Chapter Twenty-Three
Sutton
I can’t quite pinpoint any one particular emotion, but it’s safe to say I’m feeling them all. As Dominus watches me from behind that black leather mask, I start to get antsy, questioning myself as time ticks slowly by.
What am I doing here?
Am I seriously paying a stranger to call me a brat and spank me?
It’s weird what I’m doing, right?
Isn’t it?
I mean, who am I?
“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” he says, trailing those leather strips through his fingers as he looks up at me from his chair.
I snort, then quickly cover my mouth. I doubt he’d appreciate my laughter. “Sorry, Sir.”
Good grief, would you listen to me? I sound like someone else.
I don’t even know who I am right now with all this yes, sir, sorry, sir bullshit.
I’d never speak to a man like this outside of this room.
Can you even imagine? I hold my own in a world dominated by assholes, but in here I’m suddenly the complete opposite? What does that say about me?
Dominus snaps his fingers and I startle.
“Look at me.”
I lift my head, tears pressing at the backs of my eyes.
One look at me and Dominus moves quickly, cradling my face in his hands and forcing me to look up at him. “Walk me through what just happened.”
I laugh and the sound morphs into a sob.
His thumbs catch my tears as they begin to fall, but I can’t find the words to explain what I’m feeling.
Flayed open.
He hasn’t even punished me and I already feel exposed and raw.
The pulse between my legs remains, a relentless demand for attention, even as tears cascade down my cheeks.
“Something is wrong with me,” I finally admit.
His fingers flex on my cheeks. “Never say that again. Do you understand me? There is nothing wrong with you.”
I strain to search his dark eyes, hating how even though there are holes in his mask I still can’t get a full look at his eyes, can barely even make out the shape of them with how limited the view is and how shadowed they are beneath the mask. “Take off your mask.”
His shoulders rise and fall on a deep breath. “No.”
I sigh, then close my eyes. “You get to see me but I can’t see you. That can’t be normal.”
“What is normal?” His thumb trails over my cheek, catching another tear. “Is it normal to ignore your body? To deny yourself what you need?” He waits for me to open my eyes. “Is it normal to berate yourself for desires you have no control over?”
I swallow around the thickness in my throat.
“Let’s look at it this way: to some, what we do here is wrong, immoral.
Abnormal. But to us, to me, what we do here is the most natural thing in the world.
Seeking pleasure in ourselves, in each other, what’s more human than that?
” He releases me and slips his hand down to wrap around mine, then leads me around his desk and into the attached room.
“Don’t focus on this stuff,” he says, noticing my eyes go wide as I take it all in.
“We’ll go over it all in due time.” He leads me to a plush deep purple couch, L-shaped and tucked into the corner.
Sitting down, he motions for me to join him, and when I don’t move, he tugs me down onto his lap. “Is this okay?”
I nod, then decide to just trust my body to know what it wants, curling up against his firm chest. Tucking my head beneath his chin, I breathe deeply, catching a familiar citrusy scent that makes my stomach somersault.
“Is it normal to start wars for oil? To murder innocent people in the name of religion?”
I shake my head, trying to get another hit of that faint scent so I can try to place it.
“No, but those are the same people that will try to tell you what is normal, and, frankly, I don’t think they have any fucking clue. Do you?”
“No, Dominus.” With my head tucked beneath his chin, I give up on trying to figure out what cologne he’s wearing and focus on the firm lines of his stomach.
His abs are well-defined, and there’s a cluster of freckles on his left ribs that look like a triangle.
I start to trace them with my finger, but his skin jumps beneath my touch and I freeze.
“You can touch me,” he says, his voice quieter as it carries through that modulator in his mask.
I resume tracing the constellation of freckles on his side, then move to trace the ridges of his ab muscles.
“Tell me what made you hesitate out there. Were you afraid of the flogger?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Were you…” He swallows hard, his chin nudging my head from the motion.
I frown, catching on his hesitation to finish that question, then lift my head and try to search his eyes, but he’s closed them.
“Were you afraid of me?” he asks.
“No,” I answer quickly. “I’m not afraid of you at all.” I laugh, then shake my head. “That’s the part that has me all messed up.”
He opens his eyes and I shake my head. It’s easier to be open and honest when he’s not watching me.
Huh. Maybe I prefer the mask after all.
“Can you keep your eyes closed? Just for a second?”
He does as I’ve asked, closing his eyes without argument, and I continue.
“I work with men. A lot of men, most of them arrogant assholes. They think I don’t belong in their world, but…
” I lick my lips, then trace the line of his nose, trying to imagine what lies beneath the mask.
“I do belong there. I’m damn good at what I do. ”
His hand flexes on my hip and I take that as encouragement to continue.
“But if any of them called me a brat, or spoke to me like you do…” I laugh again, imagining it. “I’d have them neutered.”
He snorts, and I grin.
“I heard myself apologizing to you for giggling and I just… I felt weird. Like, like I wasn’t myself.”
Dominus makes a sound of understanding in his throat.
“I’m a beast at my job, but with you, I’m…
I’m not. It’s like I’m suddenly someone else.
I don’t even understand what happened between us in that bathroom, or why I wasn’t afraid.
I’ve gone over it in my head repeatedly but can’t figure it out.
I don’t even know you. I have no idea what you even look like!
” I scoff, shaking my head as I scan his mask, trying to make sense of the planes of his face and put them into a face that I can imagine.
“And I got on my knees for you like it was nothing, like doing so was totally normal—”
He pinches my hip and I yelp, then he moves quickly, throwing me over his shoulder as he stands in one swift movement.
I swing at his back—
Then I jerk as his hand comes down on my rear end, a firm, solid smack.
My body’s response is swift and confusing. An intake of air, my mouth dropped open in shock, and then the answering rush of warmth between my legs.
I groan and go limp in his arms.
Nothing about this is normal.
“Your body wants what it wants. If you continue to question it, I will continue to respond the way I believe your body wants me to respond. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say, the word breathy.
“Is this normal?” he asks.
I bite down on my lip and he tightens his grip around my thighs in warning. He’s giving me a choice: comply or… “Nope,” I say, bracing myself for the hit—
Smack!
The instant his hand connects with my ass, a breathy moan slips past my lips.
“You know what they call a man who handles brats?”
I squirm, but he’s got a viselike grip on my thighs.
“Answer me.”
“No, Sir.”
“A brat tamer.” He smacks my ass again and I cry out as that demanding pulse resumes between my legs. “I think it’s time to show you what we do around here with brats.” He strides over to the other side of the room and I try to lift my head to see what’s happening.
“Color?” he barks.
“Green,” I say, my body trembling with excitement.
He bends, placing me onto my feet, then straightens. The way he towers over me makes me have to crane my head back to look up at him. I’m not a small woman, by any means, but the only other man that makes me feel small like this is—
Nope. None of that. It’s bad enough Max Cruz thinks he can invade my dreams. He is not invading this.
“You marked the spreader bar as a five, correct?”
My breath catches. “Yes, Sir.”
He paces as he speaks, ignoring me, save for the questions he asks. “And restraints, were those also a five?”
Oh sweet baby Jesus. “Yes, Dominus.”
He retrieves a leather strap of some sort, then grabs a long pole from the opposite wall. I swallow hard as I watch him, my palms slicked with sweat as I await my fate.
“You indicated that orgasm denial was a three. Explain.”
Oh shit. I swallow hard, hands wringing in front of me.
He turns toward me, those broad shoulders back and his head tipped just slightly so that he’s looking down his nose at me. I’ve never felt more threatened.
Or more excited.
I lick my lips and consider my words, then just rip off the Band-Aid and speak the truth. “I want to come.” I clear my throat. “Sir. I want to come, Sir.”
“Yes, well.” He motions toward my thighs, clenched tightly together. “I can see that.”
My mouth falls open.
Turning away from me again, he opens a drawer, fiddling with things I can’t see. “Think back to the night in the bathroom. You wanted to give me control, correct? When you stopped second-guessing yourself, you wanted me to take the reins. Full power over you, mind, body, and…”
“And orgasms, Sir.” I chew on my cheek as I wait. Whatever happens next is really no one’s fault but my own.
“Good. We’ll see if that number moves away from three after tonight.”
A tremor rolls through me and I squeeze my thighs together.
“Color, Sutton.”
“Green, Dominus.”
I watch his back muscles flex as he inhales a slow, deliberate breath, then exhales just as slowly. “Climb up onto that horse.”
I scan the room, trying to decide which piece of furniture he means, then he motions to a piece covered in black leather, with two small boards about halfway down the legs, also wrapped in leather.
I make my way toward it, a jumbled-up mixture of feelings at war within my chest. Excitement, yes, and a little fear…