Unrestrained

by Joey W. Hill

  Dale rubbed his thumbs over her palms. "How were things this week? And I'm not looking for a rundown of your itinerary. Was it a good kind of crazy? Like a teenage girl waiting for roses?"

  She flushed, but he squeezed her hands. "Answer me, Athena."

  "Yes."

  "But it wasn't all good, was it? There was something bugging you, eating at your gut."

  When she didn't say anything, he sighed. "The first day, maybe you felt like you were at a carnival, thrilled with how unpredictable things are. But after that, it started to feel like it does when it's getting late and the carnival is packing up. The fantasy is over, so where does that leave you? You did this thing with the trust, the check, and then you felt way better. Glowing."

  He was right. Startled, she ran it over in her head, feeling him watching her, waiting on her, waiting for it to make sense. She pressed her lips together. "I don't understand."

  "Yeah, you do." He tapped the top of her hand with a thumb. "When you acted as a Mistress for Roy, I bet you were like a sponge, absorbing every impression. You learned from other Dommes, from their subs, from Roy's own responses. You have great intuition, and the fact you're a successful businesswoman tells me you're good at reading people. It's really not so hard to understand both sides of the coin once you're born into at least one side of it. So what were you doing, Athena? Put yourself in a Mistress's shoes and evaluate what you did."

  The shift brought a click, like a key turning a lock. The moment it did, she wished she could close the door, but she couldn't, because he'd made her open it, face it.

  She'd been holding on to control. Taking it back from him, afraid to let him hold the reins. Damn it. It was pitifully obvious. How could she be so stupid?

  "Hey. Look at me."

  It was too difficult, but he put a hand on her face, guided it to obey his direction. "If you give yourself shit for it, you'll have an even bigger punishment coming than you already do."

  Her stomach fluttered at that, but she couldn't suppress the self-castigation. "I'm sorry, Dale."

  His lips twisted. "You have to do everything exactly right, or you've fallen short, haven't you, Ms. Perfectionist? Failed yourself, failed me."

  She pulled away, moved to the window. She resisted the desire to cross her arms, assume a defensive posture. "You're right. I'm new to this. It's not an excuse, but--"

  "Stop talking."

  She closed her mouth, startled by the mild command, when his expression wasn't mild at all. Those blue-green eyes had gone laser sharp. As he stepped up beside her, she quelled an absurd urge to hide behind her desk again, but the implied threat in his proximity wasn't entirely unwelcome, given that her fingers were curling against her sides, wanting to touch him.

  "You put yourself together so well, Athena." His gaze coursed over her, from the light flush in her cheeks to the tips of her polished heels. "Nice outfit, appropriate for an office setting. The skirt a little snug, enough to show you have a good ass, but not flaunting it. The blouse exposing those delicate collarbones, reminding a man you're a woman. And more, reminding him he's a man, and all those differences between you. Proper and enticing, all at once. Don't even need that hint of lace you can see at this angle."

  She started to glance down, but he intercepted her, fingers catching her chin. "Your body belongs to me, girl," he said. "And you don't have permission to look at it right now."

  When he released her chin, she kept her eyes fixed on his, her head up. He nodded in approval, slid his knuckle down her sternum, then over, inside the collar, teasing the lace under the silk. Her nerves tingled at the heat of the direct touch. "You didn't fail me, Athena. Or yourself. By the time I leave this office, you'll understand that. And you'll feel much better about everything. In a real way this time. Even though the carnival packed up, you'll know there's something even better in that empty field. Do you want to trust that I'm right?"

  "Yes. I want to trust you." She wanted to trust him with everything she was. She wanted to say yes, she did trust him, but of course he'd just proven that she didn't.

  "All right. Does your office door lock?"

  She nodded. His lips firmed into a line. "Yes sir," she corrected herself. Just like that, the environment shifted from any uncertainty about their roles to a clear line between Master and sub. There was a relief to it, even though it scared her, too, given she was right in the heart of a place that was all about her being in control. Dale had obviously intended to confront her here for that very reason.

  "How much can your assistant hear through the walls?"

  "They're not soundproof, but the walls are well insulated. Conversation sounds like a distant murmur when the door is closed." Her heart was moving up in her chest, closing in on the pulse in her throat. She needed to tell him they couldn't . . . not here. But she couldn't seem to say anything. A war was going on in her stomach. That uneasy, uncertain feeling she'd experienced before she decided to send the check was back now, but it was competing with her response to what he was implying. She didn't know how to resolve it, or feel right about it, so she did nothing. He'd put her in a position of waiting to see what he would do. How he would resolve it.

  She was giving him control.

  She was amazed at how that cold ball became a little less painful at the realization. It wasn't gone, but something was on the right track. That feeling intensified when he settled his hand at the base of her throat, collaring her.

  "Do you know where I'm going with this, girl?"

  "I--I think so. Maybe . . . no."

  His lips twitched, his thumb sliding along her jaw. "Send your assistant out to get an order of fresh beignets. Does she lock the outer office when she's not at her desk, even if you're here?"

  "Yes. There are files that--"

  The pressure of his fingers increased, his gaze steady on hers.

  "Yes sir."

  "Good." He leaned in, and her lips parted. His gaze flickered, as if he'd felt the soft exhalation of her breath on his skin, and a shiver went through her. Her hands were still tense balls at her sides. "How long do you think that will take her?"

  "About twenty-five minutes." She glanced at the clock. "More, if there's still a morning crowd."

  "So a half hour. That will be sufficient." Releasing her, he reached back, pulled his wallet from his jeans pocket and removed a twenty from it.

  "Oh, I can--"

  "No. You won't. Not ever with me." When he so chose, he had a gaze like a tiger's glittering in the dark. His fingers closed over hers, transferring the bill to her palm. "Go do what I told you to do."

  She was surprised her quivering legs obeyed her, but they did. She moved toward the door, having the presence of mind to take a few steadying breaths, something that would hopefully make her cheeks a shade less than scarlet, before she opened it and stepped out into the admin's area. "Ellen, I need you to . . ."

  As she relayed Dale's instructions as if they were her own, she put the money on the edge of Ellen's desk, not trusting herself to hand it over. Ellen would certainly feel the tremor in her fingers. Athena had a lot of practice at staying cool under fire, though, and it stood her well now. Except for the speculation she could tell Ellen was entertaining, having wisely deduced this was Athena's Wednesday lunch date, her assistant didn't show any surprise at the request or her boss's expression.

  "It may take a few minutes. You know this is their busy time of morning."

  "No problem. Mr. Rousseau and I will be working out the details of the trust for his shelter, so he should be here for the next half hour at least."

  Ellen nodded, already rising to gather up her purse and the money. She did offer Athena a playful look of female conspiracy, mouthing wow. It didn't take any brain cells to know Ellen was reacting to Dale's appearance, and of course wow fit. He wasn't a pretty man, but he had the rugged looks and confident, powerful bearing that would turn any woman's head. Plus, there was that dominant, purely sexual quality to him that drew female attention, whether
the woman in question recognized it for what it was or not.

  "You want me to lock my door like I usually do?"

  "Yes, go ahead and do that. I'd like to get this done without interruption, and you know Larry might decide to ambush me before the meeting to dry run some of his usual power plays."

  Ellen rolled her eyes. "Yes ma'am." And then she was gone, making sure the button lock was in place before she drew the heavy wooden door closed behind her.

  Athena pivoted, came back into her office. She emulated Ellen's actions, pushing in the button lock and closing the door. Now it was just the two of them. Dale was standing at the window, looking down on the New Orleans business district. But he turned as the door closed, with that look that made her knees even weaker and her mind scatter.

  "Take off everything but the pearls, heels and stockings."

  The trembling she'd mostly contained in front of Ellen took her over then, every limb quivering. She removed her jacket and shell, unzipping her skirt. As she took off each piece of the uniform she'd donned to deal with her board, she felt like his attention was removing any layers or shielding beneath it, stripping it all away. She reached back, unhooked her bra, let it slide off her arms. Then her panties. Her windows were tinted, so facing buildings couldn't see what she was doing, but it was still perturbing to look at the bank across the street and see people so clearly through their non-tinted windows. Employees working at their desks, secretaries running copies, meetings in progress in posh boardrooms.

  Dale began to close her blinds. They allowed filtered light, but to such a lesser extent it created the sense of a hushed cave, underscoring their privacy. He left one blind up, a three-foot-wide section of the facing building and sky backdrop still visible, and shifted in front of it, drawing her attention to him. "This is about you and me," he said.

  "Yes sir."

  "Stand there, just like that." He moved across the room to her desk, gazed at the files on it, the computer screen. She knew he was seeing her screensaver, a montage of different flowers slowly opening their blooms. He looked in her middle drawer, found what he was seeking. Withdrawing the wooden ruler, he slapped it against his hand. The crack made her jump.

  A million things were going on inside her. Uncertainty, anxiety, arousal. She didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until his fingers brushed her lips, making her lift her lashes. "I'm scared," she said.

  "Why?" His voice was tender now, and tears stung her eyes.

  "Because I'm afraid of how all this makes me feel. I can't control anything."

  "You control everything, Athena. You tested me, to see what I'd do. These are the consequences you wanted. Proof that I'm your Master."

  At her distressed look, he shook his head, sliding his arm around her waist, settling his fingers over the curve of her buttock. She leaned into him and he allowed it, brushing a kiss over her forehead. Her bare thigh was pressed against his denim-covered one, her breasts against the T-shirt stretched over his broad chest. "I'm not saying you manipulated things deliberately. This is part of the way it works, with a sub like you."

  "So I'm predictable?" She tried to rally some spirit about it and was rewarded when he smiled, those eyes sparkling at her like Caribbean waters.

  "Not a chance. I didn't anticipate you taking that exact tactic, though I knew you were having trouble with our conversation. That's why I wanted to give you a few days, see what you'd do with it, where it would take us next."

  "So you're not really going to hit me with that?" She cast a dubious look at the ruler.

  "Oh, hell yeah." He chuckled, a wicked sound. "I want you sitting on a sore ass during your important meeting, thinking about me." He lifted a strand of hair off her forehead. "But if you want me to corner Larry in a dark alley and make him scream like a little girl, I'll be happy to do that. I don't like to hear that anyone is giving my girl a hard time." At her ironic look, he grinned. "Except me."

  Stepping back, he nodded toward the one window that wasn't covered by a blind. "Go over there. Put your palms flat on the glass, and then step back as far as you can from it without taking your hands from the window. Raise your ass and spread your legs shoulder-width apart. Your Master plans to play with what's his during your punishment."

  The particular part of her anatomy he was referencing liquefied. Her breasts felt tender, her nipples getting tight under his close regard.

  "Don't keep me waiting. Unless you want Ellen to hear you getting your bottom whipped for trying to control things with your Master."

  She moved to the window. She felt disembodied. Yes, she'd had punishment scenarios with Roy, but this . . . had it felt like this for him? She didn't think so. While Dale had been almost kind when she realized she'd actually solicited this, his intentions were inexorable. What's more, the war in her lower abdomen between need, arousal and anxiety told her she craved the definitive reinforcement that she was the submissive in the relationship.

  She put her palms on the glass, and walked her feet back as he'd instructed. She was leaning toward the window, her body stretched out. When she spread her legs, it was both uncomfortable and exposed, which she was certain was his intention. Her vacillating reactions intensified.

  Dale moved into her field of vision. He'd removed the stress ball from her desk. It was the size of a small apple and yellow, with the Summers' logo printed on it, a sun against some decorative elements. Dale nodded to her mouth. "Open wide. You're going to be screaming by the time I'm done, and this will keep the rest of the building from calling security."

  It was bigger than her mouth, but he squeezed it down enough to get it past her teeth, and then it expanded, pressing against her tongue and the roof of her mouth, filling that cavern completely, as if its intended purpose was being a ball gag. Too big to cause a choking risk, but muffling any sound she made, it increased her sense of vulnerability. A safe word wasn't possible, and he didn't seem inclined to suggest a safe gesture.

  "You need the punishment," he said, as if reading her mind. "You don't get an out for that. Trust me to know what you can handle. I can read your body language, Athena. That's your safe word."

  He ran his hand over her buttocks, gripping the left one, his thumb sliding along her labia. "Higher, girl. Show me how pink and wet you are, thinking about your Master punishing you, making things right again."

  She lifted her hips to a more extreme angle, whimpered against the ball as he slid two fingers inside her, proving how slick she already was. "There she is. My gorgeous girl."

  She liked it when he called her girl. He used the same tone as other Masters or Mistresses did when they called their subs pet, slut, even slave. It wasn't a debasement, but a mutually craved sign of ownership. My girl, my pet, my slave. He'd called her that earlier, hadn't he?

  "I'm going to give you fifteen smacks with this. I think that'll cover it. Then I'm going to fuck you, right here in your office. You're not going to get to come. This is about you understanding that I'm your Master. You serve me. That's how you find what you're seeking, Athena. By giving it all to your Master, trusting him to take you where you need to go, give you what you need."

  Her fingers curled against the glass, those tears threatening again. Remembering the last punishment he'd given her, she had a feeling they were about to be doing more than threatening.

  He put his palm against her abdomen to hold her in place. On the first strike, she curved over that touch, her ass tucking down at the outrageously painful sting.

  "Ass up," he snapped. "Don't you hide from your punishment."

  On trembling legs, she obeyed, crying out against the gag as the second blow fell on the opposite buttock. He alternated, though a few landed solidly over both, a couple on her upper thighs, sending a stinging echo through her pussy. His hand slipped down, his fingers now pressing on her clit, not manipulating or caressing it, simply capturing it between his knuckles, squeezing with firm pressure. "Don't you move," he warned her. "Every time you move enough to shift my hold, you'll
get one more strike."

  Oh God. Did he realize how impossible it was to keep the body from reacting to pain with movement? Of course he did. While rationally she knew she wasn't being permanently maimed, that the marks he left might be gone in a day, the pain activated a flight instinct hard to defeat. She couldn't stop herself on stroke fourteen, cursing against the ball as her jerk of reaction made his knuckles slide off her clit briefly. Her swollen clit.

  He clamped back down on it, gave her the next two in quick succession. Fortunately, he didn't count the penalty shot against her, because she twitched again. Her ass was on fire. If he kept going, he'd have to go on forever, because she knew she couldn't bear it in stillness any longer.

  He'd said he wanted to think about her sitting on her sore ass. Sitting was going to be out of the question. She'd be doing a lot of standing at that meeting. Unless he ordered her to sit, since his mind tended to work that way. She cursed and craved it at once.

  Her hands were pressed so hard against the glass she knew she'd need to pull down the blind until she could wash off her prints. It was a fleeting thought, because Dale's grip left her clit as he shifted behind her. She heard him unbuckling his belt, unzipping his jeans. A condom being ripped open. He was really going to do everything he'd promised. He--

  No dramatic pause, no slow easing this time. He slammed into her, pressing his pelvis tight against her throbbing bottom. He caught her breasts in both hands, tweaking the nipples, squeezing them with rough male pleasure as she moaned in an entirely different way. Now she would have welcomed that touch on her clit, but he'd promised she wouldn't get a release out of this. This was about serving her Master's pleasure. That thought made her hotter, her clit throb even more than her abused buttocks. Her sounds of pain had become ones of needy pleasure.

  "That's my shameless girl," he muttered. "Fuck, your cunt feels like heaven. I missed you like hell this week. Even if you hadn't done a single . . . thing . . . wrong"--he punctuated every one of the three words with an extra hard thrust--"I probably would have whipped your ass for having to be away from you."

  She cried out against the gag. He'd missed her. Being away from her hadn't been easy for him. He was so laconic yet brutally honest, such a brief statement unleashed a whole flood of new emotions inside her. He was ruthless, tough, totally in control. Her Master.