Chapter 37
The Offering
Ian
I’m in the entryway, waiting, when I finally hear a door open upstairs and Killian and Jenna come out on the landing. I’ve been in the living room since I sent Jenna upstairs, listening, worrying, and preparing to go receive her the moment they were done.
Judging from the sounds I’ve heard, it seems like everything has gone well. I must say I was more than a little worried Killian would lose control and cross a line, so I was relieved when I didn’t hear any screams or cries the first hour.
But now, I’m hearing sniffling and quiet whimpers. No, not just whimpers. Muffled sobs, I realize when I catch a glimpse of Jenna on the landing and see her burrowing her head in her hands.
What the hell is going on? I’m almost about to rush up the stairs but remain in place, not wanting to startle her. She’ll be here in a minute, I remind myself.
“Look where you’re going,” Killian demands in a harsh tone that only seems to aggravate her sobs. “One hand on the rail.”
The curving stairs block half my view, but I think he’s placing her hand on the railing.
Jenna starts descending, one wobbled step at a time, and her sobs only get worse as she approaches me, her free hand splaying over her face to hide.
“Jenna, I’m right here,” I tell her in a calm tone. “I’ll take care of you.”
“No,” she whimpers with utter despair. I’m more than a little relieved that I decided to come out here and wait for her, or she’d probably run off and draw in on herself like the first time.
My jaw hardens when I glance up at Killian, who’s standing at the top of the stairs, arms folded over his chest, stance wide. I want to demand to know what the hell he’s done, but now’s not the time. All that matters right now is Jenna.
“Come here, sweetheart,” I beckon once she’s within reach, but she tries to pull away, already drawing in on herself, hand plastered to her face. “There’s no need to hide,” I tell her. “I’ve already seen you cry many times. You know I don’t mind. On the contrary.”
Even though I’m both worried and prematurely mad at Killian for whatever he’s done, there’s a buzzing sensation inside me that has my cock stirring. I not only love the intimacy of taking care of her; her crying turns me on as well.
“No,” she repeats, coming to a halt on the third last step and releasing the rail to cover her face with both hands.
It’s only then that I notice the straps around her head.
A face harness. Suspicion and anticipation stir inside me.
I grab her and pull her off the stairs, holding her waist tight as she falls forward, into my arms. The moment I have her steady on her feet in front of me, I grab her hands and peel them off her face, gripping them tight as she tries to slam them back.
My eyes widen, my nostrils flaring, when I see her face. The harness. And a nose hook.
I glance up at Killian.
“Enjoy,” he says, and then he’s gone before I can respond.
Jenna is sobbing in earnest now, trying to wrestle out of my grip, but I hold on tight, and there’s nothing she can do. I study her for a moment, not knowing whether to be goddamn mad or take the gift it seems to be and enjoy it.
The metal hook that’s attached to the top of the harness grabs tight onto her nose, pulling it upward in a crude display of humiliation. Most men would find the vision ugly and unaesthetic, but all I see is the vulnerability and helplessness. It makes me so damn hard I almost lose control.
“Jenna, look at me,” I say with a sharper edge than intended.
“No,” she refuses, squeezing her eyes even tighter shut.
“Look at me,” I repeat, deepening my voice.
She clamps her jaw shut as well, her breath shuddering in and out through her nose as she seems to gather all her strength to obey. She stops sobbing for a moment, so focused on making herself go against all instincts that she forgets the despair.
“That’s it,” I say when she peels her eyes open. But the moment our eyes meet, she starts weeping again, jerking to get her hands free and hide her face in them. But I still won’t let her.
That’s when I notice she’s still wearing wrist cuffs, and a padlock with a key is hanging from the collar around her throat.
I bite down on my molars as I try to remain in control. I should remove the nose hook and the face harness, take Jenna in my arms, and carry her to bed, where I can rock her and whisper soothing words.
But my control is slipping fast. The racing need that has been accumulating over several weeks comes crashing with a vengeance.
I barely even think as I lift her hands to the collar and, with a bit of a hassle, snap the padlock onto them.
“No,” Jenna keeps protesting, trying to reach her hands up to her stretched-up nose. But she can’t reach her fingers past her mouth. “No,” she repeats with more desperation. Her knees are shaking now, her legs wobbling. I think she’s about to collapse.
Before she can do so, I grab her face between my hands and imbue my expression with all the sincerity of my heart.
“You look so damn beautiful.” I swipe my thumbs across her cheeks, through the tears that keep cascading down her face.
It’s not to wipe them away; I just want to feel them.
“So lost and helpless. All it makes me want to do is devour you. You have no idea, Jenna.” My voice deepens to a growl I can’t control.
“This—you—are the most damn beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. ”
She goes still. Just staring at me. Shocked at my words. But when a trickle of snot slips from her nose, she starts squirming again, trying to reach up to wipe it away.
“Uh, uh,” I admonish as she jerks against my hands.
“You’re mine, Jenna. And I want to see you writhe in the dirt at my feet.
” I lean closer. “I want you degraded, helpless, and so damn desperate that you’re weeping and shaking.
Because that’s when you’re the most beautiful. That’s when you’re most mine.”
“Please, take it off,” she begs, imploring me with big, desperate eyes that only send more blood to my cock.
“Did you hear what I said?” I demand, leaning so close she can’t escape my insistent eyes. “You’re making me so hard I can barely control myself.”
She tries to shake her head against my hands, but I tighten my grip and imbue my voice with raspy authority.
“It doesn’t matter what you think right now. You’re mine, Jenna. I want you like this. Humiliated and owned. Do you understand? Mine.” I give her a little shake, almost gritting through my teeth as I repeat, “Mine.”
Finally, she gives the tiniest nod.
“Good.” I grab her by the back of her neck and steer her forward. She keeps sniffling and whimpering as I lead her down the hall with rough motions, but she’s not sobbing anymore.
In the bedroom, I throw her onto the bed, flip her onto her back, and make quick work of attaching her wrists to the chains hanging from the bedpost, which have become a permanent attachment since I got her.
“Please,” she tries again, aiming those huge, wet puppy eyes at me.
I glance down at her inner thighs, glistening with her own moisture, and her hips that are moving slightly.
She’s humiliated, but also turned on. Leaning over her, I slide a finger through her slit, making the digit good and wet, then I shove it straight into her ass.
It goes in easily, and I know Killian has fucked her there.
But I ask, anyway, wanting to hear the words from her mouth.
“Did he fuck you back here?” I wriggle my finger a little, making her release an involuntary moan. “Did he break in your ass?”
Another tiny nod.
“Answer me, Jenna,” I demand, pulling out and inserting two fingers. “Did my son fuck your ass?”
“Yes,” she whimpers, bucking against the intrusion, eyes wide with shock and desire.
I pin her with the sheer force of my eyes while I finger-fuck her ass.
“Do you want my cock in here as well?”
“Please,” she just protests, straining against the chains, leaning her head toward her right hand, trying to cover her face. But her hands are too far apart.
“No hiding, Jenna. Do you want my cock inside your ass—the same place Killian just was?”
Her face flushes, even darker than it already was, and her writhing gets more urgent, but the small jerky movements reveal that my humiliation drives her desire.
“Do you, Jenna?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and her hips become more eager, moving into my touch, as she confesses on a breathy moan, “Yes.”
I pull out with an abrupt motion that makes her throw a shocked, lost stare at me.
“I thought so,” I say and leave the room, hurrying to my office as a new impulse grabs hold of me. Jenna has gone still when I return, looking shell-shocked from my abrupt departure.
“You’re mine,” I remind her as I jump onto the bed and straddle her.
The truth of the words buzzes inside me as I bite the lid off the Sharpie I got from my office.
I grab the top of her head to hold her still.
“All mine,” I repeat, the word soothing a restless worry I rarely dare to confront and setting fuel to my ravenous desire.
“What are you doing?” she asks in a thin voice when I lift the pen to her forehead.
“Claiming what belongs to me.” I’m about to write an ‘S,’ but saying those words makes me realize I need to write something other than I had planned. My cock throbs as I scribble across her forehead. Mine.
The moment I’m done, I free my cock from its confines, stroking as I take in the full vision of my sweet, humiliated Jenna.
The black capital letters on her forehead and the hook tugging at her nose.
The tears streaming from her worried eyes radiating desperation.
I’m inclined to come on her face, just to finish off the masterwork.
But I need to be inside her. She needs it as well.
I still have enough control to realize that she’ll likely crash if I don’t finish this the right way.
She might crash anyway, but there’s not much I can do about that now.