“Yes, it’s been a long day for you. Eyes on me, Piper.”
She clenched her teeth and obeyed, feeling as if she had been stripped naked.
His gaze trapped hers, his eyes piercing. “What’s going on, poppet?”
Say it. Just say it. “I’m done. We’re done.” She started to look away, but he was suddenly close, his fingers curling around her chin, holding her so she couldn’t retreat. Couldn’t hide.
“I hear what you’re saying. Tell me how you reached this decision, please.” His English accent was stronger, his voice softer. “And why we didn’t discuss this before I left.”
Her mouth was too dry. She swallowed, heard the gulp. “I didn’t know you were going to”—hurt me. She tried to draw away and got nowhere. Anger sparked amidst the jittering anxiety. “I found your list. Sir.”
“What list?”
“The one where you spell out my duties and the punishment for each if it’s not done correctly.”
His puzzled expression infuriated her, and she wrenched her head free. Took a step back. “The one that says you’ll spank me to tears each night.”
Comprehension filled his face. “Ah, that list.” He winced. “Bloody hell, did I leave that out where the maids would find it?”
His only worry was about hired staff seeing it? “So it seems. It was in the bowl where the cleaning crew puts anything they find under or in the furniture.”
“That was careless of me.” He shook his head. “The list isn’t for you, Piper.”
“Sure it isn’t,” she said sarcastically. “I’m sure you write out slave lists just for the fun of it.”
The darkening of his eyes was a warning, and she cringed. What was she thinking to speak to him that way?
But she had liked him, and this betrayal was just…just… Tears filled her eyes, and she furiously blinked them back.
His warm hand curled around her nape, pulling her closer.
She flattened her hands against his chest. She didn’t want comfort. Didn’t want anything from him. He was a bastard who—
“Piper, the list was for Angel.”
For Angel? What? Piper stared at him. She’d forgotten entirely about Angel. The surge of relief was heady. “Did she run away? Break things off with you? Was the spanking the reason?”
Her resistance was weakening, and somehow her cheek was pressed against the smooth lapel of his suit coat.
His hand moved up to cradle the back of her head as he chuckled, low and resonant. “She didn’t run away. She returned to her Master. I was just babysitting…or I suppose one could call it slave-sitting?”
“You were what?”
“When her Master was hospitalized, he asked me to keep her until he was discharged. If you’d looked closer at the list, you’d have seen the handwriting isn’t mine. Malik wrote out what she needed to stay busy and also what she required for…mmm…some Masters call it maintenance.”
Cold spilled through her. “Hurting her is maintenance?”
Sir Ethan stroked a hand slowly up and down Piper’s back. “She’s a masochist, poppet. Regular spankings keep her leveled out.”
“I bet you enjoyed doing maintenance.” Piper went motionless, horrified she’d spoken aloud.
When he laughed, relief bubbled up inside her.
“Although it wasn’t sexual since Angel is completely in love with her husband, I can’t say it’s a hardship to spank a soft squirmy female.” Sir Ethan’s voice was cheerful. “I’d find it much more fun to spank you.”
His statement took her breath away. The thought of his big hard hand hitting her bottom. The intimacy of…
As heat streaked through her, he gripped her hair, pulling her head back, forcing her to look up. Chills of anticipation and anxiety streamed over her skin. When he ran his finger over her lower lip, her center clenched in need.
No, please. She didn’t want anything sexual between them. She tried to shake her head.
The amusement had faded from his face. His eyes were level, his tone firm. “Spanking isn’t something I’d do without discussing it first or without your consent.”
He meant it.
Being abused had turned distinguishing a lie from truth into a survival skill. She was very skilled.
Sir Ethan wasn’t lying.
As her fear eased away, her strength went with it. She sagged against him.
“There we go,” he murmured and kissed her hair. “You need something to drink and time to rebalance. Let’s sit down, and we can talk about tonight.”
Tonight. As he led her back into the room, she realized the quivers in her stomach had turned into those of anticipation.
Rona and Simon were already at a table. As Sir Ethan helped Piper sit, Rona pushed over two glasses. “I hope root beer is all right?”
Piper hesitated, giving Sir Ethan a glance as he took a chair beside her.
He read her easily. “Yes, you may talk freely until I take that privilege away, and yes, you may enjoy the drink.”
The way he said that so easily, naturally, left her feeling as if she was walking on an uneven cobblestone road. She ran her tongue over dry lips. “Thank you, Sir.” Her words came out almost inaudible.
He didn’t smile, but a crease appeared in his cheek. He pulled her chair closer so they were hip-to-hip. His arm rested on the back of her chair, warming her shoulder blades and marking her as his.
The sense of comfort, of being where she belonged…was terrifying.
And way too arousing.
With astute black eyes, Simon studied her, and then smiled. “I’m glad you got whatever was bothering you straightened out.”
To her shock, Ethan told him. “Malik had written out what to do for Angel when she was with me. Piper thought the list was for her, including spanking her to tears every night.”
Rona gurgled a laugh. “No wonder you were upset. I’m impressed you even showed up tonight.”
It had been a very close thing.
A glance showed Sir Ethan was watching her. His wink held understanding. Sympathy. He truly wasn’t angry. Another knot in her gut untied.
It was going to be all right.
Dark Haven had filled up—and Ethan was enjoying the reaction of the members to the new décor. Xavier had only told people that the theme of the evening was steampunk, not about completely transforming the interior.
Ethan picked up his toy bag, buried his grin at Piper’s wary look, and escorted her down to the dungeon. He wanted to evaluate what activities interested her or frightened her. Serna had truly done a number on her, the wanker.
After the abuse she’d endured, it was surprising she was still drawn to BDSM at all. If he could, he’d teach her what the lifestyle could be.
He’d like to show her even more than that. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to take her. To see how his ropes would look on her bare skin.
There was more between them than the Dominant and submissive dynamic. When he spoke to her, her cheeks would flush; her lips would part. She had a growing awareness of him as a man as well as a Dom.
He wanted to explore that as well, but with Piper’s history of abuse, he’d have to move very, very slowly.
“Everything looks different. This is new.” Midway down the stairs, Piper walked out onto the landing.
Since everyone paused on the stairs to check out the dungeon, Xavier’d taken Ethan’s suggestion and had the construction crew angle the stairs and build a railing-enclosed landing. It was a perfect height to view all the scenes.
Ethan leaned on the railing beside Piper. “The Tops are acting like they have a bunch of new toys.”
Closest to the stairs, some of the St. Andrew’s crosses were now black steel X-shapes. Others were covered in decadent black leather. The stone walls hadn’t changed, but the rafters appeared to be massive black pipes, giving the room an industrial warehouse ambiance. The far corner held a “floating” black blimp. Chains dangled beneath it for use in suspension or as restraints.
“Let’s go on down.” Pulling her close, he ran his thumb over the back of her hand—a small hand, but sturdy as well—and led her down the stairs where they’d be close to what was going on. He wasn’t about to let her keep everything at a distance.
Especially not him.
When they reached the dungeon floor, he stopped her. He’d chosen her costume with regard to her need for defenses. But she’d been here long enough to relax. It was time to remove some barriers. “Before we walk around, I’d like to see you wearing less.”
“What?” Although her eyes widened, she didn’t retreat.
Very good. She didn’t trust him, not entirely, but hadn’t panicked.
He went down on one knee beside her. “Left leg.”
When she moved her leg forward, he unlaced and pulled off her ankle boot. She gave him her other foot, and he took off that boot as well.
Rising, he smiled at her worried expression. She knew he wasn’t done.
“Remove your skirt and petticoats, please. Leave everything else.” He smiled slightly. “You have lovely legs. I’d like to see them.”
“B-but…” Even as she automatically undid the waist clasp, he could almost see her internal discussion. He wasn’t here as her friend but as her Dominant, and he’d told her what he wanted.
Removing the skirt and petticoats wouldn’t humiliate her—he hadn’t asked her to remove her undergarments, after all.
Her tiny sigh made him grin.
Her skirt and petticoats dropped into a pile at her feet. She was left in her leather corset and white cotton undergarments—white stockings, thigh-length chemise, below-the-knee lace-edged drawers. The corset pushed up her breasts and drew attention to her waist and rounded hips, contrasting with the innocent appearing white chemise and lacy drawers.
Her velvety brown eyes were wide and vulnerable.
“Beautiful.” Ignoring his craving to touch all that soft skin, he motioned to the built-in lockers beneath the stairs. “Put everything away and bring me the key.”
Clothing dealt with and key in his pocket, he took her hand and started on a tour of the dungeon. Much like the Shadowlands in Florida, the walls were decorated with functional items. The right wall held Victorian walking sticks, one of which was being vigorously used on a submissive. The Domme’s man had an artistic row of welts up his ass.
Feeling Piper’s wince, Ethan made a mental note. Hard impact play wasn’t in the books, for now.
A black metal safe with hand-sized holes caged a whiny submissive. Her displeased Dom didn’t look disposed to let her out anytime soon.
When Piper shivered, Ethan frowned. Had she been caged? He’d have to ask her, but later. This wasn’t the time for ugly memories. The scenes were putting her on edge. He kept walking.
Odd-shaped stands of metal and old gears shelved cleaning supplies. Open antique jewelry boxes on top held condoms, gloves, dental dams, and lube.
In the spanking bench area, a Top grabbed a lube packet and drizzled the contents between the buttocks of his restrained submissive.
A glance at Piper showed a mixture of worry and excitement.
Ethan stopped, keeping her from moving away from the scene. “Do you find anal sex painful or fun?”
She bit her lip. “It was exciting. At first.”
“Ah.” If her lover had been gentle, she’d probably enjoyed the thrill of that kind of sexual submission. But Serna had undoubtedly brutalized her. “When we discuss what interests you, I want your impressions from the beginning of your experience.”
“Yes, Sir.” Her tight grip on his fingers loosened.
After a second, he realized she was relieved that he planned to discuss her interests. Negotiate.
Putting an arm around her, he resumed their walk. All the new steampunk BDSM equipment was in use. He eyed the steel spider web, thinking Piper would look good there, and…
He halted.
She looked up. “Sir?”
“Sorry, poppet.” He gave himself a mental punch. He wasn’t here to play; he was here to help. Although being honest—as a Dom must be—he admitted to himself that the longer he knew her, the more he wanted to play with her for his own enjoyment.
Scene after scene went by. She was fascinated by Shibari. Also by wax play when done in a sensuous way. The sadist splashing hot wax on a screaming masochist made Piper freeze.
Pain wasn’t her kink. He’d guess most impact toys would be a hard limit for a long while to come.
They reached the area with bondage tables. Rona was tied to one, and Simon was using suction cups on her tender bits.
Piper’s eyes widened. Her cheeks flushed, and she unconsciously leaned against Ethan.
Excellent. Now he knew where to begin.
He took her to the back where there was rough stone flooring. Where fire play was allowed. Safety equipment was kept between each bondage table—fire extinguishers, towels inside buckets of water, fire blankets.
“Come here. I think you’re ready to try something.” He tossed a fireproof blanket over a bondage table and turned.
She stood staring at him.
“Sit on the table here for a minute, pet.” Gripping her around the waist, he set her on it.
Her eyes were wide, fear trying to break out. But today, they had—the two of them—started to take control over her anxiety.
He bracketed her face between his hands, leaning down to capture her gaze. “Slow breaths, poppet. This is talking time. Nothing to be afraid of. Nothing happens here unless you agree. Nothing.”
A shudder ran through her.
“What color is my coat?”
She blinked. Focused on his brass-buttoned, dovetail coat. “Mahogany.”
“Very good. What about my vest?”
“Black. Everything else is black.”
Since a man was screaming across the room, he skipped asking what she heard. “Touch my cheek.”
Her soft hand stroked across his upper cheek and down to his jaw-outlining stubble. “I’m okay now. And I like your beard. Not too rough, not too soft.”
“Thank you, poppet.”
Her gaze fell. “Sorry about the panic.”
“I’m not.” He smiled at her blink of surprise. “This is what we’re here for, are we not? To see what triggers panic attacks and help you work past them.”
“Oh.” She gave him a rueful smile. “I forgot.”
“The dungeon is quite distracting.” She looked calm again. Time to move on. “Have you ever had a Dom or therapist do cupping for you?”
She shook her head, casting a glance toward Simon and Rona.
Ethan smothered a smile. “Simon is using erotic cupping. My idea—for tonight—is the relaxing type. I’d like you to feel more comfortable in a dungeon.”
Her gaze drifted toward Rona again.
“I’ll be working on your back, pet. You’re not ready for anything else.”
A flush rose from her chest to her cheeks. He looked forward to a time in the future when erotic cupping would be fun for her.
Her teeth worried her lower lip. “It sounds intriguing, but you won’t get much…”
“There will be no sexual satisfaction for me. Is that what you mean?”
Her flush deepened, and he stroked a finger over her cheek, feeling the warmth. “Piper, a man doesn’t have to get off every time he turns around. Even if your ankles are sexy as hell, I won’t jump on you.”
“I won’t—I didn’t mean…” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me.”
“Who could resist?” Amused, he walked around the table and started unlacing her corset. “This and the chemise have to go.”
After setting the corset to one side, he pulled the chemise out from under her, then lifted it up and over her head.
A shiver made her breasts jiggle before she covered them with her hands. Beautiful breasts, almost too large for her petite size. He looked forward to feeling the weight of each on his palm. The areolas were a wide pinkish-br
own and already bunched tightly.
He laid the garments on a nearby chair. “If you’re not comfortable, you can lie down right now, Piper. On your stomach. Although there will come a time when I won’t cater to your modesty.”
“I, uh, guess I’m not used to being naked any longer.”
“I’m not surprised.” As she lay down on the table with her head turned toward him, Ethan removed his coat and rolled his shirt sleeves up, securing each with an elastic band. Taking his time, he prepared the materials for fire-cupping. Alcohol. Small torches of copper-wrapped cotton on a stick that were easier to use than forceps and cotton balls. A firestarter.
Her head rose at the sight of the firestarter. “You’re going to burn me?”
“No, pet.” He lit the cotton torch on fire, held it in a glass cup for a second, and set the glass on his palm to show nothing horrible happened. “Now hold out your hand.”
When she complied, his heart warmed at the trust she was giving him.
He went through the steps again and set the cup on her palm. “The fire removes the air from the glass. When on your skin, the lack of oxygen in the cup creates suction and lifts the skin upward. The Chinese believe it’s effective for pain and relaxation.”
“You’ve done this before, right?”
“Many times. I teach a class here every few months.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Piper, a submissive should always check the qualifications and reputation of a Dom. You’re quite right to ask.” Filling his hand with silicon lotion, Ethan flattened his palms on her shoulders.
She jumped, then relaxed. “I didn’t ask about you, though, did I?” Her mouth twisted in self-condemnation.
“You’re too hard on yourself.” He started a slow massage, noting where her muscles were tightest. He trailed a finger down the small lumps of her vertebrae to the pretty dimples above her ass. Her skin was soft and velvety and far too tempting, so he turned his attention to the scars. Serna had marked her with a variety of implements—whip, blade, flogger, cane—the fucking bastard. “If I wasn’t essentially recommended by Xavier and Abby, Rona and Simon, you’d have been far more cautious with me.”
She blew out a breath. “You’re right.”
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