Going Down

by Vonna Harper

  That was the only way she’d ever get her life back.

  Ever get away from him.

  Even as the thought ran through her, his body called to her. He was clothed, protected, while nudity was becoming a way of life for her, that and the straps circling her wrists and ankles. How could she possibly be drawn to the man who’d destroyed the life she loved?

  Because he’d started to take her into a world she’d long suspected she’d love even more.

  Head high and shoulders back, she faced him. She had two choices: to fight him with every bit of strength at her command—and lose—or force him to take her to Segun. The end result would undoubtedly be the same, but if she opposed him, she’d only delay the rescue and salvation of those who depended on her, while challenging him with her body could result in her own victory. She’d test his self-control while mining his treatment of her for as much pleasure as she could get.

  Whichever course she chose, one thing was vital. Keeping her emotional distance from him.

  “I hate you. I want you to know how much I loathe you.”

  “Get in line.”

  “There is no line here, Reeve, just you and me. Are you man enough to do what they want you to? Can you wrap a rope around my neck and haul me into Segun? Make them believe you own me? I don’t think so.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Fighting for my life.”

  A shake of his head sent his rich hair moving. “You don’t know what it means to fight for your life, Saree. You can’t begin to guess.”

  “And you do?” She picked at the leather around her left wrist. “You aren’t wearing this, I am.”

  His fingers became fists, and he again shook his head. Those things plus the emotion dancing in his expressive eyes warned of his inner battle. Her words angered him, which was what she needed, but he was too much of a civilized human being to lash out at her.

  Fine. She’d force his hand.

  A single step. Her arm uplifted and cocked, then firing. Her palm colliding with his cheek. His head snapped to the side. Before he could straighten, she struck him again. “Goddamn bastard! Playing God with my life, how dare you!”

  Clamping down on her shoulders, he spun her away from him, igniting a war within herself. She wanted to be manhandled and she didn’t. She wanted to face tomorrow with this man and desperately wanted back the life he’d torn her from.

  Wrenching her arms up behind her was so impossibly easy for him that she wondered why she bothered to struggle. And when he shoved her toward the room she’d been imprisoned in, she was tempted to hurry the pace. Instead, she hissed and cursed and tried to kick back at him.

  All too soon the harsh walls surrounded her. In the half second before he tossed her facedown on the bed, her attention locked on the steel rings that had been imbedded in those walls.

  Straddling her buttocks ensured that she’d remain where he wanted her while he wrapped rope just above her elbows, the tie so snug that her arms nearly touched. When he’d secured her, he got off and shoved her higher onto the bed so he could once more hook her ankles together. That done, he stepped away from the bed. She rolled onto her side. He was unfastening his shorts.

  “Two simple ties, Saree. Is that all it’s going to take to break you?”

  “Is that what it takes for you to feel like a man?”

  “Speak like that around a true master and you’ll be beaten.”

  She had no doubt that he was right, but she’d been through so much since he’d walked into her life and the journey was far from over. Did he really expect her to bow down before him?

  Did she want to?

  A headache began raging as she struggled to face her conflicted emotions. She wanted Reeve dead. At the same time, she’d never felt more alive than she did at this moment. The ties hadn’t broken her. Instead, they’d taken her into a place that was both familiar and new, a space ruled by touch and heat.

  “Is this how I’ll be when you force me through that door at Segun?” she asked. “Will you allow me to speak or gag me?”

  He touched the side of her mouth. Instead of jerking away, she leaned toward him. “A gag then,” he said, “but not now. I want to hear you moan.”

  “In pain?”

  “No. Because you want this.” His hand trailed from her cheek to her chin and from there to her throat. “Because you need to be treated like this.” A whispery touch ignited her collarbone; a fire began in the valley between her breasts. “Keep your mouth shut and they’ll accept you as the perfect slave. You’re so easy, so hot.” He demonstrated by pulling her to her feet and trailing his forefinger over the swell of her right breast.

  Trembling and even hotter than he could imagine, she pressed her thighs together. “Don’t, don’t.”

  “What? Touch you?” He treated her left breast to the same light caress. “Whatever you do, don’t lie. I can see right through it.”

  Although he was right about her transparency, she tried to deny the truth by shaking her head. His expression hardened until she could no longer guess at what he was thinking. His size intimidated her, but that was nothing compared to how he could turn her inside out with his knowledge of her needs. What had brought them together and why was their relationship continuing? As long as his hands were on her, she couldn’t remember.

  “Pleasure and pain. That’s what speaks to you. And what will be your undoing.” He gave her belly a sharp slap. “Don’t move. I have more to tell you but not until you’re in the place I need you to be.”

  Confused, she watched as he went to the dresser. When he returned, he was carrying the nipple clamps he’d used on her earlier. At least she thought it was the same pair. Instinct sent a message to retreat to her legs, but she forgot it the instant the leather between her ankles tightened. “Don’t, please.”

  Her pathetic attempt at stopping the inevitable died when he closed his hand around the back of her neck and forced her head down. Concentrating on not losing her balance, she was slow to comprehend that he’d positioned the metal clips over her nipple. “Enjoy,” he said as the metal settled against her flesh.

  A gasp became a garbled groan of pleasure/pain when he did the same to her other breast. He didn’t allow her to straighten until he’d made sure the grip was secure. Apparently he wanted her to study his handiwork. Otherwise why would he have lifted the chain between the two clamps? “An amendment. It’s no longer just two ropes ensuring that your world doesn’t extend beyond me. Do you have any idea how appealing The Slavers are going to find you?”

  “You’re not going to really turn me over to them, are you?” The pressure on her nipples made concentrating on anything else difficult, but it wasn’t pain she felt. Something else lived in her; that something settled hot and ready and alive in her pussy.

  Still holding the chain, he ran the knuckles of his other hand over her cheek. “I’m well trained. You might not yet be the kind of slave I need you to be, but I know and understand my role in this world we’re going to be entering. And, I don’t feel.”

  She couldn’t believe that, couldn’t! Or was the truth that she didn’t want to believe he was a robot?

  This time when he left her, the thought of trying to get away never entered her mind. She existed where the ropes circled her elbows, where leather imprisoned her legs, where clamps made her nipples burn. And her poor hungry cunt, mostly she existed there.

  Reeve, back again. Taking digital pictures. Telling her to straighten so her breasts stuck out and once she’d done that to lean over so the chains dragged on her breasts and everything dangled.

  Alive. So out-of-control alive.

  After dropping the camera on the bed, he hauled her backward over to the dresser where he pulled out a short, multi-strand whip. Switching his hold to the back of her head, he forced her so far over that she would have fallen if not for his hold on her hair.

  He beat her ass, heated it, took her down into that awesome place where the world revolved around nerve e
ndings. Not hard, nothing cruel, teasing and testing, pleasure snaking through her sex. “Please, oh please. Yes, do me. Do me.”

  “Pain slut?” He punctuated each word with another pleasure-blow. “You get off on pain?”

  On feeling alive.

  “I asked you a question.” Sting after sting after sting. “Is that why you do what you do for a living, because you crave this, not the sex but this?”

  Yelping in reaction to something that came quick and hard, she fought, not him so much as the red-rimmed cave she’d fallen into.

  “What about it, slave? Your secret’s out? You have needs most people will never understand. Maybe those needs scare you but you can’t do anything about it because the impulse is so strong.”

  “I hate you. Hate you.”

  He responded by dropping the whip and lighting into her with the palm of his hand. Energy bloomed throughout her ass, crept between her legs, flooded her pussy. Better, damn it, better! His flesh against hers, his heat joining with hers. Drooling, she slumped in his grip. Her world began and ended with her buttocks and what he was doing to them and yet there was more, a fire in her cunt. She wanted to beg him to stop, needed to thank him, didn’t dare do either so pushed her ass at him.

  The pressure at the back of her head ended only to be replaced by a lifting sensation in her arms. By putting all of what scant ability to concentrate she had into the effort, she gathered that he’d grabbed the rope around her elbows and was using that to pull her arms away from her body. Anchored. Plain and simple, she remained anchored.

  But something changed.

  No more slapping her, instead rubbing the flesh he’d been abusing. Gentle and possessive at the same time, caressing and firm, all-encompassing. Whether blood pooling in her head or being totally under a man’s control was responsible didn’t matter. All she knew was that every fiber in her wanted to be here, being manhandled. She might curse or even fight but beneath that was a sense of rightness that blocked out everything else.

  “It’s going to happen,” he said as he slid his thumb into her crack. “Not pulling off the greatest acting job the world has ever seen, but you, living as my sex slave.”

  “What—what are you saying?”

  “This.” Ah, how incredible his thumb felt on her damp folds! “You’re the real thing, Saree. A true submissive. Maybe scared of your nature but helpless to do anything about it.” Penetration! Just enough to have her silently begging for more. “I keep you like this and we’ll get in there.”

  “Keep?” Too far gone to give a damn that she was drooling, she fought the restraints that prevented her from spreading her legs enough to grant him full access to her sex. “What do you mean, keep?”

  “Frustrated and off balance, willing to do anything for a climax.”

  She’d been sexually teased before; being denied release was a popular theme in what she did for a living, but the end had always been the same—a climax and often many more than one. What was he saying, that he intended to keep her on the edge? “No, damn it, no!”

  “No choice. Otherwise, they’ll know you’re faking. Having you restrained and near the breaking point’s our only chance of being believed.”

  “No, please!”

  He jerked her upright. “Don’t. Don’t beg.”

  “How can I help it?” she all but blubbered. “You’ll tease me, won’t you. Drive me crazy.”

  His answer came by way of a cold stare.

  She was losing it, would have clawed him until he bled if she could. “What are you going to do after you’re done with whatever the hell you intend to do with me?” she demanded. “Jack off?”

  “Probably.”

  “And deny me the right to do the same thing.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bastard, bastard, bastard.”

  “That too.”

  14

  Saree hadn’t spoken a reasoned word to him for two days. Although that was how things had to be, Reeve wished to hell he had memories of more than her curses and begging. One thing he had to hand to her, she knew what was expected of her tonight. She’d glowered at him when he’d been preparing her for her performance, but not once in the five days since he’d let her know he intended to keep her sexually frustrated had she tried to break free.

  One other thing he had to hand to her, she’d held it together during the brief conversation he’d allowed her to have with her sister. Hayley had left a furious and frantic message on Saree’s cell phone shortly after the update on Saree’s Web site had been posted. In a nutshell, Saree had an hour in which to call. Otherwise, Hayley was going to the police because no way did she believe her kid sister had dropped out of sight to embrace life as a sex slave. He hadn’t said much to Saree about how to handle the conversation, in part because Hayley would see through a rehearsed speech and in part because he figured Saree would tell him to drop dead.

  Saree’s voice was choked with tears as she told her sister she’d made what was probably the biggest decision of her life. If things came out as she prayed they would, lives would be saved, but if something went wrong—like Hayley bringing in the police—people, her included, might die. By the time the sisters said good-bye, they were both crying.

  He understood that tears were a great release, not that he’d had much experience in that department—none since he’d learned that not all parents were capable of love or had an ounce of humanity in them. If he’d broken down when that lesson was hammered home—

  Too bad Saree hadn’t cried more than that one time. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t be strung so tight. Of course, given the nearly nonstop sexual teasing he’d forced on her, he was a damn fool to think that anything short of an explosive climax would right her world.

  She wore a slender but sturdy metal collar; a long, solid silver chain hung from it. Because he wasn’t sure how long he’d be presenting her as his bondage toy, he’d wanted to use a restraint that, although effective and erotic, wouldn’t put undue strain on her body. He’d come up with a combination of cuffs and a three-foot-long wooden bar. The cuffs, longer than standard, anchored her arms in front while the bar went behind her back and in front of her elbows, forcing her to arch her back and display her lush breasts. The flexible leather ankle restraints had been replaced by harsh metal and a chain that dragged on the ground. Overkill, yes, but erotic as hell.

  After too many damn hours spent caressing and pushing that body, the last thing he needed was to have her naked, but he had a point to make—one that said he didn’t give a damn who saw how he handled his slave He hadn’t gagged her until they were within a mile of Segun, and as he’d pressed the cloth into her mouth, he’d informed her that he intended for it to stay in place the whole evening. That way she wouldn’t have to worry about saying the right thing.

  She smelled alive, hot and hungry. Even with the shower she’d taken this afternoon, her body gave out the essence of a woman in sexual hell. Either that or he was picking up on his own body’s messages.

  It was going to work. It had to!

  As he pulled into the gravel parking lot behind the large but unremarkable building his invitation had assured him was Segun’s, he forced air deep into his lungs. The invitation had come to Saree’s in-box from one of those free e-mail providers. The message had been deceptively simple, but Clan members, Agent B among them, had been convinced that their work had paid off.

  Dearest Saree, or should we say, her owner. We’re delighted to see you’re embracing what gives us the ultimate in pleasure and satisfaction. Perhaps Slave Saree is already learning her new role and no assistance, guidance, encouragement, or information sharing is needed or wanted. But if you, her owner, are interested in a local association consisting of like-minded gentlemen, we invite you to bring her to a location of our choice on Friday night. We promise complete freedom of expression for those in positions of power and utter subservience for those who have had liberty stripped from them.

  The accompanying map had directed him
to Segun.

  Reeve turned off the engine and opened the driver’s door. Although Clan members wanted a recording of what took place tonight, wearing a wire was too dangerous. He was in this alone, he and the woman he’d vowed to protect even as he took her down a road that was changing both of them.

  Sensing a presence to his left, he turned. A short, stocky man was stepping out from behind a black SUV. “Good evening,” he said. “May I have your name, sir?”

  “Reeve Robinson.”

  “Ah, and are you alone?”

  “I was told to bring my property.”

  “Told?”

  “Look, I’m used to giving orders, not taking them. Am or am I not going to meet, shall we say, a certain class of individuals? If not, I’m taking my property elsewhere.”

  To his relief, the man chuckled. “We’ve been researching you, Reeve. And to save you from having to ask, all we needed was your face on the video you made in order to identify you. You’re successful, quite successful. And I’m not surprised by your response, because with success comes a sense of entitlement.”

  “Call it what you want.” Reeve shrugged, then looked around. “This location is secure?”

  “Absolutely. After all, what are we except a group dedicated to a pleasurable experience?”

  “Not pleasurable for all participants.”

  A hearty laugh caused Reeve to wince. “Anything that takes place beyond the front door is consensual, otherwise we’d be breaking the law. However, I dare say you’re right. But would you have it otherwise?”

  “You already know the answer to that. Look, I have no intention of standing out here when—”