Her Submission (15 page)

When she bent her knees, he figured she was trying to find a more comfortable position. Taking advantage of her distraction, he hooked his finger and lifted. She immediately relocked her legs.

“
That’s what you by damn better do! Keep your ass hole where I can use it.”

Judging by how much her legs now shook, he had no doubt she was on emotional overload. Perfect timing for kicking things up another notch.

He pressed his foot against the inside of one ankle and then the other in a silent command for her to spread her legs. Letting loose with something between a grunt and a whimper, she complied. He gave her time to get used to the altered strain before redoubling his
attack
. His forefinger was going numb, and he guessed his hand would soon cramp. The self-inflicted burn marched up his arm.

She now grunted with every breath she took and no longer tried to lift her head. Her useless fingers kept curling into fists. He was back in familiar territory, doing what he’d been doing since a man had taken a scared and homeless boy under his wing and into a world of domination and surrender.   

When intuition and experience told him she’d lost all control over her responses, he slipped his free hand between her legs and aimed for her pussy. Sex fluids didn’t quite pour from of her, but she was a long way from dry. He could have pointed her condition out to her but decided to leave that for later in the game. Today he’d simply press his point. Maybe emotionally tear her apart.

I’m a damn bastard.

Wishing he could see her expression, he tried to take hold of her labial lips, but the swollen flesh was too slippery. He compensated by ramming two soaked fingers into her sex hole. Bent nearly in half the way he was, his back and leg kicked up their complaints.

“
Get that ass of yours up there, slave.”

You don’t have to do this.

She leveraged herself onto her toes and managed to stay in position long enough for him to pump both of her holes. When, sighing, she slumped back onto the balls of her feet, he yanked out of her tight rear passage and whacked her buttocks.

“
What’d I tell you! You were supposed to stay in position.”

“
I’m sorry,” she muttered into the chair.

Her choked tone made him wonder if he’d taken her too far and reminded him of the danger in losing self-control. The years of anger and need for revenge were behind him, damn it! He was no longer the crazy lost teenager he’d once been.

Then what am I?

When he placed the finger that had been in her bung against her left palm, she closed her hand around it giving him proof that the elbows’ tie hadn’t cut off her circulation.

“
What are you sorry about?” It took some doing, but he managed to continue fucking her pussy. “Go on, damn it. Finish what you started to say.”

“
I—I don’t know what you want.”

There was the strangled tone every Carnal trainer knew and exploited. Her drenched pussy said more than a million words could.

“
Right now what I want isn’t the point.” He switched to a seductive tone. “I’m creating new needs in you. You won’t know what to do with them let alone how to handle them.” When she didn’t respond, he slowed the thrusting action. “You feel as if you’re drowning in sensation, don’t you?”

“
Yes,” she whispered.

That might be the most honest thing she’d said since he’d grabbed her. Curious to see how much more he could get her to reveal, he withdrew and fingered her hard, hot clit. “You need to climax.” He touched her sex trigger again, then abandoned it. “Nothing comes close to being as important as getting off. You’d give up food in exchange for one. Even water has become a poor second.”

Do I really want to do this?

She turned her head, giving him a glimpse of her tears. The unexpected sight distracted him, touched a place he didn’t want touched.

“
What is it?” he asked.

The way her sigh lasted, he knew she was trying to keep her emotions from him. He wasn’t sure whether either of them could. “I don’t understand myself.” Her trembling slowed. “I’m afraid of you and yet you’re familiar. Someone…”

Taken aback by her comment, he planted both hands on her buttocks. Her sigh ended in a whimper.

“
I wish I hadn’t said—I don’t know why I did.”

Was she trying to forge a connection between them, giving him a small piece of herself so maybe he’d do the same in turn? Other slaves had tried that tactic but only when he was hurting them, not in moments of relative peace.

Who are you slave?

Trying to shake off the unexpected question, he started massaging her shoulders. “Let me take a guess. Your sexual fantasies include men like me, don’t they?”

Her silence told him more than any words could. His job called for transforming women into what their owners wanted, not tapping into females’ submissive natures. Truth was he never concerned himself with whether a particular slave embraced or fought the loss of self-determination because he knew how to get to the desired end result, discussion over.

Yesterday he’d taken one look at her and known she was looking for a man capable of making her crawl and loving the act. What he hadn’t figured on was how he’d react.

“
Straighten,” he ordered.

Watching her strain as she lifted her breasts off the chair distracted him from heavy thoughts so he nearly pushed her back down so he could again focus on the effort but he’d put off the second part of what this lesson was about long enough.

Time to teach her the depth and width of pain.

Time to do what he knew how to.

No longer alone.

#

Still on her knees, Kaci tried to make use of her arms. She could move them, after a fashion. They felt as if they belonged to someone else and yet she’d have to get them to obey in order to have a chance at getting free.

Free? The word was as foreign as the world she now lived in.

“
To state the obvious, they’re pretty useless,” he pointed out as she wiggled her fingers. “I take it that isn’t something you’ve ever experienced.”

“
No, never.”
Imagined it a few times but—
Why did you—“

“
Come up with that particular restraint? Because sometimes I want to keep a tie as simple as possible. Now stand.”

Her body hummed with pent up desire as she struggled to do as he’d commanded. No matter how much she’d fought the sexual tide, he’d taken her to a place where a climax was only a breath away. However, instead of giving her what she desperately needed, he’d stopped stimulating her. Not long ago only her restraints had kept her with him. Now she wanted—no, surely not the man!

Shutting down the thought, she redoubled her efforts. She tried not to acknowledge his steady gaze as she awkwardly got her feet under her.

“
The leg with the rope on it,” he said, “put your foot on the chair.”

Complying took several attempts. When she’d finally achieved the nearly impossible, he untied the ankle rope. He even helped her lower her leg once he was done. She looked at him.

The lines around his mouth were as prominent as the last time she’d taken note of them, and he was definitely favoring his left leg. She stopped caring when he picked up his camera and started taking more pictures.

“
Who are you sending these to?” she risked asking.

He frowned. “A friend, someone who’ll appreciate them for what they are.”

The way he said
friend
distracted her from the relentless clicking. She could be wrong but it sounded as if he seldom used the word. If he was part of some kinky sex club, how did the various members refer to each other?

Against her better judgment, she looked down at herself. Her roped breasts were swollen, her nipples still red from the clamps.

“
Will they show up on the Internet?”

“
I haven’t decided.”

He was probably saying that as a way of messing with her mind. Standing there, she wondered what he’d think if she told him about her fantasies. Would he use them to his advantage or—how could she even think this?—would he take what she told him to turn their time together into incredible reality?

Shocked that she’d entertained the possibility, she shook her head in an effort to stop it. Being his captive had given rise to the question, that’s all. She’d never want to be his slave.

Slave
.
Owned. Desired.
 

Unexpected movement from him pulled her from the crazy thought. He’d put down the camera and was picking up the whip.

“
No,” she gasped as she back-peddled. “Please no.”

He blinked, stared at the whip, frowned.

“
You don’t tell me what I can or can’t do. No one does.” He snapped the air with the thin length. “I’m going to educate you, transfer you into a form useful to me. You might think that being stripped of your clothes and restrained is lesson enough, but you’re still the old you. It’s time to become something new. Mine.”

He’d thrown his domineering words at her before but that didn’t make it any easier this time. Sweat again drenched her. At the same time she felt cold.

And still hot.

I don’t want to become yours,
she longed to tell him but it wouldn’t do any good. He wouldn’t listen.

He’d kept on snapping the whip while talking.

“
This is about relating to your body in a new way, of getting deeper into yourself than you believed possible.”

There was something seductive about what he was offering. No matter how much she dreaded being whipped, she couldn’t help but embrace his words.

“
Pain seduces. It takes the receiver into a new world, one she can’t emotionally distance herself from—or want to.”

Was that possible? Could pain seduce? Desperate to believe him as a way of dealing with her dread, she studied his arm. He worked the whip as if it was an extension of him, an exquisite tool.

“
Take what I offer, slave. That’s all you have to do today.”

He fastened his gaze on her left flank. An instant later, a sharp stinging sensation there rocked her.

“
No! Oh please, don’t.”

He again whipped her in the same place. A second wave of pain bled into the first. As he started to lift his arm for another blow, she ran past him heading for the door. Half facing him as he slowly ate up the distance between them she backed up to the door and gripped the knob.

The whip landed on her belly.

“
Please, oh god, please.”

“
There is no god here, never forget that.”

His voice was so calm, a whisper of sanity in a world being defined by pain. He’d locked the door, but she kept wrestling with it while he planted blow after blow. No matter which way she twisted, he accomplished his goal. The whip didn’t cut her flesh, not that it mattered. It felt as if she was being stung by countless wasps.

Screaming, she pushed away from the damn worthless door and ran back the way she’d come. Maybe her intention had been to try to escape into the kitchen, maybe she hadn’t had any plan. Whatever the answer, she never got a chance to see if another room was any safer because he grabbed the rope between her elbows and yanked.

“
You aren’t going anywhere, slave. That’s not how it works.”

She was still trying to regain her balance when fire bloomed on her buttocks. Fighting a scream, she stood shaking in the middle of the masculine room with her back to her captor. She wouldn’t, couldn’t face him! Didn’t want to see his expression.

He whipped her repeatedly, the blows landing on her ass cheeks. They caught fire, taking her back to all those times when her old man had spanked her. Sometimes she’d known why she was being punished. Mostly though the bastard had done so because he was mad at the world.

She’d learn to take her childhood punishment in silence because the less she reacted, the sooner he quit. If it was possible, she’d do the same today.

“
I don’t believe in deep distress,” her captor told her as she quivered before him. “There have been a few times when I forgot my creed and—tell me how much this hurts.”

No matter how hard she tried to hold her ground, the
distress
he’d mentioned made her feet dance. Her constrained breasts pulsed. Every time the whip landed on an ass cheek, she felt compelled to turn it from him with the result that the next blow abraded her other buttock. The sensations built up inside her, an accumulation of the unwanted, his way of demonstrating his mastery over her.

Too much!

Howling more from outrage than pain, she broke rank and again ran. This time she circled the room’s perimeter, dodging furniture as she tried to stay out of reach. His features grim, he kept after her.

“
You’re not going to get away, there’s nowhere for you to go. No way you can free your elbows or breasts. The sooner you accept the inevitable—“

“
Go to hell!”

Had she really said that? Certain she’d enraged him, she looked back at him. His jaw remained set, but what unnerved her the most was how his eyes glittered. He was enjoying this.

Of course he was, she acknowledged as she put all her energy into keeping ahead of him. No one would do something so incomprehensible unless he loved dominating.

Domination. Restraining and stripping her because he could.

She’d circled the room for the third time when she realized what he was doing. He wasn’t really pursuing her. Instead, he snapped the whip behind her. Other than slowly turning, he wasn’t putting out any effort. In contrast, she was wearing herself out, still dancing to his tune.

There was no escape from this room. She might bolt into the kitchen, but if he didn’t want her in there, he’d simply haul her out and back into here. Then his diabolical game would begin again.

Somewhere between resigned and determined to hold onto a shred of dignity, she jammed her toes into the carpet and stopped with her side to him.