Chapter 29 #2
Don’t make me hold it all in again.
“Okay, no gags, but everything else is fair game.”
With those words, he wielded a pocketknife and cut the clothes from my body.
I’d been naked in front of him too many times to count, had lost all dignity in front of Ian and Katherine, but something about this time, this night, made me feel more vulnerable in my nudity.
I was there of my own free will. He hadn’t blackmailed or coaxed me; it was a truth I couldn’t hide from, and being spread out before him brought it to the forefront of my mind.
He slid the flannel down his legs and stood tall, naked and unashamed.
Gage was a lot of things, but ashamed wasn’t one of them.
His gaze traveled the length of my body, and his mouth turned up in a smile of conquer.
He had me right where he wanted me, and suddenly I wondered if he’d been working toward this all along.
“If I asked you to let me go, would you?”
“If you say your safe word. You’re not my slave anymore.”
But I was, in all the ways that counted.
He crawled onto the bed and settled between my legs. “If you say it, I’ll send you home.”
I’d figured as much. It was all or nothing with him. “Sounds to me like establishing a safe word is pointless. If I don’t do what you want, you’ll just punish me for it by denying me.” I yanked at my restraints, but he’d tightened them to the point where my limbs burned from the stretch.
He dropped his face to my stomach, his hair brushing my skin, lips and tongue teasing my belly button. “I don’t want to deny you anything.” His words vibrated against my belly. He lifted his head. “I want to make you come until you’re screaming.”
I had no doubt he’d succeed.
“But I like being in control.” He dipped his fingers inside me. “If you can’t live with that, then you need to leave now.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Good, because I don’t want you to either.”
I couldn’t think or breathe after that. He buried his head between my thighs and flicked his tongue across my clit, teasing for what seemed like forever until my fingers and toes were in a constant curl.
He must have kept me in that state for an hour, lapping and swirling me to the edge while his fingers caressed my breasts.
Unable to stand it any longer, I begged him with every moan.
He finally pulled away.
“Don’t stop.”
He ignored me and crossed to the other side of the basement, and when he approached the bed again, I knew the games were about to begin.
He held three items in his hand; a butt plug, a nasty-looking set of nipple clamps, and a whip…
the whip…the one he’d used the night he’d fucked me in front of Ian.
It was long and thin, and I’d learned from experience how excruciating the strike of that thing was.
I started sobbing at the sight of it. “Don’t.”
He set the items on the bed, much too calmly, and watched as I pulled at my restraints. He didn’t say anything, just waited until my body went limp and I gave up.
“Why?” I tasted the salt of my tears.
“Because I want you to trust me. I screwed up, Kayla.” He picked up the whip. “Let me show you that you don’t have to be scared of me. You have a safe word. Use it if you need to, and I’ll stop.”
“You don’t need to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Something in the intensity of his expression terrified me, and I suddenly sensed that this was about more than earning my trust. This was the ultimate tipping point.
Either I walked…or I stayed and gave him my pain.
Pleasure for pain—it was the way he’d always operated, only now he was giving me a choice, and if I stayed, he really would own me.
He released my ankles and wrists. “Stand up.”
I got up and stood before him, trembling and not knowing what to do or say.
Stupid! Say the word and go!
Pressing my lips together, I prepared to form the two syllables that would set me free, but the word lodged in my throat.
“Present your breasts.”
“I-I’m not your slave anymore.”
“I never said you were.” The clamps dangled from his fist, big and clunky and painful-looking.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Why are you doing this?”
“This is who I am.” His face hardened. “Hands behind your back now, or I’ll make the whipping a punishment.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Yes, and you’re going to learn what it is.”
Go, go, go!
I couldn’t budge, couldn’t make my voice work. Slowly, I brought my hands behind me and clasped them together. He bent down and sucked at each nipple until they peaked. He took his time clamping them.
I gritted my teeth, squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, but the pain didn’t subside.
“Bend over the bed.”
My mind shut down. It seemed like a bad dream, like someone else was obeying his every command.
He slipped the plug in, and intense vibrations drowned out the agony of the clamps.
And then he was whipping me, blazing caresses against my bottom.
It hurt—I couldn’t deny it—but he was holding back, and some of the strikes were so light, they were a tease.
“Stand up,” he ordered.
I obeyed, but lost my balance and almost tipped over.
“Hold onto the footboard for support.” He left a trail of fire down my right butt cheek, and I reached out and gripped the wood, breasts heavy and aching as the chain swung between them.
“Spread your legs.”
His commands continued to come in clipped words, and I followed every one.
I didn’t allow myself to think beyond the sting of his whip.
If I allowed awareness in, I knew I wouldn’t like what I’d find.
The strap snaked around my hip and kissed my crotch, eliciting a moan from my throat.
He put more strength into it, and the caress became pain.
I cried out—a plea for him to stop…a plea for him to continue.
“Master.”
The whip thumped to the floor. “Is that your safe word?”
“I don’t know.” I shook my head. “No. Don’t make me leave.”
He pressed against me, chest to back, groin to buttocks, one hand pulling at the clamps as the other dipped inside wet need. “You’re not going anywhere.” His lips and tongue devoured my neck, and I moaned again, my center clenching as an orgasm built.
“I’m so close,” I whispered.
“Not yet.” He turned me around to face him. “Are you scared of me?”
“Yes.” I said it without hesitation. I was scared of him all right—terrified of what he made me feel.
“You don’t need to be.” He grabbed the chain linking my breasts and tugged. “I want you in my bed.” He picked me up and stomped up the steps, and as we entered his bedroom, I wondered how many other women he’d brought into this room. I couldn’t stop from voicing the question.
He went rigid. “Why?”
“I’m curious.” I sank into his mattress and stared up at him, waiting to see if he’d answer.
Our eyes connected and held. Long seconds passed, but he didn’t answer until after he’d removed the clamps. “No one else has been in here but you.” He plunged into me, and I was lost.