Chapter 4 #4
“Thank you, goddess,” I whisper back into her sweetly scented hair. “Did you feel it?”
She nods into my neck. “I did, sir.”
“Good girl. Honor blindfold’s over. You can open your eyes. Can I clean you up a little and then get you a glass of wine?”
She lifts her head and blinks at me. “Shouldn’t that be the other way around?”
“Nope. I like taking care of my bottom afterwards.”
She smiles hazily. “Are you sure you’re not a Daddy Dom?”
“Positive.” I nip her nose. Even her damn nose is impudent. “If you want to call me daddy, I won’t stop you.”
“Not really my style.”
“Sir works just fine.”
“Would god work better?” The corner of her mouth lifts, stretching into that sassy grin. “Because I was loving being called goddess.”
“You are my goddess in scene.”
The grin melts off her face and her eyes slide away.
“Bren, what’s wrong? Is it a religious thing? I’m sorry, I should have asked—”
She forces a smile. “No, I’m not religious. Can you, uh—?” She jangles one of her wrist cuffs.
“Sure.” I reach up and pop the snaps on one cuff then the other, helping her lower her arms to her side and rubbing each shoulder. Then I untie her ankles, leaving her suspended by just the chest harness. “Now tell me what that was, sweetheart.”
She shrugs. “Just coming down from the high, sir.”
I slip my finger under her chin and lift her face. She meets my eyes, but shadows are edging back into hers.
“Brenna.” I stroke her chin with my thumb. “Don’t ever lie to me.”
She closes her eyes; pink rises in her cheeks. “Sorry, sir.”
“We’ll talk about consequences over a glass of wine, but I need to understand what that was.”
She opens her eyes, full of shadows, and stares at me. There’s my bold, wounded girl. “Next scene, someone else will be your goddess,” she whispers.
Is that what’s hurt her? How does she cope with it if she becomes attached to each Dom who tops her, and they abandon her after a scene? Why would she stay at the club if it’s wounding her over and over?
“We can talk about that over a glass of wine, too, but I can promise you that I’m not rushing off to find my next goddess.” I drop my hand to her chest harness and give it a tug. “Let’s get you out of this. Must be damn itchy by now.”
She looks down as though she’s forgotten she has a twisted mass of coconut fiber around her breasts. She gives me a sheepish grin. “Yes, please, sir.”
Coir rope is cheap, and Logan buys it in bulk, so I grab the quick release blade off the table and cut her out of the harness instead of taking the time to undo all the knots.
I fold her to me as she curls off the web and rub my hand up and down her sweaty back while I peer over her shoulder.
There are two red spots on her shoulder blades where the knots must have pinched.
I’ll put cream on those after I finish cleaning her up.
Even after holding her for several minutes, she seems unsteady on her feet. Well, she did just have two orgasms in quick succession. I back her up a step to the web and lean her into it. “The web’ll support you, sweetheart. Grab hold.”
She gives me a grateful smile and winds her hands into the rope strands.
I grab a packet of wipes and work down. She has a little mascara smeared under her eyes and I blot that off first before continuing down her throat.
The hide floggers have left her skin gritty and I clean that off with her sweat.
There’s one weal along her ribs that’s beaded with blood.
Probably the braided flogger wrapping since that’s got the nastiest edges.
I clean the wound carefully and apply pressure until it’s no longer oozing.
I’ll put some antiseptic gel and a light bandage on it once she’s clean.
As I work down her legs, I get a close look at the double barbed-wire strand tattoo winding around her thigh.
It’s composed of tiny letters and as I peer at the letters, I realize they’re names.
Mostly men’s names. I find Theo’s name among many others I don’t recognize.
Thankfully, I don’t see Logan’s. I’m not sure why that would bother me, but I still feel relief.
And a pinch of jealousy. I blow out a breath and keep working down to her pretty toes.
That’s her past. I can’t be jealous of her past, can I?
Maybe if I was sure it was her past it’d bother me less.
I toss the used wipes into a garbage bin in the corner where Logan’s sitting and catch his eye.
He grins and nods at me. Yeah, it was a great scene, and I won’t let jealousy sour it.
Blowing out another breath, I retrieve the first aid kit from the shelves near the drain and treat her broken skin before drawing her forward off the web and spreading arnica cream over the two pinch points.
When I finish, she’s standing steady on her feet and watching my face.
I realize I’m frowning and quickly control my expression.
I touch two fingers very lightly to the bandage on her ribs.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Skin’s broken here. I know you said you were okay with marks, but I didn’t mean to break your skin.”
“It’s okay, sir. It doesn’t hurt and I heal quick.”
I lean in and kiss her forehead. “Ready for that glass of wine?”
“Yes, sir.”
She doesn’t look ready. She’s still watching me anxiously. I pull her into my arms and tuck her tight to my chest.
“You okay, bold girl? Tell me what you need.”
“Hug’s great, sir,” she says, but there’s a catch in her voice.
“You need to go anywhere? I’m thinking we should take this hug to bed after that glass of wine. It’d be nice to sleep with you in my arms.”
“You want to sleep with me?” There’s more than a catch. Her voice breaks on the last word and she clears her throat quickly.
I stroke my hands down her back, molding her to me. “I definitely want to sleep with you, sweetheart. Unless you’re a cover hog. Then I’ll be sleeping in the bed and you’ll be sleeping on the floor.”
She chokes out a little laugh. “I don’t hog covers, sir. And I don’t snore.”
“Logan says the same thing and he snores like a fucking chain saw.”
Logan snorts, showing he’s still paying attention. “Says the man whose nickname in the platoon was Convo. Enjoy the discussions he’ll have with you in his sleep, Bren.”
That gets a full laugh out of her and I smile at the sound. “C’mon. Let’s have that glass of wine. You like red or white?”
“Could I have a beer instead, sir?”
Girl after my own heart. “Of course.”
We leave the playroom as it is. Logan and I have already discussed leaving the web up for a few days so he and Emily can enjoy it. I might even get Bren back up on it before we dismantle it, although I have a few different ideas for our next scene.
Once we’re settled on the couches in front of the TV, with the sports highlights playing quietly in the background, while Logan takes Emily upstairs and gets her ready for bed, I make sure Brenna wants another scene before I get my hopes up too high.
“What’d you think, bold girl? Anything you’d have liked me to do that I didn’t?”
She shakes her head before she takes a sip of her beer. She drinks straight out of the bottle, which almost makes her hotter than all that silky skin and sexy ink. “Did I earn sex privileges, sir?”
The attitude’s back. “You did. You were fantastic with the honor blindfold. How did it feel?”
“It was a challenge, sir, but I liked it.”
I thought she might. “How would you feel about other kinds of honor bondage? Like being told to hold onto something and not let go until the scene was over?”
She squirms on the couch and then locks her muscles to still herself. “I’d like to try that. Does that, um, mean you want to scene again?”
Hearing her uncertainty makes me want to pounce on her, wrestle her to the floor, and lick another orgasm out of her. I restrain myself, running the knuckles of my free hand down her cheek. “Yes, sweetheart, I definitely want to scene again. When can you fit me into your busy schedule?”
She starts to grin, but then her face falls. “Friday?” She sounds hesitant.
“Friday’s fine. And if you need it before then, I’m just at the other end of the phone. Don’t look so heartbroken, Bren.”
She gives a tiny shake of her head and presses her cheek into my knuckles.
“This was really special, sir. Thank you. It’s made me feel .
. . hopeful? That’s not the right word. I don’t know how to say it.
I was just so afraid that I couldn’t submit anymore.
That I’d never reach subspace again.” She releases a ragged breath and gulps her beer. “Thank you, Master Mac.”
“You are very welcome, bold girl.”
We talk for another hour before I lead her up to the guest bedroom, but I keep our conversation light and casual.
She lied to me downstairs and there will be consequences for that, but it doesn’t feel like the right time to discuss them.
Establishing that we’re both eager to see each other again has dispersed all the tension that built while I was cleaning her up.
We talk about sports teams and she forgives me the Cowboys after I forgive her the Yankees.
We agree on beer brands and disagree on politics.
Her eyes go dreamy when she describes her ideas for my tattoo sleeves, and mine probably go the same way when she traces the outlines of her vision on my arm with the tip of her finger.
She examines the portrait of Naomi on my shoulder and I tell her a few of my favorite baby stories.
I don’t mention Naomi’s current problems and if my face reflects my concern, Brenna disperses it by asking about my pastimes.
When I tell her about my bike and find out she’s never ridden on a motorcycle, I offer to take her for a ride on her next full day off.
“Sunday, sir,” she offers, much less hesitantly than she offered the day for our next scene.