She could focus on work once more. She’d wasted her creative juices stressing about the trial and only managed to design one new logo for an existing nouveau-rich client. Now that all the ugliness was behind her, Mercy could concentrate on building her client base during the day and learning about real submission at night in the dungeon of Genesis.

  “You’re going to pay for humiliating me, bitch…pay a real high price.”

  Mercy snapped her head toward the savage sound of Kerr’s unmistakable voice. He was standing a mere foot away from her. A ruthless rage blazed in his eyes, sending raw panic to unwind inside her. His crazed expression promised zero remorse if he slit her throat then and there.

  Fear swelled to panic.

  “You didn’t actually think you’d get away with ruining my reputation, did you, cunt?”

  Too petrified to respond, Mercy glanced at the strangers traversing the sidewalk. The bevy of bodies were only a few yards away, they might as well have been miles. If Kerr whipped out a knife or a gun, she’d be dead before anyone could reach her…if they bothered to intervene at all.

  Mercy thought of the restraining order in her purse, but a piece of paper was useless in a face-to-face confrontation like this. Besides, there wasn’t a cop in sight to enforce the damn thing.

  She was on her own.

  With her options limited, she did the only thing she could think of…she turned and ran.

  Kerr’s demonic laughter followed her on the wind as she sprinted up the stairs and bolted inside the courthouse. When she skidded to a stop, the two security guards manning the metal detectors snapped their concerned looks her way. Mercy’s heart sank. She hadn’t noticed the men were old as dirt, frail, and as intimidating as newborn kittens on her first trip through the checkpoint. A stiff wind could knock the old farts down. Combined, the pair couldn’t provide the level of resistance needed to stop Kerr.

  As she watched her purse inch along the conveyer belt and through the x-ray machine, her fear continued to climb. She darted a sidelong glance toward the entrance and spied Kerr walking with a lackadaisical stride toward the building. Pinning one more hopeless look on the guards, Mercy could all but see the pair fumbling for their guns while Kerr gripped her by the hair and dragged her away.

  No, she wasn’t putting her life in the hands of two potentially inept men.

  Her hammering heart echoed in her ears as she grabbed her purse and raced up the stairs. The second floor yawed in front of her. Mercy pushed off the balls of her feet, clamoring to reach the landing and find Reed.

  Once
at the top, she made a beeline for Campbell’s courtroom. Maybe if the judgmental dipshit saw Kerr in action, he might rethink his decision to let the monster go free. She pulled back on the door handle only to find it locked.

  Adrenaline thundered through her bloodstream, making her limbs tingle as she ran to the next door. That courtroom was locked as well.

  “Oh, come on!” she growled as she sprinted to the next portal.

  “Symoné!” Kerr’s voice—a sickening singsong tenor—taunted from the stairwell. Each thud of his shoes echoing on the steps felt as if he were stomping the air from her lungs. “Where are you? I’m coming…”

  The prick was playing a demented game of cat and mouse. If she didn’t find help, fast, she’d face the unimaginable—torture and a slow, suffering death.

  Shaking uncontrollably, she bit back a sob of terror. Mercy sent up a silent prayer as she gripped the door handle and tugged. The slab of polished oak careened open, and she yelped in surprise as she skimmed a quick glance over the empty courtroom. She was grateful to find a safe haven, at least until she saw the brass plaque atop the magistrate’s perch:

  JUDGE KELLAN GRAHAM.

  Judge Graham was first slated to hear your case, but he knew Davis Walker…conflict of interest… Reed Landes’ words tumbled through her head as dread rolled up her spine.

  “Oh, god,” Mercy whimpered. “Of all the lousy luck.”

  Thankfully, Kerr’s judge friend was long gone. But his courtroom was not the safe haven she’d first thought. Hopefully, Murphy’s Law wouldn’t bring his gavel down, and she could hide here undetected by Judge Kellan Graham until Kerr had abandoned his search of the second floor and moved onto the third. Then she could haul her ass home.

  Gripping both handles of the door, Mercy pressed her forehead to the wood. She closed her eyes and listened. The echo of Kerr’s footsteps grew closer. Enveloped in a feeling of helplessness, Mercy wanted to scream at the madman to go away. Instead, she pinched her lips together as tears spilled down her cheeks. Strangled sobs burned the back of her throat. Squeezing the handles tighter, Mercy wasn’t giving up. She’d go down screaming, fighting, kicking, and biting if she had to.