FrankenDom (6 page)

God, was there really a surgery on the 31
st
or had that all been a ruse to get me here?

Surely not. The employment contract with KBTI had been mind-numbingly legitimate.

My heart was still pounding a mile a minute. If I had a brain in my head, I’d leave
my bags packed and stay in my room until the roads were passable, and then drive away
and never look back. Why in God’s name hadn’t Colin warned me about this?

And speaking of Colin, where did he fit into the picture? I knew he had to.

I’m not going to ask
, he’d said.

God, those words had teased me mercilessly for the last three days, and now I knew
exactly what they meant. He hadn’t warned me because it was all spelled out in black
and white, right here in the employee conduct agreement—I would submit to whoever
Julian wanted me to submit to. If I chose to abide by the terms of the agreement,
Colin wasn’t going to give me a choice any more than Julian was.

The realization raised gooseflesh all over me and twisted my low belly into a knot
of anxious desire. During the two months we slept together, he’d asked several times
if he could tie me to the bed and I was too conflicted to let him. What would happen
once he had me completely helpless—everything I wanted, or maybe things I didn’t want
but he thought I did because I’d allowed him to put me in that position? And why did
both possibilities turn me on? Why did I feel like he could make me want things I
shouldn’t?

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Colin, exactly. I’d certainly trusted him enough to
have anal sex with him, and that had been huge for me. I blushed even now to remember
those raw, edgy sessions. Colin Carter had a dirty, dirty mouth and he wasn’t afraid
to use it for anything. I’d never looked at my bed—or my body—quite the same way afterward.

But that was back before I really knew anything about BDSM, and when he talked about
tying me up, I’d had the feeling he was operating on some sort of hidden agenda. It
had made me extremely wary. If tying me up wasn’t his end goal, what was?

I was too frightened—of both him and myself—to ask.

Unfortunately, once he put the idea of bondage in my head, I couldn’t stop thinking
about it. I’d
never
stopped thinking about it, no matter how desperately I wished that I could at times.

Had hooking me up with Julian been Colin’s hidden agenda all along? My mind boggled
at the idea. He hadn’t seemed that selfless back then, but maybe I hadn’t known him
as well as I thought I did.

A knock on the door jarred me out of my sightless contemplation of the canopy.

Sliding off the bed, I tiptoed over and said, “Yes?”

“Dinner for you, Dr. McBride,” Lili said.

Yes!

“I don’t have a key for the door,” I told her.

“I vill take care of it.”

The lock clicked and then Lili backed her way into the room with a tea cart.

“Where would you like this, please, Dr. McBride?”

I looked around and pointed to the desk chair. “There would be fine.”

“Very good.” She parked the cart beside the desk and lifted the ceramic cover off
the small bowl, leaving the plates covered. It was the cream soup, and it still smelled
divine. “May I bring you something else to drink?”

There was nothing but a glass of water on the cart.

“More wine?” I ventured.

Her expression fell. “I am so sorry, but your limit is one glass per meal.”

“But I only had a sip,” I protested. And what was this
my limit
crap? Did that mean other people—like Julian and Colin—had different limits? I added
it to my list of items to discuss with my so-called
master
.

“I am sorry,” Lili repeated.

“I guess the water will do then. Thank you.”

She curtsied quickly—curtsied!—and then backed out of the room, closing the door behind
her. I waited for the click of the key turning in the lock but it never came.

Really? She wasn’t going to lock me in again?

After a tense couple of minutes, I turned the doorknob very slowly and pulled the
door open without a sound. Someone had been busy with the WD-40. Every door in my
parents’ house creaked as though it were a house of horrors.

Poking my head out just far enough to see, I checked both directions. No one. Everything
was quiet, and the brass wall sconces had been dimmed. Now was my chance…

To do what?

Indecision and nerves seized me. It wasn’t like I was going to get away from Julian
and Colin altogether, even if I wanted to. I was trapped at Bangenschloss for the
moment, and the only thing I was likely to find on an unauthorized foray into the
castle was more trouble. My inner good girl, whom I tended to heed religiously, told
me to stay in my room—I’d been grounded in no uncertain terms and she didn’t want
to discover the consequences of violating that order any more than I did.

But my inner bad girl, who’d been ruthlessly locked down for way too long, was wildly
curious and anxious to push the envelope.

The envelope is fine where it is!

Maybe Lili left the door open for a reason. Go for it!

If she did, it’s probably a test that I don’t want to fail.

Come on, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Nothing ventured, nothing punished!

Nothing punished, nothing learned. Do you
want
to live in the dark forever, Rachel?

Well that settled it. Something had clicked in my head when I read that slave contract
Julian called a personal conduct agreement, something like a light switch being thrown,
only the thing that lit up was me. Suddenly I felt like I had years ago whenever Julian’s
stern gaze focused on me, a feeling I’d feared I might never experience again—breathless,
panicky and poised to flee, but vibrantly, achingly alive.

Was this a test Julian had set up for me? I didn’t know and I was terrified of getting
caught, but I couldn’t
not
test the limits. I needed to know how this kind of relationship really worked and
if I was strong enough to deal with it.

My gurgling stomach reminded me of the meal awaiting me on the cart, and I gazed at
it longingly for a moment before steeling myself to go hungry a little longer. Lili
might be back to lock the door any minute—I had to seize this chance while it was
available.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped into the dim corridor, leaving my door slightly ajar
in case I needed to beat a hasty retreat. Adrenaline made my hands shake and my heart
pound in my throat. Where in the hell was I going? To my right, seemingly an eternity
away, was the tower with the elevator I’d come up in. Across from my room was a closed
door. To my left, two more closed doors on the same side as mine before the corridor
made an abrupt right turn I couldn’t see around. What was down there?

Decision made, I alternately crept and made panicked leaps down the corridor, flattening
myself inside door frames when I heard any sort of noise—as if my protruding boobs
wouldn’t give me away.

Or my noisy stomach. I gave it a reproving pat and whispered, “Hush, you.”

From my vantage point in the final door frame on the left, I craned my neck to peer
down the adjoining corridor but saw nothing. I heard something, though—several somethings
that sent ice water trickling down my spine.

I listened as if my life depended on it.

Which it very well might, if what I heard was any indication—guttural male cries,
low-pitched chuckles, and the murmur of male voices. They were all muted by an electronic
hum that made the door under my right hand vibrate slightly. And there was a persistent
crackling and snapping that sounded like radio static.

Or something more sinister.

Every muscle in my body tensed for flight. It took a several deep breaths and a searing
lecture on the evils of cowardice from my inner bad girl before I was calm enough
to forge ahead.

Another glance back the way I’d come and then I darted onto uncharted carpet. It was
a relatively short corridor with only two doors, one on my left, which I flattened
myself into right away, and one in the terminal wall.

Terminal.
I swallowed hard at the irony. Unlike all the other doors, which were traditional
six-panel models painted pristine white, this one was round on top, made of lightly
stained wood planks and held together by heavy black hardware—two flat metal pieces
that formed a reinforcing X were riveted to the door just below the curve, and two
more pieces anchored it across the top and bottom. The handle was nothing more than
a thick leather strap doubled over and bolted to the wood.

The primitive door was open. Not much, only enough to see a sliver of darkness and
almost continuous flashes of watery light—but it was open.

I bit my knuckle. Nothing said
Go away!
like a big black X on the door.

But it was
open
. An open door was an invitation…right?

The temptation to creep closer and try to
see
something clashed fiercely with the desire to scurry back to my room and reassess
my priorities.

The sounds were more distinct now, and I swallowed hard when I recognized the distinctive
buzz and snap of some kind of powerful electrical device discharging. It was a relief
to realize the human sounds seemed unrelated to the snaps and flashes of light. During
one of my ER rotations, I’d seen an electrical burn from electro-stimulation gone
wrong and I never wanted to see it again, much less experience it for myself.

But those throaty masculine chuckles and amused murmurs were definitely a reaction
to pained grunts and groans. Someone was being tortured in there. And someone else
was enjoying it.

A sharp yelp made me gasp, and I slapped one trembling hand over my mouth while the
other flattened on my stomach. That could be
me
in there, being tortured for someone else’s amusement.

Okay, maybe I should have taken this a little slower. My heart was about to batter
its way right out of my ribcage, and I couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or
terror.

Time to get my ass back to my room. I didn’t have to travel the entire road to self-discovery
in a single day.

Before I could flee, a loud, stuttering groan rang out, followed by, “Jesus,
please
, Sir!
Ah!
Motherfucker…fuckfuck
FUUUUCK
!”

My eyes widened. That was Colin.

“Oh my God,” I whispered against my bloodless fingers. They were torturing Colin?
He was a
bottom
?

I took a shaky step toward the door, and then another. What was happening to him?

Was it something that would happen to me if I stuck around?

Did I want to find out?

A heartbeat later, the choice was no longer mine. My wrists were seized from behind
and I was hauled against a hard masculine body with my arms crossed over my chest.
I was too breathless with terror to even squeak when he put his mouth against my ear.

“
Gotcha, Dr. McBride!
”

I stomped hard on his instep, but it was a useless tactic when he wore boots and I
didn’t—my heel hurt and he probably didn’t even feel it.

Filing away that bit of wisdom for future use, I twisted in his arms. “Let go of me!”

“That wasn’t very nice, slave.”

I knew that voice, and I gasped as a burst of adrenaline-fueled arousal streaked down
between my legs. Vincent Price had just called me
slave.

Oh shit, I was really doing this.

“Vince, please—”

“Quiet, slave!” he barked, lifting me up and carrying me toward the terminal chamber
of torture. “And that’s Master Vincent to you right now.”

I struggled against his hold, trying to make him drop me, but it was useless. His
arms were like iron.

Jesus, this was the single hottest thing that had ever happened to me with my clothes
on.

Everything inside me went weak with lust when he kicked the door open with his big
black combat boot and marched into the shadows.

“Dr. Kilmartin!” he called as his grip loosened and I slid to the cold floor.

The room was completely dark, but in the corner I could see another open door illuminated
by the flashing light. It was clearly the source of the electrical discharges.

Fight-or-flight kicked in suddenly and I dove for the exit, only to be yanked back
against him.

“Oh no you don’t.” He kicked the door shut. “You’re a naughty little slave girl, aren’t
you?”

I giggled hysterically.
Giggled
.

“You think this is funny, slave?”

Julian’s stern voice pierced the darkness around me like a velvet-coated blade and
it happened instantly—I began collapsing in on myself like the dying star of my imagination.

“No, Sir.”

It was scary how readily that word sprang to my lips. I hadn’t even thought of the
agreement when it slipped out.

“You always did call me that, didn’t you, Rachel?” he said in a contemplative tone
as he strolled into the dark room. “When all the other nervous new residents called
me Doctor and bluffed their way through our interactions, you called me Sir and didn’t
meet my eyes unless you absolutely had to. It made me want to chase you through the
hospital, drag you down screaming, and fuck you like a goddam feral animal while they
all looked on in horrified fascination.”

My eyes slid to half-mast as I sagged boneless in Vince’s—Master Vincent’s—arms. My
clit tingled like it had been stroked. “God, Sir, I wish you had.”

“Believe me, little slave, I’ve wished the same too often for my own sanity.”

Fluorescent ceiling lights flickered on, illuminating a scene nowhere near as terrifying
as I’d envisioned. In fact, the large rectangular room looked like a medical exam
room—in a dungeon. The walls and floor were the same gray limestone as the castle’s
exterior, only a lot cleaner, and the room smelled as though someone had used an ozone
air purifier in it recently.