Fortune (14 page)

“Dr. Ryan.” Elena peered out at him as she stood on the doorstep, her greeting typically loud and blunt.

“Is Kat here?” he asked.

“She is here,” answered Elena, threading her arm under his and pulling him in. “But I think before you go, you come to dinner. We discuss a few things. We talk.”

* * * * *

Kat had to bite her lip not to laugh at the look on his face.

She could see he was trying his very best to present himself as the responsible and well-intentioned suitor. To be honest he was doing quite well, but Kat recognized the nervous tension underneath.

Sure, she could have called and warned him that Elena would make him stay for dinner, make him undergo an interrogation only slightly less aggressive than those conducted by the State Department. She could have, but that would have ruined all the fun. Anyway, he should have known. When he was just a “friend”, a successful doctor and polite dinner guest who seemed to have a passing interest in her daughter, that was one thing. Now he was something else… A prospective son-in-law.

At least her mother jumped to that conclusion. Kat had told her nothing of the “one month” agreement or her dabbles in power exchange with the fresh-faced young doctor in the spiffy tie. In Kat’s family, when you moved in with someone it was to practice for marriage. Kat hadn’t told Ryan that, hadn’t seen a need. But he realized it now, certainly. Elena had just pried the last few generations of his ancestry from him in conversation. Now she was moving on to religious and political beliefs. Next would be questions designed to intuit his morality, his integrity on personal issues Elena considered important. Fidelity, personal responsibility, social issues. She’d heard it all before, witnessed this dissection with each of her sisters’ husbands.

She only half listened, tuning in for the parts where he revealed something that surprised her. Stepsiblings she didn’t know he had, a childhood sojourn in the Far East. Agnostic beliefs that were well thought out and interesting. But she already knew most of what she needed to know about him. Everything else was extraneous, insights she wasn’t in the mood to analyze. Some part of her didn’t want to know him that well. Some part of her wanted to preserve a distance. She knew he could control her—he’d proven that already. She wasn’t quite ready yet to give up that control. She thought he could get a dangerous grip on her if he wanted to.

She fully intended to move out at the end of a month. She knew she’d be over him by then, probably long before then actually. She was always that way… Got obsessed with something or someone and moved on when she’d scratched the itch. She’d done her best to warn him that she wasn’t good relationship material, so she wasn’t going to waste a lot of time feeling guilty when she left. Or feeling guilty while she watched him squirm through Elena’s questions.

“And you want children, I guess?” Elena asked him with a smile.

“Oh yes, Mrs. Argounov. Tons of them.”

Kat choked on piece of dinner roll. Her father’s face lit up over his cabbage and potatoes. Ryan looked around the table at Kat’s sisters, at their messy, squalling babies and impish children.

“You know, I think that’s the real meaning of life. Love, connection, family. All this. You all… You don’t know how lucky you are. Or perhaps you do.”

Kat almost applauded. What a slam dunk. Her mother would be pure putty in his hands now. Elena looked around at her family too, the beaming matriarch. “I share your idea, Dr. Ryan. I like this idea of family.”

“Please, call me Ryan,” he said, reaching for Kat beside him. He put his arm around her, pulled her close and kissed her forehead. Kat looked past him to see her father’s eyes shining, a tremulous smile on his face.

* * * * *

“That was really wrong of you,” she told him on the way to his house after dinner.

“What was really wrong?”

“Leading them on like that. Feeding them those bullshit lines about kids and family. I can’t believe my mother at least, couldn’t see through you.”

He glanced over at her, then back at the road. “It’s not bullshit. I didn’t tell one lie to your mother or father. I told you, Kat. I never lie.”

“Well,” she said, feeling sulky at the reprimand in his tone. “You were trying to manipulate them. You manipulate people. I’ve seen you do it. You manipulate me.” He made a soft sound, a cross between a laugh and a sigh. “Do you deny it?”

“I manipulate you every chance I get, doll.”

“Ugh. Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because I want to. Get used to it, doll. And you’re no stranger to manipulation, if you’re going to be pointing fingers.”

She fell silent, watching the tree-lined sidewalks out the window, the tiny Cambridge house gardens. Little disciplined managed plots of color maintained in a crowded Boston suburb. She thought she would be disciplined and maintained that way by Ryan. He would try to make her thrive where she didn’t naturally belong. And her mother and father were one hundred percent behind him—as Ryan had forecast, Elena practically packed her bags and carried them out to Ryan’s car. She felt anxious, scared. Excited. Ryan looked over at her and stroked her thigh softly for just a moment.

“You’re going to spend tonight without any clothes. When we get home, they come off and you stay naked until tomorrow morning when you go to work. Understood?”

“Um…”

“Yes Sir.”

“Yes Sir. But um…may I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“Is that every night? Or just tonight?”

“It’s whenever I say so.”

Kat looked down in her lap, at her hands clasped there. “Oh. What if I get cold?”

“You won’t get cold.”

The way he said it left no mystery behind the meaning. When they got to his house, he took her inside and had her strip in the foyer. He took her clothes down the hall, into the room that was “hers”. He returned and approached her in silence with that intent look that always rattled her a little, made her want to hide herself. He put his hands on her, pressing on the small of her back so she had to stand up straighter. He pushed back her shoulders so her breasts were thrust forward.

“Don’t slouch. Stand up straight and present yourself to me.”

“For…for what?”

“For my pleasure.” His curt words made some wild drumbeat commence between her legs. Her stomach flipped over and fluttered, although she tried to remain outwardly cool. Inside she was anything but. Her pussy was already growing wet and ready for him. He pulled at her arms. “Let them fall naturally at your side. Stand straight and open to me.”
Breathe in, breathe out.
He put his thumb under her chin, tipped her head up and straight. He looked into her eyes with that dark gaze that burned and searched her expression. She stared back, knowing it was expected. What did he see? Why did she imagine he saw more than she even knew of herself? He put his hands on her neck and rested them there, not moving her or controlling her. She straightened unconsciously, then licked her lips.

“Are you going to put a collar on me?” she asked, trying to sound flippant.

“Not yet.” His voice didn’t sound flippant at all. “Someday. When I think you’re up for it.” He chucked her under the chin. “Baby steps. Now…” He stepped back and scrutinized her, tipped her shoulders back just one more iota. The positioning felt unnatural but he seemed to want that. “I’m going to bring your things in and put them in your room. You’re going to stand there and you’re not going to move. Not one inch. When I’m done bringing your things in, I’m going to take you in the bedroom and hurt you. Then I’m going to fuck you and put you to bed for the night. Any questions?”

She had trouble finding her voice. “No,” she finally managed. He gave her a dire look. “No Sir,” she corrected quickly.

With one last sweeping inspection of her body, he turned and went out the door. Kat found herself alone with her thoughts, standing naked and still at the behest of her Master. She was acutely aware of the heaviness of her breasts, the rise and fall of her chest, the vulnerability of her bared ass cheeks as the cool air blew across them. The mounting heat at the apex of her thighs.

He made several trips, pausing each time to inspect her on entering. Her face burned from the scrutiny. The third time, before he headed back to the car, he took her wrists and pulled her hands up. “Lace your fingers at the back of your neck. Elbows out. Stand up straight.” She swallowed and did as he asked. He wasn’t happy with her efforts. He pushed her elbows back until her breasts were forced even farther forward. Then, silently, he went around behind her and drove his knee between her legs. He began to spread them open, using his leather shoes to push her bare feet a distance apart on the floor.

She was strangled with lust and yet terrified. Cool air rushed up into her exposed center. She was terrified he would touch her and yet terrified he wouldn’t. He didn’t touch her, though, or say another word, just gave her another fathomless stare and turned away to make another trip to the car.

It felt like hours that she stood there, but the clock said ten minutes. He brought the last of her things in and then returned to take her arm, pulling her from her rigid stance. “You can unpack tomorrow.”

He didn’t wait for any answer to that and she didn’t attempt one. In his bedroom he arranged her again. She was already quicker at it. Shoulders back, hips straight, ankles together, arms at her side. He gave a small nod, acknowledging her progress, however minor. When she was positioned to his liking he turned away and undressed, taking his time. He took off his tie, hung it on the tie rack. Undid his belt, hung it on another rack. Folded his pants and shirt and put them in a pile for the dry cleaners. She watched his muscles as he worked, as he leaned and reached and strode to the closet. So much leashed power. It seemed inconceivable that this man spent his days performing neurosurgery, dealing in fine increments too small to be detected by the human eye. So much steadiness, so much finesse must have been required, and yet there was a wildness in him she could barely comprehend.

When he was fully undressed, he crossed in front of her to his bureau and pulled open the bottom drawer. It was filled with neatly coiled and tied-off bunches of rope of several thicknesses and colors. She watched as he sorted through them thoughtfully.

“Are you planning to hang me?”

He turned. “That would kind of defeat the purpose.” He looked back in the drawer, drew out some rope, twisted it between his fingers as if testing the weight and softness. He stood and came to her, unraveling the bundle. “Kat, have you ever heard of shibari?”

“Is that some kind of power drink?” He took one nipple between thumb and forefinger, pinching a sharp warning. “Uh…um…some kinky rope thing?” she guessed again.

“Shibari is another word for Japanese rope bondage. And it’s not just kinky stuff. It’s an art form.” He gestured back toward the drawer. “As you may have guessed from my collection, I’m pretty into it.” He lifted the frayed edge of the rope he held, drew it across the tender nipple he’d just pinched. She shivered at the ticklish sensation. “I’m going to tie you up, Kat.”

“Um, okay. For how long?”

“For as long as I want.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.”

“Hush, you little brat.” He made her kneel, then pressed her forward until her forehead touched the carpet. “Give me your hands.” She reached them back and he took them, cinching them together wrist-to-wrist with the rope. He ran the dangling tails around her waist and crossed them at the front, then pulled them back up again.

As he worked, she rested her cheek on the floor and gazed over at the jumble of paper cranes still scattered on the floor. She thought she should pick them up. At least someone should. All that careful, intricate work. Behind her back, the same fingers that had folded the cranes whispered across her skin, punctuated sometimes by the touch of soft, scratchy rope. He got up at one point and moved back across the room. She heard a drawer opening and closing but she couldn’t turn her head up high enough to see what he returned with. He put whatever it was on the small desk against the wall and knelt down again. She was still, compliant. She was curious about what the hell was going on. She felt the rope almost like a blanket on her back, a crisscrossing pattern. She felt a little tug and then rope being tied around her ankles.

That finished, he stood a couple paces in front of her and said, “Come here.”

She started to move, rousing the usual muscles into action. She thought the rope behind her was loose enough to allow motion, but her legs stopped still. Her torso lurched, arrested. He caught her shoulders before she did a faceplant into the rug. “Jesus,” she snapped. “What the fuck?”

“Try again. Slowly. Come here. Think about how you’ll have to move.”

Kat felt sudden tears burn behind her eyes. She felt humiliated, helpless. “I can’t move at all. You tied me up.”

“I’ve hampered you, but you can still move.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” She hunkered over, resting her head on the floor. She hated the tremor in her voice.

He squatted down in front of her, patted the side of her hair as if she were a child or a pet. She wanted to pull away but she couldn’t. “Don’t be a quitter, Kat. And don’t overreact right now. How are you feeling?”