She was glad to be in the corner with her master’s broad body blocking her in, acting as a shield. Her white fingernails dug into his side, and she hoped he wouldn’t be angry if she left nail prints. It took all her energy and concentration to make her breath go in and out.
“Lucas,” Asher said between clenched teeth. His voice was tight, and Grace knew he wanted the other man on the elevator with them even less than she did.
“How is the little slut? Obedient? Pleasing? If you’re having troubles with her, I can give you some pointers. She was always very afraid of me,” Lucas said.
She pressed her forehead against Asher’s back, the feel of his warm, broad body keeping her grounded. Without him there, she was sure she would drift away.
Asher took another step back. It pushed Grace flush against the metal corner. Instead of causing her to feel claustrophobic, it made her feel safer, more protected. All sides of her surrounded by metal and Asher Collins. The muscles in his back were poised like a big cat, as if he might sprout fangs and pounce on the other man at any moment.
“I don’t need any pointers, thanks. I believe I’ve got the situation under control.”
Grace could feel the tightly-coiled violence, how it waited like a living energy, ready to spring should Lucas make a move toward them.
“I only meant that I could help if you needed it. You don’t want to let her get out of control and forget which of you is the master. It seems somewhat questionable to me. I mean, she’s not even kneeling.”
Asher jabbed at a button on the column. Number five lit up, and the cramped metal box lurched to a stop.
“I believe this is your floor, Lucas.”
“My floor is twelve.”
Asher moved into the other man’s personal space, shoving him against the elevator wall. “Take. The. Stairs. I don’t want you near Grace. Ever. Again. I bought her to rescue her from you. You shouldn’t be allowed to own so much as a potted plant.” He held the door open while the other man stumbled off.
Grace huddled in the corner, her eyes closed, the tears inching down her cheeks. She opened them a fraction of a second too soon and caught Lucas’s dark stare as the doors slid shut.
Asher held her against his chest the rest of the way up, and the brief pause on twelve where no one got on and no one got off.
The doors opened on fifteen, and Asher led her down the dark green hallway to the last door on the right. Inside, they were greeted by a good-looking blond man with tattoos that banded around his throat and up and down his arms. He looked like a cross between a surfer and a biker, but it was obvious he was better off financially than the average member of either group.
The man took one look at Grace, then at Asher. “She looks terrified.”
Asher shook his head. “It’s not all about the branding. We ran into someone.”
The brander looked at her again, and she had to turn her gaze away from that assessing stare that seemed able to divine too much about her life from her eyes.
Asher directed her to a pillow on the floor, and she obediently went to it and dropped to her knees, glancing around the room to take in her surroundings. She hadn’t expected the environment in the brander’s office to be so soothing. It was as if they were there to get her hair styled instead of put a permanent scar on her. Everything was just so . . . clean.
The men spoke in hushed tones a few feet away. Every now and then she heard her name. It occurred to her that Asher knew this man, that they were perhaps friends. The blond had a kindness to his eyes, much like her master, and Grace felt calmer.
“Are you ready, kitten?” Asher stood over her, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Yes, Master.”
“It’ll be five seconds of pain, then it’s over except for the soreness. You can handle that. And I’ll hold you while John does it.”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. Five seconds could be a very long time when the time was filled with pain.
They led her into another brightly lit room, and Asher handed a metal disk to the blond.
“This is nice,” John remarked, admiring the estate symbol. “It’ll make a clean design.”
She watched as the branding iron was heated, everything matching the pamphlets she’d been given to study. As the iron grew hotter, so grew her trepidation over her choice.
“Normally, we chain them down for this, but I know you can hold her still.”
Those words lodged in her stomach like a stone, making it impossible for her to move without her master’s assistance.
“Put your arms around my waist, kitten, and hang on tight.” When she’d obeyed, Asher wrapped one of his arms around her back, holding her steady against his body, and with the other he cradled the back of her head. “Just breathe, baby. It won’t be as bad as you think, I promise.”
John moved behind her with the heated metal. A moment later, the searing heat was in her skin, melding with her and sucking the breath from her lungs. She let out a wail and almost vomited at the smell of her own burning flesh. The smell triggered her self-preservation instincts, and if her master hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she would have struggled.
Why did I say yes to this?
She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to breathe through the pain.
As if reading her mind, the blond said, “It won’t get any worse, and in a few seconds it’ll get better.”
“Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one . . .” Asher said, steady and strong. He held her tight while she cried. The blond took the metal away, and unbelievably the burning sensation was gone. The skin around the mark felt tight and sore. But it was a kind of pain she could handle. Asher released her and brushed the tears off her face. “You were a very good girl. Come to the mirror and see my mark.”
He took her to the mirrored wall. Her breath caught when she saw his estate symbol on her hip. Somehow she hadn’t believed it would happen. He really wasn’t going to ever sell her. A small smile curved her mouth as she stared at the brand.
John was giving Asher instructions for care and information on healing time, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the mark on her hip.
“Do you like it?” he whispered, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear.
“Yes, Master.”
“I’m so happy you did it.” He clicked the leash back around her collar and led her out of the office. They didn’t run into Lucas again.
***
Something was unsettling Asher. It had bothered him for the week since the branding. Grace had stopped having nightmares.
It wasn’t the fact they’d stopped, it was why they’d stopped. It didn’t add up. He’d believed his pet’s bad dreams were the lingering remnants of Lucas haunting her. But if that were the case, wouldn’t the dreams only start back again stronger after their brief run-in with her former master in the elevator?
He wanted to test a theory, and he hoped he was wrong. Grace was in the garden. She didn’t have a single pair of denim shorts without the hole for the tail, so she was sporting the kitty look. He slipped up behind her, careful not to startle her, and tugged the tail a little, pulling it loose from her ass and then pushing it back in. She dropped the garden trowel and let out a delicious whimper, going to her hands and knees, thrusting her ass up at him, begging for more contact.
He’d been surprised at what a dirty little anal slut she’d turned out to be. Once he’d shown her how pleasurable it could be when done right.
As much as he’d like to play with her, there was something he needed to know first. “Grace?”
She stopped wriggling immediately and turned to face him, sitting back on her knees now with her legs spread, the way he’d taught her to kneel for him.
“Yes, Master?”
“Do you remember the last round of bad dreams?”
She nodded, a wary expression on her face.
“What were they about? Don’t even try to lie to me.”
The way her eyes widened, he knew he’d caught her. Even if she didn’t say the words, he knew. The only thing left was to determine what was to be done with her. Still, she tried to stall.
“What do you mean?”
“Kitten, you really don’t want to go down the doe-eyed road with me. Tell me what they were about.”
She looked down at the quilt, wringing her hands in her lap. “The branding,” she whispered, almost inaudibly.
His jaw clenched. Beneath the anger was hurt that she’d undermine what they had with silent lies. “You allowed me to believe you were dreaming about Lucas. You know that’s why I was taking you to the dungeon and flogging you. Why didn’t you tell me what the dreams were really about? Why would you hide that part of yourself from me?”
She sniffled, and Asher wanted to backhand her. How dare she make a bid for mercy, playing on his feelings for her after she’d lied to him, knowing full well how she was misleading him.
“Well?”
“I . . . I’m sorry. I was afraid if you knew how scared I was about the branding, you wouldn’t do it. You said it was my choice, and I thought if you knew about the dreams you’d think I wasn’t sure and you’d change your mind or let me back out. I didn’t want to be weak and back out.”
He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it hadn’t been that. Could he really be mad at her when her subterfuge had been because she’d wanted to wear his brand so badly?
He sighed and she looked up.
“What are you going to do?”
He just looked at her. She knew what he was going to do, but he said it anyway to leave no doubt. “Physical punishment.” The wind seemed to carry his words far out to sea. “There will be no lies between us, Grace, not even the unspoken kind. Wearing my collar and my brand means every part of you belongs to me, including what goes on in your head. Come with me.”
He felt her shaking behind him as he led her into the study, pulled the book out, and guided her down the stone steps. He’d been aroused after the branding, the last time she’d been this scared. The moment they’d gotten home, he’d taken her to his room and proceeded to use every toy at his disposal on her hot little body.
He fully intended to repeat those actions today, but this time, he’d finally punish her first. In truth, he didn’t like hitting for punishment. He much preferred to turn that kind of pain into an erotic torture that would make her beg him to take her deeper into it. And once he’d punished her, he’d move her into that space again.
She didn’t have to be told to go to the cushion. She just went and knelt on the large, fluffy pillow, waiting for instruction. Asher set up the table with toys and instruments of pain, then he covered her eyes with a blindfold.
“Master, please, I’m sorry,” she whispered, the tears spilling out from under the dark cloth.
“I know you are, kitten. But you still have to be punished. I told you this day was coming. When I’m finished with you today, you won’t withhold anything from me. If you think I’m misreading your feelings on something, you’ll take the opportunity to correct my assumption. You will not go about with secret thoughts and feelings and fears. There will be no doors closed to me that I want left opened. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Offer me your wrists.”
She took a shuddering breath and held her arms in front of her. He took a length of rope and wrapped each of her wrists individually, then went to work, tying intricate knot work.
When he was finished, he pulled her to her feet. She didn’t struggle, but stumbled a little as he tugged her forward. When he got her where he wanted her, he looped her tied wrists over a hook that extended down from the ceiling. The movement forced her to go up on her toes.
“I’ll be right back,” he growled in her ear, sending a shockwave of anxiety through her that he could almost smell.
He returned a few minutes later with a pair of heels from her closet. He slipped the shoes on her feet to make up the height difference. As much as he enjoyed watching her up on her toes, he wanted her standing solid and level for this.
She jumped when he cut her t-shirt and bra off with a pair of scissors. Then he removed the tail and slid the shorts down her legs. He stood back for a moment to admire her, naked except for the ropes binding her wrists, the blindfold, and the black and white heels on her delicate feet. Next, he retrieved a spreader bar from the toy chest and locked her ankles into it so her legs were spread wide.
“How scared are you, kitten?”
“Please . . .”
His hand landed solidly across her ass, leaving a loud smacking sound and a red imprint with the outline of his fingers. “I didn’t ask you to beg. I asked you to tell me how scared you are right now.”
“As scared as I was the day you took me.”
His hand fell on her again. “What did we say about lying, Grace?”
“I . . . I’m not lying, Master.”
“Perhaps not. But you’re misremembering, at least. You were broken then. I don’t believe you’re that scared now. Do you trust me not to harm you?”
She only hesitated a moment before she nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“Then it’s not like that day, because you didn’t have any certainty in my ultimate goodness to fall back on that day. I’m going to hurt you. But I’m not going to harm you. Why do I have to hurt you today?”
“Because I wasn’t honest about my feelings. I let you believe things were happening in my head that weren’t happening and kept secrets about what was really going on.”
He stroked her flank. “Mmm-hmm. Do you know why that will get you hurt?”
She was still and quiet for a moment, and he knew the only response she had was something along the lines of “Because I said so.” Wisely, she chose not to say it.
Asher sighed. “Because if I don’t know what’s going on in your head, I can’t be a good owner. I need to know where you are at all times, physically and emotionally. If something has you scared or upset, I need to know about it. You knew I didn’t know what was really going on, and you were experiencing distress I didn’t know anything about. You may have had your reasons, but it should have been left to me to decide how to handle your fears over the branding.”
He picked up the cane and brought it hard across her ass. He smiled as she shrieked and jumped, the tears flowing faster down her cheeks.