Uncharted Territory (The Compass Series Book 3) (5 page)

He strokes his thumb across my cheek, so I meet his eyes. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

I just blink, but he knows I’ve accepted his apology. Maybe I don’t need to be so hard because Rey will protect me. He starts to stroke my hair, knowing how much I like that. Hunter’s been watching our exchange. Why is he still standing there? He’s returned me to my “owner,” and he’s scolded Rey. Surely his work is done. There are a few beats of silence while Rey continues to soothe me. I’m wondering if Hunter will ever leave when he interrupts the less-than-charitable thoughts I’ve started to have about him.

“How long have you been working with her?”

“In earnest?” Rey drags his eyes away from mine, continuing to pet me.

“Of course.”

“I haven’t started yet.”

Rey looks incredibly smug. I wish I could see the look on Hunter’s face. I bet it’s good because he’s been stunned into silence. It’s all I can do to keep from grinning, but I think he’d be able to tell and that would ruin the effect.

“Well, let me know when you do.” He tries and fails to affect the disinterested cool he’s put on so effortlessly before, his voice like polished silver that’s been a bit smudged. “I’d be interested to see how she turns out.”

I hold my breath until the latch on the door catches and then put my hands to the floor to steady myself. A huge grin is lighting up Rey’s handsome face.

“You’re brilliant, India. You should’ve seen the look on that fucker’s face. Oh,
god,
that was satisfying. Come here.”

I come off my knees and deposit myself in Rey’s lap, resting my head on his shoulder and curling my hand into what little of his T-shirt I can gather between my fingers. I’m tired and feeling fragile. It’s nice to be held.

“Are you ready to go home?”

I nod into him.

“We’ll leave in a few minutes. I want Hunter to wonder what I’m doing with you.”

“He knows you’re gay, Rey. Everyone knows you’re gay.” My cheek pushes against his hard chest as I smile. He won’t mind my gentle teasing.

“I know. But he’ll still wonder and he’ll be wanting it to be him in here instead of me. I want to make him suffer.”

I shake my head. Boys.

“Did you like him, India?”

Hunter and Rey don’t seem like the best of friends, so I hesitate. But I know who I’d pick if it came down to it—Rey has nothing to fear—and I won’t lie to him.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t. I’ll let you in on a secret. I think he likes you, too.”

*

“Take off your
clothes.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.” The slight raise of Rey’s eyebrows is a very gentle scolding. “And if you’re going to question me while we’re here, little one, you should say ‘I’m sorry,
sir
.’”

My face gets warm. Right.

Rey had invited me to the city this weekend, and I’d hoped to get in some more of what he calls training. Training sounds like work, though, and while it hasn’t all been effortless, I don’t think of it as work at all. It’s more like the best thing that’s ever happened to me. As far back as I can remember, my head’s been a busy place. So many things to think about, so many pieces of myself duking it out for supremacy. Muddled.

But when Rey’s training me, that’s not how I feel at all. It’s like someone’s finally cleaned the dirty window I’ve been looking through my whole life. Everything is clear. I can show Rey the chaos, and he doesn’t run, doesn’t shrink back, doesn’t tell me to be quiet. He lets me be that way and, if I want help, gives it to me. And in return…

“I’m sorry, sir. You want me to take off my clothes?”

Rey walks farther into the hotel suite we’re staying in and pours a glass of water from a waiting pitcher before sitting on the ultramodern boxy couch in the middle of the living room.

“I do.”

“May I…may I ask why, sir?”

“You may always ask questions. Unless I’ve instructed you otherwise, I want you to ask questions. You’ll learn the difference between information that’s withheld for fun and information withheld that could be dangerous. Anyone who tops you should let you ask questions, especially at first. And if they don’t, run. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” I fight back the urge to roll my lips between my teeth. “Then, why, sir, do you want me to take off my clothes?”

“It’s not a sex thing if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I wasn’t worried. I mean, A) Rey’s as gay as the day is long, and B) he frequently touches me in ways that might look sexual, but don’t quite feel that way.

“It’s a dominance thing. If I have all my clothes on and you don’t, who’s in charge?”

Though I could imagine scenarios in which the opposite might be true, I know what he means. “You, sir.”

“That’s right. So take off your clothes.”

“Yes, sir.”

I shrug off the denim jacket I wore on our way here and peel off my shirt, folding them before laying them on the coffee table. I strip carefully, methodically, until I’m completely naked. Rey’s been studying me the whole time, and now he beckons me toward him before tossing a pillow on the floor at his feet.

“Sit.”

I do and look up at him expectantly. He draws out the collar I’ve become accustomed to—indeed, quite fond of—and fastens it around my neck. Tugging at the small lock, his mouth curls up.

“You know when I put your collar on, your shoulders drop and your breathing gets deeper?”

I didn’t, but now that he’s pointed it out, I can tell it’s true. He doesn’t wait for an answer, but leans forward to undo the clasp in my hair and finger-combs the long locks that fall around my shoulders. When they’re arranged to his satisfaction, he cups the back of my head and urges me in, telling me to rest my head on his thigh and fold my hands in my lap.

Once I’ve done as he’s asked, he strokes my hair. Though part of me is indignant at being treated like something not quite human, it’s smothered by pleasure.

“It’s all right to close your eyes, pet,” he murmurs, and though I make a tiny whimper of protest—
pet
!—I do as I’ve been given permission to. This time I notice the way my muscles relax and my lungs fill more slowly. “For the remainder of the time we’re here, this is how I want you. You’ll be naked, you’ll be mine, and all you need to do is as you’re told. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“I’ll make sure you have time to do your homework, I promise. This isn’t supposed to be stressful. You’re supposed to enjoy this. I value the trust you’ve put in me, and I would never betray that.”

His small, earnest words make my heart feel like it’s going to explode. So little about me has ever been valued. I’ve never been good enough, never been deserving. My throat gets tight as I try to blink back bewildered tears.

“What’s the matter, little one?”

I want to keep the words tucked inside where it’s safe, but if he’s giving so much to me, I can bare this part of myself.

“Why me?”

“Why not you?”

I could be insulted. That’s not exactly complimentary. It’s not like he’s singled me out for special treatment because I’m remarkable in some way. On the other hand, damn straight. Why not me? Why should my default be that I don’t deserve happiness, attention, love? That’s fucked up. I can see clearly enough to know it, but that doesn’t make the feeling go away, not entirely.

Rey doesn’t say anything else, not even remarking on the slight heaves of my shoulders as I try to clear the tears without actually letting them out. Instead of bleeding these horrible and mortifying feelings all over, I let them settle like a bruise under the skin, to be broken down and carried away in bits.

*

On Saturday evening
after we’ve gone out for dinner, Rey tells me he’s going to hurt me.

My breath catches in my throat. “Why, sir?”

He’s sitting on the couch again, his knees spread wide so I can kneel between them on a pillow. I’m naked again, as I’ve been almost all weekend, and my collar is back around my neck. I don’t think I’ve been badly behaved, but it’s taken some getting used to and I haven’t been perfect. I want to be perfect for him.

“It’s not for punishment,” he says, stroking my hair. “You’ve been a very good girl.”

I know it shouldn’t, but those words send a thrill of pleasure through me.
Good girl.

“It’s clear you’re a fan of the D/s stuff, but I thought we might see if you’re a little bit of a masochist. A lot of bottoms are, but not everyone. Even if you aren’t, it’s a good thing to experiment with. I don’t want to send you out into the world not knowing how any of this feels.”

I appreciate his foresight. I’d rather try whatever this is with Rey than with someone I don’t know, don’t trust completely. And I’d rather try it here in this anonymous hotel room where no one will hear or see me than at another play party. It’s not modesty. It’s more…privacy. If I screw up, I don’t want anyone knowing who doesn’t absolutely have to.

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. Now wait here, I’ll be right back.”

He leaves me alone, and I practice being quiet, still, and pretty. Docility has come more naturally to me than I thought it would, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to practice. Especially when I’m not entirely sure what to expect. What is he getting? I don’t have long to find out. A few minutes later, I hear Rey come back into the room, his footfalls sounding on the hardwood of the living room instead of getting silenced by the plush carpet of the bedroom.

“Turn around,” he commands. I face the coffee table behind me and watch as he lays a few objects on the spotless glass. He lets me stare at them, and I wonder if he’s allowing me the time or forcing it on me so I can torture myself. Clever man either way. “Look at me.”

When I meet his gaze, he drops a nod before he starts to speak, like he wanted to make sure he had my attention.

“These are some basics. We’ve got a flogger, a paddle, and a cane. I probably won’t use all of these on you tonight, but we’ll see how it goes. You may touch them if you like.”

I run my fingers through the strands of the flogger, liking the feel of them. Soft. But that’s me exerting force on the object, not the other way around. How would it feel to have those innocent strands fall across my skin with the weight of a person, a Dominant, behind them? I lick my lips, and Rey chuckles softly. I look up at him, a blush rising in my cheeks.

“That’s fine, kitten. I like your curiosity. Nothing to be ashamed of, you’re so much fun to watch.”

Even though he’s told me it’s fine, my embarrassment isn’t snuffed out entirely. It’s smoldering coals, ready to leap into a full-on fire at any second if someone were to add the fuel of derision.

My hand drifts over to the paddle, and I finger the finely stitched leather. It’s smaller than I thought it would be. I’d expected something more like a fraternity paddle, but this is narrower and shorter and somehow the craftsmanship lends an elegance I’d sometimes found lacking during the research Rey’d had me do. I imagine the fall of it on my behind, the backs of my thighs, and there’s a bloom of excitement and anxiety in my stomach and my low belly.

“You should see the expression on your face right now. You look like you’re in love.”

“I might be, sir.”

There’s a vague smile on Rey’s face and one corner curls up further. “We’ll see. Fantasy and reality don’t always match up, and that’s completely okay.”

The cane is next. It’s shorter than what I’d thought of when he’d first mentioned it. It wouldn’t be useful as a walking aid; it’s been made for a singular purpose. This scares me more than the other two. I remember the images I’d seen of the marks it would leave. Dark bruises laid in defined lines across soft flesh. It had made my stomach clench when I’d seen the pictures, and I absentmindedly rub at my butt thinking of how it might feel. The phrase “hurts like a bitch” comes to mind.

There’s nausea on the horizon, distant and indistinct. I can’t bring myself to touch it, curious though I might be. As if he’s reading my mind, Rey takes the cane literally off the table. “Not tonight then, though you should try it sometime.”

I nod my agreement, mumbling a “yes, sir.”