Either way, this ends the same. I wrap my hand around her throat. Her pulse jumps, proof that she’s not as unaffected by me as she’d like. “You forget, little bird. You don’t have a choice.” I draw her deeper into my office. “Youcame tome. Remember what I told you?” I seize her hands, pinning them behind her. She sucks in breath but doesn’t fight me. If anything, she leans closer, stilling as I rasp in her ear, “You are mine. It’s time I show you what that means.”
* * *
Inara
I feelthe smooth bracelets around my wrists before I hear the click. Handcuffs. I know exactly what they feel like. These are different, though, padded with leather to make it easier on my wrists. I test their give and find them no less sturdy than department issued ones.
His hand clamps on the nape of my neck. My nipples harden under the soft jersey of the dress. As quickly as he subdues a victim, he’s got the upper hand. I could fight until my skin chafes and I fall at his feet, but for what? Years of practiced kink work against me. The bondage sends me to a place of calm.
Or maybe I just want to give in to him.
His hand tightens around my arm, keeping me close, keeping me safe. He guides me forward, holding me in case I stumble. I’m lightheaded and easy to maneuver.
It’s as if everything in my life has been leading to this moment. All the pain and trauma have driven me into this man’s arms. He has all the control, and I have none, and I can finally, finally rest.
The corner of his office holds an ancient oil painting of a monstrous figure with black, bat-like wings. He tilts the frame until there’s a click and soft whir, and the bookshelf slides away to reveal a hidden door. Just like in the private room at Empire, he’s rigged this place with all the secret passageways he wants.
The room we enter is dark, but a few paces inside and hidden sensors trigger a cascade of soft lights. I pant like I’ve run up the mansion’s grand flight of stairs.
This place is a cavernous play space lit by wall sconces and glowing chandeliers. Every few feet, there’s a sturdy spanking bench or St. Andrew’s Cross. The rows of whips and floggers on the wall are twenty times what’s available to Rex at the club. There are wardrobe-sized cases and chests of drawers lining the walls, which probably hold more toys or implements of torture.
“Welcome to my dungeon.” His fingers tighten on my strained shoulders, holding me fast. He’s got me now.
And I know there’s no escape.
26
Rex
She leans backas I drag her deeper into the room, but it’s only a token resistance. A part of her is fighting, ready to take flight. The rest of her has already surrendered.
Her gaze darts everywhere, from the racks of whips to the oversized oil paintings hanging in giant gilt frames. Each painting depicts angels and demons grappling in apparent ecstasy. Her stiff limbs loosen as she grows curious. Her breathing deepens, and her tongue darts out to touch her lips.
She recovers enough to toss her head and sneer at me. “So you have a private dungeon. So what? It’s not enough that you own a club?”
I love it when she rolls her eyes at me, tempting me to spank the sass out of her. “Co-own. And no. I require a completely private space. But I knew you wouldn’t scene with me at my home. Not to start.” I wrap her hair around my fist, using it as a leash to draw her head back so I can whisper, “I had to lure you in.”
She huffs. Her eyes are wide, but her body is tense as she drinks in her cavernous surroundings. “Do you bring all your submissives here?”
“No, little bird. I had this place built for you.”
She gasps. The last bit of resistance leaves her body, and she sags in my hold. She has no idea how long I’ve waited for her, how much I’ve planned. I knew I needed to reveal myself slowly.
I usher her to her knees, keeping her upright with my hand around her throat. Her pulse is wild under my palm.
“Ask me to blindfold you.” I have the black sash ready in my pocket.
The whites of her eyes flash as she looks left and right. Searching for escape.
“Ask,” I command and then soften my voice. “You know it will help you. Let me help you.”
“Please. . . blindfold me.” I wait until she adds, “Sir.”
She sighs as the silk settles on her upturned face. I tug the blindfold, checking if it’s secure.
“How’s that?”
“Good. Thank you.”
