Temptation to Submit (12 page)

“I’ll show you,” he said, putting as much force into his words, trying to scare her. She liked being scared.

He retrieved a set of nipple clamps he’d brought with him. Hell, he’d brought a whole bag full of goodies for this. When he approached her, she jerked on the restraints, her eyes wide. He got the knife from the dresser and sliced it through her T-shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he shook his head. “No bra? Are you trying to show off?”

“No! Fuck you, Finch.” She twisted and writhed, trying to get away from him.

But he was relentless. “Later, Victoria. When I’m done. And I won’t be done for a long time.”

He bent down and took one nipple in his mouth. Fuck, she tasted so good. Her tit pebbled, and he released it to clamp it tight.

She moaned at the touch of his tongue and screamed when he clamped her flesh. “You asshole! Get it off.”

“Say it, Victoria. You know what you can say.” He took the other breast in his mouth. She whimpered. He flicked the erect flesh with his tongue, and she arched her back to move closer.

“No, please, Finch. It hurts,” she said. “It hurts so fucking good. I feel like I’m going to fly off the planet.”

He clamped the other tit, and she screamed. “You bastard!”

When he tugged on the chain that hung from the clamps and dangled down to a V-shape at her belly button, she cursed him. She couldn’t jerk away because it would tighten the hold he had on them and create more pain. “Tell me, Victoria. Tell me the truth, and I’ll stop the pain.”

“No. I won’t,” she said breathlessly, her voice almost a sob.

He kept the slack on the clamps tight and leaned closer to her. “No tears? There will be.”

When he dropped the chain, she let out a harsh breath. He stepped behind her and picked the flogger out of his bag. From that one day she had let him see her ass as he spanked it and released his cum all over her skin, he’d wanted to mark her there.

As he sliced through the yoga pants, shredding them to get them off her, she snarled at him. “You’re fucking ruining my clothes.”

“Sir. You will call me Sir or pay the consequences.” He dragged the strands lightly over her skin.

“Fuck you, Sir,” she sneered and then gasped as the flogger slapped across her ass.

He worked it up, harder and harder, stopping occasionally to grip her reddened ass with his hand. She screamed at him and cursed him. What a foul mouth she had. He was going to enjoy her future punishments for her bad language.

He struck her until red stripes crisscrossed over her shoulders and ass. Intently, he watched her, making sure she breathed through the pain, making sure she wasn’t hurting herself by jerking away.

When he stopped, she delighted him with a smart-ass comment. “That’s all you got, Finch? You hit like a girl.”

“Tsk tsk.” Finch found his favorite toy. It was a clit stimulator attached to a belt. It could be adjusted to fit Victoria perfectly. When he probed between her legs, she squirmed and shifted. “Hold still.”

She froze and then moaned when he dragged his fingers over her damp flesh. “You’re so wet. You must like being my prisoner.”

She gritted her teeth. “You wish, asshole.”

“Let’s find out how much you like it.” He watched her face and reveled in her struggle to hold back the inevitable. He stroked with his fingers, not wanting her first orgasm in the scene to be with a toy. He wanted the evidence of her release on his skin.

Her head snapped back and her hips jerked. He drove his fingers deep inside her and sucked on her tit, flicking the clamp with his tongue, adding a little pain to her pleasure.

She inhaled abruptly and cried out, a long, keening cry that echoed in his head. Her pussy gave up its treasure and gushed over his fingers. He kept thrusting until she twitched and moaned.

He placed his fingers in his mouth and savored the taste. Delicious. Then he tugged on the chain connected to her nipple clamps. Her eyes flew open, and he held her gaze as he placed the clit stimulator on her sensitive flesh. “Again.”

THERE WAS NO way she could come again and not explode into pieces. The last one had torn something inside her, and she felt exposed, raw. When the little plastic bullet touched her clit, electricity shot through her. She couldn’t do anything, stop the feelings or the dry sobs that escaped. The next orgasm ripped away every coherent thought she had.

“Again.” He was relentless.

There was a heavy ball of anguish in her chest that she was sure was going to crush her if he made her come again. She resisted, twisting and squirming to try to escape. But her Master was implacable.

Gasping for breath, she opened her eyes and found Finch’s gaze on her face. She held his stare, grasping the intensity of it like a lifeline. He would keep her together. That ball of anguish that felt so fucking heavy wouldn’t hurt her as long as he was here.

She was so afraid. If she let go and released that heavy, black shit inside her, she might fly apart, the pieces of herself too scattered and broken. As if he could see the terror in her face, Finch reached up and wrapped his free hand around her throat. His thumb stroked the sensitive spot where her pulse pounded beneath her skin.

He held her gaze, his torturous device relentlessly driving her to an orgasm Tori was positive was going to actually hurt. “Let go, Victoria. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen to you that isn’t pleasurable.”

“Sir!” she gasped. “I can’t— I’m so—”
Afraid. Terrified. Fucking out of my mind with fear.

“There’s nothing to fear, Victoria,” he said gently. “Let go.”

As if his words triggered it, her body exploded. That ball coiled up inside her broke apart, and she screamed, her throat hoarse. Her orgasm seemed to spread through her body from her head to her toes, and she shouted curses at Finch.

Suddenly, she wasn’t cursing him anymore. She screamed out her anger at her mother, her pain at being not good enough for her mother to love more than her drugs, her despair at her aunt’s cold indifference. Words tumbled out, vicious, ugly, painful.

She felt like a banshee, her muscles clenched and her mind gone. She was vaguely aware that as she was losing her shit, Finch had stepped behind her and used the flogger on her ass in a rhythmic way that began to pull her back from the edge of insanity.

The toy he’d used to detonate her personal internal bomb was still jammed against her clit and drove her higher again. This time, as her body wound toward another release, she wasn’t afraid or angry. Pleasure swamped her, and she reached for it.

Her senses sharpened in a new and amazing way. The clamps on her tits, the bullet on her pussy, and the strikes of the flogger all created a carnival of sensation that she reveled in. The ball of hurt and anger wasn’t weighing her down, stifling her. It wasn’t gone, but it didn’t frighten her anymore. She’d faced it, released it into reality, and she was still here.

Thoughts scattered and her body humming, she arched as another orgasm swept through her. She cried out and begged as she never thought she’d beg. “Please, Sir. You. I need you. I want you. I—”
love you
. No. She couldn’t say those words. She was too broken, damaged.

As quickly as she’d gone up the heights of pleasure, she dropped at those ugly thoughts. What would Finch think of her now? She was a crazy person, screaming out curses and rage.

When he stepped in front of her, she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let herself want him so much. But it was no surprise that her Master provided no escape from the truth. “You what, Victoria?”

“Sir—”

He tugged on the chain connected to the nipple clamps, and she gasped. Fuck, it felt good. The pain ripped through her as the bullet buzzed against her clit.

“You will tell me.”

“No,” she said. “Please don’t make me. Finch—” He yanked on the chain, and she snarled at him. “Knock it off, asshole.”

“What is my name, Victoria?” he said sternly.

“Fucking asshole,” she snapped.

He move to one side, and his hand was a blur as he swung and connected with her ass.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. So good. So perfect.
Do it again, Sir. Please.

“What is my name?” he asked again.

“Atticus.” Oh, she knew that wasn’t the right answer. The three swats against her flesh confirmed it.

He stepped closer, and his right hand slid over her skin to slip along the seam of her ass. When his fingers probed her tight hole, she squirmed to get away. Yet something inside her also loved the sensation of pain and pleasure his exploration brought. “Maybe you’ll remember what my name is if I shove my cock inside your ass.”

Her heart rate was off the charts, and she began to pant. Yes. She wanted him to fuck her, and she didn’t care how he did it. But there was the bigger part of her that wanted his cock inside her pussy, face-to-face. Maybe that was too vanilla for him.

The crack of his hand against her thigh got her attention. “Just as I thought. You think too much.”

“Master,” she whispered. She knew his name. Master A. That’s what they’d called him at the BDSM club. Gina had told her. He was an adept Master, and she was a novice, a fool.

He cupped her face with both his hands, his body pressed against hers. She wanted him naked. His voice was like warm water on her skin. “Say it again, Victoria. I find I like the sound of it on your sweet lips.”

She licked her lips that didn’t feel sweet but seemed dry as dirt. “Master.”

The sound unleashed something in him, and he tore his clothes off. Her mouth watered as she watched him. Naked, he was incredible. She noted he put on a condom, and she whimpered in need. He was finally going to fuck her.

He lifted her legs and cut the ties that held her ankles together. He made her straddle him, and he slowly penetrated her, inch by inch, his gaze never leaving her face. She moaned at the sensation, the incredible feeling of his possession. His hands were like a heated brand on her ass as he thrust deeper. She arched her back and cried out for more.

His cock filled her, and she went insane beneath his demands.
More, more, more!
Faster and faster, he rammed her. His growled words were incomprehensible to her. She was lost in sensation, drowning in her need.

This time, her release caught her by surprise. She hadn’t thought she could, hadn’t believed any woman could come that many times. But she did. Her choked cry was followed by his roar of satisfaction. He continued to thrust inside her, making her twitch and jerk.

“And who do you belong to?” he demanded.

Belonging. That was the moment she’d known. When he’d said she belonged to him. That had been what was always missing with everyone. She didn’t belong to her mother, even though she’d been physically related. She didn’t belong to her aunt, who wanted no one. She didn’t belong to her friends, who loved her but never delved beneath the facade she’d presented.

This man was the first person to accept it all, and he took her as his. His.

Emotions that she’d kept so deeply buried that she hadn’t even known they existed rose to the surface. A well of sadness and loss that had begun as a child when she realized she was alone in a crowd of people because she felt different and ended with the death of her mother. It boiled over and swamped her.

The tears that came didn’t flow from her like gentle streams but burst out of her like water released from a dam. She couldn’t breathe or think or stop any of it. Her chest hurt, her throat ached, her nose ran, but the tears kept coming.

Her wrists were freed, and she didn’t care. Warm arms surrounded her, and she thrashed to get away, wanting to curl up in a ball alone.

“Stop that crying. You’re a spoiled rotten brat. You’ve got nothing to cry about.”
Her aunt’s voice. Her mother had ignored her tears, and Aunt Angela had demanded she stop.

But she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I want to stop, but I can’t. I’m sorry,” she wailed, and the tears flowed faster.

But the man who held her didn’t shush her or tell her to be calm. He didn’t make any demands at all. He held her close and stroked her head. His words finally began to make sense to her. “I’m here, Victoria. I’m here.”

“Master,” she said, sobbing. “I’m a mess. I’m broken. Please.” She was so ashamed. “Take me home.”

“No, soniye.” He wiped away her tears that were just replaced by more. “Answer my question. Who do you belong to?”

She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. “You. I belong to you,” she whispered.

The bands around her chest loosened. Her breath came easier. Her muscles relaxed. Most of all, the tears stopped. Not like they were shut off or even as if she was “cried out,” but more like she was comforted and it was going to be okay.

He did that. This man, this Master, who knew her and still wanted her, he had faced the pit of despair inside her. She reached up, her hand trembling, and touched his face. “I love you, Sir. I didn’t want to tell you, and it’s okay if that’s too much, but I had to let you know.”

She had the questionable pleasure of seeing shock on his face. Surprisingly, he swallowed, as if he was preparing his words. She braced herself for the inevitable rejection.

Because she’d been expecting his immediate emotional withdrawal, she wasn’t prepared for his intense response. He jerked her closer and took possession of her mouth, savagely demanding her surrender.

His kiss held everything she’d ever wanted. It was fierce and protective, yet dangerous and hot. His hands, strong and warm, held her tightly to him, as if he was afraid she’d get away. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She loved him. He’d faced her demons and laughed at them. He’d never demanded more than she could give. He had accepted her exactly as she was and never insisted she be something else.

She indulged herself and buried her fingers in his hair, pressing her body to his. To her surprise, he trembled against her.

He broke the kiss and panted like he’d run a mile. “I love you too. With all my heart.”

Could it be true? It seemed like a miracle. “You do? Really?”

His dark gaze was filled with fire. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I didn’t realize it until I saw another man’s hands on you.” His arms tightened around her. “I knew then that you were mine and no one else could have you.”