AllFreeNovel
Share Us
24
Cole
We talked about why she'd done what she'd done. And about the fact that she didn't have the right to do it.
We talked about what the contract meant, that I took it seriously and that she had signed it and needed to. That was a threat and I saw her eyes glaze over as she refused to consider it as that. She simply pushed it away.
I didn't know what Annie thought about her addiction. Did she understand she was clean now and that though she'd always be at risk of backsliding – because she'd been an addict, because she had the need and would again to hide from the world – barring any stressors like she'd gone through a year ago, I didn't think her first choice would be to use.
I was the one who had been in charge of getting her off fentanyl. Most likely she would be waiting for me to tell her when it was safe for her to go back into the world.
Did she want that? She already felt strong enough to make her own decisions despite knowing my views on that while she was in recovery. Did she want to stay? She'd come back of her own free will and signed the contract.
Which she wasn't adhering to. It kept coming back to that.
Because it wasn't a game for me. And because she'd put me in a place where now she was my conquest. Because I had her here and didn't have her.
I couldn't just walk away and leave her in the punishment room. Not without punishment after having defied me during punishment. That almost made me laugh. She'd be a challenge to any Dom who took her on.
So when the talk ran down and we'd covered every point, I stood and looked down at her. "You can choose to comply with what I require of you now, or you can wait here – because you have no way out – until I send for Jason and another of the guards. They'll physically force you to comply and watch as your punishments are carried out."
A fast burn ran across her face. It wasn't just anger, though. There was at least a little remorse and a lot of fear. To answer the question of the prostitute who’d asked in essence, how BDSM stays fresh when mostly doing things the other person hates - that’s what exposure therapy is all about, it stays fresh. Offered a choice to not be stripped and punished in front of Jason, she was going to submit.
"Now, Annie." My voice was harsh. Not play-acting. The anger was still burning coupled with the need to put her in the place she'd accepted.
She released the blanket, letting it slip off her shoulders, and stood, about to kneel.
"Don't bother." I took her wrist and forced her over to the St. Andrew’s cross. She didn't fight me and she didn't assist. Like a ragdoll, she allowed me to strap her wrists and ankles in place. Her backside was bruised despite the arnica and aloe, so I faced her outward. A small grimace crossed her face at that. Annie hated all breast play. She specifically hated having them punished.
Good.
I fetched the crop from where she'd thrown it, forced her to kiss it, then commanded her to request her punishment.
Fifty blows, the crop snapping down on her most vulnerable bits until her screams became one long wail. Not of pain – I could have hurt her so much more effectively; this was mere foreplay for a masochist and submissive – but frustration, confusion, longing, remorse and hatred for the things she wanted.
And couldn't face in herself.
When I finished I ordered her to kiss the handle, then forced that up inside her, making her meet my eyes as I did so. What I saw there wasn't hatred. I'd have released her if it had been, then and there. I'd have had her flown to Vegas in the helicopter and admitted into the hospital before being taken home to Seattle where she would both find the money she needed to live on during the time she got her degree and her college paid for, and could make up her own mind what she wanted to do about her private life.
I didn't see hatred. I saw all the confusion that had gone into her crying.
"Keep hold of that," I said, tapping the crop hanging obscenely from between her legs. "I expect to find it there when I come back or we start over."
I turned my back and walked away before she could answer.
I couldn't leave her on the cross without someone checking on her. Because she'd done what I said, I wouldn't saddle her with Jason or the others.
Instead I kept the door between her cell and the pain room open. I spent the afternoon working in my office, a timer bringing me out of whatever I was doing to check on her every ten minutes.
By the end of the afternoon, Hennings had agreed – happily, cheerfully, and with a sizeable donation to the anti-trafficking fund – to take Kie.
And as my anger continued to boil uncontained, by the end of the same afternoon, Claude and Chloe had agreed to take Annie.
Just for now.
One by one, I was placing all my ferals.
25
