To Command and Collar
Page 40
“Can we go back to the way we were?”
He stiffened. “What way, gatita? Explain more clearly.”
“I want…want to be your submissive again, like before. Until the FBI lets me go home or to Gabi’s.” Her blue eyes were earnest, without any apparent reservations.
The rising pleasure warred with his sinking feeling of dismay. How much more agonizing would it be to see her leave after she’d been his willing submissive? “Why?”
“I… It’s silly, but I can’t settle. It’s like when I know I’m doing what you want, I relax and let you do the worrying. I can concentrate on the one thing you’ve told me to do.” She shrugged. “I’m sure I’m just stressed over the past stuff and with not knowing what’s going to happen. But…” She huffed out an unhappy breath. “I liked it better when you were in charge.”
Kim stared up at Master R. His expression had changed to one of consideration. She loved how he’d take the time to think things through. Damn him. If he wasn’t so very smart or if he made hasty decisions or bad ones, she wouldn’t be here on her knees. But she trusted him to steer a straight path…as much as any human could.
She dared to lean forward, wrapping her arms around his legs and resting her cheek on his knees. A warm spring of contentment welled up in her heart. He could think as long as he wanted if he’d let her stay here, just like this. When he stroked her hair, she closed her eyes and enjoyed.
Sure, she still had a niggling worry that he or the slavers had brainwashed her into a weakwilled real slave, but right now she didn’t care. Once this time was over and she went home, she’d get her life straightened out. And until then, well, she’d consider having a master to be a unique kind of pill—a tranquilizer or something.
“You need this?” he asked gently.
“Yes, please.” She kept back the automatic Master because he hadn’t agreed to assume the role again. But inside, she was whimpering, Please, Master, yes, I do. Please.
Would he agree? He liked being in charge. She bit her lip. Was she asking more than she should? The silence seemed to stretch, reaching to the horizon. Please.
“All right then.” He paused. “I agree, sumisita, and I think you’ve overdressed for this house.”
She smiled and rose. But the anxiety, the worries…didn’t go away even with the relief rushing through her, and she still felt as if a rope was wrapped around her lungs, keeping her from taking a full breath. But, surely everything would settle down. Surely this was what she needed. “Yes, Master.” She stripped her clothing off, folded it, and placed it on a chair.
He leaned back, one elbow on his desk. His fingers rubbed his lips as he studied her. She stood beside him, shifting her weight, and…if anything, feeling worse. What have I done? Maybe this was the wrong decision. She realized her hands were clasped in front of her. Should she—
“Kimberly, stop.” He shoved his chair away from the desk and patted his knees. “Come.”
Yes, she needed to be held. That was all. She started to sit on his lap, and he ruthlessly turned her and pulled her stomach-down over his thighs instead.
“Wait.” She tried to push up. “No—I haven’t been bad. What’s wrong with you?”
His left hand pressed on her back, keeping her pinned down despite her struggles. “No, you haven’t been bad, gatita. This isn’t punishment.” His right hand stroked over her bottom. “This is about a little submissive’s needs.” He smacked her, barely a sting, then gave her five more before pausing and rubbing her butt again.
She sucked in a breath as her insides started to shake. “Do you want me to count?”
“No. Since this is not punishment, there’s no number, mi cariño. I continue until I decide to stop.”
“But—”
The next set of swats hurt. He hit one cheek, then the other, waiting only for the stinging to die before giving another. She started to struggle again, trying to escape. Her eyes filled as the pain grew.
A pause, and he stroked over her bottom. Gently, not mean. How could he be loving and cruel at the same time? A gasping sob of frustration escaped her.
“Bueno,” he said under his breath and started again. Slap-slap, slap-slap, and it hurt. It really hurt. Pain with each hit of his big hand, and then she was kicking and screaming as the wave of pain rolled over her. And continued. And continued.
When the nightmare didn’t stop, sobbing tore through her. She beat on his legs and kicked, crying hysterically, until finally she went limp, unable to fight any longer, just taking the pain.
He stopped, oh God, he stopped and was stroking away the hurt, his hand tender on her burning flesh. “Very good, sumisa mía.” As tears streamed down her face, he helped her to her feet and pulled her onto his lap. Pressing her face against his chest, he held her firmly, engulfing her in security.
Her pain had changed to mere throbbing, but she couldn’t stop crying. What was wrong with her? Tears and choking and then…her worries dissolved. The noise and tension inside her receded with the tide, leaving only clean emptiness behind.
She lay still, lulled by his heartbeat, not wanting to move. After a while, she took a long breath. Another. The tight band around her chest had gone, washed away with the storm. She sniffled and lifted her head, felt the chair turning. A tissue was pressed into her hand.
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and with a sigh of regret, pushed to a sitting position to toss the Kleenex in the wastebasket. Her cheeks were probably all purple, her eyes puffy and red. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop crying.” Feeling humiliated, she dared a look.
“I know. That was the point.”
She frowned at him. “You spanked me so I would cry?”
“Sí, sumisita.” He kissed the top of her head. “Pain can be used for several purposes.” She heard the note that came into his voice when he was instructing. Not like her pompous professors—maybe this stupid person can be taught—Master R had an undertone of gentle humor as if to lure a person into learning. “As you know from the clubs, pain can be erotic.” He pulled her against his chest, and she snuggled closer with a sigh of content. Just listening to him and being held was sheer heaven.
“Or used to punish,” he continued. “But some people bottle up their feelings, their worries, fears, emotional pain. If they are physically hurt enough to make them cry, then sometimes the crying serves for the emotional pain as well. They can release it all.”
Bottle it up? Me? Well, maybe. She lived enthusiastically, but her inside feelings were her own. Sharing emotional problems was…not her thing. The counseling sessions had been difficult, even with Gabi. She inhaled slowly, savoring the scent of soap and man. Maybe she did suppress things a bit. Her father had wanted perfection, not emotions. “A Moore doesn’t show fear.” “Stop that bawling. It didn’t hurt that bad.” “That’s lousy. It looks like a five-year-old did it.” “You can do better than that.”
Like her mother, she’d learned to bury her feelings. The counselor had disapproved. Kim snickered.
“Share that thought.”
“Faith told me I bottle stuff up and need to learn to let it out. Maybe I’ll teach her to spank her clients.”
He laughed. “This is, perhaps, more direct than she’d like.” He sat Kim up so he could frown at her. “I expect you to learn how not to reach this point. And we, you and I, will work on you sharing those emotions before you need to be hurt to get them out.”
His smile creased his cheek. “Write about it in your journal—and starting today, you will again fill a daily page to share with me.”
Hell, back to doing homework. But, okay, so maybe she’d missed their bedtime chats when they’d talk about what she’d written for him to read. Long-term boyfriends, even her fiancé, had never known her as well as Master R did now.
“That reminds me—I want you to start practicing the dances you learned. Show me one before bed tonight.” He nuzzled her hair and murmured, “If it is adequate, I will take you and please us both. If not, I’ll beat on you first for a while and then take you anyway.”
She gave a sigh of utter content and leaned back on his chest. “Yes, Master.”
Chapter Twelve
Black clouds blocked the late-afternoon sun as spatters of rain hit the windshield. Kim grabbed the seat belt as a gust shook the car, and debris swirled across the tiny country road. “I didn’t notice how isolated the Shadowlands was last time.”
“It was dark,” Master R said. “And you were busy worrying.”
“Well. Yeah.” Her brows drew together as she stared through the rain at the palmettos and swamp. “How many members do you lose to alligators?”
“None, except for the occasional smart-ass subbie who we toss to them for their supper.” He turned between open iron gates, drove up the long, palm-lined drive, and parked in the lot adjacent to a six-foot wooden fence. “Let’s make a run for it, gatita.”
An umbrella wouldn’t have helped, considering half the rain was traveling sideways. They ran through the gate into a huge landscaped yard.
He stiffened. “What way, gatita? Explain more clearly.”
“I want…want to be your submissive again, like before. Until the FBI lets me go home or to Gabi’s.” Her blue eyes were earnest, without any apparent reservations.
The rising pleasure warred with his sinking feeling of dismay. How much more agonizing would it be to see her leave after she’d been his willing submissive? “Why?”
“I… It’s silly, but I can’t settle. It’s like when I know I’m doing what you want, I relax and let you do the worrying. I can concentrate on the one thing you’ve told me to do.” She shrugged. “I’m sure I’m just stressed over the past stuff and with not knowing what’s going to happen. But…” She huffed out an unhappy breath. “I liked it better when you were in charge.”
Kim stared up at Master R. His expression had changed to one of consideration. She loved how he’d take the time to think things through. Damn him. If he wasn’t so very smart or if he made hasty decisions or bad ones, she wouldn’t be here on her knees. But she trusted him to steer a straight path…as much as any human could.
She dared to lean forward, wrapping her arms around his legs and resting her cheek on his knees. A warm spring of contentment welled up in her heart. He could think as long as he wanted if he’d let her stay here, just like this. When he stroked her hair, she closed her eyes and enjoyed.
Sure, she still had a niggling worry that he or the slavers had brainwashed her into a weakwilled real slave, but right now she didn’t care. Once this time was over and she went home, she’d get her life straightened out. And until then, well, she’d consider having a master to be a unique kind of pill—a tranquilizer or something.
“You need this?” he asked gently.
“Yes, please.” She kept back the automatic Master because he hadn’t agreed to assume the role again. But inside, she was whimpering, Please, Master, yes, I do. Please.
Would he agree? He liked being in charge. She bit her lip. Was she asking more than she should? The silence seemed to stretch, reaching to the horizon. Please.
“All right then.” He paused. “I agree, sumisita, and I think you’ve overdressed for this house.”
She smiled and rose. But the anxiety, the worries…didn’t go away even with the relief rushing through her, and she still felt as if a rope was wrapped around her lungs, keeping her from taking a full breath. But, surely everything would settle down. Surely this was what she needed. “Yes, Master.” She stripped her clothing off, folded it, and placed it on a chair.
He leaned back, one elbow on his desk. His fingers rubbed his lips as he studied her. She stood beside him, shifting her weight, and…if anything, feeling worse. What have I done? Maybe this was the wrong decision. She realized her hands were clasped in front of her. Should she—
“Kimberly, stop.” He shoved his chair away from the desk and patted his knees. “Come.”
Yes, she needed to be held. That was all. She started to sit on his lap, and he ruthlessly turned her and pulled her stomach-down over his thighs instead.
“Wait.” She tried to push up. “No—I haven’t been bad. What’s wrong with you?”
His left hand pressed on her back, keeping her pinned down despite her struggles. “No, you haven’t been bad, gatita. This isn’t punishment.” His right hand stroked over her bottom. “This is about a little submissive’s needs.” He smacked her, barely a sting, then gave her five more before pausing and rubbing her butt again.
She sucked in a breath as her insides started to shake. “Do you want me to count?”
“No. Since this is not punishment, there’s no number, mi cariño. I continue until I decide to stop.”
“But—”
The next set of swats hurt. He hit one cheek, then the other, waiting only for the stinging to die before giving another. She started to struggle again, trying to escape. Her eyes filled as the pain grew.
A pause, and he stroked over her bottom. Gently, not mean. How could he be loving and cruel at the same time? A gasping sob of frustration escaped her.
“Bueno,” he said under his breath and started again. Slap-slap, slap-slap, and it hurt. It really hurt. Pain with each hit of his big hand, and then she was kicking and screaming as the wave of pain rolled over her. And continued. And continued.
When the nightmare didn’t stop, sobbing tore through her. She beat on his legs and kicked, crying hysterically, until finally she went limp, unable to fight any longer, just taking the pain.
He stopped, oh God, he stopped and was stroking away the hurt, his hand tender on her burning flesh. “Very good, sumisa mía.” As tears streamed down her face, he helped her to her feet and pulled her onto his lap. Pressing her face against his chest, he held her firmly, engulfing her in security.
Her pain had changed to mere throbbing, but she couldn’t stop crying. What was wrong with her? Tears and choking and then…her worries dissolved. The noise and tension inside her receded with the tide, leaving only clean emptiness behind.
She lay still, lulled by his heartbeat, not wanting to move. After a while, she took a long breath. Another. The tight band around her chest had gone, washed away with the storm. She sniffled and lifted her head, felt the chair turning. A tissue was pressed into her hand.
She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and with a sigh of regret, pushed to a sitting position to toss the Kleenex in the wastebasket. Her cheeks were probably all purple, her eyes puffy and red. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop crying.” Feeling humiliated, she dared a look.
“I know. That was the point.”
She frowned at him. “You spanked me so I would cry?”
“Sí, sumisita.” He kissed the top of her head. “Pain can be used for several purposes.” She heard the note that came into his voice when he was instructing. Not like her pompous professors—maybe this stupid person can be taught—Master R had an undertone of gentle humor as if to lure a person into learning. “As you know from the clubs, pain can be erotic.” He pulled her against his chest, and she snuggled closer with a sigh of content. Just listening to him and being held was sheer heaven.
“Or used to punish,” he continued. “But some people bottle up their feelings, their worries, fears, emotional pain. If they are physically hurt enough to make them cry, then sometimes the crying serves for the emotional pain as well. They can release it all.”
Bottle it up? Me? Well, maybe. She lived enthusiastically, but her inside feelings were her own. Sharing emotional problems was…not her thing. The counseling sessions had been difficult, even with Gabi. She inhaled slowly, savoring the scent of soap and man. Maybe she did suppress things a bit. Her father had wanted perfection, not emotions. “A Moore doesn’t show fear.” “Stop that bawling. It didn’t hurt that bad.” “That’s lousy. It looks like a five-year-old did it.” “You can do better than that.”
Like her mother, she’d learned to bury her feelings. The counselor had disapproved. Kim snickered.
“Share that thought.”
“Faith told me I bottle stuff up and need to learn to let it out. Maybe I’ll teach her to spank her clients.”
He laughed. “This is, perhaps, more direct than she’d like.” He sat Kim up so he could frown at her. “I expect you to learn how not to reach this point. And we, you and I, will work on you sharing those emotions before you need to be hurt to get them out.”
His smile creased his cheek. “Write about it in your journal—and starting today, you will again fill a daily page to share with me.”
Hell, back to doing homework. But, okay, so maybe she’d missed their bedtime chats when they’d talk about what she’d written for him to read. Long-term boyfriends, even her fiancé, had never known her as well as Master R did now.
“That reminds me—I want you to start practicing the dances you learned. Show me one before bed tonight.” He nuzzled her hair and murmured, “If it is adequate, I will take you and please us both. If not, I’ll beat on you first for a while and then take you anyway.”
She gave a sigh of utter content and leaned back on his chest. “Yes, Master.”
Chapter Twelve
Black clouds blocked the late-afternoon sun as spatters of rain hit the windshield. Kim grabbed the seat belt as a gust shook the car, and debris swirled across the tiny country road. “I didn’t notice how isolated the Shadowlands was last time.”
“It was dark,” Master R said. “And you were busy worrying.”
“Well. Yeah.” Her brows drew together as she stared through the rain at the palmettos and swamp. “How many members do you lose to alligators?”
“None, except for the occasional smart-ass subbie who we toss to them for their supper.” He turned between open iron gates, drove up the long, palm-lined drive, and parked in the lot adjacent to a six-foot wooden fence. “Let’s make a run for it, gatita.”
An umbrella wouldn’t have helped, considering half the rain was traveling sideways. They ran through the gate into a huge landscaped yard.
