Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
NORTH CAROLINA
B ryson paid no attention to the latch clicking and the room door swinging open. It was Adria. He would have preferred to ignore her, except the energy radiating off her was palpable.
How is Seth? Kaydon?
The questions hung between them.
“Stand up.” Her voice was like fire over his body.
She was upset.
Well, she could join the club.
Bryson didn’t rush. He took his time standing.
She stalked toward him. Her movements controlled. Deliberate. There was ice in her eyes.
It surprised him.
Enough that he stepped back—involuntarily.
Another step.
And another.
Until his back hit the wall.
Still—she kept coming. Her normally curated bun had fallen apart. Black hair curling around her sharp features.
And for a moment—he was stuck beneath her gaze .
Bryson understood why men fell to their knees for her.
Frozen.
Trapped.
The crack of her backhand came before he even registered she had moved.
His head snapped sideways. The sting was sharp but shallow. More shock than pain.
Still, the blow drew blood.
He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek, tasting metal.
“You hit like you Dom.”
His lip curled. “Half-ass.”
Her body slammed into his. Heat pouring from her, searing into his skin. Bryson didn’t like being this close to her. Didn’t like the way she fit against him.
Her knee pushed between his legs, spreading them—forcing him to straddle her against the wall. Her hand found him. Fingers wrapping tightly around his cock, squeezing, twisting his balls with precision. Pain shot up his spine.
He clenched his jaw—grinding his teeth.
He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
Then— Click.
To her right, a hidden door slid open.
Fuck.
He could’ve spent his time finding that instead of wasting away in the dark.
His muscles tensed. Her knee pressed harder into his thigh. Her nails digging in through the fabric of his pants. The scent of lavender surrounding him, thick and distracting.
Too much.
His mind reeled.
“Hands behind your head.”
His body obeyed before his mind could catch up .
Fingers laced. Resting exactly as she commanded.
A flicker of something crossed her face.
Surprise.
But she recovered fast. Studying him, her gaze cutting deep, too deep.
His skin prickled.
It felt— personal .
Shame rushed through him. The weight of the day pressing down, suffocating, unbearable.
He turned his head. Not wanting to be this exposed. Pain erupted from his scalp.
She had dropped his balls?—
Only to fist his hair, dragging him forward.
His world tilted.
The ground vanished. Her outstretched foot tripping him, and he tumbled, landing hard on his ass inside the open room.
“What the fuck?” he said, finding his voice.
Her foot came down hard into his abdomen. He doubled over. Thankfully, she had missed his mostly healed rib, but it took him a second to catch his breath.
Bryson sensed her moving around the room. His mind tried to make sense of what was happening. Something hit him from behind, hard. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.
He opened his mouth to say something smart, but she was there, shoving a piece of rubber between his teeth.
“Since you never seem to have anything of value to say.”
Click
He stood up, his nostrils desperate to get the air her assault took. He clawed at the buckle, but he couldn’t release it. Rounding on her, he tried to grab her, but she was ready again. Moving to the side, she brought her knee up, this time connecting with his rib.
Pain shot through his body, and he stepped back, nostrils flaring. It was harder to breathe with that thing in, and he needed to concentrate on getting air in and out.
They squared off, two predators locked in a dim cage. Bryson didn’t care what she had done for Seth, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
“Not another step, or I call Eric in. Not only will I follow through on my threat to remove Seth and Kaydon from the house, but I’ll let Eric have the entire night alone with you in this room.”
He froze, staring at her. There had been a few times where he had wondered. Wondered if she was as ruthless as he thought she was. As cold and heartless as the rumors about her said.
His mind tried to reconcile the woman who he had just seen calming Seth, and the person who stood in front of him now.
The woman in here, threatening him, was the real Adria, he was sure of it. The other version of her was just playing an elaborate game. There was not a doubt in his mind that she would leave him with Eric. Hell, she would probably watch.
He stayed still.
Not because he was afraid of Eric. He stayed still because of Kaydon and Seth. Seth was in no shape to leave right now, and he had given them his word. And Bryson needed time to figure out how he was going to keep it.
“The bench over there, lay over it,” she said, turning her back to him.
She wasn’t watching. Was she so sure he would obey? It was quite the gamble to take.
Was he so transparent?
His father’s words hit him, “ You have allowed yourself to have attachments and, as such, are more vulnerable. ”
Bryson didn’t want to give in to her. He definitely didn’t want to be alone with her. But he also needed her to know that whatever she dished out, he could take it and then some. He wasn’t afraid of her, or anyone, for that matter.
Standing on his tiptoes, he brought his hips to the cold bench. Hinging forward, he lay on the leather bench as instructed.
Bring it on.
The cool leather licked at his skin, and his hands dropped to his sides.
She moved behind him, grabbing each ankle and spreading his legs further apart with rough precision before locking them into place.
His pulse thundered in his ears.
As usual, she was methodical.
Each action measured. Intentional.
After securing his ankles, she moved to his wrists, her fingernails dragging along his ribs. Pausing, she pressed lightly against the site of the old break.
“Does it hurt?”
If she wanted an answer, she shouldn’t have gagged him.
But even if she hadn’t, Bryson wouldn’t have given her the satisfaction of a response.
She sighed, grabbed his wrist, and guided his arm up along the side of the bench.
The restraints buckling into place.
He tested them.
Each arm had a slight give—just enough to grip the handles positioned near his fingers.
His stomach tightened.
“I have a thought about your behavior as of late,” she mused, unbuckling his pants, letting them fall to the floor.
Heat licked at his exposed skin .
Tingling. Anticipating .
As a group, they’d all received corrections—spankings, paddlings?—
But never alone with her.
Never like this.
She continued, “I think you want to submit.”
Her voice was smooth, confident. “You just have trouble letting go.”
A growl rumbled deep in his chest, muffled by the gag.
His head shook violently.
If she thought she could manipulate him into submission, she was even crazier than he thought.
“No?”
She paced behind him.
His body tensed, adrenaline spiking. It was instinct—his body mistaking the moment as danger.
Fight.
Flee.
Move.
React.
But he couldn’t.
Not tied down like this.
Not with the silence stretching—coiling—around them.
A sharp drag of her nails along his skin. Starting just below his right ass cheek, slow, deliberate. He bit hard into the gag. Ignoring the heat that stirred between his legs. Ignoring the way his body betrayed him.
“I see things,” she murmured. “Because I observe.”
Her nails traced the length of his flank.
“Your conflict with your brothers—it’s jealousy.”
His muscles locked, and a hiss escaped as her fingers twisted into his hair—wrenching his head back.
His throat exposed.
“Not of me ,” she continued, voice low, thoughtful. “But you are jealous of something . ”
Kaydon had said that, too.
Jealous.
Bryson never got jealous. Never wanted what others had.
It was just infuriating watching them fall for her.
Watching them trust her.
She pressed against the side of his face, forcing him down against the bench. His breath hitched as he ground his teeth into the gag, hating the rough treatment.
Hating the powerlessness.
“It got me thinking,” she mused. “What could you possibly be jealous of?”
Her breath hot against his ear.
Her tongue dragging along his cheek.
His body shuddered.
“You get hard when I force you.”
Her fingers moved—under the bench.
And he stilled.
Because he knew what she would find.
Her triumphant smile burned into his skin as she tightened her grip on his cock.
He tried to say, “I just haven’t come in a while.”
But it came out garbled—muffled through the gag.
That had to be it .
Nothing more.
He was starved for release, that was all. It had nothing to do with her.
Nothing.
Except his body screamed for more contact. The ache in his core was impossible to ignore.
If he weren’t tied down. If he had control.
He’d pin her against the wall. Would fuck her so hard she wouldn’t be able to breathe. His hands would grip into her thighs so hard they would leave marks. She would feel him for days. He would consume every inch of her .
Would burn her out of his system, remove her from his head.
“I’d wager you get off on pain, but you’ve never trusted anyone enough to share that with.”
He pressed his forehead into the cool leather. Would she ever shut up?
“I can see you disagree, well let’s have a little wager, shall we?”
He heard the sound of metal clinking against itself.
He jumped when her fingers encircled him and the smooth metal slid into place around his shaft.
“There is a small chain connected here.” She pressed into his flesh. “And I am going to attach it to a light weight.”
The weight pulled at him uncomfortably and, for some reason, made his cock bob higher.
“Wonderful, proving my point already.”
“Fucking bitch, cock-sucking whore.” It was garbled, but he was pretty sure she got the gist.
“That didn’t sound very respectful, Brysey.”
She moved away from him. He strained to watch her, but she disappeared into the shadows, and he couldn’t see anything.
“Here is the deal. If you go soft, the cuff around your cock will get loose and fall off. The weight will clang to the ground, and we will know you are not enjoying yourself.”
He was pissed that her little speech was making him feel harder. What was it with this woman?
“But if you stay hard, then you get your full punishment. I think we can count that as a win for both of us.”
She took a step to the side, and he saw a very large wooden paddle. “I’d brace.”
He didn’t know what it meant to brace, but when the large paddle cracked across his ass, he let out a surprised breath as his body flew forward. Scrambling, his hands found the handles, and he just managed to hold on when the next blow came down. His muscles tensed, and he pressed his forehead into the leather.
Pain cracked around where the paddle had struck, and a fire grew in his abdomen. After what might have been twenty strokes, his face was flushed. And the leather was no longer a cool reprieve, but instead slick with sweat and spit.
As suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Bryson panted through his gag, struggling to catch his breath. There was a literal warmth radiating from his backside. He pictured deep reds and purples on the skin.
He imagined her admiring the color, and arousal filled his chest.
Fuck, fuck, pull yourself together.
Movement to his right snapped his focus, and a pinpoint fire seared across his already raw skin.
The belt came down fast.
Precise.
Wickedly precise.
Thin leather bit into his flesh, each strike layering over the last. The pain overtook the pleasure, and soon he was gasping for air.
Moisture blurred his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut.
“You might as well let it out,” she murmured. “I’m not stopping until you do.”
No fucking way.
His jaw locked.
Teeth sank into the gag.
She continued.
Each crack of the belt sent fire tearing across his nerves. The pain deepened, amplified by every new stroke. Bryson forced himself to breathe through his nose.
His mind tingled.
Control slipping. A fraction at a time. His hands twitched, and his feet bucked. An overwhelming urge to run consumed him, muscles screaming for escape.
There was too much give on the chains.
His body fought against itself, caught in the contradiction of wanting to break free and—as if reading his thoughts, she tightened the straps.
Another wrapped around his abdomen.
Now he couldn’t move. Not even an inch. Panic should have set in.
Should have unsettled him.
But instead, the fear melted, and the unease vanished.
“Nowhere to go.” Her voice was smooth.
A sharp slap cracked across his cock.
Lightning arced through his nerves.
Pleasure ripped through him, and before he could stop it, a moan spilled from his throat.
He didn’t even care.
Didn’t care about anything, except wanting her to do that again.
Her eyes found his, and he fell into the blackness there. A primal hunger clawing through him, shredding the last thread of his control.
She vanished from his view, before her hand landed a strike just behind his testicles.
His back arched off the bench.
Another slap.
He shook against the table.
Again.
Again.
His body betrayed him, pressing his ass up for the next strike.
Begging.
It was pathetic.
Useless.
But he was so close.
And then it stopped .
The silence in the room stretched. And something inside him snapped.
Tears spilled from his eyes. Emotion pouring out of him in an unstoppable torrent, years of something twisting loose inside him all at once.
“You fucked up.” Her voice surrounded him, dark silk wrapping around his mind.
He nodded, not even sure what he was agreeing to. His face pressed into the slick bench, his body wrecked. His cock dripping onto his thigh.
“You’re supposed to be their leader.”
Smack.
A smaller, softer paddle struck his ass.
For some reason—it hurt worse than the belt.
His body jerked against the restraints.
“Covered in your own sweat and spit.”
Smack.
“You are supposed to protect them . ”
Smack.
“But instead, you insist on playing this ridiculous game with me.”
Smack.
“One you cannot possibly win.”
Smack.
Smack, smack, smack, smack.
His body tensed.
Each hit sent vibrations straight to his cock.
His balls tightened.
His muscles locked.
Heat spilled from him, thick and hot, running down his leg.
The room went silent, except for the broken whimpers falling from his lips.
Soft hands ran down his back.
His breathing slowed .
The fog settled deep, wrapping around him like a cocoon.
“But you’re going to do better,” she whispered.
He floated.
Warm hands touched him.
The rubber gag was removed.
His tongue traced over his teeth, his lips curving slightly.
They felt— Funny.