The Favor (13 page)

It was only when Charles went on to describe the altercation that Jared's hand dropped from my skin and he bent over, placing a reassuring kiss at the nape of my neck. I was starting to think he’d discovered a little too much about my body. If he could tell when I was worried or uncomfortable, he had the keys to me.

“Relax, Kit.” There was a command in his tone that sent my muscles into submission, but my mind was attuned to every word spoken over the phone. Charles was on the defensive, justifying both his and my actions to my Mistress in his usual suave way until his laughter rang out.

“You should be very proud, Kayla. She's perfect in every way.”

I loved praise. I would be a liar to deny it. It’s what I worked so hard for and Charles' words seemed to sink in deep. My chest inflated with pride even though I wasn't sure I deserved it. I tried to follow the rest of the conversation, but the cryptic hums from Charles and the trailing of Jared's fingers had my mind filling with a new peace that settled over me. I'd grown comfortable in this house with these two men. It had been so easy to do. The setting, the people, and those indescribable moments when we all just were… It had become a place of solace.

By the time the phone was hung up, I was leaning my cheek on Jared's knee, lost in his touch as my eyes drifted closed. The heat of his body against mine seeped through the thin, silk, dip dyed, a-line dress I'd picked out this morning. I loved the way it flowed around me, how the tails from the corners tickled my calves as I moved. Its soft material caressing my curves with every breath I took.

“Kit, would you mind awfully asking Maria about lunch for us?” Charles asked quietly, pulling me from the enveloping darkness that had begun to flicker around the edges of my mind. Jared's sigh above me quickly made me realize just how obvious my almost dozing state had been.

“Of course, Sir.” I rose to my feet, pushing up on my toes to stretch out my knees before heading from the office to the kitchen. I knew they needed to talk, and I was more than willing to give them privacy. Maria seemed to love treating me to the things “Mr. Charles shouldn't eat, anyway.” She was lovely and enjoyed creating new dishes to surprise Charles with. From what she'd told me in our time together, they'd been challenging one another for years.

I slipped into the kitchen breezily. My dress tangling in my fingers as I found Maria making an apple pie. Slipping onto one of the stools, I dropped my chin in my hand and watched with interest for a while, as I did whenever I was in the kitchen with her. She worked quickly and efficiently, her fingers pushing the pastry into the corners of the dish.

“You wanna help?” she asked, her eyes not deviating from her work.

I took a second to watch her, wondering whether I was capable. She glanced up for a second, not missing a beat. Nothing seemed to faze this woman. She knew I was submissive, just like she knew Charles, and now Jared, were dominants, and she knew what that meant. Even with this knowledge, there was no judgment from her. She never looked at us oddly or cursed us for our strange habits. She just continued on and I admired that.

“I don’t think so. I'd ruin it.”

Maria rolled her eyes and looked up at me. “You can't ruin it, Kit. I've done most of the work. All you gotta do is pour in the filling and place the pre-rolled pastry over the top. Brush a little egg over that bad boy and you're done. That way I can make lunch so you don't get your hide tanned.”

I slipped off the stool and approached slowly, my hands tentatively reaching out for the bowl that smelled of cooked apple and cinnamon, and I swore I could detect cloves, the scent of aniseed faint but recognizable.

“Just dig in.” She laughed, handing me a rubbery thing with a flat edge, mimicking what I should do with it before leaving it in my grasp. “Don't be scared.”

My hands started working diligently, the task oddly soothing as it kept me busy. I smoothed out the edges of the mixture, my eyes lifting to Maria's as she started making sandwiches.

“Can I ask how long you've been here?”

“You can ask, but it don't mean I'm gonna answer.” She laughed playfully, her elbow meeting mine. “It's been almost twenty years, and let me tell you, no two days are the same.”

“Now that I can believe.”

“You're good for them, you know,” Maria said, mixing some hot sauce into the mayo. “Jared's been here three times in the past and it's only now they actually talk and have a relationship. You bridged that gap between them, Kit. The man you stood up to that first night, he was always like that when he was here, but you got his attention. You refused to let him talk to you like that.”

“I think he just needed to find himself. He was misunderstood.”

“You helped him, darlin’. Now he's happy, and Mr. Charles is happy. Even you look happy.”

“I'm always happy.”

She gave me a knowing look and went back to the sandwiches, leaving me to ponder what it meant. It was almost like the world had become cryptic, picking at parts of my life I felt confident about and shaking them all up until I was forced to reevaluate. Was I happy? I'd always thought I was. I loved my life. Every day was new and I never knew what to expect.

There was work, of course, and my bitch manager, but it wasn't like I let her get under my skin much. Though the thought of having a new job made me look forward to going in there and telling her off once and for all. Pacifist or not, I wanted to see her face when I finally told her what I really thought about her. There was the club, where I had a few friends, and I had Mistress Kayla. I was happy. Right?

“Well look at that. You made your first pie,” Maria chirped merrily, startling me from my thoughts. I looked down at the brush in my hand and the completed pie ready for the oven. It wasn't perfect, but with a couple of swipes of her knife, the overhang of pastry was gone.

“I hardly made it. You did all the hard work.”

“Maybe one day I'll teach you.”

“Teach her what, you wicked woman?” Charles asked, peeking through the swing door and grinning. It wasn’t hard to see the admiration he had for her.

“The fine art of pastry making, Mr. Charles. She put this one together herself.” Maria held up the pie, grinning before turning and sliding it into the oven, leaving me dusted with flour and holding what she’d called a pastry brush.

“Looks wonderful. Now how about we have lunch and a little chat, Kit?”

“Yes, Sir.” I held up my hands and smiled when he nodded. I headed to the sink to wash them. The moment I was ready, I threw a grin at Maria as I disappeared with the sandwiches to the dining room. As had become customary, I lowered myself to my knees beside Jared after sliding the sandwiches on the table and waited for permission to eat.

“Will you join us at the table, Kit?” Jared asked gently, running the pads of his fingers over my bare shoulder, the skin on my arms pebbling at the intimacy of his touch.

I gave a small nod and whispered my thanks as I rose to sit in the seat next to him. I nibbled on the edge of a sandwich as the two of them dug in, demolishing most of the stack before all eyes turned to me.

“Kit, your mistress made a suggestion. She thinks Jared should be used to something before you go to New Orleans tomorrow.”

“Okay, Sir.”

I was a little perplexed. So far we'd done everything in our power to build trust in what little time we'd had. In my opinion we'd been more than successful, too. I knew beyond a doubt that Jared wouldn't hurt me. My body craved his touch and I was comfortable being around him, even with my eyes closed. We'd moved mountains in a mere week. What more was there to do before then?

“Kayla would like you to do a couple of exercises in bondage.”

I sucked in an excited breath, my heart pounding in my chest, quickly moving from a trot to a gallop. It wasn't fear that brought my heart rate up and made my ears ring; it was anticipation. If the previous night was anything to go by, tonight was going to be off the charts. Restraints, ropes, cuffs and blindfolds... Those were just a few of my favorite things.

The leather around my wrists was like insulation. Every experimental tug had the unforgiving edges riding harshly along my skin, contradicting the plush interior of the cuffs. I felt the pleasurable pain in every joint of my body. It ran through my bones, right to the marrow. This was right. This was what I'd missed all those days in the sleepy bayou town. They weren't my cuffs but they would suffice, for now.

Jared sat across from me, his forearms on his knees as he leaned forward. He watched me with curiosity, the gleam in his eye that of a predator when it has its prey in sight. My skin tingled from it, the underwear I had on already damp.

There was really no way I could explain what I felt. I knew words would have failed me if I tried. To be bound was the ultimate experiment in trust. My body was at his mercy just as much as my mind was. I couldn't move my hands at all. The cuffs were attached to a chain that ran through a ring in the ceiling of Charles' dungeon, the dark walls and the look on Jared's face adding to the sinister effect.

Whatever he and Charles had spoken about while I was in the kitchen had obviously been taken to heart, because he was playing his part beautifully. He knew I craved his touch, needed it even, and yet he sat staring at me, so far out of reach that not even my extended leg would have grazed him.

I must have been there for an hour at that point. My arms were slowly starting to ache where they were stretched above me, and my legs shifted restlessly. It was a test, perhaps for both of us, but one all the same, and I felt as though I was failing. My body was completely exposed to him, the cool air of the room billowing around me, caressing my skin as small beads of sweat littered my forehead.

I'd been through this before, but never had I been studied so intently by the Dominant in the situation. Even when my eyes slid closed, I could feel his gaze on the curves of my body, examining the parts of me he'd been so meticulous about appraising only the night before. Time had ceased to have meaning. It was just Jared and I and this endless stand-off.

There was no question of trust now. He was free to do what he wanted with my body, and
my God
I yearned for it. I wanted the heat of his hands roaming over my flesh, testing and probing until I came undone. My fortitude was waning as my mind traveled back. I could still feel the ghost of his touches lingering on those areas he'd discovered.

Jared shifted in his seat, leaning back in the leather until it creaked in protest. His eyes were on fire as his hand reached for his belt and my stomach tightened in response. What was he going to do?

The buckle of his belt flashed, catching the light of the room as he separated the two sides. My eyes lingered intently on the very obvious erection under the material of his trousers. There was to be no physical pain yet. I was simply hanging from the ceiling with the ache in my joints for company, but apparently he was going to test my limits with the mental equivalent of torture.

The button on his pants was liberated next, his large hands working the sides slowly as he parted them and moved to the zipper. Each tooth released made my heart pound harder in my chest as my breaths became a shallow pant. Without the restriction of boxers on, he reached in and pulled his cock free. My eyes ran the length of it. I was hardly able to believe it had been accommodated by my body as it stood thick and tall in the muted light of the room.

He didn't say a word and hadn't since he'd checked to see if the cuffs were too tight. It was a game of silence and patience, and watching his hand grip the base of his cock, I knew it was a game I was going to lose. Stroking his length, his thumb brushed over the head as his eyes locked on mine.

Working his hand slowly, he soon filled the room with quiet grunts of pleasure. Each pass of his hand near the head sent his thumb brushing the tip before his wrist moved in a gentle twist downward, building himself up into a frenzy until he had no choice but to increase the speed of his movements.

I tried to stay still. I tried to keep my composure, but with every stroke he gave to his dick, my breath quickened. Our breathing seemed synchronized, a small mewl of need passing my lips as my clit throbbed painfully and my thighs squeezed together.

I memorized his grunts and growls, the sound of his breath as it sawed in and out of his lungs, the quiet pull of skin as his hand picked up the tempo. It was pure torture to watch, and my body craved him. It called out to him as my hands pulled against the cuffs, making the leather cut into my skin and excitement run through my veins.

How did he know? How could he have possibly known that this would make me come unhinged? I was an open book, but this wasn’t something that I’d even considered. Not even I’d known what my reaction would be. He'd managed to get under my skin, and watching him pleasure himself, the muscles in his forearms tensing with every stroke, I felt my pussy clench and whimpered when there was nothing.

I writhed. My body swung from my wrists as I pushed to my toes and my spine bowed towards him. He was getting closer to release with every stroke, the tendons in his neck tightening, his beautiful jaw locking, his chest rising and falling with heaving breaths. Even then, that was all secondary to where my eyes lingered. His balls tensed and his cock throbbed moments before he shouted out and released. I watched as the warm liquid spilled, my tongue running over my dry bottom lip with a whimper.

It was only at that point I allowed myself to close my eyes, recalling a memory from days ago when he'd come inside of me. My thighs locked together, sliding roughly, pressing and creating friction as my clit ached painfully.

“Kit. Stay still.”

I froze in place, a cry of frustration sticking in my throat as my taut nipples felt the bite of the cold. A trickle of sweat weaved its way down my spine, cooling as it rode the bumps of my vertebrae. Everything was designed to taunt me, to push my body to the very limits of its capability.

“You're beautiful like this,” he murmured, buttoning his pants slowly. It took a second for me to realize what he was doing. My eyes mourned the loss of the sight and every fantasy that had entered my mind with the view I'd had. Now, I was stuck with my frustrations, the need to orgasm a tickle in every part of my body where it counted. I had to fight to keep my composure.