FANTASY’S FEAR
Vonna Harper
® www.loose-id.com
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***** This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable. DISCLAIMER: Many of the acts described in our BDSM/fetish titles can be dangerous. Loose Id® publishes these stories for members of the community in which these acts are known and practiced safely. If you have an interest in the pleasures and pains you find described herein, we urge you to seek out advice and guidance from knowledgeable persons. Please do not try any new sexual practice, whether it be fire, rope, or whip play, without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id® nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.
Fantasy’s Fear Vonna Harper This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published by Loose Id LLC 1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924 Carson City NV 89701-1215 www.loose-id.com
Copyright © August 2007 by Vonna Harper All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-533-3 Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Ann M. Curtis Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter
www.loose-id.com
Chapter One
She ran, stumbling over the uneven ground, trying to steady herself, only to be jerked forward by the rope wrapped around her wrists. Shaking off the sweat running into her eyes, she focused on the horse and rider ahead of her. She barely noticed the massive animal with its prancing legs and proud head held high. Instead, she concentrated on the rider. The man only occasionally looked back at her, and his eyes told her nothing of his thoughts, his plans. Mostly, she stared at his broad and naked back. A jerk on her tethered wrists forced her to acknowledge the rope leading from her bonds to him. She was his prisoner, his possession; helpless, forced to move at his pace. She had no past or future, no present beyond this moment, no emotions except for those controlled by sensation. Her thighs burned, and her calves threatened to cramp, but between her legs, sexual heat rolled. And yet, she wasn’t afraid. Instead, she embraced this journey. If she knew only one thing, it was that he wanted her for what she was: a female. And as his captive, she’d submit. Willingly. Happily.
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The alarm clock rang, and Lorelle woke: hot, sweaty, and tangled up in the bed sheets. She wiped a hand down her face and looked at the clock. Six a.m. Damn. This time, the dream had been so erotic, she’d barely gotten three hours of sleep. She was going to be as tired as shit today. Lorelle sighed. Just the same, she sat up and gave her pillow a pat before getting to her feet and walking into the bathroom, leaving the incredible dream behind.
“You look like crap.” “Gee, thanks,” attorney Lorelle Stapleton of the county’s D.A. office shot back. She should be insulted, but her fellow lawyer was right. No matter that she’d slapped on more makeup than usual before coming to work this morning. Her effort hadn’t come close to hiding the fact that, thanks to her decidedly erotic dream, she’d barely slept last night. “Just being honest,” Kayla countered. “What, getting ready for the Blackstone trial giving you fits? Don’t worry. We’ve got more than enough evidence to fry his ass.” “I always get uptight just before a trial starts, same as you.” Lorelle shrugged. “Nothing I can’t handle. If the phones would stop ringing this afternoon, I’ll have the time I need to tie up the last of the loose ends.” “Then you’re not having insomnia over that dirt bag. What is it?” Kayla gave her a stern look, her gaze searching. Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “Don’t tell me you’re getting some. If you’ve been holding out on me --” “I haven’t, believe me.” Kayla sighed. “Me either. Like when will either of us find an eligible man as long as we’re doing what we are? Every member of the male sex we come into contact with is -- oh, let’s see.” Kayla held up a finger for each profession she ticked off. “Behind bars, a cop, or another lawyer. And you know our pact: ‘No sleeping with the enemy.’“
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“Cops aren’t the enemy, at least not always,” Lorelle replied. “But you’re right about one thing; I wouldn’t trust a defense attorney as far as I could drop-kick him. As for the socalled males who haunt the courthouse, they’re either married or up to their eyeballs in alimony payments, to say nothing of decades’ old student loans.” “Okay, so you’re as hot and bothered as I am. Is that it, not sleeping because you spend the night going through the batteries for your sex toys?” Even though the office door was closed and the conversation should be private, Lorelle put her finger to her lips. “I plead the fifth on that. I’m not going to tell you everything about my sex life! Mostly, I need a vacation. A long one.” “Me, too. And not alone. Gotta throw in a tall, dark and hard -- mostly hard, right? -male.” Occasionally, Karla’s frankness embarrassed her, but getting to know her co-worker had helped Lorelle open up. Well, that and the fact that they spent their days and too many evenings trying to put the city’s underbelly behind bars, and that had pretty much spelled the end of her conservative Midwest childhood. These days, she too called a spade a spade. “At an island retreat full of naked native males whose only wish is to cater to us.” “Now you’re getting there.” Kayla’s look was a little too eager. “Okay, about those naked males. What kind of catering did you have in mind?” “What do you think? Of the carnal variety.” “Hmm.” Karla grinned. “Strange, but that’s exactly the thought I had. Me, I’d love to turn into a high maintenance broad. You know, needing a lot of massages and tropical drinks followed by long and lingering sex. Or short and hard, I ain’t picky. If the stud doesn’t perform according to my exact standards, I’ll send him to the dungeon and snap my fingers, indicating I’m ready for the next in line. Yeah, that’s it. And while we’re at it, put a switch in my hand so I can keep the studs in line. After all, I’m the mistress of this show. What about you, you ever want your own herd of sex slaves?”
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Sex slave. If I’m the one wearing the label and chains. “’Fraid not. I don’t have a dom bone in my body, which is probably why last night’s dream took the turn it did.” “What turn?” Kayla was fairly drooling. Lorelle almost laughed. This shit really turned her friend on. “What happened?” “That’s the hell of it, it didn’t last long enough for anything to happen, but --” “Is this going to soak my panties? Go on, tell me everything you remember.” “Promise you won’t blab.” “To who -- whom -- whatever? Spill, pronto.” “All right,” Lorelle said, although she probably should keep this to herself. “This stud on horseback had thrown some ropes on me and was pulling me behind him.” “What stud?” “I didn’t ask his name, all right. I’ve been pulling the same hunk into most of my sex fantasies -- you know, the Tarzan-on-steroids I’ve told you about?” After Kayla’s nod, she continued. “It was him. After I’d put said sex toys aside and fallen asleep, he showed up in my dream.” She concentrated. “We were both naked. Much as I wanted to ask him where he was taking me, I didn’t. I wasn’t scared, at least I don’t remember being afraid. Instead, I could hardly wait to get to wherever we were going. It was going to be good, hot and good; well, at least I was pretty sure it was going to be. It was my dream, after all.” “You were his captive?” “Oh, yes!” Lorelle pretended to pant. “Maybe he was your master or dom?” Picking up a file, she fanned herself. “Don’t make me drool.” “Oh, that’s rich!” Kayla clapped her hands and laughed. “Lady assistant district attorney and closet submissive. Hey! I know! That’s what I’ll get you for your birthday, your very own master, a stud who knows how to push all your buttons.”
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Master. She’d just opened her mouth to tell Kayla what she thought of that when her phone shrilled. “Master,” Lorelle muttered over her shoulder, because she wasn’t quite ready to meet Kayla’s eyes. “Just make sure he brings rope and cuffs and a spreader bar for my legs,” she blurted out, before she could stop herself. “Oh shit, you have been giving this thought, haven’t you.”
Are you kidding? What comes after thinking: desperately needing? More than needing, trying to make it happen -- safely. “Why do you think I keep having those dreams?” she asked, picking up the phone.
***** A barn. A barn with rafters overhead and a rope dangling from one of them. Her wrists still tied together in front, Lorelle stood beneath the rope. Slivers of sunlight made their way into the barn between the old boards and glided over her captor’s body. He stood several feet away, his arms crossed over his muscled chest, legs spread. He wasn’t touching her -- and hadn’t yet -- although Lorelle sensed the potential, the threat and promise. Her breathing came in quick bursts, and her legs burned, proof that she’d recently stopped running after him and his horse. How she’d become his prisoner -- and what he intended to do to her -- were vital questions. Yet with him so close, she could barely even think those two thoughts, much less anything else. “You want this,” he said. “Every line of your body says you do.” “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I want,” she told her dream man/lover. “Yes, I do. Just as you know me.” What did he mean by that? Her dream had never progressed this far before. “What do you want from me?” “Not me, Lorelle. This is all about your desires.”
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Thankful this was her dream and she controlled her fate, she’d been on the brink of thanking him when she stiffened. Was the light in the barn becoming stronger or were her eyes adjusting? She blinked. The man wasn’t young, but he wasn’t old, either. Maybe early thirties. His belly was nonexistent, and his muscles were sharply carved. He carried his nudity with strength and pride, as would any man blessed with such height and breadth. His cock lay easy between his legs, waiting for a reason to come to life. His eyes, his incredible eyes, were either dark brown or black, and there seemed to be no end to their depth. They more than spoke to her; they stroked and caressed, challenged. Found her core. Shit. That was going deep. Since when were her dreams analytical? “Look up,” he ordered. “See what I’ve prepared for you. It’s exactly what you’ve been waiting for.” He was responsible for the overhead rope, was he? “No! I’d never --” “Don’t! Don’t lie to either of us.” I’m not, she wanted to say, but he was right. Her every nerve hummed: she was loose and soft and hot, wet with wanting and waiting. “I don’t want to.” “I’ll hold you to that. Step one, show me what you want to have happen.” No, she didn’t want this responsibility! She needed to be putty in his hands, manipulated and manhandled. “Go deep inside yourself. What do you find?” Fear and excitement, along with a million other emotions. Instead of telling him that, she shocked herself by lifting her arms over her head so she could touch the overhead rope. “Tighten it. Make it so I can’t get away.” His mouth quirked, and his cock started to harden. “Once I have, there’ll be no turning away. No stopping.” Not sure whether she was going to scream or remain silent, Lorelle made a decision. She rose onto her toes and gripped the rope. She looked at her captor and licked her lips.
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This was a dream. Her dream. She couldn’t get hurt, because she controlled it.
“At least it’s payday,” Kayla pointed out the next morning when they wound up in the conference room at the same time. Kayla had come by to pick up some notes she’d left behind, and Lorelle was using the room to prepare for a meeting with what she hoped would be a key witness. Wanting nothing more than to return to last night’s dream so she could take things to the next level, to one hopefully punctuated by fucking this time, plain and simple, Lorelle opened her briefcase. Promising herself that she’d program her mind to think in that direction when she went to bed tonight, she tried to focus on the briefcase’s contents. “Damn, what a week, and it’s only Wednesday! Anyone tell me I don’t earn my salary, and I’ll punch his lights out. Are we still on for drinks tonight?” “You better believe it. I’d be running screaming out of here if it wasn’t for that.” Since her witness was due momentarily, Lorelle struggled to put on her game face. “You aren’t the only one. I swear I’m going to do nothing except sleep if I make it to Saturday.” “What about dreaming? Maybe choreographing a little fantasy BDSM?”
How did you know? Lorelle looked at her. “Put a cork in it, will you. I’m sorry I said anything.” “Come on, there’s nothing wrong with a little fantasy.” Kayla shrugged. “In fact, the more the healthier. At least, that’s what I read somewhere.” “BDSM? That’s pretty heavy.” “Depends on how far one goes.” Kayla’s pager sounded, and she gave it a middle finger salute when she saw the call number and turned it to vibrate. “Say, what about the hunk on horseback? You still dream about him?”
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“Yes. Only last night we were in a barn, and I was encouraging him to tie me to a rafter.” Kayla fanned herself with her hand. “You’re killing me!” Her pager vibrated. “Shit, duty calls. The first drink’s on you, right?” Technically, the first drink was Kayla’s responsibility this week, but Lorelle didn’t say anything, figuring it all came out in the end. Besides, thanks to Kayla’s exit, she was alone in the utilitarian conference room, free to ponder what might have happened after her dream man finished securing her to the rafter. What would it feel like to be rendered helpless, to have a mysterious man circle her with a predatory look in his eye, to touch her when and where and how he wanted? Maybe he’d carry a whip, not a monster one, of course, but a lightweight tool capable of caressing and sometimes stinging her flesh. He’d slap her buttocks and breasts, maybe order her to spread her legs so he could concentrate on her labia, even her clit. She’d moan and beg, not to have him stop, but to take her further and further. And when she was certain she couldn’t stand any more, he’d let her down so he could spreadeagle her on a bed. Then he’d climb onto it, kneel between her outspread legs, and run his knuckles over her inner thighs -“Miss Stapleton? Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. The receptionist said I could come right in.” “That -- that’s just fine.” Praying her cheeks weren’t flushed but guessing they were, Lorelle stood and extended her hand toward the dirt bag’s middle-aged landlady. “I want to thank you for coming. Let me assure you that you’re doing right by testifying as to what you overheard when you were at Mr. Markham’s apartment trying to collect the rent. I have just a few questions to ask you. This shouldn’t take long.” Just long enough for me to shake off
this fantasy I so easily fell into.
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Only, before long -- and thanks to a considerable outlay of money -- her dreams were going to become reality. That’s what she hadn’t told Karla, or anyone else. Fantasy was all right, up to a point, but there came a time when a person had to take the next step. One she could hardly wait to start.
After work, Lorelle and Kayla met up at the lounge attached to the Wayward Hotel near the center of town. A clean and respectable establishment with mostly white-collar patrons, they had initially selected the bar because they’d thought there might be an abundance of intelligent and well-heeled men paying it a visit as well. However, experience had taught them that although that was true, the majority were so wrung out by their highstress careers that they were more interested in getting loaded than laid. And that was just fine with Lorelle as she joined Kayla at the bar. If things went her way, her dream captor might pop her cherry tonight. Not that she had a cherry left to pop, figuratively speaking. And if her erotic dream failed to materialize, she had something even better to look forward to. Well, at least she prayed things would turn out the way she hoped and needed and had paid for. “You look marginally better than you did yesterday,” Karla told her once their glasses of white wine had been placed in front of them. “Sorry I didn’t have time to tell you that earlier when we passed in the hallway.” “Marginally? Doesn’t sound like a compliment.” Karla shrugged. “Your cheeks were flushed this morning. Must have had a little virtual fun in the sack last night, huh?” “Depends on your definition of fun. Progress is being made, but stud-studly and I haven’t gotten to the main event. For someone I conjured up out of my imagination, he isn’t
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being very cooperative. Instead of doing what I want him to, he insists on going at his own pace.” Lorelle sighed. “Such is the way of dreams.” “That’s what makes him a dom. Albeit a make-believe one. So what do you want to have happen once he’s got you strung up in that barn? Come on, I swear I won’t say anything to anyone. Believe me, I can use all the material I can get for my own solo nights.” Thank goodness the overhead TV was blaring out a basketball game. “There’s not much point in making a list of what I want make-believe man to do to me because I don’t have any control over my dreams.” “Maybe, but what if you prime the well, so to speak, with a well-directed session with your sex toys ahead of time? If you’re like me, it takes equal parts vibration and imagination to get me off.” “If I make myself climax all I want to do afterward is sleep.” Lorelle took a moment to savor her wine. “But if I’m hot and bothered when I go to bed, well, that’s when the dream gets interesting.” Karla took a healthy sip of her own. “So what is your role in this here dream? I’m trying to figure out whether you’re really a candidate for a BDSM sub.” “Have you always been this nosy?” “Yep. Spill.” Against all wisdom and obviously influenced by the wine, she dove into her imagination. “I want him to handle me, to touch me everywhere, to be helpless to stop him. I want to be tied up and wearing a gag, maybe a blindfold. I don’t know what he’s going to do next, but I’m not afraid, just excited.” “Holy shit.” Karla stared at her empty wine glass as if she had no idea how that had happened. “I’m getting hot and bothered just listening to you. So let’s get specific about this touching business. What can’t you stop him from doing?”
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Fucking me. Over and over again. Every way there is and then some. But as close as she and her co-worker had become in the two years they’d been working together, Lorelle wasn’t ready to expose all her secrets. Nice girls didn’t want to become some man’s sex slave. Oh, they might occasionally fantasize as a way of revving up a sex session, but it was all in good, clean fun. Only, she didn’t want fun. She needed her arms stretched over her head, spreader bar forcing her legs apart while he -- whoever he was -- did everything he wanted to her, and she gasped and moaned and screamed. While she came. Relentlessly.
Helplessly. “I can’t stop him from doing anything he wants,” she said, leaving her other fantasies unvoiced. “Look, I get all the being in control and more I could possibly want on the job. The moment I turn the key to my chastity belt over to some man, I’m putty in his hands.” “A true sub, then.” “A true sub,” she whispered. Like I insisted on when I forked over the big bucks to
Fantasies Unlimited for my own fantasy role play.
From where he sat at a table near the back of the bar, Arken Blacemore had a fairly clear view of the two women. The distance and TV made it impossible for him to hear what they were saying, but because another Fantasies Unlimited staff member had gotten close enough to Lorelle to attach a bug to her purse the other day, he didn’t need to be near. Despite what she’d said about being a sub, he knew she was still fighting or, more precisely, questioning her nature. Of course, it was possible that her hesitation was part of the game she was playing. He’d seen it before: broads pretending they didn’t want to be
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manhandled, when in truth they’d give up five years of their lives to be under some man’s thumb, even if they had to pay for it. Lorelle was in a dangerous place, on the brink of something she didn’t fully understand. If she went into it ignorant with blinders on, turning herself over to a man -- no matter under what conditions -- could destroy her. On the other hand, done right, she was in for the ride of her life. Not that he cared as long as his own itches were scratched, to say nothing of padding his bank account. “What do you think?” Arken turned toward the other man at the table. He’d known Takeo for more years than he cared to think about, and although Takeo could be a pig, he never minced words, something Arken prided himself on as well. “She’s sniffing around BDSM all right, but she doesn’t know what the hell she’s in for.” “But you’re going to teach her, right?” He shrugged. “It’s what she paid for. She’s my assignment. I’ll do what I was told.” “Like hell. You didn’t have to take the assignment.” “And the point of that would be?” Takeo’s harsh laugh came as no surprise. “Ha, I made you say it, didn’t I? If you’re going to devote some time with a customer, you might as well get something out of it, right?” “Right.” “And because beneath that handsome exterior of yours, you’re a bastard, you’re going to take this customer to the edge without giving a damn about the consequences for her.” Another shrug. “Like I said, it’s what she paid for. I’m here to fulfill her wishes.” “The hell you are. You’re in it for yourself, and you alone. I knew that when I recruited you. Ever since your little run-in with a bullet, your bastard side has really come out.” “No reason for it not to.”
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This time, Takeo’s laugh made Arken’s ears ring. As far as he knew, the owners of Fantasy Unlimited believed he’d gone to work for them and accepted the kind of assignments he did for one reason; he loved sex. Takeo, however, saw beneath the surface. Sure, getting paid to bonk one broad after another was a hell of a gig, but not every man succeeded at going about it the way he did. There were too many things that could go wrong and end in disaster, especially when one indulged in the BDSM scene, where trust and discretion were of the utmost importance. The owners had taken him through a rigorous application and education process and constantly monitored his behavior. So far none of the female clients had complained about the way he dealt with them, and he’d started getting bonuses for a job well done. After all, how many men could be trusted to treat women like sex slaves and not be tempted to take things to the next level -- a potentially dangerous level? He was tempted to cross the line from play to reality all right, not by a power trip, but because of a need he’d discovered that ran so deep, even he didn’t understand its source. Takeo had never said anything, but the man clearly sensed something serious was going on inside him. That’s why Arken worked at keeping his emotional distance from the other man. He wasn’t about to risk laying himself open. No way would he allow someone else to know more about him than he did. Just the thought scared him. Shaking off the temptation to get into self-analysis, Arken turned his attention back to Lorelle. She was attractive, maybe five foot six, with long arms and legs. He couldn’t tell much about her breasts because of her suit jacket, but he’d soon take care of that. He was partial to long hair, but she had one of those short, highlighted styles that needed cutting God knows how often. At least it didn’t look as if half a can of spray had been used on it. Unfortunately, she was too far away for him to have a clue about her eye color. They appeared to be large, which turned him on, with thick eyebrows. Give her Brownie points for not getting into the plucking, waxing thing.
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What intrigued him the most, however, was that, on the surface, she didn’t look anything like the creature she’d admitted to being in the profile she’d filled out for Fantasies Unlimited. Her power outfit and modern hairstyle said female professional, not desperate-tobe submissive. But then, most people looking at him with his clothes on wouldn’t guess that he’d taken a bullet to the chest and that that slug had turned his life around, either. He didn’t understand the change he’d undergone. Maybe, if he’d opened up with the shrink he’d been sent to in the aftermath of his shooting, he’d know why he’d morphed from a dedicated, if ordinary, cop into a man who needed to control women, who got off on being called master, who didn’t give a damn about those women as long as they gave him what he craved -- power. Hell, maybe the transfusions he’d been given while in ICU had come from some dom with a private dungeon filled with chained women.
Enough! This wasn’t about him. It was about his current assignment. He concentrated on Lorelle. If she truly embraced the BDSM lifestyle, they’d have a hell of a good time before he cut her loose and walked away. But if she lacked the qualities a sub needed to survive and thrive under a master’s thumb, better she learn before she ventured past the safe environment of Fantasy Unlimited into the real thing. “So what’s the plan?” Takeo asked. “You gonna pick her up tonight?” “No, I’m waiting for the weekend. According to her application, her imagination fires up once she no longer has to think about what she does for a living. Right now she’s debriefing when she needs to be relaxed. Looks like she thoroughly researched our business and is convinced of our professionalism. What was it she wrote? Oh yeah, that she trusts us ‘to make the experience memorable’. Whatever we decide to do and when, she’s all for it. I’m thinking, yank her out of her world and throw her into mine when she’s most receptive.” “And you’re going to do that how?” “Through the power of suggestion.”
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Chapter Two
Hands tied again behind her back, only this time, her wrists crossed over each other. Her captor had also looped a rope around her waist and fastened her wrists to the rope, forcing her elbows to remain bent. The naked man she’d spent countless nighttime hours with had hold of her hair and was using his grip on it to propel her along a path. He forced her to stare straight ahead so she couldn’t sneak a glance at him, but he was so close that she easily judged his size. Big. Strong. Who are you? she longed to ask. Do you exist, or did I dream you up? “Time to wake up.” Shocked awake by the sound of a male voice when there shouldn’t be one, Lorelle rolled onto her side and swung her feet over the edge of her bed. Dream remnants still swirled through her, making it difficult to determine what reality was. It was as if she remained in limbo between fantasy and reality. Sitting up, she took note of the faint light coming through the barely open bathroom door. The clock on her headboard said it was a little after 2 a.m.
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Remembering the deep tones that had wakened her, she started to shake her head at how vivid her dreams had become. If she didn’t get a handle on things, fantasy man would grow a real cock. Too much wine tonight. That’s what it was, the damned wine. She’d even forgotten to shut off the bathroom light. On the brink of standing so she could plod into the bathroom, she sensed a presence in the room. Near panic, she brought a hand to her throat and looked around. Someone was sitting in the chair she used to throw her clothes on. A man. “Don’t scream,” he said. “You invited me.” “What? Look, I have a gun. You’d --” “No, you don’t.” He hadn’t moved a muscle and was far enough away that he didn’t present an immediate danger. When she should have been running from the room, screaming, she instead found that there was a quiet depth to his voice that calmed her. If she was thinking more clearly, she’d say it was almost hypnotic. It also unnerved her the way his voice seemed to be stroking her nerves. “How -- how did you get in?” He nodded at the nearby window. “You like fresh air when you sleep. Don’t worry. I didn’t damage the screen.” Between the lingering dream images, what wine remained in her system, and the shock of sharing her bedroom with a dark male presence, it all became too much to grasp. Don’t
panic, she warned herself. Stay calm and in control, somehow. Damn, she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to sleep with the window open again. Suddenly, what he’d said previously penetrated the sleep-induced fog of her brain. “What do you mean, I invited you?” “Maybe an invitation isn’t the operative word.” He cocked his head. “I trust you remember signing a contract with a certain organization that caters to people’s secret desires. I’d be the first to admit that their prices are insane, but we have a lot of satisfied customers.” “Org -- you mean Fantasies Unlimited?”
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“Would you like to see my business card?” This was insane! Lorelle rubbed her head, trying to think. Or was it? Now that her eyes had grown accustomed to the semi-darkness, she had to admit she couldn’t have picked a more perfect specimen for the job -- if that’s who he truly was. The man was too big for the chair, his legs outstretched and arms dangling. He appeared to be wearing a T-shirt, and either shorts or his underwear. She blinked. Please let him be wearing shorts. His hair was long and dark brown. Maybe black. Could she ask this man to strip down to nothing and get on a horse or step into a barn? Maybe then she could get rid of the strange feeling of déjà vu that he and dream-man were one and the same. “This is it?” she managed. “How things are going to start between us? I thought -- I don’t know, I guess I thought you’d call, and we’d set up a time for the -- the role play to begin.” “That’s not the way I operate.” He was standing up, straightening, arms at his sides and bare feet on her pale carpet. When he took a step toward her, she scrambled back onto the bed. Then he took another, and she kicked herself for not running out of the room and the house for help when she had the chance. Shit. Shit, talk about tall and broad and strong and dark. And potentially very, very dangerous. Half a dozen slow steps brought him to her. He extended a hand. “It’s time for you to relax, to cast off everything you’ve been and done before, and let me take over.” “Take -- over?” How had her hand wound up in his, and how was it that his heat seeped into her? She felt -- what? -- unbelievably loose and relaxed, calm and eager at the same time. Nevertheless, she had to say something. The guy assumed too much. “If you say that, you don’t know me. Do you know what I do for a living, the kind of responsibility --” “This isn’t about your career. It’s about your needs.”
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My needs. You’ve come because you want to put me first? If so, thank you, thank you. “I’m trying to understand.” “You have unresolved issues, questions demanding to be answered. Otherwise, you’ll never know who you really are. And if you really didn’t want to know who you truly are, you wouldn’t have contacted Fantasies Unlimited.” “I guess.” “You don’t want to go through life wondering if you missed something vital -- or get into something with the potential for danger without first educating yourself.” “No, I -- I wouldn’t want to do that.” “Relax, Lorelle. Let it happen. The wheels have started turning.” Smiling faintly, he squeezed her hand. His eyes never left hers. The longer she returned his gaze, the stronger the sense that this was right, utterly right. She couldn’t think beyond the connection between them, could barely breathe. “All right,” she whispered as the word trust echoed within her being. Against all reason and everything her career stood for, she lay back down on the bed. She suddenly felt as if she hadn’t slept in a week, and she closed her eyes. At first she felt nothing beyond the stranger’s presence, but then she lost contact with the room. No longer aware of her sheets, she drifted. “Are you still with me?” His voice slipped over her like a soft breeze. “I -- think so.” “Good. Listen to me. Let my voice be the only thing you hear. I’ve hypnotized you because I need you to be absolutely relaxed and in touch with your inner self. No hiding from the truth about yourself. You can do that, can’t you?” “The truth? Yes.” “It’s really quite simple,” the gentle sing-song voice continued. “I need us both to have no doubt that this is the journey you want to go on. You want to give up control, don’t you?”
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“Yes.” “To have someone who knows what he’s doing in charge of your world, your body?”
Her body. Turned over to a powerful and knowledgeable man. “Yes. I’ve dreamed of that for -- for so long.” “It’s no longer a dream. As soon as you nod your agreement and acceptance, that journey will begin.” Eyes closed, she could see him in her mind’s eye. She nodded. “Ready.” She sighed. “So ready.” “Good.” Maybe she was only imagining it, but she’d almost swear she was being picked up and held against a hard chest. Was that a door opening and closing? She felt them going down some stairs, another door opened, and then she was placed -- in the back seat of a car? It was all so fuzzy… She drifted some more, content because she didn’t have to be responsible for whatever was happening, or about to happen. The man who’d walked into her bedroom and life was in charge. He’d -He’d what? It didn’t matter. Nothing did except his strength and her willingness. Sighing, she smiled as darkness surrounded her. Surrender. Happy surrender.
The next thing she knew, when she was awake and able to think coherently again, was that she was standing with her hands tied behind her back, her wrists crossed over each other, just as they’d been in her dream. Another rope went around her waist, and her wrists were fastened to the rope, forcing her elbows to remain bent.
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The man she’d spoken to at 2 a.m. had hold of her hair and was using his grip to propel her along a path. He forced her to stare straight ahead so she couldn’t sneak a glance at him, but he stood so close that she easily judged his size. Big. Strong. Naked. Except, this time, instead of being a dream, this felt very, very real. Her head hurt from where he gripped her hair so tight. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, jerking her hair to emphasize his question. Her eyes smarted. “It’s why you go looking for the same kinds of dreams every night. I’ll bet this scenario looks eerily like your dreams, doesn’t it? Don’t lie. You told me what your dream was about right before I woke you up.” Lorelle startled. No, she couldn’t have. She wouldn’t even tell Kayla about most of it. “Guess what? Dream time’s over.” Alarmed, she tried to look at him but another tug, this one so sharp it brought tears to her eyes, kept her focused on where they were going, her eyes trained down on the path they traversed. “Got your attention, do I?” he demanded. “Good. From now on that’s exactly what I want. To spell it out plain and simple, I’m in control.” Control? Goddamn it, she didn’t give control over… Wait, she’d paid for his time and skill and inventiveness and commanding presence, hadn’t she? When she’d bought that special ‘Find Yourself and Your Secret Life’ package from Fantasies Unlimited. She’d willingly agreed to relinquish control in exchange for his help in helping her find herself. Who she was. What she wanted. She’s paid for the experience. She’d even paid for his body. Trying to concentrate on what it all meant, though, was nearly impossible when she discovered she was dressed in an outfit she’d never seen before. With everything else going on, she’d just now noticed what she had on. She’d thought she’d still be in her pajamas. This outfit was anything but. It consisted of a nearly transparent low cut, white blouse and a dark
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red skirt that was so short it barely covered the essentials. The rough cotton rasped against her buttocks with each step she took. She groaned. Dear Lord, she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Shit, he’d done that! Determined not to let things get the better of her, she concentrated on freeing her hands. Nothing happened. Not even a fraction of slack. Digging her toes into the ground to stop their forward progression didn’t help, either. It just made her stumble along beside him, almost losing her balance. The reality was different from her fantasies, frighteningly different.
It had started then, had it? The fantasy she’d signed up for? She hadn’t been so sure back home. She’d been trying to figure everything out when she… Lorelle frowned. She couldn’t remember what had happened. “Not quite what you had in mind? Too bad.” The man didn’t sound at all sorry or sympathetic. “In case you’ve missed the obvious, I’m directing everything. And you, you’re going to do what I want.” “No! Damn it, no!” A sharp slap to her buttocks made her gasp. When she tried to aim a sideways kick at him, he slapped her again, harder this time. “Yes, damn it!” he barked. “Let me spell things out, Lorelle. You’ve been having a hell of a lot of fun mentally exploring this capture and bondage thing, asking yourself whether it’s something you’d like to get into and trying to figure out how to safely and financially explore the possibilities. I’d say I appreciate that it worked out so that I’m part of your exploration, but there isn’t much I’m appreciative of beyond being alive. I’m here. That’s the only thing you need to concern yourself with for the foreseeable future.” “You -- how -- ow!” She didn’t have to see her left buttock to know it carried his palm print to match her right one.
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“More spelling out. You’re done ordering men, either real or imagined, around. Shoe’s now on the other foot.” A smirk entered his voice. “Not that we’re wearing any.” “I don’t understand,” she said, trying to grasp everything he was telling her. She prided herself on being a quick learner. She wasn’t going to antagonize him, at least not deliberately. Damn, he could spank. “Exactly.” Pulling her to a halt via his hold on her hair, he began massaging the sensitive flesh he’d just punished. Her heart continued to jump from a combination of excitement and fear, but there was no denying that his manipulation of her ass felt good. “Exactly what?” she finally managed to ask, when she was capable of thinking again. Hmm, his hands felt so good…. “That you don’t fully understand what’s taken place. I could give you a long and boring explanation of how Fantasies Unlimited operates, but for the present, it pleases me to keep you in the dark. That way, I’ll always be at least one step ahead of you.” After giving her ass a light pat, he ran the side of his hand into her crack. Gasping, she stood on her toes. “A few pointers. I’m a bastard; I take pride in wearing the label. Also, there’s nothing make believe or watered down about the education you’re about to receive.” Leaning close, he glided a nail over her labia. “Playacting bores the shit out of me.” Oh Lord, what an unnerving sensation! No matter how much she fought to ignore what he was doing to her, she leaned forward a little and widened her stance, increasing his access to her private parts. A bastard, was he? She panted. With just a few touches he already had her hot and wet and ready to fuck. “Hmm.” His thumb and forefinger lie buried deep and warm along the length of her crack. “Coming to see my side of things, aren’t you? Tell me. What does it feel like?” She couldn’t come up with the words to describe the sensation. The contact between them was so intimate. Her mother would have called it nasty -- worse than nasty -- but what was so wrong with nasty?
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“What does it feel like?” He punctuated his question by releasing her hair and shoving his hand against the back of her head, pushing her even more off balance. Although she struggled to remain on her feet, she would have fallen if he hadn’t suddenly jerked her upright. At the same time, he pulled his hand out of its resting place. “Looks like answering’s a moot point because I’m no longer doing what I just was.” Overwhelmed, she remained where he’d positioned her. No man had ever treated her thusly before, and she was having a hard time assimilating what he was doing to her, how it made her feel. He’d stepped back a bit. The notion of running away flitted in and out of her mind. She felt her bound hands and the heat from the large man behind her. She despaired. What chance did she have with her hands useless behind her? Some birds sang in a nearby tree, and she heard the wind sighing through the trees. Hell, she didn’t even know where she was.
Look at him. Do it. Summoning up her courage, she raised her head. The man had just stepped to her side, and she studied him, this man who’d stormed into her world. As she’d relayed to Kayla, her fantasy captor/owner was built like an overblown Tarzan, pushing seven feet with a build that would have put a world-class body builder to shame. That Tarzan, though, didn’t have a tan so much as that was how nature had forged him while reality -- reality? -- the man who held her captive had obviously spent a lot of time in the sun, as the slightly dry skin around his eyes attested. In contrast, his belly and buttocks were paler. There was, though, one common denominator the man and Tarzan had in common. Nudity. Glorious, unselfconscious, nudity. The man was talking again, and she struggled to pay attention to what he was saying.
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“Not that it’s particularly important,” he said, “but my name’s Arken. You’re going to call me Master, because I like the sound of it, and it fits where things are going between us. There are a lot of other things I could tell you, but like I said, right now I don’t want to.” She wasn’t sure she remembered him saying anything to that effect. Not that it mattered at the moment. She’d never devoted any time or energy to determining exactly what her dream captor sounded like -- he’d spoken so little, it hadn’t seemed important. When Arken -- she’d be damned if she’d call him Master yet -- spoke, his voice wormed its way into her. There was a certain weightless quality to him. It wasn’t that he was skinny and without muscles -- far from it -- but she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d just up and disappeared, like her dream lover. She tried to tell herself that that served as proof that he was a figment of her imagination. She frowned. Except that she lacked the creativity to come up with such a take-charge man. She came from a politically correct world where men, darn them, asked permission before so much as giving her a peck on the cheek. In stark contrast, Arken hadn’t given her preferences a single thought before ramming his hand -A decidedly on-edge twitch of what lay between her legs warned her not to go there. Unfortunately, the only alternative was continuing her study of Arken with his long, shaggy dark brown hair and stubble shadowing his chin and cheeks. Looking at him was dangerous, when a true submissive looked down at the ground and not at her master. She’d just turned her gaze downward when Arken cupped his inattentive cock in his hand and aimed it at her. She struggled to place her hands in front of her, but they remained firmly tethered to the small of her back. She whimpered. He could take her right here, right now, and she’d have no way of stopping him. She shook her head. She wasn’t his total captive yet. He couldn’t just mount and have at her. But close. Damn close. She looked up. His eyes said it was a distinct possibility. She’d agreed to this? It had been her idea?
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“Starting to get it, are you.” Releasing his cock, he killed the distance between them. She tried to turn to the side, but he easily looped his fingers through her bent elbow and drew her against his side. Her left hip pressed into his thigh, and against all sane reasoning, she longed to rest her head on his arm. To hand him her body. “It’s easy now,” he continued. “I’ve no need in pushing you too far too fast, but eventually we’ll get there, because that’s something I’m damn good at: breaking down a woman. Not many people are given the opportunity to turn themselves completely over to someone else. This way, we’ll both learn how you handle it.”
What do you care how I handle this? She stood there shaking and confused while he fastened yet another rope to her wrists. He drew its loose length between her legs, wrapped the end around his hand, and struck off. Despite her inner turmoil, she stumbled along after him, the rope pressing against her labia, keeping her awareness of that part of her body on high. She was being led somewhere, a dumb animal on its way to slaughter, maybe a prisoner headed for jail. It didn’t matter whether she kept her legs close together or spread them as wide as she could without risking losing her footing, the pressure on her sex continued. Yet, incredibly, instead of hating being handled this way, she buried herself in every step she took. This was her show, after all. She’d paid for this once in a lifetime experience. And if her captor showed no sign of weakness and very little of humanity, surely that would change if she so ordered. Wouldn’t it? Lorelle cast an uneasy glance at the man ahead of her. If she suddenly yelled “uncle,” would he let her go? Did she want to be free? In some respects, yes, she acknowledged. Turning her body over to someone else was a frightening thought, and yet hadn’t she long wanted to do what she was at this moment? If
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only things were cut and dried, as simple as deciding what to have for dinner. But this was a big-time decision. One she’d made back when she’d signed up with Fantasies Unlimited months ago. Did she still have the courage to go through with it?
***** Where were they going? And what was going to happen once they got there? It felt like they’d been walking forever. Lorelle knew she was walking in real time. Her legs were warm from the sun, and the prickling on her shoulders warned of possible sunburn. The ground they traversed was hard, and her feet sensitive. Dirt had gotten between her toes. Finally, thank goodness, she glanced up and spotted what looked like a large barn ahead. Instead of a solid door, though, the entrance consisted of a tall metal gate. The barn looked relatively new and except for the gate, everything was wood. Arken headed straight toward it, and she stumbled along behind him. She looked around for the owner, but really, did she want anyone to see her like this?
Come on, Lorelle, be true to yourself. Did she really want this adventure to end so soon? Not really. Did she really want to be in the clutches of such a hard man? She shivered. She wasn’t sure yet on that one. “Your new home.” She shouldn’t be surprised by the statement. Yet trying to wrap her mind around even the simple words was almost her undoing. Too much had happened too fast. She didn’t want to go inside the imposing structure in front of her. It wasn’t the small, sun-drenched barn she’d dreamed about a few nights ago. When she’d felt safe. And yet she did want to. And hence her dilemma. “What -- what are you going to do?”
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“Whatever I want. Got that?” He stopped only long enough to open the metal gate. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and propelled her into the shadowy interior. It smelled of hay and body odor. She felt small and insignificant next to the high ceiling and solid rafters. When he dropped the rope he held so he could close the gate, she knew she was locked inside when she heard a decisive click.
With him. She took a few nervous steps back, then pulled herself up short and, mustering courage, met his eyes. She had to tilt her head back farther than she remembered. Had he gotten taller? Of course not, she realized. She was simply reacting to her helplessness. It took a couple minutes, but she gradually realized that the rope between her legs hadn’t dislodged when Arken had dropped his end. Instead, the rope remained against her damp crotch, held in place by her body’s juices. Arken gave a faint smile and nodded at it. “I can smell you, Lorelle. A woman’s body never lies.” “What do you want of me?” Like a wanton heathen, she ached to press her thighs together so the rope would continue to caress her sensitive sex. Arken folded his powerful arms over his chest and studied her. The look she saw in his eyes reminded her of a predator taking in his trapped prey, a hunter standing over a fallen animal with his rifle still smoking. Control. Everything was about control. “For you to admit the truth about yourself. To quit playing and embrace what’s real.” This moment was the only truth she knew, and yet she also sensed it wouldn’t end there. Arken had plans for her! Oh shit, what if he wasn’t from Fantasies Unlimited? She shrugged off the ridiculous notion. He’d said he was. She quieted the lawyer voice within that demanded to know why she’d take his word at face value. And so fast.
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“Time to get rid of those clothes.” “Just like that?” “What’s your problem? This is your fantasy, remember.”
Thanks for the necessary reminder. “Yes, it is. Besides, this outfit isn’t what I would have picked anyway.” He laughed at what she hadn’t intended as a joke, the sound pulling her back to the here and now. She was aghast. She hadn’t really -- practically -- ordered him to strip her, had she? Nah, couldn’t be. “When did this happen?” she insisted, indicating the hooker outfit. “What did you do, knock me out? And what in the hell made you think you could get away with dressing me like this? I could have you charged with --” “You agreed to this, remember? When I came into your bedroom. I had no need to knock you out.” “Maybe I didn’t get what you were talking about. Did you --” “Shut up!” “What? How dare you --” Clamping a hand around the back of her neck, he pulled her off balance. “Listen to me,
slave. I don’t allow a smart mouth. Ever. And threats aren’t going to get you anywhere. Bottom line: we both know you’re not going to have me charged with anything.” “How do you know?” she demanded, determined not to quake before him. “Do you have any idea who I am?” The pressure on her neck slacked off just enough to allow her to straighten slightly. “I know everything I need to about you, your likes and dislikes when it comes to sex. It was all on your application, remember?” “But --”
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“No buts, Lorelle. I know more about you than you do.” “How can you say that? We’ve never met, talked. I don’t know…” “Self-determination’s an interesting phenomenon,” he told her, releasing her and bending down to pick up the rope end again. “Sometimes we fool ourselves into believing we’re calling the shots when we aren’t. Other times, we try to convince ourselves that we have no control over what’s happening when in truth, we do. Do you know which it is for you right now?” “No.” “Oh, I think you do. However, I’m not surprised you answered the way you did.” Taking hold of her shoulders, Arken turned her from him before drawing the rope out from between her legs. “It’s much easier telling yourself that I’m in charge, isn’t it? Because you’re right about that; I am.” No-nonsense pulling on her wrists forced her to stumble backwards. Although she strained to see over her shoulders, she couldn’t tell where he was hauling her until she was within a few feet of a wall. Pulling up on the rope, he started fiddling with the end he held. All too soon she realized he’d tied her to something on the wall, giving her just enough slack that she could keep maybe six inches between her back and the wall. The hook or ring or whatever he tied her to was at least head height, which meant her arms were pulled as high as the rope around her waist allowed. She too easily drew a comparison between herself and a horse tied to a hitching pole. “Don’t want you going anywhere while I get rid of your clothes.” Suddenly, that was the last thing in the world she wanted. Having her private areas covered afforded her a degree of dignity. More than that, the obscene top and skirt made her feel at least slightly civilized. Once they were gone, she’d -- what? “Don’t, please.” “Don’t what?” “Take off my clothes. I’m not ready.”
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“Yeah, you are, because I say so. Something for you to think about, slave. Any time I’ve had enough of your mouth, I can shut you up. Watch what you say. You don’t want it coming back to haunt you.” His eyes. If only she could tell whether humanity lay in their depths or if he was a true bastard! “This is so -- I didn’t know what to expect. What -- what if I want out?” He ran the back of his hand against her right cheek in a gesture that unexpectedly melted her. “Too late, slave. Things have begun.” His tone was seductive. “Besides, I’ve spent enough time learning the particulars about you that I get your real nature.” “You can’t possibly,” she protested, although she wasn’t sure why. “No one can know everything about someone else.” “Think not?” A corner of his mouth lifted. “Enough talk. Down on your knees, now.” His tone was so quiet and matter-of-fact that she would have done as he’d ordered if she’d been able to move. “Ah, that’s right. You can’t. And although I shouldn’t have to point it out, you also can’t do anything except stand there and enjoy the ride I’ve planned for you.” After another brushing of his hand against her cheek that came close to melting her feet out from under her, he stepped back so he could observe her. She’d never felt more exposed. Standing in front of a packed courthouse was nothing compared to this scrutiny, this naked unveiling of herself. During a trial, she was always conscious of what she was wearing and gave extra time and attention to ensure that the outfit she put together was as professional as possible. In stark contrast, today she had two semi-garments to her name. Her feet and legs were bare and dusty, her arms caked with sweat. No doubt, her hair was a mess. And yet, despite that, she felt beautiful! Maybe not beautiful so much as stripped down to the essentials. She was a woman, beginning and end of discussion. And her needs had rendered her vulnerable to his touch, vulnerable and perhaps unwise.
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Remembering that too much talking displeased him, Lorelle waited for his next move. The longer he studied her, the more he unnerved her. Or maybe the real explanation was that he was challenging her in ways she’d never guessed were possible. Yes, she’d paid for his
services, but he was in charge of determining what those services entailed -- just as a true master would be. Knowing she was caught, she studied the man before her. Wow. This man was her master? The man with the tanned face and arms that stood in contrast to the rest of his body, a toned alabaster work of art that the sun hadn’t kissed? She closed her eyes, but when she opened them, he was still there. He was real, not fantasy. His muscles made her conclude that either he didn’t spend his days behind a desk, or he was committed to exercise. Some women might say he’d benefit from a little strategic hair removal, but not her. The dark hairs coating his chest and trailing down his belly to his groin said real man. He wasn’t a perfect Greek god -- a small but deep scar on his chest that was partly obscured by hair marred the image. This is who I am, his stance said. Take it or take it. Lorelle decided she was going to take it. If she didn’t try the BDSM experience now, she’d chicken out and never do it. And probably leave herself frustrated for the rest of her life, having never experienced what she truly craved. Besides, the man really turned her on. She hadn’t been this in lust for months. Years. She just hated giving up control to someone else. After what might have been the better part of a minute, Arken invaded her space again. He cocked his head to the side while he studied her. She steeled herself to remain in place but couldn’t stop her trembling. “You’re not afraid,” he said. “How would you know! You’re not the one who --” “Who what? Is having her greatest fantasy come true?”
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That was it! She wasn’t going to say another word to him. Silent and seething -- at least she told herself she was pissed -- she focused on his outstretched fingers. Strength radiated from them, and yet they weren’t the hands of a physical laborer. She knew what he had in mind before he took hold of her blouse hem but was grateful to him for taking his time. He not only was giving her time to accept that he was indeed going to take it off; she also wanted to draw out the experience. If she never ventured into the BDSM realm after this experience, she wanted as much as she could soak up for future nocturnal dreams. All right, so she was perverted to be looking forward to having her breasts and more exposed, but who said perverted was a bad thing? Half inch by half inch, he lifted. She thought surely he’d want to see what he was doing. Instead, he kept his gaze locked on her face. Meeting him, maybe matching him, she gave as good as she was getting, her gaze never leaving his. She wasn’t going to turn into a whimpering ninny, no way! Neither was she going to beg or plead or whatever stereotypical behavior captives usually displayed. There. Finally. His fingertips brushed the undersides of her breasts. Her nipples instantly tightened, and she sucked in her breath. Doing so caused her breasts to lift, and she gave silent thanks to the genetics that had given the women in her family a size C. He’d turned her into woman, pure primitive woman. Thanks to him, nothing else existed.
Thank you. Thank you.
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Chapter Three
Pulling herself back to reality, she quickly brought herself back to the moment. His fingertips were still on her breasts’ heavy underside, the blouse fabric caught in his palms. He stood so close she felt his heat on her thighs and belly; some kind of energy flowed between them. She couldn’t do a damn thing about regulating her breathing -- damn, this slow undressing was turning her on -- but his wasn’t slow and steady either. Knowing that the sexual energy didn’t all come from her emboldened her enough that she straightened as best she could and arched her back. Only a dead man wouldn’t get the message. And he wasn’t dead. His head angled a little to the side again, he cupped her breasts in his palms and lifted. The damnable fabric still covered her, and she cursed her inability to finish the disrobing he’d started. Like what you see? she wanted to say, but didn’t. Instead, she silently railed at her bonds but not at him -- not at his life-tempered hands on her much softer flesh. Finally, finally he released her breasts long enough to pull the blouse up over them. Even though it still covered her shoulders, she couldn’t hold back her sigh of relief. “Yep. No doubt about it, you wanted this,” he said.
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“Yes,” came out before she could stop the word. “Because?” “I don’t know, damn it!” She railed, frustrated at her inability to comprehend -- or maybe acknowledge -- why she needed this outlet, this BDSM thing. “I don’t know. I’ve been like this for a long time.” “That’s part of what this is about, isn’t it? Finding out why you have the needs you do.” Taking hold of her nipples, he pulled them toward him. “Please, stop! Damn it, stop!” “Not until you stop cursing.” She was caught, completely and thoroughly caught, unable to do more than swing a few inches from one side to the other with her nipples gripped by his vice-like fingers. Risking a look, she noted that her breasts had been elongated. Because his fingers were so big, she couldn’t see her nipples. The message sank in and held. This was his show. As if she didn’t already know that. Drawing in a shaky breath, she pressed her legs together. “All right, all right! I won’t kick, I promise. Now please, please let me go.” “You? Or these?” He pulled up. “You know what I mean!” Tightening her stomach muscles did nothing to lessen the sensation -- both of pain and the curling onset of desire. “What do you want me to do, to say?” “Call me Master.” What a simple and impossible request. One she couldn’t refuse if she didn’t want her nipples ripped off. “Master. Please, Master, you’re hurting me.”
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“Because it entertains me to do so. And I’ll continue until you suggest something that entertains me even more.” He was playing a sick game, damn him. But even as she hated him for dictating all the rules, another sensation made its presence known. Her pussy was hot and heavy.
Don’t lie. You know what’s happening. His control over you is turning you on. “Take -- take off my skirt. Then I’ll be naked.” “Except that you’ll still be wearing this top.” The pinching-pulling sensation kept her swinging between pleasure and discomfort. Irrationally, she loved not being able to so much as entertain how she might get away from him. “It doesn’t matter. You can still --” she stopped a moment, a sudden spark of pleasure shooting through her. “You can do everything you want to me.” “Not everything, yet. You want me to let go, don’t you? And yet you don’t.” She was sinking into herself, everything narrowing down until the world beyond this place didn’t exist. She couldn’t have even begun to contemplate what standing naked before him would feel like. Neither did she care about anything beyond now. He had her, completely. And she needed that. Completely. “Come back to me slave. Stay in reality.”
Slave? The word had an energy to it. It was something she could crawl into. When he released her nipples, blood rushed back into them, forcing out a cry. She was still trying to breathe through the sharp pain when he pressed down on the back of her head, forcing her to lower it. That done, he pulled the top over her head, but because of the way her hands were tied, the fabric remained bunched over her arms. He slid it down near her wrists and then let go. Technically, she was still wearing the garment, but what was the point?
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Anticipating the tug of skirt over her hips sent a shudder through her, but although she begged with her eyes, he only stood with his arms folded over his chest again, his breathing lifting and lowering them, his cock becoming engorged. The steady swelling didn’t alarm her, didn’t surprise her. He was a healthy male, and she was a healthy female. Of course he’d respond. Her pussy was hot and growing hotter, and if she breathed deeply enough she might smell herself. Everything was down to basics all right. Down to sex. Before they left the barn they’d have sex. Fuck. And once they had, what then? He’d release her? Maybe he’d keep her in here so she’d always be available to him. What would happen to her responsibilities -- her job, that upcoming trial, and the possibility of another in two weeks -- and did she give a damn? Maybe not, but she did care about her parents. Brought to reality by thoughts of her parents, she blinked Arken back into focus. His arms were at his sides now, giving her a clearer view of his chest. He was hairy all right, with a dusting of gray mixed in with the rich brown. About to turn her attention elsewhere, she instead concentrated on the scar she’d noted before. It ran deep, signifying there was a story there. His short nod acknowledged that he knew what she was looking at. “Don’t ask, because I’m not going to explain it.” He didn’t have to because as a prosecuting attorney she’d dealt with those who lived on the edge. Not only had she gone to the hospital to interview both victims and the accused, she’d seen more than her share of autopsy photos. As a result, she knew she was looking at the damage a bullet had done. It was so close to his heart that she wondered how he’d survived. “How --”
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“Damn it, don’t you remember what I said? I’m not going to tell you.” Even as she nodded her understanding, she acknowledged that the scar had changed things between them. Up until now, she’d seen him as nothing more than her fantasies come true, a masterful hunk from central casting or more specifically, Fantasies Unlimited. But he was much more than a dom or her captor. He had an existence separate from her, a past and undoubtedly, a future. He was, in short, a living, breathing human being with a scar he didn’t want to talk about. How had it happened, and what had he gone through emotionally knowing he’d been in danger of dying? When he finally took hold of the ridiculous skirt and pulled down, her thoughts went beyond herself and her responses. He’d brought his emotions into the barn as witness by his refusal to speak about having been wounded, and if she could keep from losing her mind, in time she’d understand them. But not now. Not with his thumb raking over her hip bones. Instead of fighting him, Lorelle clamped her legs together to ease his task. There must be some elasticity to the skirt because although the waistband had fit snugly, he had little trouble getting it over her hips. As he’d done with her top, he didn’t hurry the task but stepped back while it was still around her thighs. “Finish the job.” “I can’t. My hands --” “Find a way.” Suddenly, she wanted to be out of the skirt now. She clenched her buttocks and rocked her hips from side to side. To say there was anything graceful in what she was doing would be a lie. She didn’t care. The movement made her breasts dance, and when she added a little sucking in of her stomach, his eyes narrowed, and his breathing deepened. Not only that, his cock finished its journey to alert status. She had to stamp her feet before the skirt gave up its
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hold, but she finally kicked it aside, the question of what was going to happen next sliding hotly through her. “Spread your legs.” Caught off guard, she gaped. “Didn’t you hear me?” He slapped her right breast. “Spread your legs.” A second blow rocked her left breast. “Now.” The slaps were more erotic than painful, but they got her attention. Although her calves and thighs were turning into heated butter, she managed to increase the distance between her feet. She stopped just shy of exposing her cunt. “That’s not spread.” Moving to her side, he sharply slapped her mons. The vibration was still resounding when he cupped his hand over the front of her sex and began to shake her. “Now do as I ordered.” Electricity sparked though her from the waist down. She desperately wanted to comply, but his manipulation had stripped the last of the strength from her legs. Moaning through her open mouth, she stared down at what he was doing. His dominating hold made its impact throughout her. Although her legs were free, she gave no thought to kicking him. Neither did she want to move. “Spread your legs.” That’s right. He’d ordered her to do something. If only she could get her brain to respond. He continued to hold on while she inched her legs even further outward, stopping when the pull on her thigh muscles became more than she could ignore. Praying she’d pleased him, she waited. “Don’t know what’s going to happen, do you? But I’m guessing you don’t particularly care, because this moment’s enough. I encourage you to try to anticipate what might happen next. Otherwise, what happens, or is likely to happen, will catch you off balance.”
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“I already am.” “I’m not talking about your ability to keep your feet under you.” He began sliding his hand between her legs. Just thinking about where his fingers were about to touch was enough to strip the air from her lungs. “I don’t know as much about women as women themselves do,” he said, “but I’ve become a bit of an expert.” Oh, God, his forefinger slid between her labial lips in search of her entrance! She widened her stance and arched her pelvis toward him to assist his journey. “Women pretty much know when they’re going to climax, don’t they?” Not waiting for an answer, Arken lifted her chin with his free hand. “The body gives out warning signs, hints of anticipation.” Yes, his forefinger slipped into her wet hole! “A woman can fight what she knows is going to happen, although I can’t see the point. Might as well go for the gusto, right?” “What?” Her legs were shaking. “Don’t worry. I’m not really expecting an answer.” If only she could haul her mind off what he was doing, she would have told him she appreciated his generosity. But he’d started going in and out, in and out, his large finger gliding effortlessly over tissues so sensitive, she thought they might shred. Staring at her with an intensity that unnerved her, he ran his other hand from her chin down to her collarbone and from there between her breasts. He kept the thrusting movement going. “Where was I? Oh yes, discussing the complexity and simplicity of the female body, although to be honest, the same holds true for men as well. Warning bells go off when a climax is just around the corner. Depending on the circumstance, a woman either dives heart and body into it or fights. You’re getting close. I can tell by the amount of lubrication you’re producing.”
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To her relief, he stopped talking so she could concentrate on her body’s journey. Sometimes, usually at the end of a stressful day, she’d fall asleep accompanied by thoughts of what being someone’s possession would feel like. Her favorite was to imagine herself as part of a sheik’s harem. She was his latest addition, raw and green, just purchased with a brand over one breast and a collar and cuffs to ensure her compliance. Because she’d had the lesson driven home that Arken owned not just her body but also her mind and soul and heart, she knew to willingly turn those things over to Arken. In exchange for a humble and willing sex partner, no matter what direction his desires took them, she was assured of a roof over her head, expensive clothes and jewelry, and the finest food. Reality was different, and yet it wasn’t. Both fed the same needs. “Not so fast. Lessons before reward.” Fighting back the heat flowing through her veins, she struggled to pay attention. Only then did she realize he’d clamped his thumb and forefinger over a nipple and was applying a fair amount of pressure. Pain and pleasure rolled over her, the sensations conflicting and complimenting each other. “Lessons?” she managed. “Designed to get to your true nature so you can make the most of it.” Anything else he might say would make more sense than this, but with the relentless pressure on her nipple providing direction, she forced her full attention on his words. “That’s why I’m here, Lorelle. So you’ll stop fighting instinct.” “Instinct?” His amused laugh made her cringe; she hadn’t intended her comment to be funny, it was simply the only thing she could think of to say.
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“You don’t mind being tied up.” Releasing her nipple, he pressed his body against hers and drove her against the wall. “The helplessness might unnerve you, but the trade-off’s worth it, in spades.”
Listen to him. Focus on every word. Stop thinking about the finger inside you. Somehow. “Having no control is the ultimate high for women like you. You’re the same, all the same. It’s in direct contrast to the image you present to the world, the one you wish was the real you because this submissive nature of yours is unnerving.”
Not unnerving. As important as the breath of life. “I love doing this. Women like you feed my nature.” In he probed, pressing so hard that she rose onto her toes. “Works out damn well for both of us.” Instead of retreating as he’d done before, however, he continued to skewer her. Moaning, she threw back her head. The barn’s ceiling was so high she could barely make it out, not that it mattered. He started stroking her neck, reminding her of her vulnerability, but with his buried finger now moving back and forth, she simply dove into it. Heated energy flowed over her unbelievably sensitive skin almost as if the air itself was whipping her. Arken might have somehow tapped into her fantasies, but he didn’t know everything. If he did, would he take a switch or whip to her?
Yes, please! “You’re spinning out on me. Going off into your own zone.”
I know. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I choose not to allow that to happen. I get off on being in charge, completely.” As long as his hands were on and in her, she didn’t care what he said. That climax he’d alluded to tiptoed just beyond her reach. If she could press her clit more firmly against his palm --
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“No! Not going to happen.” She was still trying to catch up with him when he roughly pulled out. After helping her straighten, he turned her away from him. He was doing something to her ropes, but again her mind was slow to comprehend. By the time she realized he’d unfastened her from the wall and then gotten rid of the strands around her waist, he was wrenching her back around so she had no choice but to meet his glare. There it was again, the look of a man who had just brought down a trophy kill. “We’re playing on my grounds, got it?” A stinging slap to her right breast left her with no doubt that the rules weren’t up for discussion. “Got it?” “Yes.” The tingling sensation spun out to caress her other, untouched breast. “Good. Now, onto your knees.” Without so much as a glance as to what was underfoot, she lowered herself as gracefully as possible. Having her arms behind her while looking up at him accented her breasts even more. Ignore that. Pretend I don’t turn you on. No, there wasn’t any pretension to him and certainly not in the long, heavy cock only inches from her face. Smiling a secret smile, she rested her buttocks on her heels and leaned forward slightly. An inch, damn you, ignore that. Reckless courage rolled over her, its speed and power catching her off guard. Before she knew she was going to, Lorelle leaned forward and ran her tongue over his tip. A startled breath served as the reward she was looking for. “I’m on my knees, Master.” “And that makes you think you won some kind of game?” There was something deadly and calculated in his tone. Struggling to free herself from the heated blanket surrounding her, she glanced up. He was so tall, so strong, so in control. Obviously, he hadn’t lost the game. Even more obviously, only he knew the rules. Damn, but she loved the idea of learning them!
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Again smiling that faint smile of his she couldn’t begin to comprehend, he took his cock in a sure hand and lightly massaged it. Whatever discomfort he might be experiencing, it was nothing compared to her hard ache. There was one way of dealing with both of their needs! One she didn’t need her hands for. Taking a chance on being punished again, she once more stretched toward him. Instead of slapping her -- which she wouldn’t have minded, for she found the light slaps he gave her helped increase her arousal -- or even better, letting her take him into her mouth, he stepped away. Gaping in disbelief, she watched him walk over to a bed that stood against the wall at right angles to the wall he’d tied her to. He sat down. Even with the dim lighting, how could she have missed seeing the bed before?
Because she’d been otherwise occupied. Enough! The merry-go-round he had her on was whirling much too fast. She was a professional member of the legal community. This charade was all well and good, but it was past time to remind him of who was paying the bills, and therefore, how much say she had over what would and wouldn’t happen. A girl had her dignity and pride to preserve, after all.
Even a naked one? “Come here.”
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Chapter Four
With those two words, all thoughts of refusal evaporated. His damnable voice was like velvet and fine wine, a solitary guitar being played at midnight. She rocked to the side in preparation for getting her feet under her. “No. Come to me on your knees.”
Yes, oh yes. Very aware of how wildly her breasts jiggled as she inched forward on her knees, she struggled for a semblance of dignity. And yet she loved to think of the image she portrayed, her toes digging into the earthen floor, her upper body rolling from side to side. Let him deal with her loose, pale breasts. She had all she could do not to take a direct line for his cock. Twice she nearly fell forward onto her face, but finally she’d managed to make it to the bed. Only now that she’d accomplished her task, she didn’t know what came next. “Head down. Forehead on the ground.” “What?” “Do it! Now!”
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He hadn’t moved so much as a muscle. Just the same, something gave way inside her. She wanted to do what he ordered, beginning and end of discussion. Wherever the hell this
thing between them was headed, she wasn’t going to be the one to pull the plug. Now that she was in position, blood started pooling in her forehead. She couldn’t see him, so she could only imagine his expressions and movements, to say nothing of what his cock might be up to. One thing, maybe, shifted a little of the power in her direction. He had to stare at the submissive line of her body, to see her ass sticking up in the air, to be content with simply looking. All enticements that made a man want. “Place your hands as close to your pussy as you can, and keep your head down while you’re doing it.” Her hands had started to go numb, but that wasn’t why she hesitated. Neither did pride or rebellion hold her back. He knew exactly what he was doing, damn him. He wasn’t simply turning her into his version of eye candy. Instead, he was deliberately pushing her buttons as he tested her willingness to comply. The woman she’d always been would have refused. The woman she’d long wanted to be arched her back and stretched out her hands. Finding her crack, she shuddered and had to pull in a steadying breath before she dared do more than touch. Widening the distance between her knees made it possible for her to get closer to the goal he’d ordered, but even as she arched more and stretched as far as she could, her fingertips reached no further than her ass. Intrigued by the heat there, she lightly stroked her puckered opening. Her damp labia hung down, untouched and wanting. And her pussy, her poor lonely pussy! “I can’t. I can’t.” The whimper in her voice made her wince. “I’m sorry.” “I don’t give a damn. You’ll make it up to me, won’t you?” “I -- what do you want me to do?”
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“There! That’s what we both need to hear, your willingness to obey.” Did she dare look at him? “Are you afraid?” His voice sounded closer than it had a moment before. “I’m not sure.” “You’re shaking again.” “I know.” “But it might not be due to fear, is that what you’re trying to admit?” “I’m turned on. You know that.” “And you get the shakes every time you’re turned on?” “No, not always. This -- this is so different. I don’t know what’s going to happen and that…” “Unnerves you.” Something touched her back between her shoulder blades. The contact was so unexpected that she jumped and let out a squeak. She tried to relax, but his nails on her helpless flesh were hardly the stuff relaxation was made of. Promise, yes; danger, maybe. “Don’t think,” he muttered. “Just feel.” As if she had any choice. Oh yes, she amended, strictly speaking she could fight him, yell for help even though she had no idea whether help was anywhere within the county. But just as her wrists had come to love the soft ropes stroking them, she loved doing what she was doing, with him. He’d lifted his hand off her, but then he touched her again, the contact a little firmer this time. Grateful because he wasn’t tickling her, she started to straighten. “No.” A blow to her buttocks punctuated the word. “Close your eyes. Think about what I’m doing and ask yourself what I might come up with next.” His fingers walked from the
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base of her spine to her crack but didn’t dive into her waiting and wet crevice. “Don’t let other thoughts enter your mind, understand?” “Y-es.” “Yes, what?” “Master. Yes, I’ll do what you want, Master.” “I thought you would. Patience is a virtue, you know.” Gripping her ass cheeks, he pulled them apart. Being so utterly exposed made her cheeks burn, but even as she wondered what he thought of her large labial lips, she took pride in what she was -- feminine. He was standing behind her with his feet inside her legs, undoubtedly leaning over. She didn’t even know his last name and here he was, all but taking pictures. Her pussy continued heating, most likely swelling as well and turning dark with blood, and of course he could smell her and see the moisture clinging to her sex. “You don’t often fuck,” he said, his tone husky. “I haven’t had much opportunity to watch you, and you didn’t elaborate on the application questionnaire, but I’m willing to bet I’m right. You obviously like sex so I’m guessing that in your line of work, finding a discreet male isn’t easy.” “My application? You read all of it?” “Every word.” He chuckled. “Your limited and circumspect sex life factored into why I accepted this assignment. A beautiful and sexy young woman trapped inside business suits when she’d rather be naked and on her knees before some man -- you intrigue me.”
It hasn’t been that hard, she wanted to protest. Workdays were so crammed with responsibilities that she seldom thought of herself as a female, let alone have to deal with the sexual frustration that came from not regularly fucking, as he’d so delicately put it. But she couldn’t work 24/7 and the weekends… Damn, but sometimes, the weekends were so long. As for why she’d gravitated toward the fantasy of forced sex, what difference did it make?
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Those thoughts flashed through her but didn’t stay long, being she was helpless and naked and on her knees at the moment. Being primed for sex. Primed, nothing. She was past ready. As she waited, he slowly released his hold on her buttocks but not before planting a finger against her pussy. A presence to her left let her know that he’d moved from behind her to her side. Taking hold of her roped wrists, he pulled up. She lifted her head a few inches. Her dangling breasts produced a drawing sensation along her rib cage, more sensual than uncomfortable. That coupled with the strong and steady finger pressing on her cunt made thinking of anything else impossible. When, long seconds later, he let her back down again, she discovered that he’d moved close enough that her chest now rested on his thighs. She turned her head to the side. Yes, there was his cock, just out of reach. If she could somehow nose his legs apart -Ah, yes! All thoughts of his cock fled. His finger no longer waited for permission to enter but rather stormed the gates. Just like that, the rest of her body became unimportant. Everything centered down there, at her essence. Flames licked wherever he touched. Her inner muscles tightened around the invading and wanted finger. “You’re hot, so hot. And you love this, don’t you?” Hadn’t she already admitted that? Never mind; she could do so again. “Fuck me, please.” “Not just this?” A second finger joined the first, spreading her and pushing the flames even higher. “You’re saying you want the real thing?” “Yes! Don’t torture me, don’t!” “What’s that? You’re trying to order me around?” he demanded, pushing even deeper until she wondered if he could stand her on her head this way. “No, no!” What a slut she must look like with her ass up in the air, to say nothing of the two male fingers stuck inside her. “Just do it.”
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When he smartly struck her left buttock, she wondered if she’d deliberately, if unconsciously, challenged him. “What are you afraid of?” she demanded when she realized there was only going to be that single playful punishment. “You scared to have real sex with me because I’m too much woman for you?” The next blow went to her right ass cheek, sharper than the first and yet still in control. Halfway through wondering what she’d have to say to get him to hit her again, he began peppering her ass with stinging slaps. Lord it felt good, more than good, because he managed to roll the fingers inside her from side to side at the same time. A heated curtain closed down over her, rendering her oblivious to anything else. Sweat broke out on her forehead and in the small of her back. He was going to have sex with her, please, soon! But in the meantime, oh shit, in the meantime, this was incredible! Pain accompanied by pleasure. Helplessness, delicious helplessness! Her entire body became devoted to everything carnal while she floated in a red current created by the stranger who’d thrown her into the sea. She ached to climax, and yet she wanted the anticipation to continue. The question of whether he’d help her reach her release, or hold her at the brink until she became a crying mess, briefly distracted her from what was happening. But maybe he knew what she was thinking, because just then he pulled out until only his fingertips remained buried in her hungry hole. “No! What -- don’t.” “Don’t, what?” “Leave me.” She struggled to sit up. “Don’t stop!” “What about me? What am I going to get out of this?” “Anything you want.”
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“Hmm.” His fingers made the slightest inroad, and he started rubbing where he’d been slapping. “If I want you to suck me, you’ll do it?” “Yes.” “What about straight sex?” “Yes! Yes.” Comprehending that instead of burying his fingers in her again, he’d just pulled out completely, her exclamation turned into a groan. “Master, please.” “Ah, playing the game my way, are you? Can’t get your way, can you?” “I didn’t mean -- what do I have to do?” She wailed. To her shock, he started to stand, which caused her to roll onto the floor on her side. By tucking her legs close to her body and using her elbow for leverage, she managed a sitting position. Wet heat oozed out of her, and her breasts felt as if they’d swollen to twice their usual size, but she refused to do any more begging. He stood over her with his body positioned -- deliberately, she knew -- so his cock was only inches from her mouth. Did she dare reach out? “Doing some thinking, are you?” he asked. “Let me guess. You’re wondering what the hell happened to the woman you always thought you were. How’d you turn into such a needy and willing slut.” “No.” Although shaking her head made her dizzy, Lorelle couldn’t stop. “I was thinking about you, wondering what you wanted me to do.” “Were you, slave, were you? Stand up.” Much as she hated putting distance between her mouth and his cock, she did as he commanded. Once she’d placed her feet underneath her, she again tried to judge the difference between their heights. He being nearly a foot taller than her was intimidating. She’d occasionally felt the same way around large, beefy criminals, although they were accompanied by law enforcement officers and wore restraints. Now she was the one being restrained.
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She, who wielded power with her position and dress-for-success suits, was now small and feminine, a little helpless, and a lot turned on. His arms weren’t exactly massive, but muscles heavily accentuated them as well as his broad and firm chest. The hairs she found there could never be called fine. Dark and thick, they added to the aura of masculinity. What would it feel like to run her tongue over his chest? “Maybe I don’t need you to help me come,” he said. “Think about that. Maybe I get all the kicks I need from doing whatever I want with you.” She swallowed. “Maybe.” “Could be I’m a sadist who gets off on teasing and torturing women.” “But you aren’t.” “What makes you so sure?”
Say it now, while you can. “I deal with some men who take pride in being bullies. They believe they have the right to pound on their wives and girlfriends. They hate cops, especially when those cops bust them for breaking the law. You don’t hate law enforcement, do you?” “Hardly.” Why that response? He wasn’t a cop, was he? Lorelle shook off the question and tried to remember where she’d been going with her words. If only she could get her body to stop reacting to the messages his body gave off. “I’m your assignment,” she came up with. “That’s what you said, that you accepted this assignment because I fascinated you.” “You’re hardly unique, just another submissive whore.”
Not unique. A whore. So she meant nothing to him? His expression unreadable, he closed a large hand over her throat. He used his grip to back her over to the bed, but instead of throwing her onto it, he released her neck. She was trying to determine what he intended to do when he roughly ran a hand between her legs.
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“Damn you!” “What? You want me to stop?” She might have come up with a response if he wasn’t already playing with the front of her pussy. In contrast to his earlier harshness, he now treated her to repeated light strokes with his middle finger, going from her clit to just inside her opening, back and forth. Wondering if her connective tissues might all break apart, she threw back her head and widened her stance. By turn she pushed herself at him, only to try to draw away when the contact became too intense. She thought she was saying something, but whether she was cursing or begging, she didn’t know. Faster and faster he came at her, his manipulations mimicking a magnificent fuck. She was flooding his fingers and would have fallen backward if he hadn’t pressed his other hand against the base of her spine. “About to come, are you?” “Yes, yes!” “Before you do, you have to ask permission.” “What?” Oh God no, don’t stop! “Did you hear me, slave?” he demanded, pressing his hand against her crotch. “Your climax belongs to me. I control the when and where and if it happens. Beg for it. Beg!” “I hate you!” “No, you don’t.” The pressure against her sensitive flesh let up, making it possible for her to think. “You love every minute of this.” On the brink of calling him a liar, she ground her teeth together. He already knew she’d never had an experience that came close to this -- and never wanted it more. “All right, I love it. Are you happy?”
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“Depends on what you consider happy,” he said, barely touching her now. “Tell me something, lady D.A. What got you into this ball-busting career? You get off on ordering people around? The sense of control’s better than sex?”
Don’t abandon me, please! “What? No. I’m not a control freak.” As if reading her mind, he patted her pussy. Then his hand stilled, the contact little more than a promise. “You’re sure about that? It’s a great career for someone who needs to feel superior.” Arken was goading her, damn him. And backing off enough to allow her to think. If he knew her as well as he said he did, wouldn’t he already know her story? But maybe whoever was in charge of research or whatever it was at Fantasies Unlimited didn’t concern themselves with the distant past. “I got into law because I was determined to see justice done.” “A crusader?” “My parents -- when I was a child, my parents owned a sporting goods store that sold guns. They were robbed, twice. They were sure they knew who the thieves were, but back then -- back then there wasn’t the kind of crime scene investigation we have now.” She closed her eyes, debating saying more. But although she’d never told anyone at work this, she wanted this stranger to know. “During the second robbery, my parents put up a fight. The robbers -- there were three of them -- were armed. My parents were shot.” The hand between her legs twitched. “They were killed?” “No.” Speaking rapidly, she described the scene she’d found when she came running down from the family apartment above the shop. Her father had taken one bullet in his arm and another in his belly while only one bullet had torn through her mother’s lung. They’d both survived, but by the time they’d been declared healed, they’d lost the business.
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To their credit, the neighborhood police had helped with fund-raising, which made it possible for them to find a new place to rent, since none of them could handle going back to where their lives had been torn apart. Healed was a subjective term, because not only did her parents continue to suffer from the aftereffects of the assault on their bodies, their selfconfidence had been undermined. They had managed to remain married and held onto each other even though the nightmares never completely went away. “That’s why I decided to go into law,” she finished. “I wanted to be an advocate for crime victims. And if that makes me some kind of bleeding heart in your mind, to hell with you.” “It doesn’t,” he whispered. Then he did the unexpected. He kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes against unexpected tears. “You walked in on the crime scene,” he muttered, as if talking to himself. “Yes.” There didn’t seem to be anything left to say. “My God. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” “It was worse for my parents.” “Was it, Lorelle? Was it?”
No, Lorelle admitted. It was hell for all of us.
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Chapter Five
Lorelle lay on the bed, absently rubbing her wrists and wondering what had happened. After abruptly untying her, Arken had indicated he wanted her to get on the bed. She’d assumed he’d join her. Instead, he’d walked off into the shadowy barn. The hell of it was, her body continued to hum and ache. A glance at her wrists reinforced what she already knew; the faint red marks were all but gone. Still, she traced what she could still see. Otherwise, she’d be tempted to put her hands where she needed Arken, and not her, to finish what he’d begun. Why had she told him about her parents? Yes, it was the truth, and although she’d glossed over her reaction at seeing them near death, he probably guessed himself how utterly shocked and terrified she’d been at fifteen, having to deal with the situation. How would his knowing what had happened to her as a teenager change things between them? Would it? He was here to grant her her secret fantasies. How was she to know she’d ruin it by answering a not-so-simple question. She sucked in a breath. Her hands had been lying on her belly, except one was inching south. She was flat on her back with her legs spread more than was decent -- not that she could give decent much attention any more. Not after what she’d already done.
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Instead of returning to safer territory, she let her fingers brush her pubic hair. Her labia was still sticky with her excitement, her inner thighs so sensitive she was afraid to touch them. “What are you doing?” Gasping, she blinked. Arken loomed over her, his naked body all but screaming
dangerous. “I didn’t hear…” Yanking her hands off herself, he twisted her around so she was on her stomach. “Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” “I --” “Did I?” He forced her hands up between her shoulder blades. “Who am I?” About to ask him what he was talking about, she caught on. The game was back on. “Master,” she muttered into the mattress. “You’re my master.” “That’s right. And you do only what I tell you to, get it.” “Yes. I’m sorry.” She paused long enough to pull a note of desperation out of her voice. “I understand, Master.” “I don’t think you do.” His voice carried a harsh note she hadn’t heard before. “First you try to gain my sympathy by telling me about your parents. Then you defy me by touching where only my hands have a right to be.” His hands? Whose body did he think this was? And yet…and yet, there was something delicious about being spoken to like that and to have her body coveted. “I’m sorry, Master. I promise it won’t happen again.” “No, it won’t. Because I’m going to make sure you don’t use your hands again.” The world he’d begun building for her from the first moment she’d seen him was becoming clearer. And the possibility and potential -“I’ll be right back. And you aren’t to move a muscle while I’m gone, do you understand?”
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Not a muscle. “Yes, Master.” The bed creaked when he left. Although keeping her elbows that deeply bent took effort, Lorelle loved the feeling of complying with her master’s demands. If she pleased him, and she would, he’d reward her. By fucking her, please! And then, maybe, letting her know what he was thinking. He was back. The electricity marching over her side left no doubt of that. From her position, though, she couldn’t tell whether he was still aroused. Please, yes. She’d hate to think that she was the only one fully into this scene -- if that’s what it was. What was that? Oh, he’d brought rope. A lot of rope. Soft. Strong. White. All encompassing. Inescapable. Binding. “I’d hoped that restraining your wrists would be sufficient for compliance, but I see I’ve underestimated your defiance. Now, there will be no doubt.”
Of what? Your mastery? Yes, please. She didn’t understand how anyone could work that fast without making a mess of things, but Arken’s every movement was pure efficiency and expertise as he wound rope over her arms and chest. By the time he was done, her forearms had been bound together behind her in such a way that she could touch her opposite elbows with her fingertips. More lengths immobilized her upper arms and shoulders while corresponding strands went around her waist and below and above her breasts. Yet even more rope connected her wrists to the top strand to ensure they remained anchored where he wanted them. Her legs were free, and she supposed a case could be made for her chance at making a run for it. But with rope seeming to touch every part of her upper body, she felt useless. Caught. Completely caught.
His.
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“Next time you’ll obey, won’t you.” He demonstrated his control by grabbing the rope that went from her wrists to the top strand and using his hold to haul her into a sitting position. “Because if you don’t, I’ll introduce you to a hogtie. You haven’t ever been hogtied, have you?” “No.” She’d dreamed of it more times than she wanted anyone to know, but that didn’t count. Did it? “Feels like you don’t have arms, doesn’t it?” He pulled her against his side and started rubbing her collarbone. “If I was a fly, you couldn’t swat me, could you.” “No, Master.” “And you don’t know whether you like it or not, do you?” Oh, she liked the feeling all right. All he’d have to do to determine the answer was to check between her legs. “Arms useless and yet not hurting.” He was right. Despite what he’d done to them, every strand of rope was a caress. And the way the position arched her back and displayed her breasts was pure sensuality. She was woman, wasn’t she, a helpless and available woman. “You didn’t fight me,” he observed. “I’ve seen that happen. Women think they want to turn their bodies over to a man, only it’s different when it actually happens.” His weight next to her on the mattress pulled her toward him. Although she tried to steady herself, she made no attempt to draw away. “Why don’t you struggle?” “You’re larger and stronger.” “But that’s not the only reason.” Although she knew the answer, she didn’t rush giving it to him. This connection between them was so strange and new, exciting and unnerving. Her research had taught her that a surprisingly large number of people played with the BDSM lifestyle, and subs and doms often entered into a contract designating the rules and boundaries of their relationship.
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On the other end of the spectrum were true master/slave situations, where a master had total control over his or her slave’s life. But if master/slave type arrangements existed in the United States, she was unaware of it. What was happening between her and Arken, maybe fit somewhere between the two extremes. She’d asked to be treated like a sub, but that had been before she’d met him, and he’d started demonstrating what she’d signed up for. She had no idea how far he intended to take her, or what he wanted from their time together, and that should have frightened her. But it didn’t. Instead, she gloried in her helplessness. It took all her willpower not to scream at him to get on with it. “You’re feeding needs I’ve been trying to come to grips with for a long time,” she muttered, her eyes respectively downcast. “I know you won’t hurt me.” “Do you?” No, the truth was she didn’t, but that was part of the thrill. “You’re a beautiful woman.” His hands had been resting on his thighs and within easy reach of his cock, but now he extended them toward her. “There’s nothing more beautiful than a helpless and sexually aroused woman.” “Thank you, Master.” “And nothing more admirable than a sub who knows her place.” But she didn’t yet know her place. Instead of telling him, she took a chance on lifting her head. As she did, he clamped his hands around her waist and helped her stand. Keeping her balance on the mattress took all her concentration, especially since he was stretching out on his back at the same time. Once he was in position, he started massaging her calves, further distracting her. She swayed from side to side, thinking how magnificent he looked lying beside her with his engorged cock promising everything. “Straddle me.” She started to lift the leg closest to him only to nearly topple over. “I can’t.”
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“Lean down first. I’ll help support you.” One wrong move and her full weight might crush his cock. Just the same, she slowly and cautiously bent at the waist. When his fingers closed over her waist, she silently thanked him for the anchoring. Trusting him, she slid her leg over his hips. Although her thigh muscles quivered in anticipation of lowering herself onto him, she waited for her next command. And as she did, she acknowledged that the harshness was gone from his voice. As was his earlier emotional distance. What had changed in him? “You’re going to ride me,” he informed her. “Woman on top and in control.” “Control? I can’t use my arms.” “Point taken. Now let’s see if you can work me into you without use of those hands of yours.” She’d always loved a challenge and this one, hell, this one might be the greatest of her life. She was on the pill so birth control wasn’t an issue. Of course, there were other considerations, but Fantasies Unlimited had been in business for years. They knew who they were sending where to do what. Besides, if ever fantasy had its place, this was it. Reckless, she bent her knees. Granted, she could only guess at the alignment of cock to cunt, but she certainly remembered where his cock had been the last time she’d seen it. Coming down slow threatened to make her leg muscles cramp, but it was worth it. After all, she’d been waiting hours -- at least it seemed like hours -- to get to this point. No reason to rush reaching the goal line. Oh, yes! His cock was pressing on the space between her cunt and anus, but the promise was there, hot and strong. Straightening fractionally, she rocked forward and again descended. This time his cock slid over her right inner thigh before being smashed against her pelvic bone. Damn, damn this waiting!
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Her vision blurred as she concentrated on getting the alignment perfect the third time. In her mind she saw her harnessed figure looming over her master’s magnificent form, thigh muscles straining, breasts caught between the ropes over and under them. Beautiful, he’d called her. Hell, insane was more like it. Yes! Yes. “Keep coming,” he hissed as his tip eased into her. “Slow and easy.” Blocking off everything except the incredible sensation of his cock filling what had been empty for so long, she concentrated on the ever-growing invasion. She was taking him into her, swallowing him, making him part of her. At the same time, he was assaulting her with a man’s ultimate weapon, his greater strength and size leaving no doubt of who wielded the power. Didn’t matter. Nothing did except being filled and becoming one with him. Thanks to his hold, she was able to straighten even as she continued to bend her knees until at last her knees rested on the mattress. Shaking off the haze that had rolled over her, she looked down at her master and captor. She was riding him, a cowgirl astride her mount. And yet he held the reins. His knees were slightly bent and splayed out so when she leaned back, his balls grazed her buttocks. The sensation distracted her but brought a satisfied smile to her lips. “What are you thinking?” he demanded. “That I’m glad you’ve stormed into my life. To have gone this long without experiencing --” “So you like it?” The question was filled with pitfalls, but it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already plowed around in her psyche. “I love it.” She swallowed. “What about you?” Even with his need for sex clawing at his nerves, she could tell he hadn’t expected the question. “I’m not complaining.”
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“That’s a lawyer’s response.” “I’m no lawyer, never will be.” “Good. One of us is enough.” He lifted an eyebrow. “What’s this, you’d rather talk than act?” “No. No!” His quick nod served as the response she needed. Maybe she should have guessed what he had in mind when his gaze moved to her breasts, but could she be faulted for being distracted by the warm weight lodged in her? He lightly slapped one breast and then the other. When, assaulted by electric shudders, she tried to turn away, he lifted his upper body off the bed so he could wrap his hand around the back of her neck and hold her in place. Once he had her anchored, he went back to subjecting her breasts to the blows that served to increase her awareness of her body. She was an attorney, not some man’s toy! And yet she’d become his, and she loved it! The pressure on the back of her neck increased, forcing her to lean over more and more. Concerned that the shift might do uncomfortable things to his cock, she tried to fight him. Seconds after the battle began, it ended with her breasts pressing against his hot chest, and his arms wrapped around her back. Even more bending of his legs pushed her forward. “Fuck me.” He punctuated his order by striking her brazenly offered ass. “I don’t want to hurt --” “Fuck me. I don’t break.” No, of course he didn’t. With his cock now pressing against the front of her channel, she had all the proof she needed. Putting real effort into the act without use of her hands was impossible, and yet if he wanted to punish her for her performance, her buttocks were there and waiting for his handprint. Gripping his cock with her inner muscles, she lifted herself off him. An image of
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how she must look would have made her laugh if not for the feel of him sliding along her inner tissues. Wonderful. Erotic. Skin against skin, sex against sex. Hungry for more, she lowered herself onto him as far as she could, paused, and then lifted. He responded by pushing himself at her. Somehow her lips found his. Somehow she opened her mouth. Somehow he did the same. No longer just crude fucking but emotion now, a brand of reaching out she hadn’t known she’d need or he’d grant. Yes, she’d fuck this man. She’d work her muscles until her body streamed sweat. And for as long as he allowed, she’d kiss him. Tears that had only a little to do with the effort she was expending burned her eyes as she repeatedly drove herself against him. His fingers were no longer on the back of her neck. Instead, he stroked her tethered arms, her back, her straining buttocks. In response, she drew her feet together until she found his thighs and then rubbed her heels over him. Frustration grew. True, what they were doing fascinated and challenged her, but their bodies were sealed together, and no matter how much she tried to rise above him, her movement was limited to a few inches. “Let me sit up, please,” she begged with her lips still on his. He responded by gripping the back of her head and crushing their mouths together, but then he did as she’d asked. Suddenly dizzy, she waited out the sensation by sitting with him deep and heated inside her. Then, ignoring the continued burn in her thighs, she began bouncing up and down. Every time she lifted herself, she was afraid she’d lose him completely, but she didn’t. Instead, she managed to stop when just his head remained housed and then reverse. Her vision blurred, so she now looked at him through a rosy veil. The heat in her cunt was flowing outward to envelope her pelvis, belly, ribs, and breasts. Her breasts shimmied,
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the ropes limiting but not ending their movement. She no longer felt her arms, no longer thought of them; nothing mattered except the fire. Closer, so close! Oblivious to her ragged breathing, she called on strength and endurance she didn’t know she had. She’d climax this way! Even more important, she’d bring him with her. “You’re burning up.” “What?” “I said,” he repeated, “you’re burning up.” He swiped his fingers between her breasts and then swept his sweat-drenched fingers over her tongue. “Taste yourself.” “I don’t care. Almost there. Nearly --” “You’re doing all the work.” Instead of telling him that was exactly what she wanted to do, she arched her back and renewed her attack. Once again the sense that she was rushing toward a cliff overwhelmed her. Seconds, scant seconds and -A wave of dizziness forced her to clamp her teeth together. By the time she understood what had happened, he’d pushed her off him and onto her side. Angry and scared, she tried to glare at him only to stop when she realized he was reaching for the pillows at the head of the bed. After placing them near her, he rolled her onto her belly. “What -- what did I do wrong?” “Nothing.” “Then why --” Sliding a hand under her stomach, he lifted. At the same time he pushed up on her knees indicating he wanted them to support her lower body with her ass in the air. Understanding swept through her as she rested the side of her head on one of the pillows.
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Spreading her legs, he helped her lift her ass even higher. Then, by anchoring her in place with a hand against her groin, he touched his cock head to the entrance to her pussy. Although she willed her muscles to relax and accept him, he remained where he was while his breathing raged. “Last chance. Yes or no?” “Yes. Oh, yes!” The words were still echoing when he rocked forward. Although she fought to stay in place, her upper body began sliding away. He stopped her retreat by grabbing one of the ropes on her back. Secure in her imprisonment, she sank deep into sensation. Although she’d seldom told a lover this, she’d always loved being taken from the rear. She kept her secret because doggy style made her feel subservient, something an attorney for the D.A.’s office should never be. It didn’t matter with Arken; he wasn’t part of her world. Instead he owned her fantasies. And maybe her as well. Familiar wet heat rolled over her. True, he wasn’t touching her fingers or toes or the top of her head, but there wasn’t a part of her body that didn’t respond. The greatest fire was centered in her cunt, and that’s what made her cry out. She’d been stripped down to one thing: a sexual animal. An animal in the process of fucking and being fucked. “Don’t stop!” she gasped as he powered into her. “Whatever you do, don’t stop!” Instead of reminding her that she was in no position to be issuing orders, he planted a hand at the base of her spine before rocking back and then driving himself at her. She cried out but couldn’t make sense of what she was saying. Maybe they were nothing more than syllables torn from a throat that, like everything else, no longer belonged to her. Sweat ran from her forehead into her eyes. More trickled into her crack, maybe hers, maybe belonging to both of them.
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“Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” The cheek pressed against the pillow was going numb, prompting her to turn her head. She’d just found the pillow again when she felt her lower body being lifted up. Tension gripped him, radiating out from him, consuming her as he gripped her groin, drowning her.
Come, come, she wanted to yell but couldn’t think how to form the words. Her pussy was in flames. Despite the hard length cradled inside her, she was falling apart, oozing off into nothingness. No, not splintering after all. Racing up the mountain, finding the crest, diving into an abyss. “Coming! Oh, God, coming!” she shrieked. He bellowed, sucked in air, and bellowed again. The way he was pushing at her made her wonder if he might tear her apart. And then -- heat, wet heat. His. “Yes, yes!” He pulled back a bit, still pumping. A beat later he again buried himself to his balls in her. More cum escaped him to flood her. Her own explosion continued, unnerving her with its intensity and duration. She drew a fleeting image of herself as a small butterfly caught in a storm. The winds buffeted it, and it broke apart. Died. Seconds or minutes later his cock began to deflate. She tried to tighten around him, only to discover she had no strength left. When he backed out of her, she rolled onto her side and pulled her knees up to her belly. He remained beside her on his hands and knees, head down and mouth open like a thoroughbred at the end of a race. Then, with a tired sigh, he collapsed beside her. Silence spread over them.
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Chapter Six
If she was ever put in charge of dreams, Lorelle thought, she couldn’t see how she could improve on what was happening now. For the second time, the ropes were gone. Granted, they’d again left marks, but she considered them badges of honor celebrating her first true journey into the land of submission. What she was still trying to make sense of -- not that she supposed it mattered -- was that the barn was gone. It had been replaced by a spa set in a large backyard surrounded by high fencing. From what she could tell about the nearby house, it belonged to someone wealthy. If the money she’d paid to Fantasies Unlimited was being used to purchase such opulent props, she wasn’t sure she approved. On the other hand, maybe Arken was richer than he’d let on, and this was his place. He must have carried her here while she was sleeping, as he’d done back when he took her from her home. Not only was the spa itself large enough to accommodate a half dozen people, and the heated jets felt gentle and strong, but the decking was some kind of waterproof surface that reminded her of tile but wasn’t nearly as firm, more like carpeting with the finest quality padding underneath. Someone, she couldn’t begin to guess who, had done a masterful job of
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landscaping, complete with massive pottery and a vibrant array of trees, shrubs, and flowers. Comfortable-looking recliners waited in the shade. At the moment, however, she half reclined and half floated in the spa with Arken close by. His arms were outstretched, which meant they occasionally brushed her, reawakening her need for him. She had no memory of what had happened between their nearly simultaneous climaxing and anything before the last two minutes. Talk about a deep sleeper. A trusting sleeper? “Where are we?” He nodded. “The exact location isn’t important. The place belongs to a fan of Fantasies, a well-heeled fan.” “And he let you borrow it?” “Yeah.” On the brink of asking for more information, she stopped. At the moment, they weren’t master and slave, and his tone was far from harsh. There was something different about him that took her back to his silence right after they’d had sex. She’d noted a change in his demeanor right after she’d told him about her parents, but then he’d picked up his role as a dom again, and the need to fuck had gotten in the way of trying to analyze it. But now he was no longer a dom, but a man… How might she get past his layers? To the truth of him? Did she have the courage for that? “How long is this -- this thing between us going to go on? I have a trial I need to prepare for.” “This isn’t about jobs and other responsibilities. It’s about you and your needs.” Dragging her gaze off him, she stared up at the sky. Only a few pristine white clouds blunted a little of the incredible blue, making her wish the day would go on forever and that he would always be with her.
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“What are you thinking?”
Do you know? Can you guess what I’m after? “What happens next? I get a diploma saying I’ve passed the BDSM test, maybe a certificate or trophy? Then you’re onto the next assignment?” “What?” Hadn’t he been listening? “This isn’t fair. It’s over, the whole bondage thing? You give me the mother of all climaxes and then head on down the road. What am I suppose to do, order a video of our little scene so I can replay it for the rest of my life?” “You could take the next step. Quit fantasizing about or paying for what you need and let it happen.” He was talking about getting into the BDSM scene for real, opening the door to one of the city’s fetish clubs and stepping inside or going online and advertising for a master. She’d thought about doing those things, but something, or more accurately a number of somethings, had held her back. Hopefully, he wouldn’t ask what they were, because she wasn’t sure herself. “You want to,” he went on and took her hand. “You know you do.” His touch both calmed and excited her. “It’s not that easy. I’m a public figure. I can hardly expect to keep my identity a secret if I step inside a BDSM club. I could be blackmailed or lose my job.” Slow and easy, he pulled her around so she faced him. Not caring what he saw when he looked into her eyes, she studied him. His expression said this was no casual conversation on his part. “And that’s the only reason you haven’t taken the step?” Wanting to be as honest as possible, she shook her head. How incredible it was to have finally found someone she felt free talking to about her deepest secrets -- and for that to be the man who’d tied her up and had sex with her! “I’ve explored the scene on the Internet. You know, joining chat rooms, downloading videos, taking virtual tours of BDSM dungeons.”
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“And?” “There’s something sad and cheap about that.” And terrifying. A slow nod was his only response. Not even his hold on her hand changed. “What do you mean by sad?” “I’m not sure.” The bubbles were making her drift about. If she leaned back just a little, her legs might float into his space. “Maybe I’m saying that because the idea of truly letting someone have control over me scares the hell out of me. But maybe it’s more complicated than that. What’s lacking in these people’s lives that forces them into that type of relationship? Were their childhoods so screwed up that they don’t know what normal is? Are they sexual deviants the way a lot of people believe?” Am I one of those deviants? “Maybe they’re just more liberated than most.” Belatedly realizing he might think she was lumping him in with those deviants, she frantically searched for a way to blunt the impact of what she’d said. In the end, however, she chose to stay with honesty. “Maybe. From what I’ve seen and read, a lot of them truly enjoy what they do. They don’t see anything wrong with beating someone or being beaten. I envy them.” “Envy?” Either he’d pulled her closer, or the jets had done the job. Whichever it was, their legs now touched. She didn’t have to look at him to know his cock was no longer flaccid. “Being that uninhibited. Hell, I don’t know.” She dragged her free hand through her wet hair. “It’s a push-pull kind of thing. I get off making believe I have a domineering master, and I’ll never forget what happened between us. On the other hand, I’d probably cut the balls off any man who tried to put a collar around my neck.” “Thanks for the warning. No collar.”
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Telling herself he was joking, she gave up trying to keep her feet on the bottom of the pool. As they drifted upward, she was drawn backward. To her delight, Arken pulled her against his chest. This wasn’t the man who’d dragged her into the role-play she’d needed. He’d changed in ways that went beyond mastery with rope. He was, what, gentler? No, not that. More accessible, more human.
Why? Why? “These conflicting emotions of mine are driving me crazy,” she admitted, because she didn’t know how to say what was really on her mind. “But I think I know where a lot of it comes from.” “Do you?” “The idea of turning control over to a man I trust has a lot of appeal. I’d no longer have to be responsible for anything -- except pleasing him. But my career’s about upholding personal freedoms. I prosecute abusive spouses, bullies, lawbreakers. How can I go after justice for some woman who’s had the crap beaten out of her by her bastard of a boyfriend, and then go home where I’m expected to crawl on my hands and knees over to my master so I can kiss his feet?” “And yet a part of you still wants to do that.” Not a question, a statement. “Yes,” she whispered and buried her face in his chest. “Part of me does.” “Do you know why?” That was the million dollar question again. Unfortunately, she’d never found the answer, or maybe the truth was she’d been unwilling to go that deep. “I’m not one for shrinks, not for myself. Too much of a realist.” “Are you?” he asked as he slid a hand over her buttocks and between her floating legs.
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She went in search of an answer; at least she tried to. But concentrating had become as easy as capturing and holding onto the countless bubbles surrounding them. “Ask me another time.” Sighing, she trailed her hand over his chest. Her fingers made contact with the scar there. That was reality. “I will,” he muttered. Bending his head, he nibbled the side of her neck. His hand remained against her cunt, trapping and caressing it. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the hot and yet peaceful sensations pulsing through her. She was no longer his captive but had become something precious and rare to him. At least, that was her fantasy. Without a word being said, he knew what she wanted. His masterful hands and mouth found the parts of her body most in need of attention. The woman who wore power suits and wielded the kind of power that made men tremble no longer existed. She’d been replaced by Arken’s sowilling plaything. And yet because he worshiped her, she was more than his living, breathing toy. A rueful laugh pressed against her lips at the thought of any man worshipping her. It might have broken free if her pussy softening in anticipation of sex didn’t distract her. Besides, she tried to tell herself, what Arken thought of her didn’t matter as long as he tended to her needs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled his chin. The water, which came up to the middle of his chest, lapped at her back, creating its own delicious sensation. Gravity didn’t mean the same to them as it did to mortals. They were above such pedestrian concerns. This place had been created for their pleasure, and they were creatures of pleasure. At least they could become those creatures, couldn’t they? It took effort and self-deprivation, but she managed to kick first away from his hold on her pussy and then wrap her legs around his hips. Her arms resting on his shoulders and his arms strong around her back, she leaned away so she could bring him into focus. “What
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happened? How’d we go from what was happening between us to this? The ropes -- are they really gone?” “Do you want them to be?” “Yes, for now.” “Why?” The hard question gave her pause, but at least she could entertain both of them by rubbing her body against his as she considered. Arken didn’t seem to mind. His hold tightened. His cock brushed against her thighs, sometimes slipping into her pussy. If she wanted, she could have taken him into her, but she wasn’t ready for that, not yet. Close, but not quite there. “I need to be your equal right now,” she told him, although she wasn’t sure she had everything worked out in her mind. “To be free of the games’ playing that’s part of the master/slave thing.” “You consider it games’ playing then?” “Of course. Don’t you?” His silence unnerved her enough that she hurried her explanation. “We both went willingly into what happened. Oh, technically you’re being paid, and I had no say in how things started, but I could have pulled the plug if I’d wanted to.” By way of answer, if that’s what he intended, he shifted his hold from her waist to her thighs. She let him know she approved by nibbling on the side of his neck and then running her tongue over the same spot. His breathing quickened. “You fascinate me,” she said. “I’ve never known anyone like you.” “Are you sure you do?” How dare he interject reality when she wanted these moments to drift in fantasy. “If you want to be a mystery man, that’s fine. Just don’t pull a disappearing act.” “I’m not going anywhere.”
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I wish I could believe you. “I’m not just talking about leaving. You’re practically a stranger.” Not smiling, he leaned toward her. “I’ve told you all I can.” “For now you mean?” He didn’t say anything. Damn it, hadn’t her career and what had happened to her parents taught her that life wasn’t painted in black-and-white? “All right. I’m sorry I asked for more than you’re willing to give.” Something in his gaze made her wonder if he regretted his words. She might have tried to explore that if concentrating on more than her body’s messages was easier. However, despite the working-over said body had recently received, it obviously had recovered. By shifting her grip, she managed to push her pelvis away from him. She might have slipped free if not for her hold on his shoulders and his arms around her. Testing both their self-control, she leaned forward as if she intended to kiss him, but didn’t. At the same time, she lowered herself into the water a few more inches and counted to ten, slowly. Anticipation clawed at her. He’d have to be unconscious or dead not to know what she had in mind. “I’m going to take you,” she told him when she’d reached ten. “Last chance to escape if this isn’t what you want.” “I’m not a submissive. Whatever happens is because I want it.” She’d always loved a challenge, but none had ever tested her the way his simple words did. He’d never given her the slightest indication that he would stand for being anything except in control, and even when it left her unbalanced and unsure, she loved that about him. On the brink of asking him to spell out what he wanted, she bit back the words. Damn it, she’d played the submissive role. It was time to cast it aside no matter how much effort it took. If he stopped her, she’d deal with the consequences, but at least she’d know.
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Closing her eyes, she concentrated on closing in on his cock. The jets served to mute sensation. Still, the instant his cock head brushed against her sex lips, she knew. Tentative exploration told her that the alignment was off a little so she leaned back even more, her hands sliding down his arms as she did. He helped by lifting her buttocks. A fragile quarter-inch penetration became a half and then double that. Her tissues expanding to absorb him, she imagined the wedding of cock and cunt. He was all hard heat wrapped in a silken package while she offered wet velvet. His cock sliding along her pussy front made her regret having never had sex in a spa before. Bubbles chased over her back and buttocks. Now she was clinging to his forearms while he continued to hold her thighs against him. With his first thrust, she opened her eyes and looked into eyes she wasn’t sure saw anything. He was lost in himself, lost in her. Awash in the wonder of a man’s naked emotions, she tightened her cunt muscles around him. His cock was his gift to her; she’d thank him in the only way that said how grateful she was. Heat ran up the sides of her neck and pooled in her cheeks. Even greater heat centered in her belly. Not caring how much came from her own body or was being provided by the spa, she drifted. Sex could be slow and long, gentle and briefly frenzied. She wanted all of that, to exist nowhere else. They weren’t fucking so much as rocking together, two waves becoming one, languid movement in an easy sea. Maybe he understood that she needed to continue this slow pace, because even when the muscles in his arms tightened, and the veins at the sides of his neck stood out, his thrusts remained measured and controlled. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Don’t talk. Just feel.”
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She could do that, oh God, could she! Her body became a unified unit, no longer arms and legs but a single piece, all focused on the male/female union. She loved the gliding slide of his cock along her pussy walls. Even though she was no longer sure where she let off and he began, she reveled in what being part of him felt like. And yet things were changing, becoming more intense by minute degree. Electric fingers walked over her spine and stroked her throat. The same electricity tightened her breasts and pressed against her belly. Determined to hold onto the sensation, she rolled to her left and then right. Doing so changed the intimate alignment. Keeping up emotionally shouldn’t have been that hard, except that she’d been caught up in the moment, anticipating nothing. Off-balance and liking it, she pushed at him. His balls stroked her. “You’re making me crazy,” she blurted. “I can’t keep this pace.” His words flowed over hers. They laughed together, and now his gaze was intense and probing, looking for things she’d prefer to keep to herself. And yet a sense of recklessness rose around her. Take chances.
Give up secrets. And demand the same in return. “Let go, Arken,” she challenged him. “Do what you want to me, now!” The only change to his expression was a barely discernable clenching of his jaw and the slightest darkening to his eyes. Then, before she could begin to prepare, he gripped her hips and slammed her at himself. At the same time he shoved his pelvis forward. If not for the water’s blunting quality, they would have crashed together. “Yes! Hit me, yes!” Again, and yet again! His neck grew red, and her legs trembled from the effort of matching him. The water that had been responsible for the dreamlike quality of their lovemaking now frustrated her. At the same time, fighting it gave her a place to expend her energy and strength. Damn, but she was strong, Superwoman fucking Superman.
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“Hit me. Do me!” “I am, damn you!” “I know; I know.” A long growl rolled out of him. Burying herself in the telling sound, she half believed she was experiencing his climax. Then her own exploded in and around her, shaking her and making her scream and cry. “Oh, God! God!” she sobbed. Thank you. With all my heart, thank you!
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Chapter Seven
The footsteps were getting closer, each sound a drumbeat on her heart. She hated cowering in the dark, dank corner, but jumping to her feet and trying to run was even more terrifying. Naked and chilled, she sat with her legs tucked against her belly, and her arms wrapped tight around her knees. Helpless. So damned helpless. A shudder seized her. By the time it had run its course, the footsteps were much louder. Whoever was coming for her was walking slowly, making her wonder if the unknown attacker was deliberately drawing out the terror of the unknown. Much as she wanted to scream, she didn’t dare. She didn’t know who he was, or why he was looking for her. Neither did she understand why she was hiding instead of yelling for help. How many times would this happen? Alerted by a change in the air, she looked up just as large and powerful hands reached through the dark toward her. Despite her vow not to panic, her scream was raw and primitive. Still screaming, she clawed at the hands. “Lorelle! Lorelle! It’s me. You’re all right.”
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Still caught in the nightmare’s tangle, she fought the naked body pressed against her own naked flesh, but Arken had wrapped his arms around her and was holding her close to his chest. One of his legs lay over hers, making it impossible for her to move. “Let me go, damn it! Oh God, please, let me go.” “Hush. Hush. You’re all right. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Arken’s voice was calm and low in contrast to the hysteria in hers. Ashamed and frightened by her lack of control, Lorelle nuzzled against him as the dream’s vice-grip loosened. Finally she shoved off the last of it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, embarrassed by her behavior. “I didn’t mean to pull you into that. I try -- I’d hoped no one would ever know.” His hold slackened, but he didn’t release her. His warm breath slid over her cheek and neck. “Know what?” Damn, why had she said that? Instead of searching for an explanation that might end his questions, she took note of the soft mattress under her and the sweet-smelling pillow and recalled that they’d gone inside after leaving the hot tub. Not only were the sheets silk, but the faint sounds of crickets and frogs let her know it was night, and the windows were open. It was just cool enough to warrant a light blanket, and she would be under it if she hadn’t been trashing about. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had that nightmare, is it?” he pressed. “No. Too bad I can’t get that stupid tape to stop replaying itself endlessly.” She closed her eyes. “Don’t let it bother you. I’m used to it. Most times it’s pretty boring.” “Boring? You’re still shaking and cold.” On the verge of repeating that she didn’t want either of them to make a big deal out of nothing, she reconsidered. She’d fought the damnable nightmare for so long and might go on fighting it for the rest of her life if she didn’t do something different.
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“I never know when it’s going to sneak up on me. I can go months without it making an appearance. Then suddenly it’s there every night for weeks.” “The same?” Arken was a voice in the night, full of concern and comfort. Snuggling against the only man to have been with her when the dream hit, she prayed for the courage to continue. “There are variations. Sometimes I’m in a basement, sometimes in the woods. Other times I’m in some alley or a cave. What’s always the same is that I know whoever is coming is going to harm me, and I can’t do anything about it.” “You’re helpless.” “Yes.” “But you like having no control. That’s what brought us together, my assignment to let you play the submissive.” “Play,” she repeated. His leg over hers was causing hers to fall asleep so she inched out from under and rolled onto her back. Thank goodness, his arm remained around her middle, and his breath still warmed her. So far everything between the two of them had been about sex. Now all she wanted was to know he was near and listening. “That’s what I’ve never been able to understand. I love thinking about the submissive role; it’s such a contrast to the way I conduct myself at work. But what takes place in my imagination is under my control. No matter how inventive things become, I’m the one doing the inventing.” “But the nightmare’s different. You have no control over it.” Not sure whether she wanted to applaud or curse his perceptiveness, she nodded. “And that scares you.” “Do you think it shouldn’t?” she retorted, suddenly defensive. “I’m no longer a child hiding from the boogeyman. I should no longer be scared of things that go bump in the night.” She crossed her arms over her naked breasts, not caring if she looked ridiculous without clothes. “Well, I wish it was that easy.”
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“So do I.” His response brought her within a breath of crying. “I appreciate -- thank you.” “How long has this been going on?”
Tell him. “Years.” “And you haven’t told anyone about it?” “Who? My parents? They have enough to deal with themselves. I don’t have any siblings, and it’s not the kind of thing I’ve felt comfortable bringing up with friends. And the last thing I’d do is blab to colleagues. Can you imagine what would happen if defense attorneys learned that the tough assistant D.A. has to sleep with a teddy bear?” “Do you?” “No! I was just --” “Do you want to?” His question trapped her, and yet she was grateful for it. Needing space to think, she stared upward. “Not a teddy bear but something comforting.” Her admission started to float away only to curl back around her. “Why do I feel like that? I hate waking up so damn scared every time. If nothing else, the dream should have lost its power to make an impact on me.” “It hasn’t because something in your life hasn’t been resolved.” She turned her head and made out his profile in the semi-dusk. He too was on his back, looking at her. When he extended his hand, she let him curl his fingers around hers. Maybe that’s all she needed to hold onto at night, his fingers. “What are you, a shrink?” “No. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” “Maybe. I don’t know.” “Maybe that’s because you’ve been endlessly running the same thing around in your mind instead of standing back and getting a different perspective.”
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“Is that why you’re here? Instead of being a dom, you’re been sent here to analyze me? What’s the bill going to be?” “Don’t joke.” He was right; this was hardly a joking matter. “All right.” “Okay, so the boogeyman’s been stalking you for years. Can you trace it back to its beginning? Does it go as far as childhood?” “No, thank goodness. In fact, I don’t remember ever being afraid of monsters under the bed or in my closet as a child. I was pretty secure.” “Your life was secure until your parents were shot?” “Pretty much. We weren’t rich; I’m sure my parents thought about finances a lot more than I did. They’d wanted more children, but it didn’t happen. I’ve sometimes wondered if they went into business for themselves because being self-employed is so demanding. It didn’t leave much time for anything else.” “Maybe. Lorelle, I’m going to ask you something I want you to give serious thought to before answering. Will you do that?” Suddenly cold, she muttered, “I’ll try.” “Good. Do you think that being forced to become an adult the night your folks were shot made you into the strong woman you are now?” She didn’t feel at all strong at the moment. In fact, she hadn’t felt strong since he’d stormed into her world. Instead of lightening the mood by pointing that out, she brought his hand to her naked belly and rested it over her navel, hoping the contact would lessen the chill. “What makes you say I became an adult that night?” “You did, didn’t you?” “I did what I had to.” “Tell me about it.”
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Something dense and heavy started swirling around her. “I already have.” “Just the overview.” He made a circle on her belly with the hand she’d trapped. “Now, take me through it moment by moment.”
I don’t want to! It doesn’t need to be revisited. “Why?” “Because we might find the core of your nightmare there.” She’d long thought the same thing only to shy away from self-analysis because that had only served to strengthen the nightmare. The difference this time was that she wasn’t going there alone. We, he’d said. “I -- what do you want to hear?” “Start with what’s easy.”
Thank you. “Where we had our business was in the city’s core, but there was a quaint quality to Main Street. It was old, of course, with night lights from the forties and parking meters. Parking was a problem. The homeless shelter was only about five blocks away. Only a few other shops were like ours with apartments above the store. It didn’t bother me that much because the residential area began only some two blocks behind the street we were on, and my friends lived there.” Going back in her mind to long summer evenings spent at the neighborhood parks with her friends calmed her. Although her parents’ rules included her not going near the homeless shelter, she gave the restriction little thought since there was no reason to anyway. Much as she wanted to paint a vivid image of the small town, that wasn’t what Arken had asked for or what she needed. By concentrating on the small, slow circles he continued making on her stomach, she mentally returned to the night everything had changed. She’d been in the living room working on a geography paper when she wasn’t talking on the phone. Mindful that her parents would soon be up for dinner, she’d been listening for the sound of their shoes on the stairs. Instead, she’d heard what she’d first thought was a car backfiring. Then her mother had screamed.
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“I dropped the phone. Hours later when I came back upstairs I saw it off the hook. I hadn’t even bothered to put on my shoes, I just ran downstairs. I have no idea why I didn’t call the police or ask myself if I might get shot. My parents were all that mattered.” “You were a brave girl.” “I was acting on instinct. Both the police and the Thetfords -- they’re the people my folks were leasing the building from -- told me I’d risked my life, but I didn’t think about that for a long time.” Propping himself up on his elbow, Arken looked down at her. “Maybe that’s the nightmare’s seed, having to own up to the consequences of your actions.” “Maybe,” she allowed, although she didn’t think that was it. Insane as it sounded, even to herself, she had convinced herself that teenage girls didn’t get killed going to their parents’ aid. Not caring to tell Arken about her excuse for logic, she continued with her memory. The sight of her wounded and terribly bleeding parents became her world. Things needed to be done, and there was only her to do them. First had been to make sure the shooter was no longer in the shop, a question she’d resolved by stumbling over to the open front door and spotting a figure running down the sidewalk. Next came picking up the store phone and dialing 9-1-1. Only when she’d been assured help was coming did she kneel beside her parents. She’d ripped off her shirt and used that as a pressure bandage on her father and was clamping her hands over her mother’s wound when the police stormed in, followed by ambulance attendants. Not until hours later did it dawn on her that she’d only had on a bra during that frantic time. She hadn’t slept that night at the hospital while her parents underwent emergency surgery. She’d called each parent’s only siblings, but because Aunt Margaret and Uncle Paul lived in different states, they hadn’t arrived until late the next day. Aunt Margaret, who had three small children, had only been able to stay a couple of days while Uncle Paul, well, as she’d suspected he would, Uncle Paul had gotten and stayed drunk.
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Thank God for the Thetfords. Not only had they volunteered to first clean up and then keep the store open, they’d also shown her how to interpret the growing pile of medical bills and deal with the insurance company. “I’d been so naïve.” Arken was on his side with his arm draped over her breasts, but she didn’t let that detour her from her thoughts. “I’d thought that because they were victims, the system would bend over backwards to minimize our trauma. But the detectives didn’t tell me anything about their investigation. They never did catch whoever did it. They tried to interview my parents, but neither of them remembered much. We were left alone.” “Don’t you mean you were left alone?” he asked softly. “Your parents weren’t in any shape to know what was happening, were they?” “Not for a long time. Oh, a hospital social worker arranged to have Dad moved to a rehabilitation facility and gave me a list of home health care providers when Mom was ready to be released. What she didn’t address was how I was going to get our insurance to pay for all this care, among other things.” “What did you do?” Strange. She hadn’t been doing anything except taking up space on the mattress, and yet she was exhausted… “I’d already missed so much school I told my counselor I was dropping out for the rest of the term. That way I was able to stay home with Mom. I felt guilty about the Thetfords having to run the business, so I told them I’d lined up part-time employees when the truth was, I did it all.” “When did you sleep?” “I didn’t.” Maybe that’s why she felt so tired right now. She recalled the days and nights of sleepwalking, of not really remembering what happened day to day -- or even, at the worst time, what happened hour to hour. “Fortunately, Mom’s a fighter. Before long she was taking care of herself. What I regret is not having had more time to spend with Dad. I
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still think he would have recovered sooner if I’d been there to make sure he was getting all the therapy that had been ordered.” “That’s right. Place more responsibility on your shoulders.” She gave a frustrated sigh. “There wasn’t any more of me left to go around.” She rubbed at a stabbing pain between her eyes. “I haven’t thought about that time for years. The horror of seeing my parents wounded overran everything else. Next to what they had to go through, my experience was nothing.” “Is that what they said?” “Of course not.” If he said anything against her parents, she’d attack him. “But I deliberately downplayed the medical billing mistakes, the balking on the insurance company’s part, not being able to pay utilities until the last minute.” “Why?” “What could they have done? They’d nearly lost their lives. That was more than enough for them to concentrate on.” “Look, I’m not weighing what they endured against your workload. I just want to give you all the credit you have coming.”
You believe I deserve credit? I was just doing what a loving daughter would do. She didn’t say either of her thoughts because her throat had clogged. Waiting it out, she continued to massage her forehead. “I don’t know how you survived, I honestly don’t. Think of all the new skills you had to pick up in an incredibly short period of time. Skills it takes most adults years to get a handle on.” “I didn’t have a choice.” “No, you didn’t. You’re an incredible woman.” She did feel incredible, incredibly frayed around the edges from diving into the past, and even more frayed around the nerve endings as a result of the sex they’d had. She might
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have told him that, except that for the first time in years, the fear and sense of being overwhelmed were back full force. “I was so scared,” she whispered. She started to sit up only to collapse with her head on his chest. “First that my parents were going to die. Then that I couldn’t keep a roof over our heads and get them the care they needed.” Arken stroked her hair as her mother had done when she was a small child. “There was another fear, Lorelle. There had to have been.” “What are you talking about?” “I’ve seen crime victims. Call it what you want to, maybe post-traumatic stress syndrome. They’re afraid that what happened once will again. I can’t blame them. After all, their sense of security has been shattered.” “I didn’t dare think about that.” Why did she sound so unsure, so close to tears? “There wasn’t time or space.” “Don’t.” “Don’t what?” “Damn it, there’s nothing wrong with being afraid. It happens to all of us. I know what I’m talking about.” “I’m strong. Just ask --” “Just ask your co-workers? Poll the criminals you’ve put behind bars? Yeah, I know what they’d say.” “Then --” “Stop it!” Despite his outburst, Arken continued to stroke her hair, and she let him. “Why didn’t you at least turn to your aunt? Tell your uncle you needed him sober because you couldn’t do it all on your own?” About to tell him that ordering a drunk to clean up his act never accomplished anything, she drew closer. “I don’t know why I didn’t. The Thetfords would have done more,
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I know they would have. But so many people were praising me. I had to live up to their expectations; I wanted to.” “Except in the middle of the night.” “What are you saying?” “I think you know.” Did she? Unwilling to face the answer, she sat up. “I thought you were here to grant my dreams and fantasies, not tie me to some shrink’s couch. I want your body, not your pop psychology.” “What you want and what you need aren’t the same thing.” “Are you trying to pick a fight?” “Do you think I am?” That was what shrinks did, wasn’t it? They answered questions with more of the same. Well, fuck him. Only she’d already done that. “What did you mean when you said you’ve seen crime victims?” He hadn’t intended to give away anything. She could see it in his eyes. “I’m going to throw something at you,” he said. “You can either accept or reject it, but I want you to think about it. You’ll do that, won’t you.” Although he hadn’t phrased it as a question, she felt she had to nod agreement. “But before we get to that, I want to set the stage.” “How?” For a moment he only returned her stare. Then he launched himself at her, slamming into her side and knocking her back against the mattress. She tried to slap him only to have him close his fingers around a wrist while holding her down with his greater weight. Despite her furious struggling, he easily pulled her arm over her head so her fingers pressed against
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one of the posts that were part of the headboard. Maybe she shouldn’t have been surprised to discover that a silken rope was tied to the post. Instead of fighting him, she let him secure first that wrist and then the other. When he was done, he turned on the bedside lamp and sat back while she lay with her arms outstretched and her legs not as pressed together as they should have been. “You’re a submissive woman, Lorelle. That’s not the only thing you are, and I don’t believe you’d ever embrace the lifestyle, but being helpless feeds certain needs. You can’t deny that, can you?” She couldn’t move, couldn’t escape, couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted to. Bring it on. Just bring it on. “I can see it in your eyes,” he went on as he began stroking the thigh closest to him. “So it doesn’t really matter that you’re not ready to say certain things.” “You don’t know what I’m thinking.” “Don’t I?” Smiling just enough to knock her heartbeat off course, he slid his hand closer to her inner thigh. “I sure as hell know what you want, so why wouldn’t I have insight into your thoughts?” “You like that, don’t you?” she snapped, even as her legs opened of their own will. “To control everything about me.” “It turns both of us on.” “And gives you that damnable power trip.” She didn’t know why she was arguing with him, maybe to give herself something to think about so she wouldn’t surrender so quickly, maybe because being transparent was frightening. “You know everything that’s important about me, while I don’t even know what you do to keep a roof over your head.” Certain she had his full attention, she stared at the scar on his chest. “And that. You won’t say a damn thing about it.”
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Chapter Eight
His features impassive, Arken ran his hand between her legs and roughly worked his thumb into her. Shocked by the barely-controlled violence in the move, she tried to clamp her legs together. Her rebellion -- although she preferred to call it self-preservation -- earned her a series of slaps on her thighs. Breathing heavily, she offered herself up to him. She expected Arken to take advantage of her limp body, but after several seconds during which his own breathing raged and his thumb continued to plunder, he pulled in a deep breath and held it. At the same time, he withdrew his finger. Bit by bit the tension eased out of him. Bending low over her, he kissed her labia. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “You didn’t.” True, her thighs stung, but she wasn’t afraid and that, really, was all that mattered -- and being kissed there. “But I touched a nerve, didn’t I? A great deal about who you are revolves around the scar.” “History. Closed chapter.” “Like the ones I tried to close? You wouldn’t let up on me until I’d poured out everything. Why doesn’t it work both ways? Why?” Despite her attempt to concentrate on what she was saying, another kiss came close to making her dissolve, and she kept her legs splayed in invitation.
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“Because our time together is about you, granting you your dreams.” “And eradicating my nightmares, don’t forget that. What about you, Arken? What wakes you up at night?” “Nothing.” “Don’t lie to me.” Once more he dragged in as much air as his lungs could hold. She hated pushing him the way she was, but maybe this was what he needed -- the same as she’d needed to revisit what her family had gone through. “I’m not what’s important beyond supplying you with what you paid for and deserve,” he said. “So you’re in charge of supplying nothing more than the necessary male body parts? Any member of your sex could do this job. You must not have a high opinion of yourself.” “What are you getting at?” “I don’t know. That’s the hell of it. I keep thinking you have all these layers; I know I’ve scraped through a few of them. Maybe I’ve gone as deep as there is to go, but so far you haven’t done anything to convince me of that. For one thing, there’s why you took this job, and what you get out of it, beyond the obvious. You can tell management at Fantasies Unlimited that I’m not interested in being fucked by whoever’s available. I want you, whoever you are.” Exhausted by her honesty, she concentrated on letting the bed support her. His smile looked no more casual than hers had felt. “You talk too much.” With that, he pushed down on her inner thigh. Watching her, he caressed the so-sensitive skin all the way from her knee to her crotch. She tried not to squirm and all but bit her tongue to keep from begging him to bury his fingers in her again -- and when he’d done that, to replace his fingers with his cock. “Not fair, not fair,” she chanted.
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“What isn’t?” “All right, all right.” She might have repeated herself even more if he hadn’t turned his attention to the crease between her leg and groin. His nail barely touched her, more like a feathery touch than anything else. Rocking her head from side to side and breathing with her mouth open, she vacillated between needing to beg him to stop to longing to order him to continue what he was doing, maybe forever. Strange. Except for the hand holding her knee in place, the only other contact between them revolved around a single fingernail on a single part of her anatomy, and yet she felt it, felt him, everywhere. She couldn’t keep her buttocks on the sheet, couldn’t stop her head’s movement. And she had no control over the volcano building inside her. Stroke built upon stroke until she thought she’d go insane. Although she didn’t want to be free, she tugged on her wrist restraints. When they refused to give, she tried to push him away with her free leg. “Not going to happen,” he said. “Don’t forget, you want me in control.” “No!” Lifting her head off the pillow, she tried to bite him. “I don’t! Stop it. You’re tickling --” “Just tickling? I don’t think so.” Even though she rocked away from him, Arken had no trouble slipping his middle finger into her and resting it there. Strength oozed out of her, leaving her limp and compliant, maybe not fulfilled but momentarily content. He was doing that to her, Arken, with his knowledgeable finger and unreadable expression and body bent low over hers. She wanted this, didn’t she, with every cell and fiber in her. The restraints and nudity and invasion, even not getting what she needed when she needed it because he insisted on another pace, his pace. “You’re at peace, aren’t you?” he asked. His breath stroked her eyes and cheeks. “In the moment.”
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“Yes.” “You don’t want anything different.” “Different?” The slightest movement of his buried finger roused her. “To be free or even having any say over what I do to you.” Maybe because she earned her living the way she did, she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right. But her body spoke for her as she rolled toward him as far as she could while straightening her free leg and turning it out in further invitation. “That’s what I need,” he muttered. “Your absolute compliance.” There might be a warning in his few words, perhaps unintended exposure on his part, but for now all she could do was tuck them away. He’d again melted her down and turned her into the plaything they both fed off. Trembling, she studied his features. This man, this complex mystery man, had changed her world. More movement, this time purposeful, lifted the mist that had drifted in around her. He’d withdrawn his finger and was holding it under her nose. “Breathe,” he said. “What do you smell?” “Me.” “What about you?” “I’m turned on. Wet and hot.” “And needing my cock in you?” “Yes! When it suits you, Master.” “What suits me is to have you lick what’s yours off me. You’ll do that, won’t you?” She responded by lifting her head and extending her tongue. Following a teasing delay, he placed his finger within reach, and she sucked him in. The tang of her salty fluid cut through the last of the mist, but she forced herself to concentrate on obedience. Even when
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she’d licked all proof of her arousal off him, she continued to groom. If he wanted a cat, a purring cat, she’d give him that. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?” he asked. “I guess.” She lifted her pelvis toward him. “Foreplay has its place, but --” “You don’t sound much like a submissive.” He might be preparing to discipline her, but she didn’t think so. And even if he did, she wanted that, didn’t she? “Do you want me to apologize, Master?” Instead of punishing her, he dipped into her again and replenished his supply. Then, watching her, he coated her nipples in her pungent juices. “I would, except anything you say would lack a certain authenticity. No matter what you might believe, you don’t have it in you to ever be a true sex slave.”
Sex slave. To her thinking, the term wasn’t derogatory so much as it spoke of programmed behavior. A true sex slave existed for one purpose, and that was to please her master, no matter what he demanded of her. Her wishes meant nothing to either of them. No matter how weary or frightened she might be, she was expected to perform with no thought of creature comfort or even personal sexual satisfaction. If her master allowed her to climax, she’d profess her gratitude, but she’d never know when, if ever, that would happen again. “What are you thinking?” With a mental shake, she brought herself back to the reality he’d created. He’d released her knee, and either she or he had straightened her legs and brought them close together. Her arms remained tethered above her head, and her breasts were within his reach. “That you’re right,” she admitted. “In other words, all you want is the fantasy? Not reality.” Granting him the nod he surely knew was in her took time. “I -- maybe I never thought of it like that before. I believed, given the right incentive and conditions, I could take that leap, but I was wrong.”
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“How do you feel about that?” The man had incredible self-control. Even with his cock at attention and his gaze burning her breasts and crotch, he kept his hands on his thighs. “Confused. I want to be at peace with who I am, but I’m still trying to find that person.” “Maybe you can’t find her on your own. Maybe that’s why I’m here.” What was that in his eyes, anticipation or hesitation? Suddenly it didn’t matter because self-awareness was again growing with each heartbeat. Talk could wait. So could everything else. She was helpless and willing flesh, a gift to the man who’d captured her. The raging need swept over her, causing her to fight her bonds. But even as she silently begged him to grant her freedom, she reveled in the strain in her arms and untapped need in her groin. “Master, please. Take pity on me.” “Why should I care what you want?” Shifting so he was on his knees on the bed, he placed his hands on either side of her waist. Then he lowered himself, trapping her beneath his greater weight. “You’re nothing more than a means to my end, a living vessel.” Anticipation shivered down her spine. She couldn’t truly ever be a slave, but she could pretend to be one. “Forgive this unworthy cunt. You’re right, Master, right. Whatever you need, take it from me.” A superior grin transformed his features, and although she knew it was an act on his part, she bought into the roles they were playing by arching her back and offering her breasts to him. After leaning back on his haunches, he captured her nipples in his fingers. “I take these. They belong to me, do you understand?” Hoping her expression revealed the proper amount of compliance and fear, she gnawed on her lower lip. “Yes, Master.” “See that you do.” He released them but only so he could bury her breasts under his large hands and rock forward so she bore much of the weight of his upper body. “I allowed
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you to defy me because it entertained me to do so, but I’ve grown weary of the game. From now on, only I matter. My needs are the only ones.” “Yes, Master.” “What is this, slave?” Rocking back again, he ran his fingers under her breasts and pushed upward. “My discipline has left its mark on your rebellious soul? You’ve learned your lessons?” “Yes, Master.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off her mounds. Talk about cleavage! “Your insubordination has tried my patience. By the time I’m done with you, you will be begging me to treat you as anything except what you are, my pet.” Tired of repeating yes, Master, she opted for a vigorous nod and what she hoped was a hang-dog look. Ignoring her expression, he cocked his head and studied his handiwork’s effect on her breasts. He was pushing up with enough strength that she hoped he’d soon weary of this game, and yet that was what the game was about, wasn’t it? Him first, in every way. “I’ve decided to parade you before my associates. You will wear a push-up bra with holes for your nipples to show through.” He winked. “Yes, that’s just what I’ll do. You’ll also have on my collar and crotchless panties, perhaps nothing else. If I so choose, a short chain will fasten your wrists to the collar in back so you’re forced to walk with your spine arched and your breasts displayed. And if I chose to reward my associates, you’ll drop to your knees and take their cocks into your mouth.” His expression was half stern, half teasing. “You will do that and everything else I command with your eyes downcast and willingness in your heart because you live for me. Not for yourself, for me.” “Whatever you wish, Master.” The pressure on her breasts let up, and although the increased blood flow burned, she remained motionless. Coming up with something for the masters who existed in her mind to
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say in her dreams was one thing. Hearing it from the lips of this man, an actual dom, forced her to clench her pussy muscles in an attempt to keep her excitement under control. “I wish release,” he snapped. “Whether you experience pleasure in the act means nothing to me.” A moment of fear caught her unprepared, and although she managed to tamp it back where it belonged, she wondered if she’d heard the real Arken. Maybe, despite everything he’d done to entertain and satisfy her, at his core the only thing he cared about was himself. Was that what it really meant to be a dom, selfishness? Not that she could do anything about it the way she was bound. After running his fingers possessively over her breasts, he turned his attention and hands to her rib cage. He wasn’t cruel as much as confident. She tried to study his expression, but the sensations chasing through her made that nearly impossible. By turns she weathered the fear that came with helplessness and reveled in that helplessness. This was no longer her body or her fantasy. He’d claimed both for himself, and whether she approved or rebelled didn’t matter. When his roaming fingertips found her belly, the conflicting emotions stopped swirling. Again expressionless, he stroked her hipbones, explored her navel, and pressed down on her stomach. Much more, a few additional ounces of pressure, and he’d reach her womb. Her womb, safe within the shelter of bone, muscle, and flesh, and yet so close to him. “Open yourself for me, slave. Ready your pussy for your master.” Her mouth slack, she spread her legs. And although she knew she should keep her eyes open, they closed. The moment they did, she found her fantasy. A newly-purchased slave, she’d been brought to her master’s bedchambers where she was expected to perform for him. He’d proven to be everything she’d been warned about, cruel and powerful, virile and overwhelming. Even as she shook in helpless fear, her body
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turned hot and willing. If he decided to slit her throat, no one would lift a hand to protect her, and if he wrapped her body in ropes and kept her at his feet until she ceased to entertain him, those under him would avoid meeting her despairing gaze. She could only pray that all he wanted was her cunt, breasts, arms, and legs. Lorelle felt even more pressure on the insides of her thighs and opened her eyes. She stared up at the dark form looming over her. Without her being aware of it, he’d placed himself between her legs and was now bending her knees outward as he’d done before. He kept up the pressure until she had no choice but to lift her buttocks off the mattress. Ordering her with his eyes to stay like that, he slid several pillows under her ass so it was higher than her head and shoulders. “That’s how I want you. Ready. Willing.”
Willing? Yes, and no. His thumbs easily separated her labial lips, but instead of filling her, he ran his nails lightly over her swollen flesh. “Master!” Did he really expect her not to move? “I cannot -- I need --” Vise-like fingers captured both lips and pressed them together. “Yes, you can. You will. Surely you haven’t forgotten whose cunt this is.” “No, Master.” Pain in her palms warned her she was clenching her fists in a desperate attempt to remain in place. “This -- this is your cunt.” “And I will do whatever I want with it.” “Yes, Master.” As he’d done with her breasts earlier, he let up on the pressure, but she couldn’t begin to relax because her hot flesh remained between his fingers, still his.
His. All of her belonging to him. “Tell me how to please you, Master. Train me so I will be worthy of you.”
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“You believe you need training?” “If it pleases you.” “Perhaps it will.” When he drew her right labial lip away from her opening, she had no doubt he was studying her. “However, I’ve had a long and exhausting day slaying dragons and only want a compliant slave under me.” “I am complaint, Master. I will please you, I will.” “That remains to be seen. How hot your sex is, slave.” Proving his point, he ran his little finger into her. She imagined that he was taking her temperature, and once again the inner battle to remain still threatened to take all her strength. “I love to have you shaking under me with your readiness.” “Thank you, Master.” He pushed, lifting her nearly off the pillows and making her clench her fingers again. His smallest finger curved forward. If he found her g-spot, she’d erupt. But what if that displeased him? “Master?” Unable to stop herself, she pressed her buttocks into the pillows. “Do you want me to come? I -- I don’t know if I can stop myself if --” “Control, slave. Exhibit control.”
I’m trying. I’m trying. But God, oh God! She started swimming in something hot and close. As she did, a small part of her warned her to battle her way to the shore, but the waves were so high and strong and kept coming. One instant he’d filled her; the next his drenched finger rested on her clit, then in again. “Control, control,” he chanted while stirring the waves. “I can’t! Master, I beg of you, I can’t.” “You’re about to come?” “Yes. Yes!”
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“Not yet.” The two words were spoken so quietly that for several seconds she wasn’t certain she’d heard them. Then there was no doubt -- and maybe no fighting her demanding, desperate body. “Why -- not?” “Because I said.” He leaned so close that his features blurred. “This is what you wanted, remember. For your master to dominate you in every way. You aren’t changing your mind, are you?” “I need --” He started to pull out, prompting her to tighten her sex muscles around him. “ -- to come. How can you be so cruel?” Although he could have easily broken free, he allowed her to continue to house him. “Is that how you see it, I’m cruel? What about giving you what you want?” “I don’t want to be tortured! I won’t allow it.” On the verge of ordering him to free her, she held back. Not only was she afraid he wouldn’t comply, but even with the need for release driving her crazy, she loved being held on the edge. “I should have gagged you.” He pressed his lips over hers. There was nothing tender about his kiss, but she was too far gone to want that anyway. She needed energy and passion, danger even. The contact continued, building and seeming to spread out until she wondered if he was somehow touching her everywhere. To her, kisses were intimate, even more so than the primal act of fucking. Lips touching lips spoke of connection and warmth, caring. “If you’d gagged me,” she said when they finally broke free, “we wouldn’t have been able to do that. Thank you.” His expression made her wonder if he hadn’t expected gratitude from her, but she’d meant it in ways she didn’t fully understand. Looking into his dark eyes calmed and quieted her. Yes, it wouldn’t take much for the flames to rage again, but she loved this connection between them. She had no existence beyond this moment. Surely the same was true for him.
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“Master, may I ask a question?” “You may. I might not answer.” She swallowed. “Have you ever let a woman tie you up? Maybe you wanted to experience --” “No! I don’t turn control over to anyone. Ever.” Wondering at the strength in his denial and the nerve she’d hit, she arched her back so her breasts reached for him. “Just because I can’t use my arms doesn’t mean I’m helpless. I still have certain weapons.” “It doesn’t matter. I don’t relinquish control, never again.”
Never again? But it had happened, at least once. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” “Don’t I?” “I can’t answer that because you refuse to tell me about yourself.” Although she wanted to say more, fear that they’d lose what they’d begun stopped her. More clawing at his layers would have to wait. Despite the effort it took, she forced her sex muscles to relax. That accomplished, she turned her head away and sighed. “Is this what you want? For me to lie here waiting for you? I will because I have no choice.” “What is this, a power play?” “No. I’m embracing my role. What do you think of your sex slave? Is she living up to expectations?” “Not close.” “What more do you want me to do? And while you’re working on your answer, don’t forget that I can’t do much more than I already am.” “But you’d like to, wouldn’t you? Maybe you want to climb on top and force me to service you.”
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What a heady possibility! “You’d do that, service me?” “Maybe. If it pleased me to do so.” His smallest finger had been in her the whole time they were talking, which had a great deal to do with her inability to concentrate fully, but at least it made pulling his attention back to that part of her anatomy easier. Hoping she was accomplishing what she intended to, she worked on contracting first her outer pussy muscles and then switching to those buried deep inside. Not all at once, but bit by bit his stern expression softened. “What’s that?” he asked, wiggling his finger. “Getting my attention?” “Is it working?” “You know the answer to that. I’m going to say something, and then I don’t want either of us to speak for awhile. Instead, I want you to think, when you’re capable.” “All -- right.” “You’ve made yourself believe that your need to be a submissive is in reaction to your career, a way of letting go of job stress. But I say that side of your nature goes back much further, to the attack on your parents.” “I --” “No.” Giving her no warning and thus no way of adapting, he slipped his ring finger in next to the one already in her. “Remember what I said. No talking. Just thinking.” Just reacting was more like it, she acknowledged as her cunt expanded to accommodate this latest invasion. Fingers lacked the silken strength and intimacy of a cock, but she’d take whatever he gave her. More than just take, she’d embrace his gift and turn it into fuel. Sighing, she sent a message to relax and absorb to every part of her body. She’d been playacting when she’d agreed that her pussy belonged to him, but now she was indeed his possession, his to mold and manipulate as he saw fit. For as long as he wanted.
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His fingers, gone again. But instead of being alarmed, this time she breathed through her need as she waited for him. He was back, rough hands all over her thighs. Unable to keep up with the rapid movement, she willed herself to float in sensation. By turn he left his fingerprints in her belly and on her mons. Then when he’d thoroughly imprinted her with his touch, Arken ran his hands under her buttocks and repositioned her on the pillows. She again splayed her legs. A touch, hot and hard, yet soft. Without looking at what he’d done, she knew he’d positioned himself between her knees and was holding his cock against her entrance. Moisture bled from her to bathe the pillows beneath her. Another touch, just as feather-light, but lasting a few seconds longer. Spreading herself even more, the pressure bit at her inner thighs. A third contact followed by nothing, followed by a kiss of cock tip to her swollen flesh. Her head thrashed and her knees bent outward. Her back arched, high and tense. Over and over again he tortured her, sometimes finding the entrance to her sex, other times playing with the outer walls. A sob rolled out of her. And when he guided his cock from her mons to her asshole before settling against her cunt, her sobs backed up so they came one after another in a primal chant. “No talking. Remember that. No talking. Only feeling.” “Can’t help -- oh God, can’t help… “ “Yes, you can.” Teeth grinding together, she tried to tear at the ropes holding her arms. She was an animal, a trapped beast. Ah, what? Yes, oh yes. Entrance stormed. Pussy entered.
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He was barely in her, the connection so fragile that she feared any movement on her part would end it. The wild animal he’d turned her into fought instinct, and she somehow managed to remain motionless. But her nerves shivered, and her pussy cried. Yes, movement, finally. More of him. In her. Awed by his self-control, she vowed to match him, but he’d brought her to the brink of exploding only a few minutes ago. True, he’d pulled her back while they were talking, but it had been so damnably easy for him to push her to the edge again while he -While he what? Felt nothing? No, it wasn’t like that for him because wasn’t his cock so swollen that it more than filled her and weren’t his muscles tense and hard? She’d learned to judge his mood by the way he breathed, and there was no misinterpreting the quick cadence. Her interpretations were seldom wrong. Although he didn’t say it, there was something more here than just fucking. Wasn’t there? Ah, the gift was becoming even greater. His cock sleek and potent. Her body sobbed for him. Although she’d willed herself not to project their fucking beyond the moment, she did. There had to be more to them than sex! Somehow. Some time. But not now. By sliding as close to him as her restraints allowed, she managed to wrap her pussy around him. In her mind, she was offering him shelter and safety, nothing more, for now. If he wanted her body pounding against his and friction bleeding through both of them, he’d give her permission to do those things. But now all she could do was take whatever he gave her. She held him long and strong, muscles trembling in anticipation. The cadence of his breathing along with the tension roping him said she wasn’t the only one holding back, the only one testing the limits.
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Then a wild animal stormed in to shake her with frenzied strength. By drawing her knees together, she gripped his sides. Determined to keep him in position, she rolled her pelvis at him. “Do it!” she commanded. “Damn you, just do it.” Gathering himself, Arken powered against her. He’d been crouching low on his haunches with his hands gripping her pelvis, but now, using only his thigh muscles, he lifted both of them. With her weight centered on her shoulders and the back of her neck, she couldn’t do anything except ride the waves he threw at her. He drove his cock at her, his balls slapping her buttocks. His fingers ground into her, but she felt only the awful and awesome strength of this man fucking her. Fighting her wrist restraints, she struggled to remain in place. Her pussy was slick and soft, hot and alive, and she recorded him not just there but everywhere. Even her toes seemed to have been touched. Sweat bloomed on his straining body, the scent blending with what was in her as he jack-hammered her with a relentless pace no man could keep up for long. Desperate to ride every moment, she poured her entire being into her cunt and became it. Fresh tension seized him. She expected the awful pressure to peak and recede, a tornado exacting damage during a few moments of life. Instead, he held both of them at the top as he bellowed and ejaculated into her. His hot flood threw her over the edge, and she came. And came.
***** “Let me loose.” Arken groaned but made no attempt to lift his body off hers. “Arken, don’t fall asleep. Release me first.”
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Muttering something she didn’t understand and that maybe wasn’t words, he rolled off her. His breathing lengthened out, but when she dug her knee into his side, he lifted himself onto his hands and knees and crawled to the head of the bed. His expression unreadable, he stroked her arms. By turn his touch was gentle and possessive, his movements slow. “What are you doing?” she asked, unnerved. “Thinking.” “About what?” A short shake of his head was his only response, yet she half believed she understood. He loved seeing women like this, helpless. That’s why he’d in essence jumped and tied her and maybe why his climax had been so fierce. But now he was saying good-bye to that element of their relationship, and in the process coming to grips with something that had been waiting inside him. Maybe. “Arken, my arms.” His head came up as he ran his fingers over her one last time. “Yeah, I know.” A tug on each wrist, and she was free. Lowering her arms caused pins and needles to shoot through them, not that she cared because she was still so out of it that she wasn’t certain she had a body. After a moment, during which she concentrated on how to accomplish something so complex as moving, she positioned herself on her side so she faced him. He was on his side with his face inches from hers, and his expression was calm. What’s going on inside you? What are you thinking? “I’m dead,” she admitted. “You killed me.” “I don’t think so.” “What do you know? You look as if you can’t keep your eyes open.”
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Once more he muttered syllables. Sleep tugged at her. “You were right,” she admitted. “All this submissive business, it wasn’t tied into job pressure after all. I just didn’t want to admit the truth.” “Which was?” Determined to spill everything, she ran her knuckles over his jaw. “That it stems from when I had no choice but to take charge. I’d weathered what happened to my parents, put my shortened childhood behind me, and was damn proud of the way I’d turned out. But I hadn’t resolved everything after all.” “Go on.” “A part of me was still that girl who needed her teddy bear and for her parents to make everything all right. To order the boogeyman to go away.” “No one could come out of something like that unscathed.” “My parents were the ones who nearly lost their lives, not me.” “While all you had to do was keep those lives going, an awesome responsibility.” That’s all there was to it, wasn’t it. When it all came down to it, if it hadn’t been for her, her family’s world would have collapsed. No wonder the effort had exhausted her and left her vulnerable. “You were right,” she whispered. “Thank you for helping me see that.” He didn’t say anything, but as she was falling asleep, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d wanted to. Maybe he’d been debating whether to tell her that not everyone was like him, strong and self-assured without hang-ups or weaknesses, with nothing except an old scar.
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Chapter Nine
He ran but kept falling. He’d scramble back to his feet, only to fall again. Fighting terror, he watched the blood run from his body, unable to stem the flow. Weakness rose up to drag him down. This time, though, instead of forcing his feet under him, he lay with his face on the ground, his arms and legs useless. The stench of spilled oil rose up from the pavement to clog his senses. He hated being here with filthy gravel chewing his cheeks, but he was weak. So damn weak. Bleeding. Sounds. Approaching feet. Ordering up the last of his pitiful strength, he turned his head toward the footsteps. Someone was coming toward him, stalking him. He made out a grinning mouth, and a pistol aimed at him. “How’s it feel, you bastard?” the man now standing over him demanded. “What’s it like to know you’re going to die?” “Help. I need help.”
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“No one’s going to hear you. It’s just you and me, and I’ve got the upper hand.” The man thrust the pistol skyward. “I thought a single bullet to the heart would get the job done, but you’re a tough bastard. How does it feel?” When he didn’t reply, the man kicked him in the side. He cried out, blubbered really. “What’s that? You begging for mercy? Ain’t gonna happen. You should know that. Maybe I won’t finish you off quick after all. Shoot holes in your arms and legs and listen to you scream. How’d you like that, begging to die, and not knowing when it’s going to happen.” “No, please, no!” “Arken. Arken, wake up.” A voice he’d never heard before in his nightmare pulled Arken back from the edge of hell. Still, the damnable images fought to keep him with them as they’d done countless times, until he’d finally found a way to exorcise them. What had brought them back now? Damn it, the past was that, the past! “Arken, you’ve been dreaming. It’s all right. You’re all right.” A warm hand on his shoulder provided him with the escape he needed. Turning his back on the bleeding wreck of a man he’d once been, he blinked Lorelle into focus. Her hair was a disaster, and the pillow had left a crease on her cheek. She smelled of dried sweat and sex, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. “What was it?” she asked, her eyes digging through his protective layers. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
No! Putting off the decision, he sat up. It was morning. Night still clung to the corners, but the air was already warm. The last time he’d noted his cock, it had resembled a deflated balloon. Now it was hard and ready. However, fucking, even fucking her, wasn’t foremost on his mind.
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Rubbing his scar, Arken worked at putting the pieces together. Damn that dream! It
had gone away. He’d forced it out of his mind for more than a year now. What, then, had brought it back? Her? Maybe. No maybe about it. “Is that it?” she asked as she closed her hand over his. “Your nightmare’s tied in with how you got this?” “Don’t go there. It’s old news.” “Old news!” The way the words spewed from her, he half expected her to slug him. “Like my parents getting shot, only you made me play that tape until we both knew it by heart.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “What’s this? It’s all right if I spill my guts. In fact, you insist on it. But when it comes to you, you believe you have every right to play the strong, silent, and stupid man?” Damn, but her nails were sharp! Intending to hold onto her, he pulled her hand off him, only she jerked free. And her eyes said he couldn’t touch her until she was ready. “I’m your master,” he said. “You’ll do what I tell you.” “My master? Fuck that.” She meant it in every fiber of her being. The time might come when she again wanted them to enter that world, but this wasn’t it. “You know what I hate about men?” she threw at him. “This damn strong silent shit. No wonder they die earlier than women, all that stress building up with no way of releasing the tension.” Despite her condemnation of his sex, he sensed that moment-by-moment her anger was bleeding out of her. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that I feel so exposed, while you have all this psychological hang-up stuff tucked away where I can’t reach it.”
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Given that they were both naked, he was tempted to point out that they were equally exposed, but she was right. The last thing he’d expected when he’d accepted this assignment was that he’d wind up getting so personally involved with a subject. Oh, he’d prepared himself for the inevitable carnal reaction to taking a submissive woman on a journey she’d never forget, but until now he’d been able to limit that reaction to the physical. He hadn’t had a personal conversation with any of the dozen or so women for the simple reason that he hadn’t cared why they wanted to play this game. Whatever turned their cranks, he was the man to handle the turning, end of discussion. Lorelle had changed all that. He’d sensed her old wounds. More than that, he’d cared about them, cared about her, and, determined to do what he could to help her heal, he’d stepped out of his comfort zone. Driven by instinct, he’d guided Lorelle into her past and stayed with her while she spread it out before both of them. Only there’d been backlash, hadn’t there? Whether he wanted to admit it or not, his past had broken loose from its bonds, too, and his scars had started bleeding again. The nightmare was proof. And what happened next would chart the course for their relationship. Either he’d bury himself in silence -- and surely lose her -- or he’d risk everything. “What I do with Fantasies Unlimited is part-time. I’m a cop,” he began, not sure where his words would take him. “I used to be a street cop. These days I sit behind a desk and supervise because the powers that be have decided I’m no longer capable of handling the physical requirements.” Instead of demanding to know why he hadn’t said anything about his career before, Lorelle pressed her lips over his scar. When she looked up at him, her eyes asked the question. “Yeah,” he supplied. “Because of this.”
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“A bullet did it.” When he caught his breath in reaction to her right-on conclusion, she shook her head. “Don’t forget, I’m a lawyer. I’ve seen bullet scars.” “I should have thought of that.” “Yes, you should have.” She again brushed her soft lips over the knotted flesh. Certain she was going to begin hammering him with questions, he tensed, but she only looked at him with her big, bright eyes. He’d never noted the hints of gold in them before. Her healthy and sexy young body distracted him, made him uninterested in anything but
her. But she deserved more from him than just sex. She’d told him her fears; he’d tell her his. “It was one of those things I never saw coming,” he said. “As many times as I’ve gone over that afternoon, I don’t know what I could have done different.” “You were going by the book?” “Absolutely. Routine traffic stop. Couple of men in a newer and cared-for pickup going through a school zone at fifteen miles over the speed limit. I waited until the school was behind us because I didn’t want a bunch of kids gawking and maybe getting too close. While I was waiting for the men to stop -- they’d slowed and started pulling over the moment I turned on my flashers -- I ran a check on the license plate. Nothing came up.” Picturing himself getting out of his patrol car and approaching the men did the same thing it always did to his nervous system, but by keeping his mind locked on each step, he managed to stay in the moment. His heart rate didn’t kick up until he saw the passenger door open. “Go slow,” Lorelle said. “You don’t have to rush the telling.”
But you have to tell me, for you, he read in her eyes. Not sure whether he’d nodded agreement, he forced himself to lock on to what he’d nearly sold his soul to avoid. “The passenger was armed. I remember squinting because the sun glinted off the gun barrel. I was reaching for my weapon when the driver jumped out.”
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He was aware of time passing, of Lorelle taking his hands and pressing them to her breasts, of her breath on his throat, but he couldn’t see her for the images plastered on his brain. “He was also armed.” The day had been windy, dirt particles kicking up and getting in his eyes. He’d actually considered not stopping the pickup because he’d just spotted a mass of debris being spun in a mad circle. He hadn’t wanted the crap in his mouth and hair and eyes. Then he’d seen the guns, and the wind became a nonentity. Everything boiled down to one thing: stay alive. Somehow, stay the hell alive. Memory told him that he’d gotten his weapon out of its holster and aimed at the passenger in world record time. Then everything slowed down, nearly stopped. There’d been a gunshot. Waiting for the bullet to tear into him had taken a good half year, but eventually he’d determined that the shooter had missed. He fired back. None of that ordering or warning crap, no time to call for help, just trying to kill, to stop, whoever wanted to kill him. Even now, he wasn’t sure whether his first bullet had taken out the passenger. It hadn’t mattered, though, because he’d been going to empty his gun into the bastards and deal with the legal consequences later. The man had jerked upright and then fell backward, and he knew that he was down, but he hadn’t had a half second in which to think about that because right then, his own body had exploded. “I remember falling.” His throat felt used, letting him know that he’d been talking, although he couldn’t have called up the actual words if his life depended on it. “My body no longer belonged to me. It was as if it was there, and yet it wasn’t.” “Were you afraid?” A damnable question. A necessary question. “I was in survival mode, holding onto my weapon even though I couldn’t feel my fingers. The driver was still coming toward me so I aimed at him.” “Oh, God.”
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“Then he turned around, ran back to his truck, and took off.” Unlike in my nightmare,
he didn’t say a word. From that point on, what Arken knew of his shooting came from what other people had told him. He’d either passed out or gone into shock; maybe a combination. A teacher who’d heard the shots had been the first to call 9-1-1, and the police cars had started showing up within minutes. The passenger was dead and the driver dead meat because officers had easily identified him as the owner of the called-in license number. The investigation revealed the two men were full-time car salesmen and part-time drug dealers with serious stupidity issues. If they hadn’t pulled out their weapons, they would have gotten off with a speeding ticket. Instead, one was dead and the other in prison for the foreseeable future. “I was in ICU for a week following emergency surgery. Then it was another week before I got out of the hospital.” “You nearly died.” For some reason, he was no longer sitting up but lying on his back with her propped up on her elbow beside him. Her warm hand covered his scar, and her gold-glinting eyes never left his. “I guess.” “No, you don’t guess. You know whether you nearly died.” “Yeah.” Meeting her gaze took more damn courage than facing those two men had. “They told me my heart stopped a couple of times. That whole week in ICU is less than a blur.”
Except for the feeling of helplessness. “What about the next week? How did you get through being stuck in the hospital?” He wanted her to ask about the trial, his rehabilitation, anything except this. At the same time, he wasn’t surprised by her ability to get to the root. “By sleeping a lot.”
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“No!” “What do you mean, no?” “You didn’t just sleep. All right.” She shook her head as if warding off anything he might say. “I shouldn’t have phrased it the way I did because you probably were out of it much of the time you were in the hospital. What about afterward?”
Afterward. She kept staring at him so he did the only thing he could think of; he tried to pull her down on top of him. But although her fingers brushed his cock, she fought free and scrambled off the bed. “Don’t do that to me, to us,” she snapped with her back to him and the curve of her back and buttocks the most beautiful forms he’d ever seen. “You have a choice. Either you give me everything you have, or I’m walking out that door.” He could point out that she didn’t know where they were and would draw attention to herself by stalking naked down a road, but he knew better. Tough. Strong. She was both of those things and more, the most powerful woman he’d ever known. “You aren’t the only one with nightmares,” he started. “If I’ve been able to tap into yours and help you get to the core of them it’s because I’ve been there. Sometimes, I still am.” He waited for her to throw out how damn unfair it had been for him to pretend he had everything together, but when the only thing she did was turn around and present him with her incredible breasts and long legs, he fell in love with her. “Helpless.” He forced out the word. “That’s what they’re about, me being helpless.” “And scared.” “Yes, and scared.” Me, macho cop and experienced dom, terrified of dying. “Did you talk about that to the shrinks?” “Couldn’t.”
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“Because?” “Damn stupid pride.” The longer he looked not at her body but into her eyes, the more his cock ached. “And not wanting anyone to know how bad it was.” “I understand.” Of course she did. “Maybe I thought that if I didn’t say anything then I wouldn’t have to own up to how fragile I was. Everyone said wasn’t it great that I’d recovered so well; I wanted to believe that.” “Just as I wanted the praise I got from being there for my folks.” “Only we each found our own way of compensating.” A nod, only a nod. She was still too far away, and yet it was as it should be because they weren’t done talking. “You embraced your submissive nature,” he said, “while I went the other direction. Whatever I had to do so I’d never feel helpless again.” “Did it work? Becoming a dom has kept you strong?” Learning Fantasies Unlimited’s need for take-charge men to fulfill some women’s desires to be controlled, applying for the position of a dom, and going through the training had taken him places he’d never expected to go or thought he’d need before the shooting. The work he did had helped with his emotional healing. But he was no more a master than Lorelle was a slave. “I’m not sure,” he admitted and sat up. “Maybe assuming the role I did has been like a bandage on an open wound. Protects it from getting bumped.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “But maybe our wounds need stitches.” “I don’t think so.” He’d been going to stand, but her words stopped him. “Why not?” “This is my theory.” She rubbed her forehead, then nodded. “Some injuries will never fully heal. Instead, we learn to live with them. Find ways to compensate so we can go on.”
Fantasy’s Fear
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“Maybe.” “I think I’m right. I’m never going to apologize or be embarrassed because I went to Fantasies Unlimited. Just like you, I’m a complex human being.” There it was, her open acceptance of what both of them were. And could he offer her anything less?
No, his heart answered. Instead of having to find a way to tell her about the women he’d helped before her, or downplay the sense of power he’d gotten from rendering them helpless, he could be open and honest. In time he’d lay out the journey he’d taken from nearly dying to embracing life. But not now. Now he’d plant his legs under him and walk to her. Take her in his arms and kiss her long and gentle and hard. And when their lips were bruised, he’d carry her back to the bed and love her long and gentle and strong. Later they’d shower and eat and sit in the sun, and he’d speak words he never thought he would.
I love you. I want you to love me. And from now on I want it to be just the two of us. No more Fantasies Unlimited. No more role playing. Except with each other. Whenever we’re in the mood.
Vonna Harper Mild-mannered, mostly harmless, with out-of-control imagination. Loves mountains, early morning walks, her grandchildren, and "hot" books. Has no marketable skills beyond writing which is no problem because there's nothing else she'd rather do. The product of the ultimate in a rural upbringing, Vonna has no interest in cities or panty-hose, but is passionate about plant nurseries and baseball. She's had over fifty books published, all but one fiction. Visit Vonna on the Web at http://www.vonnaharper.com or email her at
[email protected].
