Her breath speeds up, parting her lips. There’s a hint of fear in her green orbs, but most of all, there’s pure, accepting submission that goes straight to my cock. It grows painfully hard as I wrap the collar around her throat and she starts panting. I pull it tighter through the buckle than needed, relishing her small mewl as the leather tightens. Then I loosen it, push the pin through the appropriate hole, and click on the padlock. Finally, I attach the chain to the front of the collar, using the second lock, before using the third one to fasten the chain to the middle of the headboard.
Her eyes follow me as I go, and her breathing gets more labored. I can’t resist the urge to push her legs apart and reach between them, hovering a finger right at her pussy lips. “I’ve been wanting to see if you get as dripping wet as Killian described, or if he was exaggerating.”
Her eyes widen as I slowly slip a finger through her opening. Sinking into the sleek, wet moisture makes a smile break out over my lips. “Oh yes. He’s right. You’re like a cat in heat. Desperate for cock.”
She makes a weak shake of her head, denying how she feels.
I slap my free hand against her thigh, hard enough to make her release a small cry. “No lying, Jenna. Remember that, or it will hurt a lot more the next time.”
I sink my finger all the way inside, and she lets out the cutest little moan, her cheeks growing rosy.
I circle my finger against her slick walls a few times. “Would you like my cock in here?”
Her throat bobs with a hard swallow. “Yes,” she whispers, and it’s too much. My cock can’t take any more without getting a release. So I pull my finger out. I lift it to her mouth and drag it across her lower lip, enjoying the distressed expression that etches into her delicate features. Reminding myself not to push too much, I dry the rest of the moisture off on her stomach.
“No touching yourself without permission. That’s my second rule. You’d better remember that,” I say. Then I tuck her in, kiss her forehead, and leave her to get some much-needed rest.
I have plenty of time to toy with my new little plaything later. Seven whole months to be exact.
17
The Reward
Jenna
I wake to the soft sound of piano music drifting through the walls. I can’t hear whether it’s coming from upstairs or downstairs, but when I hear that it’s Chopin’s Fourth Ballade, I figure it must be Ian—unless Killian has suddenly grown a soft side. Ian is famous for his Chopin interpretations and just released a new album last year with his Ballades.
Keeping my eyes closed, I listen to the faint notes for a while, wishing I could hear more so the music could drag me far away from all the memories that want to break through the rapidly thinning veneer of sleep.
When I can’t keep them at bay anymore, I open my eyes and look around. I’m in a spacious bedroom washed in shades of navy blue, with a dark hardwood floor, and simple, nondescript decor. I heave a shuddery breath at the sight of the chain connected to the black steel bars of the headboard. It’s long enough to allow me to move around, even step out of bed, but only just that. The air trembles past my lips as I lift a hand to my neck and touch the collar—the padlock and the chain. I’m trapped, at the mercy of two men I barely know. A man whotakes pleasure in humiliating me and his father who has no problem taking part in said humiliation.
Shame and self-deprecation wash over me as I think over the last two weeks, wondering if it’s all been a game to get me here—to make me so utterly desperate I’d agree to live under the same roof as my abuser. Nausea roils in my belly at the memory of how I succumbed to Killian. I knelt before him and apologized, then willingly spread my ass cheeks to let him insert a butt plug while his dad watched.
But the worst part is not that I let him do it. It’s the fact that I enjoyed it. That I was wet.
Carefully, I reach beneath the comforter and touch my pussy. Finding my lips dripping wet, I pull my hand away as if burned. And that slight touch is all it takes. Suddenly, the need that had gone to sleep with me flares back alive. My entire lower body starts humming, and my inner muscles contract. A small sound that sounds embarrassingly much like a moan escapes me when I accidentally squeeze around the butt plug.
“No, no, no,” I whisper, lifting my hands to my face.This can’t be. Not any of it.
I just lie there, hiding behind my hands, hoping it will all go away, until the door opens. Still, I keep my hands pressed to my face, refusing to face my new reality.
But it comes crashing down when two big hands grab my wrists and pull them aside. The words I somehow found arousing an hour ago are now like a nightmare as they play through my mind.You have no rights except the ones I give you.
“I want to leave,” I say when I meet Ian’s impassive eyes. “I’ve changed my mind.”
He lifts his hand to stroke his knuckles along my cheek. “Didn’t you understand? Your decision is final. You have no further say in anything.”
“You can’t keep me here against my will.”
“Is it against your will? Would you rather go back to that shitty job of yours and that decrepit flat? Poor and insignificant? Traumatized and unable to let another man fuck you? Or would you rather stay here? Our cherished little toy? Pleasing Killian and me? Embracing the trauma and turning it into something beyond that anxiety that has been crippling you for years?”
Tears pool in my eyes. His words are like a stab to the chest, piercing straight through all my vulnerabilities, opening up for everything I’ve kept hidden behind a thick wall of shame. Parting my lips, I give a hopeless shake of my head, confirming everything he just said. Because he’s right.
“That’s what I thought.” Ian grabs me under the arms and pulls me into his lap.
“Don’t,” I protest, feebly pushing at him. But when he cradles the back of my head in his big, warm hand and wraps the other around me, I can’t resist. It’s the comfort I’ve craved with aching need for two weeks, maybe even forever. Slumping against him, I let the tears free and succumb to the wrenching grief.
“Shh-sh-shh,” he soothes. “Such a pretty little thing shouldn’t cry.” He strokes my hair, rocking me gently. “But it’s okay. Just give in to it. I’ll get you through it.”
