Chapter Twelve
Acquiescence
Amy
“Amy, can you serve the brandy, please?”
Kyle’s voice permeated Amy’s fogged head as she followed the men into the drawing room. Glancing around at the wood-paneled walls, she briefly recalled the time Kyle had spanked and gagged her while she’d dusted there, though, in the haze of trepidation and desire, it seemed like a long time ago.
She mumbled compliance as moving toward the line of decanters, she reached for the brandy. She knew which was which. Hell, the number of times Kyle had commanded she serve him alcohol in both that room and his study meant she was practically a connoisseur. Finding five crystal tumblers, she lifted the correct decanter and carefully poured the measures while the men assembled and chose seats behind her.
Placing down the crystal container, she traced a fingertip over the baroque teak dresser, her mind dipping back to dinner. The rest of the meal had passed in a clouded blur. Course after course of tempting food that she was either hurrying in or out of the dining room. The experience had been sheathed by rounds of rolling conversations that should have humbled, yet seemed to wash over her like rain bouncing off an umbrella.
Something about eating from the floor in front of them all had broken the back of her humiliation, as though she doubted Kyle could ever find the edge of her limits again. Not that she sought to test her thesis—she knew Kyle too well for that—but she recognized something had shifted as she kneeled there, lapping tomato juice from the crockery by Kyle’s guest’s leather shoes.
Closing her eyes to fully absorb her feelings, she was right back there in that mortifying moment. She’d been horrified when Kyle had initially given the order, but as with all her experiences with him, the acquiescence had lit her up, igniting a sense of life she’d scarcely grasped until then. She remembered how fast her heart had been beating and how, in the end, she’d settled into the role, playing his pet as she cleaned the plate with her tongue.
Assenting to the madness and obeying Kyle was one thing, but doing so in front of strangers—putting on a show to titillate and entertain—that was something else. Finding herself on the floor had been galvanizing, and by the time he’d instructed her to stand, she accepted a part of her was a different woman.
She pulled in a steadying breath, grateful once again for the warmth and protection of Kyle’s jacket. The scent of him lingered on his collar, swathing her in a giddying wave of his cologne, which was predictably reassuring. Wherever there was Kyle, there was comfort, even if it came with a large dose of embarrassing humility. Gripping the edge of his dresser, she was once again struck by an unexpected certainty. Whatever transpired between the two of them, something had changed within her. Discovering that she could be inflamed by the ignominy he inflicted was transformative. There was no coming back from that.
“Little girl?” Kyle’s voice jarred, disturbing her from her daydream. Turning, she flushed guiltily. “Is there a problem?”
“No, sir.” She moved to collect the nearby small silver tray. “I’m coming.”
“Now, that I’d like to see.”
One of them chuckled at his quip, but she didn’t glance back to identify which one. Instead, she placed each tumbler on the tray, taking care not to spill a drop of liquor as she lifted the serving dish in her hands.
“Serve my guests first.” Kyle’s order echoed from his usual spot. It was the same seat he’d sat in while she’d dusted his glassware. “Then come to me.”
He clicked his fingers by the side of the chair, and if it wasn’t the damnedest thing, she swore her body softened at the gesture. Her throat dried, her nipples pebbling beneath the confines of his lapels as she walked toward the circle of recliners.
How he accomplished the effect on her body, she had no idea, but she no longer fought to resist the sensations. Kyle’s authority soothed her, and after so long being thrown around in the tides of debt and despair, she craved the life raft he offered.
“Sir.” She lowered to offer the first of the men a brandy.
Showing the balding imbecile deference with the title hardly mattered to her anymore. She recalled she hadn’t liked his tone at dinner, but beyond that, his view was of no relevance. There was only Kyle, his needs and expectations, and the promise of what was to come if she kept pleasing him. The promise of so much more than only a debt-free existence.
“Thank you.” The idiot grinned, his eyes scanning her body as though too much of it was covered.
“You’re welcome.” She walked away, presenting another brandy, then another, until there was only one remaining—Kyle’s.
Focusing on the man who spiked her heart rate, she edged toward him. Kyle hadn’t spoken to her about his after-dinner plans, but it seemed abruptly obvious that he would have something in mind to regale his guests, and the simmering excitement in her belly realized she might well be the centerpiece.
“Sir.” She lowered to her knees as he’d taught her to do, lifting her arms to offer him the final drink. Head lowered, she didn’t see the moment he took the glass, but she sensed the weight shift as he replied.
“Thank you, little girl. Here.” He grasped the other side of the silver. “Let me take that for you.”
“What does she do for an encore?”
Amy thought she recognized the same harsh tone she’d heard from the balding guy before, but she didn’t turn to acknowledge it.
“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Nigel?” Kyle’s hand lowered toward her, and without needing to be told, she crawled closer, rubbing her heated face against his digits as though they’d somehow save her from the shame.
Save me?
She bit back a smile at the preposterous idea. As if she needed saving. Whether she comprehended her body’s responses or not, Amy was having a whale of a time. Providing Kyle with what he needed and making a show of it for his peers was even hotter than she’d imagined it would be. And despite her reticence, she had imagined.
“She does whatever he asks her to.” The one who’d wiped her face at dinner, Shaun, spoke.
“That’s right.” Kyle’s fingers stroked the side of her face. “She’s the yin to my yang.”
A rumble of laughter met his judgment as she snuggled closer to the reassurance of his hand.
“Up, Amy.”
Only two words, but they promised such sweet torment as they forced her from the relative sanctuary of her haunches to her knees.
“Reach into the left-hand inside pocket of my jacket and pull out what you find there.” His excited blue eyes accelerated her galloping pulse.
He’d left something in there. Something to tantalize her with, and the irony was that she’d been carrying the damn thing around ever since he’d offered her his jacket.
She obeyed at once, conscious of the multiple pairs of eyes on her as her fingers dove into the lined pocket to discover what he had in mind. Dread furled into anticipation when her fingertips grazed over the edge of a plastic ball, her attention flying straight to Kyle’s.
“You’ve found it.” He smiled, lifting the tumbler to his lips. “Well, don’t keep the others waiting. Show them what’s in there, little girl.”
She tugged the ball from the pocket, her breathing labored as she dragged it out into the light. The ball gag was similar to the ones he’d used on her before, but the plastic ball was new and much bigger than she’d been used to. Her sex clenched at the intoxicating prospect of being forced to endure it, but she would—for him.
“Well?” Nigel snapped from behind her. “Show us!”
She shifted on her knees slowly, waving the item in the air while simultaneously refusing to meet any of the men’s eyes.
“What is it, Amy?” Kyle’s knowing tone returned with a vengeance.
“A ball gag, sir.” Her voice was tiny.
“A what?” Shaun shifted forward in his chair to get a better look.
“A ball gag,” Kyle confirmed. “Ideal for silencing pretty little mouths while us men talk.”
The muscles between her thighs clenched at his meaning, understanding not only how excruciating it would be to have to wear the thing, let alone in front of them all, but also how much being mute would liquify her sex. Kyle had played the game with her before, preferring to gag her in the evenings once her mouth had proved useful in whatever capacity he desired. Every time he’d suggested it, the results had been the same. She hated the thing, yet at the same time, she loved it. She loathed being silenced, yet her body was enthralled. The contradiction made no sense to her in the slightest.
“You gag her!”
She closed her eyes as another of the men squawked at her downfall.
“Only when she needs it.” Kyle beckoned her toward him with his index finger. “I expect a lot from Amy, and gagging her means she can stop worrying about what to say and just be .”
She shuffled closer, dropping the gag onto his outstretched palm. His explanation wasn’t quite the way she’d have put it, but something about the rationalization clarified things for her mind. There was something oddly fascinating in being reduced to a ‘thing’ that merely was. She didn’t need to think, didn’t need to speak and say anything intelligent or witty. She could just be whatever he wanted her to be—a thing for his use or pleasure. Although it went against everything she had been raised to believe, there was a peculiar ease to the concept, and on some level, she accepted he was right—that ease allowed her to relax and remain in her submissive head state.
“Open up.” He leaned closer, placing his glass down on the carpet between them.
“Sir.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but the way his gaze darted to her face assured her that he’d heard it.
“Shhh.” The finger he pressed to her lips was gentle, but it was the weight of his stare that captured her. “It’s okay.”
Is it? She wondered if the question flashed in her eyes.
Was it okay to be gagged in front of all the others?
Was it okay to cede to him that way again, and what was he going to do to put out the flames he was detonating between her legs?
She heaved in air around his digit, musing on whether she’d prefer him to leave her waiting or have him extinguish that fire in some public and disgraceful way.
The choice taunted her with unrestrained glee.
“But Jonah?” she implored him, vaguely aware that her son was due to arrive back before midnight. Not that she had any concept of the time, but the idea of being found by him like that was not something she could even contemplate.
“Won’t be back for a while yet.” He leaned closer. “I have you.” Gripping her jaw lightly, he tilted her face toward him. “You know I have you.”
Staring into his gaze, she realized no words had ever been truer. He did have her. In just about every way possible, and she had no desire for him to let her go.
“Yes, sir.”
In the end, there was nothing else to say.
Pulling in an unhurried breath, she dwelled on that thought.
I don’t want him to let me go.
There were no contributions from those gathered around them, the burden of their scrutiny bleeding from her consciousness as she focused on Kyle’s deep blue eyes. Finally, after what seemed like the longest time, she nodded, relinquishing her final semblance of control to the man who’d conquered her.
Her eyes fell closed as her lips parted, and a moment later, the plastic ball was shoved between them. He pulled the straps around her head, rising to secure the buckle, and with one hard tug, the gag was in place. Her lips stretched wide around the enormous ball, struggling to contain the enormity of her new dilemma, but inside, her body sparked with passion.
“Turn around and show our guests.” Kyle’s tone had hardened as he sat down again and by the time her eyes flickered open, he had retrieved his drink.
Turn around?
The room began to sway as if she was light-headed, though when she looked, she was sure nothing was moving around her.
“ Now , Amy.”
Kyle’s curt timbre sent her reeling, and despite the way her heart hammered wildly, she hobbled around to reveal the oversized gag to the assembled throng.
She lowered her gaze but sensed their captivation and amusement regardless, the one directly opposite of her howling with delight as he looked upon her fate.
“I love it!” The moron slapped his hand against his thigh. “I know so many women who would benefit from this treatment.”
“Hmmm.” Kyle sounded unconvinced as he collected her hair and tugged her head back lightly. “This isn’t a punishment for Amy.”
“Yes, yes.” The idiot’s tone was dismissive. “I’m just saying.”
“Amy.”
She turned her head as far as Kyle’s hand allowed at the sound of his authoritative voice.
“I’m feeling tired, little girl.”
Her belly churned at the warning, and as he released her tresses, she already knew what was coming next.
“I need my footrest.”