Captive, Mine (12 page)

“Please, Lake. Please...”

“You don’t have to beg me, honey,” he said, moving behind me again. “I know what you need.”

I heard the sound of the strap coming this time and clenched everything tight in anticipation, but it didn’t diminish the pain, not even a little. My scream filled the room and I hadn’t quite absorbed the sound of it before another stroke burned my ass.

I was going to die. He was going to kill me. I was convinced of it as stroke after stroke fell covering the whole of my bottom, the tops of my thighs. He seemed untiring while I screamed until I had nothing left, no voice, no breath, only pain, absolute pain.

If he thought he hadn’t made his point, he was dead wrong.

“That’s it,” he said, a hand slapping my ass hard, the different sensation causing me to jump to attention. “Lie there and take your punishment. Ten more.”

“Please. It’s enough. I promise I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” The blindfold was drenched and I wiped my face against my arm. Sweat covered me, the heat of my punished flesh degrees hotter than anything else.

He rubbed my bottom, his touch almost soft as he covered both mounds. I thought he’d changed his mind. I thought, as I listened to his breathing calm, that he took pity on me, that it was over. But then he stopped rubbing and stepped back.

“Count them.”

My sobbing took on a whole new meaning then. He wouldn’t stop, not until he’d delivered every last one of those ten strokes and it wouldn’t matter what I said, how much I cried or begged, how raw he whipped my ass. He would do this; there would be no mercy. Not today, not any day. Not with him. He was teaching me.

I shuddered as the first of the final ten landed.

“Lily,” he urged, drawing out the way he said my name. “I’ll keep going until you count.”

“One!”

“Good girl. Now keep your ass nice and soft for me. Relax your muscles. Soft. That’s it. Be good.”

His words were almost gentle but the leather unforgiving, cruel even. I called out the count every time, tried to relax my muscles every time he reminded me to and took the last of the strokes. And when it was done, I went limp, weeping into my arms, soaking the bed with my tears.

The strap landed on the floor with a thud but I remained as I was. He didn’t speak and when his fingertips grazed my ass, I flinched but didn’t pull away. His touch felt strange, not good, I was too tender for that, but it somehow reassured? It made no sense but all I could do was remain as I was, and when he pulled my cheeks apart, I tensed but only for a moment. He spread me open and I swallowed, grateful suddenly for the blindfold, grateful not to have to look at him as he surely looked at me, at my most private places. My face burned with shame while his fingers moved between my bottom cheeks and grazed the open lips of my pussy before trailing higher, circling my back hole.

But that was all and I don’t know if I was grateful or not when he stopped.

He freed my legs both from the thing I’d been bound to and the cuffs that kept my ankles together. He left my arms as they were but I was able to draw my knees up, tucking them underneath my hips, crawling slowly, painfully onto the bed, my burning ass high in the air, not caring what I looked like.

“There,” he said, rolling me onto my side. “Punishment is over.” He lifted my head onto his lap and with the gentlest touch, removed the blindfold. “Shh…” he coaxed, fingers pushing the hair off my wet face. “I hope you learned your lesson, Lily,” he said. “I hope you’ll not make me punish you like this again.”

I looked up at him through wet lashes, the image of him blurred.

We stayed like that for a while, him looking at me, touching my face, brushing my hair back coaxing me to stop crying, and in time, I did. I stopped and my breathing slowly returned to normal but throughout that time, however long it was, I couldn’t
not
look at him. What I felt I don’t know. I didn’t have a word for it. What I saw in his eyes, well, that too was indescribable. They were dark, darker than usual and when he slowly moved to stand, I made a sound. It wasn’t any word, simply sound, but he understood my meaning even when I could not. He stayed as he was, kept my head on his lap, caressed my shoulder and slowly turned me onto my back. I groaned when my bottom made contact with the rough blanket but I didn’t fight him. Perhaps I
had
learned to obey.

“Open your legs,” he said.

I searched his face but his eyes only urged me to do as he said and I did, and when I did, I watched his gaze slide over me, over my breasts, my belly, down to my sex. His throat worked as he swallowed and this time when he moved to stand, I didn’t make a sound but held my breath instead. He went to the foot of the bed, his eyes intent on my sex which, somehow, even with the pain on my backside, even knowing that he was the one who inflicted that torture on me, somehow, with his eyes on me, a different sort of heat consumed all of my attention and when he knelt between my legs, I didn’t move. I didn’t close them or cry out or anything. I simply remained watching him and Lake took hold of my thighs and pushed them wider, his eyes hungry, never once leaving that space as he brought his mouth to it, soft and wet and hot and when his lips closed over my clit, I sucked in a breath and a new wave of crying consumed me, the sensations of softness so opposite the punishment of moments before carrying me to a place where a throbbing heat coupled with that of absolute pleasure drew a cry from my lips. My eyelids closed and I lifted to him, opening for him. His tongue worked and his fingers slid into me, the days-old scruff on his face the only thing rough against my pussy, and when he sucked my clit, I came harder than I’d ever come before. My breath caught and a moan from deep inside me filled my ears. His mouth, his hot, wet, soft mouth connected to me. It was all consuming and when my hips stopped bucking and I opened my eyes again, I watched him rise from the bed. I watched him watch me, watched him wipe the back of his hand across his mouth. The thick length of his cock pressed against his jeans, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what was next, what I wanted, what he would do. Then, without a single word, he was gone, leaving me bound to the bed. I closed my legs, pressing my thighs together, squeezing the still-tender nub, and rolled over onto my stomach. I could still feel him on me, feel his mouth closed over me, and, rubbing my swollen clit against the rough cover of the bed, I came again before falling asleep, bound, alone, and shivering, the sweat from my punishment now a cold layer of moisture over my body.

Chapter 9

L
ake brought the axe down on the wood, splitting it cleanly, one half of the log flipping end over end off to the side, the other half staying utterly still, as if it had always been thus, had always been whole.

Though he already had at least five cords of wood stacked along the side of the house, Lake needed to do this. He needed the exertion, the distraction from the turmoil of his mind. This was simple; this made sense. It had purpose. Necessary or not, there was a
reason
for this.

What had just happened in that guest room had no purpose. There wasn’t a fucking reason in the galaxy for what he’d done. He dropped the blade onto a knot-filled log, the steel catching fast. He stooped to pick up the wedge, laying it against the rusted blade. The sledgehammer struck it once, twice, Lake grunting as he hit it harder a third time, driving the wedge through.

He was already sweating.

The line had been there — that unspoken, ephemeral, yet concrete point of no return.

And he’d fucking obliterated it.

Yet. as he placed another log on the broad stump, raised his axe once more, his calmness remained. He should have been worried, should have been ashamed.

But he wasn’t. Not in the least.

It was her reaction that had sent everything spinning off axis, if only for a moment, that most unexpected thing, and yet the most welcome. A relief, a moment of respite in this twisted journey he’d embarked upon, the helpless, beautiful, forlorn Lily in tow.

It still didn’t make sense. Was it biology? A defense mechanism? He’d studied it, of course. He’d even put it into practice in SERE training. Resist, in whatever way, whenever you could. Even the tiniest resistance was so important, for it focused the mind, fended off despair, and worse, shock.

Of course, she couldn’t know that; he doubted Lily would’ve survived a single day of basic training, let alone Special Forces training. But she had that fire, that instinct to survive, that not all people really knew how to tap into. And she was strong, stronger than he’d ever suspected.

That still didn’t explain it though. She’d actually had an
orgasm
.

At first, he’d simply been too shocked to react to it, the earthy scent of her on his lips, the taste of her still upon his tongue. He’d thought to simply punish her, and punish her he had.

Lying there with her afterward though, he wondered what she was thinking, why she fought at every turn.

Because she senses what you are inside.

Did she fight because of that knowledge, or had she
come
because of that knowledge? What if the two were becoming as confused for her as his role was becoming to him?

That wasn’t quite true, either, though. Lake stretched, dropping the axe to the turf and taking a seat on the stump, the splinters prickly but tolerable through the protection of his jeans. The smell of the pitch from the split wood rose around him, the clean, spicy scent of it making him smile. The memory of cutting wood as a child, when his dad had first taught him how to swing an axe, came back to him. It was a time when his father would’ve been proud of him — and when all Lake had ever wanted was the approval of his father.

Now, that Lake was gone.

When he thought of Lily again, the confusion welled within him once more. How was it possible? Could she? Did she? Questions piled one on top of the other, the answers drowned out by the conflict within him at where he now stood. He examined what he felt, why he felt, and although that small, quiet voice still whispered, it was faint. So faint.

He’d see this through, see where it led, even if the final destination was a place he could not go, an end he would not choose for her.

Lake leaned over onto one hip, fishing his cell from his pocket, wiping a bead of sweat from his temple. The birds in the trees behind him began their singsong serenading again as he looked at the phone, frowning at it.

No message on the clean, yet.

It didn’t mean anything, of course. Kellen wasn’t exactly known for being talkative. He seemed more like a ghost than a man. Lake didn’t even know where his partner was half the time. Which was probably a good thing.

Distracting yourself won’t change anything.

Lake stood, groaning at the heavy soreness in his testicles. He hadn’t come, hadn’t allowed what his body had been screaming for as he’d had her under his tongue, her enticing scent all around him. The thought had him hardening all over again, regardless of the new pain flaring in his balls.

“Fuck,” he muttered, wiping the splinters from the seat of his jeans, taking one last deep breath of the clean scent of the woods, the waning evening light still warm on his skin.

It was time for some ground rules. And it was time to see how deep he wanted to take her.

* * *

T
he nude body stirred as he closed the door behind him, the darkness deepening as the evening light waned outside. For a moment, he stood there, watching her watch him, her eyes bright in the gathering shadows. He was pleased she didn’t try to speak, pleased that she seemed to be learning after all.

“I’m going to untie your hands, but I know you won’t try anything, will you?” He dropped his gaze pointedly to the strap still lying on the floorboards, waiting, like a black serpent.

Lily shook her head, her eyes widening.

“Good.”

He untied the cuffs from the headboard, then unclipped them from one another, allowing her to move her hands independently. She groaned as she flexed her shoulders, rubbing the backs of her arms.

“Hurting? You can speak.”

“Yes. Arms are killing me. You…”

“Go on.”

“You left me like that… too long.”

“You weren’t going anywhere.” He pointed to the headboard. “But that was to make sure you knew it.”

He sat down on the foot of the bed, her eyes watching him the whole time. He merely looked at her, taking in the movement of her naked breasts as she kneaded one arm, her elbow folded across her chest in a futile effort to conceal her breasts.

“That’s another of your rules. Never cover yourself, Lily.”

She stopped, lowering her arms haltingly until her hands clasped her bare thighs. Her breathing was already increasing, the rise and fall of her chest coming faster now.

“And what was your first rule?”

“Don’t speak — unless spoken to.” Her voice was rough, almost hoarse. Considering how loud she’d been screaming, he was surprised she’d had any voice left at all.

“Good, you remembered.” He turned toward her, resting his thigh along the mattress, his leg crossed over the other one. “But you forgot something.”