Perplexed, he froze, searching her pleading brown eyes. What the hell was she talking about? “Don’t do what?”
“Don’t be nice to me. Don’t pretend you care.”
He flinched as if her words had slapped him. “You think I don’t care about you?”
“It’s not that.” She sighed. “It’s just… Sometimes you make it very hard to follow the rules.”
He wanted to pretend he didn’t understand what she meant. Was she falling for him? God he hoped not. That would ruin everything. And worse, she felt he had encouraged her.
“Like the night I sketched you…”
“What about it?”
“I made myself come after you left.”
He clenched his jaw. Oh, she was so very transparent. “Pain, is that what you’re after? Trying to avoid telling me what happened by appealing to the sadist, are we?”
Her eyes widened. “No.”
He leveled her with hard stare. “Get undressed and meet me in the bedroom.”
He left her in the bathroom. Punishing her when his emotions were barely under control was not the best idea he’d ever had, but he needed to inflict pain and she’d practically begged him to receive it. The trunk beckoned him like an old friend. He opened it, already knowing which tool he would use. He took out the cane and a bottle of lube and laid them on the bed.
She wanted pain. He would give it to her.
Nude, she softly padded into the bedroom. The lost, damaged look about her should have made him pause. Instead it called to him in a way that should have shamed him.
He retrieved a bundle of jute and unraveled it, running the length through his fingers. She would need the safety of bondage for what he was about to inflict on her.
“Lift your arms.”
Dutifully she obeyed. He wound the rope around her back and across her chest several times, creating bands above and below her small breasts. Her breath came in shallow stutters each time he tightened the rope. He could almost feel the anxiety vibrating from her tense muscles.
Satisfied with the chest harness he’d created, he folded her arms behind her back, each hand gripping the opposite forearm. He then bound them to the harness, careful not to restrict her circulation. The methodical nature of
Kinbaku
helped calm him. Right then he needed that. His anger was getting the better of him. He’d never been this riled by a submissive breaking his rules.
Why now? Why Genevieve?
Mentally shaking himself, he focused on completing the rope work. He knotted the ends and proceeded to check the tightness of the bondage. “Can you breathe?”
“Yes Sir.”
“If you start to lose feeling in your hands or arms let me know. I don’t want you trying to tough it out. Understood?”
She nodded.
He bent her over the side of the bed. After a brief thought, he retrieved a spreader bar and leather bit gag from the trunk. “This is going to hurt. I’m afraid you’ll need something to bite down on.”
She licked her lips, wincing slightly, then opened her mouth. He placed the bit between her teeth and she promptly clamped down.
“I’m not going to fasten it. If you need to safeword, drop the gag and do so.”
The haughty look she gave him seemed to say she didn’t think she’d need her safeword. He’d just see about that. He bent down and began strapping her ankles into the bar. She stiffened as he widened her stance to accommodate the length of the rather strict apparatus. He didn’t believe in half measures. Not at all. This particular device stretched her legs to what he was sure was an uncomfortable width, especially with as short as she was.
Convinced Genevieve was safely restrained, he stood back to admire his work. He’d always loved the way rope looked against flesh. Aesthetically, there wasn’t much that pleased him more. The spreader bar opened her up and gave him a beautiful view of her glistening pink pussy. The bruises from last week had already faded, which was just as well. He was about to leave her with new ones.
He grabbed the cane off the bed, gripping the handle reverently. It was a deceptive little tool—didn’t look like much, thin and made of rattan. All the better to mark her with. He really should warm her up first. Unfortunately for her, he didn’t feel like making it easy on her.
The cane whistled through the air before landing across the fleshy part of her ass with a sharp
thwap
. Genevieve screamed through the gag. He watched the rapid rise and fall of her ribs as she breathed through the pain. He hadn’t followed through on the strike, but let it bounce against the flesh. The lighter, bouncing blows produced a fierce stinging pain and were less likely to bruise. He’d work up to the harder, thudding strikes soon enough.
The skin around the white line the cane had made was already beginning to welt. He laid four more lines in the same fashion, each about an inch apart. Genevieve’s head snapped up and she strained in her bonds with each stripe. He knew her well enough to tell when she was struggling to control her reactions. He wanted to crack her resolve. Teach her a lesson. When he laid the sixth line on her sweet spot, where the top of her thighs met the curve of her ass, he made sure to follow through, striking her as if he were aiming for a spot inches beyond where the cane met her flesh.
Genevieve’s scream was ear-piercing. With a sob she spit out the gag.
Brian hesitated. “Have something to say?”
“No,” she growled through gritted teeth.
“If you’re sure,” Brian taunted.
“Just do it!”
She knew better than to provoke him. He let her know exactly how he felt with the next cruel strike. And then another. And another. He continued to cane her, fighting to hold on to his anger. His symmetry was less than perfect and his swing lacked his usual finesse, clear signs his restraint was slipping. The bedding did nothing to muffle Genevieve’s raw screams. Her ass was a mass of welted scarlet lines, evidence of the cruelty of his assault. Still, she had not said
I quit
.
Stubborn, willful girl. She challenged his carefully constructed set of principles and pushed him right to the edge. Losing control would have been all too easy at this point. He had to force himself to stop. The darker side of him wanted to break her, force her to quit, but he wouldn’t injure her to sate his own sadistic needs. Disgusted with himself, and angry with her, he threw the cane to the floor.
“Have you been wearing your plug as you’ve been told?” he asked, his tone harsh as he unfastened his pants.
“Yes Sir,” she sobbed.
“Good, then you should be more than prepared for this.”
He squeezed a large amount of lube directly on her anus. She clenched her cheeks in response.
With no preamble, he pressed the head of his cock into her snug little hole. She whimpered, trying to inch away from him, but he was not deterred. He grabbed her hips, digging his fingers into her flesh and pulled her roughly against him. She was so tight, squeezing him as she clenched and struggled. He drove into her until he was as deep as he could possibly be. She bucked and twisted, crying out. For all her fight, she hadn’t uttered her safeword. He took that as consent and used her, trying to tell himself she was nothing more than his toy. She had no business falling for him. Had no business making him care about her. She was his submissive.
He
was the one in control.
She stopped trying to evade him and not only relaxed, accepting the invasion, but thrust back against him with reckless abandon. She gave a throaty moan he felt all the way to his balls. Her sudden change in behavior coaxed a truly explosive orgasm from him. He pulled out at the last second and came violently, squirting thick jets of cum on her welted ass.
He had no intention of helping her find her own release. She’d broken one of his rules and taunted him with it. He half expected her to beg, but the only sound she made was a muffled sob. He gazed down at her bruised, trembling form and his heart lurched. Her eyes were closed and tears stained her cheeks but she looked almost peaceful. Somehow the brutality and pain had calmed her.
He was struck again by how beautiful she was. His submissive. She deserved better than this, better than him. The sad thing was he was far too selfish to let her go. He pulled away from her, shaken by his loss of control. This woman did things to him he wasn’t prepared to deal with. Not now, maybe not ever.
He couldn’t just walk away from her, leave her bound and broken. He was selfish but not a prick. He released her from the spreader bar then went to work on the rope. Her skin beneath the bondage was patterned with indentations. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the marks. She shivered and let out a sigh that sounded very much like contentment. Once her arms were free, he gently massaged her limbs. The tension in her slender muscles eased as he worked. Satisfied she was no worse for wear, he lay down next to her.
She turned toward him and wrapped her lithe body around him, resting her head on his shoulder. He planted a soft kiss against her hair.
“Don’t ever push me like that again,” he said quietly. “I mean it, Genevieve.”
She nodded, snuggling deeper into him. They stayed that way for a long time, rope still twisted around her, her body twisted around him. The air was heavy with things unsaid, words hovering between them like ghosts. He couldn’t bring himself to release them so he simply stroked her hair and savored the feel of her in his arms. He allowed her to come down from her endorphin high in silence.
He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that he did care for her, more than he should. She’d made him feel alive for the first time in so long. But he didn’t dare break his own rules. He could never be what she needed. Not completely. It was better for both of them that he kept his feelings to himself.
She shifted, propping herself up on her elbow. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He looked into her deep-brown eyes. “What happened tonight?”
A small furrow appeared between her brows. “It’s complicated.”
“I can handle complicated.”
She looked down at where her hand rested on his chest and blew out a breath. “My mother is an addict. There, I said it.” She paused, tracing circles on his skin with her fingertips. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually said the words.”
His heart sank. “Drugs?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. After a breath she continued. “Prescription painkillers. She’s been abusing them since my dad passed away. Recently it’s gotten worse. Way worse. She lost her keys tonight, and of course when she called me I raced over there like I always do. The damn things were in the front door. She’d been drinking and wanted to go buy more. There was no way I was going to let her get behind the wheel after she’d been popping pills and washing them down with wine. We got in a fight and she…slapped me. The whole mess is my fault.”
“Genevieve, you can’t blame yourself.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I’ve made it so easy on her. I’ve enabled her. For years. I should have spoken up a long time ago. Maybe then she wouldn’t be as bad as she is now.”
“Listen to me.” He turned her face toward his. “Her addiction is not your fault. Do you force her to take the pills?”
“Of course not.”
“Then don’t you dare hold yourself responsible for her actions. She’s made her own choices. This has been going on since you were fifteen?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus. So essentially you’ve been the parent for the last decade?”
“What else could I do? She’s my mother.”
“Is this why you wanted me to punish you tonight? Because you blame yourself?”
With a wince, she closed her eyes.
God, what a twisted pair they made. A man who’d buried his emotions so deep he had no idea how to access them any longer and a woman who needed pain to deal with hers.