To Command and Collar
Page 68

She nodded.
He looked away, brows drawn. Thinking.
Hope started to tap-dance over her heart. She held so, so still, not wanting to interrupt his thoughts.
“Yes.” His expression changed. His shoulders straightened. His mouth firmed. Everything about him coalesced into the master she loved. “Then, gatita, it would please me to test your submission in front of our friends.”
How had this happened? Raoul stared down at Kimberly, trying to batter down the hope rising inside him. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t truly submit.
And, if she could, what would it prove? Really?
But if she could face her worst fears for him, how could he not do as much for her?
If she could submit to him, here, in fear and in public, he’d know that she’d work as hard as he would to make a D/s relationship succeed.
A shiver ran through her, and he pulled her into his arms, giving her comfort. Whether she succeeded or not, he would withhold nothing. She needed to trust him, to want to please him. After so long apart, to do this now was foolish—yet neither of them could tolerate waiting. He knew that as well.
He rested his cheek on the top of her head, inhaling her light fragrance. He’d forgotten— tried to forget—how she fit against him, how her strong arms would hold him as tightly as he held her.
After a minute, Raoul lifted his head and motioned for Cullen. “You know where the dungeon is. Can you get the box labeled patio and set it up at the archway? Bring wrist and ankle cuffs as well.”
“Got it, buddy.” Cullen grinned at Kimberly and tugged her hair. “Welcome home, pet. Why didn’t you come over and say hi last night?”
She gave him a shrug, looking away, her body stiff.
Raoul frowned. She wasn’t usually rude. She relaxed when Cullen moved away.
Last night. Cullen would have been playing bartender at the Shadowlands all evening. “Come over and say hi.”
Obviously, Kim had been at the club, probably with Gabi. Maybe conversing with guilty little Sally. Kim had met his family in the hospital; he’d heard them talking in the hall. It didn’t take a calculus formula to figure out the answer. But this was not the time to deal with family issues. Instead… He rubbed his cheek on her silky hair and asked, “Did you get the furry present I sent you?”
Her laugh—how long had it been since he’d heard her soft laugh. “My Ari. He’s wonderful and…”
Contently, Raoul held her, ignoring the conversations around them, and listened to her telling of returning to work, of the big dog, of her life. As Cullen and Nolan set up chains from the bolts in the patio cover beams, he answered her questions about Costa Rica.
She’d missed him and tried to call him. The knowledge was far too pleasing. “I missed you, sumisita,” he admitted in return. She was being gut-wrenchingly honest and more courageous than he was. “My home is empty without you, and I couldn’t bear the silence.”
Her arms tightened around him, and he bent down and took her lips. Soft and welcoming as she molded against him, keeping nothing of herself in return. Her body was fragrant and even lusher than when she’d left. He wanted to explore, to fill his palms with her breasts.
When he lifted his head, she made a tiny sound of protest. One a man should not make, but a man might feel. After a slow breath, he noticed Cullen had set cuffs on the table nearby.
Time to start. One by one, he slowly fastened the cuffs on his sumisa, cherishing the way she held out an ankle, her wrist, offering herself. Her pleasure was obvious in her open stance and her curving lips. She wanted his cuffs.
He ran his finger around the insides to ensure they weren’t too tight, then rose and checked the setup at the edge of his patio. Chains dangled from rings he’d installed in the support beam. Two more chains lay at the base of the four-by-four posts. Ready.
Was Kimberly? Her breathing had sped up, and she was biting her lip. But she nodded firmly. “I’m ready, Master.”
He’d always known she’d break his heart. His hand slipped down under the hem of her sundress and between her legs. Small panties, already damp. Her muscles were tensed with anxiety, but her pussy showed her arousal. Maybe, maybe she could do this. His hopes flared. “Remove your clothing.”
Her breath hitched, and a flush grew in her cheeks. But she pulled the sundress over her head in one smooth move. The sight of her breasts—yes, fuller than before—sent a bolt of lust through him.
She pushed down her tiny panties—the ruffles matched the ones on the dress, he noticed appreciatively.
“Are you still ready?”
“Yes, Master.” Her lips formed around the word as if she liked the taste of it in her mouth, and he was grateful she hadn’t hated it like she had the word slave—he enjoyed very much the sound of his title when she said it.
Mine. His heart uttered the word again and again. Submitting to him. Nothing could give a dom more of a rush in a scene. In life? Nothing filled a dom’s heart so fully.
Unable to resist, he pulled her against him, curved his fingers around her nape, and plundered her sweet lips. He ran his hand over her ass, massaging the roundness, still cool, but soon to be glowing with heat.
He held her eyes, rejoicing to see them so clear and free of fear. “I love you, gatita.”
Her heart melted right down into a puddle. Never, ever would she tire of hearing that. “I love you, Master.”
When she finally looked away from him, she saw the tables and chairs on the patio had been moved to form a semicircle, leaving a large open area. For a whip.
“Master Raoul.” Z stood a few feet away. His dark gray eyes held hers as he said, “Tell your submissive what you wish to use so she might bring you the proper tools.”
Tools? Things he’d use on her. To hurt her… She wrenched her gaze away and realized people had congregated around the patio. Watching. Like at an exhibit or a slavers’ stage. Her horrified gaze fell on Gabi.
Gabi jerked her chin up and then deliberately made a fist, arcing it in the tugboat hand signal for full speed ahead.
Kim blinked. Well.
Next to her hard-faced dom, Beth had her hands clasped together, and her lips moved, You can do it.
Andrea gave her a firm nod of encouragement.
Kari’s eyes had tears in them, but she waggled a baby monitor emphatically and mouthed, “Yes. Do it.”
Jessica was alternating glaring at Z and nodding vigorously at Kim.
Not an exhibit. I have my own set of cheerleaders.
“I think you agreed on whips?” Z asked, as if deliberately rubbing her fears raw.
A shudder ran through her, but she forced steel into her spine. I fought the Overseer and Greville and won. Can I be less brave in going after my dreams?
Master R’s face held only fury as he stared at Z, but then he sighed and smiled. “Remind me to hurt Z after this.”
Master R is on my side. He always is. But she could…almost…understand the pressure Z was putting on her. This was her opportunity to prove herself to them both, and Master Z would make it a proper test. She raised her chin. “Can Master describe his wishes?”
His hand touched her cheek gently, his gaze intensifying, as if he assessed her determination, and his lips curved with approval. “My gatita makes me proud.”
God, everything in her melted, and she felt as if she’d drown in his eyes.
Master R thought a minute. “I want you to bring me the flogger with a faint yellow stripe on the handle, a crop—one with soft leather—and the bullwhip on the leftmost side. You will do this to please me, Kimberly.”
The bullwhip. Her mouth was too dry, so she gave him a jerky nod and walked off the patio. Her legs didn’t seem to belong to her, but they were moving, and that was all she could ask.
The dungeon was cool. Quiet. And, oddly, held no fears, just memories of Master R: Leaning against a wall and counting with his fingers as she walked around the room. Massaging her on the bondage table. “You’re not going to fall into pieces if I touch your breasts.”
He’d led her out of panic each time—her wish to please him would work that magic again. It must.
The crop was easy and she picked one with the softest leather. The flogger he’d actually teased her with once and let her play with. The bullwhip…
She got near and couldn’t touch it. Had to circle to get close. Another circle. Did he even know how to use a whip? What if he—No, this was Master R. If he used something, he’d be superb. She’d never seen him practice though.
That was scary. During the next detour, she frowned at the empty space on one side of the room. She’d never wondered why it was there. A newspaper was clamped chest-high on the wall, thin strips of it dangling like streamers. She shivered. Maybe he did practice.
Another circle.
Enough stalling. I will do this. She brought up in her memory the approval on Master R’s face. “You will do this to please me.” The need to see that approval again grew, slowly outweighing her fear.
Her fingers closed on the whip, and she whispered a vow to herself. “I’m going to learn to use this damned thing. Rip up some newspapers myself. See if I don’t.” Her hand tightened on the leather.
As she stepped out onto the patio in the bright sun, she saw Master R in the middle. He’d taken his shirt off to get ready for the scene, obviously never doubting her courage. The sight of the contoured muscles on his chest and arms made her stop. So powerful. She smiled, remembering when she’d said that to him. He’d laughed and picked her up so, so easily, murmuring into her hair, “The better to hold you with.”