Chapter 26
The Trust
Ian
Jenna is absolutely wild, writhing and screaming, when I remove the cuffs, lift her from the table, and curl her up in my lap on a chair. Once again, I wonder if I took things too far, letting Killian push her to the line.
I honestly didn’t expect him to do it like that.
He had told me which toys he’d use and that he would humiliate her, but I thought he meant some verbal humiliation, not threatening to shove the butt plug inside her mouth.
I told him to be careful not to trigger what seems to be her abandonment issues, and he agreed.
So I didn’t ask more. If I had, I might have told him to find another way.
But as I sit here, holding a hysterical Jenna tight and seeing Killian watch us with the same proud look as when he mastered his first Liszt étude, I can’t help but marvel.
He kept Jenna wanting and needy—even deep in subspace—right up until the point where he broke her into howling despair. With one simple threat.
Sometimes, I think I underestimate Killian and his wicked mind.
He often seems simple in his way of practicing BDSM, resorting to toys and blunt-force humiliation tactics.
But I also never see his girls until they’re already deep in the muck and he puts the icing on the cake by parading them in front of me.
Right now, seeing the way he handled this “assignment,” I feel proud.
I see a part of myself in him—his ingrained instincts and precise understanding of what makes someone snap.
Really, thinking back to that video he showed me of their first night together, I should have realized it already back then.
He was only sixteen, had no experience whatsoever, and his only tools were my hastened advice before he approached Jenna—talk softly and treat her like a princess.
She might have had a crush on him, but the way he made her ask for all those kinky things and even made her feel safe and genuinely like it—an almost virgin—was impressive.
He deserves a medal. And I’m holding that prize in my arms. But he will have to wait a while longer. I’m still not sure he can keep the same composure when he gets her alone, and Jenna needs more time after the stunt we pulled on her tonight.
“Don’t ever let me be alone with him,” she cries hysterically the moment I remove the gag from her mouth.
“Shh-sh-shh.” I pat the back of her head. “He wasn’t going to put the plug in your mouth. It was just an empty threat.”
“How do you know?” she all but screams, pushing at my arms. I don’t think she actually wants to get away, but she needs the physical outlet of fighting.
“Easy now.” I rock her from side to side, but it does little to calm her.
“How can you even consider leaving me alone with him? He’s fucking crazy.”
“I know him. I trust him.” At least I trust his mind. If his temper takes over, his mind shuts off. But I don’t tell her that, of course. That’s a risk I have to take—everything involves risk, after all, and I don’t consider this a major one.
“I don’t. He’s crazy. I don’t trust him. I can’t. Not ever.”
“I know.” I adjust my grip around her, trapping her arms at her sides, leaning close to her ear. “But do you trust me?”
She goes still. “I—No. Or…”
I lean to the side to catch her eyes. “Do you?”
She searches my face as if she could find the answer there. “I shouldn’t.”
“I know. But do you?”
“I—Maybe. On some level.”
“Do you trust me to make sure no severe harm comes to you? To put you back together afterward?”
Her shoulders slump. “I do.” She shakes her head, unable to understand it.
And to be honest, I don’t either. Going into this, I didn’t think trust would matter.
I didn’t think I’d care for her well-being.
I just had to hold her together long enough to get her to the competition.
That was the plan. But sweet Jenna and her reckless, beautiful, trusting submission have changed everything.
She shouldn’t trust me. The risk of Killian losing control when his temper flares might be relatively small, but it’s still there, very present in my mind. Still, I intend on letting him have her.
If he destroys the trust I’ve built with Jenna, I’ll be furious. I’m not sure what I’ll do then. Keep her to myself until the competition? Withdraw her from the competition altogether? Let her go?
That last solution has me digging my fingers into her waist, gripping her closer. I don’t realize I’m doing it until she makes a pained little yelp accompanied by a cute squirm. But instead of pulling away from me, she softens into my grip.
A surge of purpose rolls through me, and with it comes a strike of clarity. I always thought I came relatively unscathed out of the breakup with Killian’s mother, but it seems I’ve caught some abandonment issues myself.
“Go grab a chain and the pink collar,” I tell Killian, suddenly needing to manifest my ownership. “The left closet, third drawer.”
I turn Jenna on my lap to face me and hold her tight until Killian returns.
“Put it on her neck,” I tell him. “Make her feel that she’s owned.” An hour ago, I wouldn’t have added that last part, thinking Killian wouldn’t fully grasp it, but now I’m eager to see if he does.
He reaches around to press his hand against Jenna’s chest, just below her neck, urging her to straighten. Jenna easily follows his guidance. Eyes downcast, she breathes small gusts of air through parted lips.
“Eyes on me,” I tell her when Killian slowly moves his hand upward, wrapping it around her throat in a snug grip.
Captive between Killian’s grip and my unrelenting gaze, she succumbs to us with a beauty that rivals that of the morning sun glistening on the wet flower petals in my garden after a night of rain.
Life and lust brighten her gaze, the desire rippling through her body with little wriggles of her hips and small clenches of her thighs.
Her hands gripping the fabric of my button-up shirt reveal there’s nervousness as well, and it all goes perfectly together.
Killian slides his hand to the back of her head and slowly tilts it forward. She pliantly follows, right back in that submissive space he ripped her from only minutes ago.
It’s a shame that Killian doesn’t want a full-time submissive. He would be a great Dominant—if he could just tap into this kind of patient control for more than brief moments at a time.
He leans in and snarls into her ear, “This body is not yours. Your mind is not yours. You don’t own a single fucking thing anymore.
” Despite his aggressive tone, his voice holds a firmness that’s extremely rare for his age.
And it hits all the right buttons. Jenna lets out a whimper.
But it’s not out of humiliation. It’s capitulation.
And desire. Her hands loosen to rest flatly on my stomach, and a peaceful sense of calm descends upon her.
He wraps the leather around her neck, eliciting a gasp from Jenna when he pulls it tight, just a little too much—the same way I would. Then he loosens it to the right fit and buckles it.
“Who do you belong to?” he asks in that same cruel tone.
“You,” she says without hesitation.
“That’s right. Who else?”
She closes her eyes and draws a shuddery breath. “Your dad.”
He makes a mocking huff. “You might look and act all innocent, but there really isn’t much virtue left in you. Never was.” He attaches the chain to the collar and holds it taut while bringing her head back to make her face him. “Even after all I’ve done, you still want me. Am I not right?”
She makes the slightest nod against his hand on her forehead.
“I could piss in your mouth and you’d still want me. Isn’t that right?”
I hold my breath while I wait for Jenna’s reaction.
She keeps still for a moment, caught in Killian’s authority.
I’m about to think she won’t respond, knowing a no wouldn’t please him.
But then she nods. A loud, almost relieved breath swooshes out of her again, and I think she means it.
At this very moment, Killian has her so deep in his grasp that she’d let him piss in her mouth.
My cock grows behind my pants. It’s been swelling and calming repeatedly since Jenna bent over the table before we ate, and it’s starting to get painful.
Killian pulls her head further back, making her breath come in shallow drags through the strain of her neck. He regards her for another long moment, then lifts his gaze to me. “I want to eat her.”
I’m surprised. Killian doesn’t strike me as the type who likes to go down on a girl.
But I guess there are a lot of things I don’t know about him on this matter despite knowing much more than I should.
And maybe Jenna is opening up some new things in him.
I can’t know for sure yet, but the idea kindles a hope inside me.
I nod, and Killian releases her forehead.
“Turn around,” I tell Jenna. “Back to me.”
Killian adjusts his grip on the chain, allowing her space to move.
“Lean back,” I tell Jenna once she sits on my lap with her feet toward the ground. “And scoot down.”
Killian’s tongue darts over his lower lip as he kneels before her, watching her with burning hunger.
I slip my arms under hers and hold her tight to make sure she doesn’t slide down.
“This is so, so wrong,” she says when Killian grabs her ankles and lifts them onto his shoulders. “You’re his son.”
Killian aims his focus between her legs.
“And yet you want it. So much.” He pushes a finger into her pussy, eliciting a wet sound as he twists and turns, moving in and out a few times.
“Don’t you?” He pulls out and moves his finger lower.
I can’t see it, but Jenna’s gasp tells me he’s pressing against her asshole.
He moves his finger a little, but I don’t think he’s inside yet, just prodding slightly.