Going Down (26 page)

“No, you shouldn't. What are the rules?”

“That—that whoever I was before I belonged to you no longer exists.”

“What else?”

“That I live to please you, and if I don't, you will punish me.”

“Do you believe you deserve punishment?”

Silence weighed the air. Hating Reeve nearly as much as she hated herself for putting Amber through this, Saree again tried to straighten. Reeve held her in place just long enough for her to understand that her strength was no match for his, then jerked her upright. The middle-aged man in black had an oversized hand around Amber's throat. Instead of trying to free herself, Amber stood with her hands hanging at her sides, trembling.

“I asked you a question!” the man who seemed to be Amber's master asked her. “Do you deserve to be punished?”

Amber's eyes all but rolled back in her head. “If—if it so pleases you, yes, Master.”

“And what form should that punishment take?”

“Not now, Elton,” Paul insisted. “We agreed ahead of time about tonight's agenda. If you're dead set on playing mind games with your slave, do it when the two of you are alone.”

Elton's hand tightened on Amber's throat, causing her mouth to gape as she tried to breathe. “You wouldn't be saying that if it were your bitch. Like we've always said, there's no time like the present for bringing a pet into line. What do you think, Reeve? Do you agree with me that both slaves are equally guilty of disobedience?”

Because Reeve was standing behind her with his fingers still digging into her wrists, she couldn't see his expression, and she knew better than to move a muscle without his approval. They'd come here knowing their individual roles. Unfortunately, she'd jeopardized a great deal, maybe their lives, by hugging Amber, and now she'd do whatever it took to assume her role again—unless it was too late.

How long would it take The Clan members to find this place and storm the walls if that's what they were going to do? And why hadn't she asked?

“I'm not sure that the disobedience is equally distributed,” Reeve said. “Truth is, much as I'm loathe to admit this, my slave made the first move. Yours simply reacted to the attention thrust on her.”

“Interesting.” Elton traced the tendon at the side of Amber's neck. “I would expect you to repeat what you said earlier, something about your slave being little more than a just-roped filly. It takes a man to face facts the way you have.”

“I have no choice, not if I want to be accepted here. Which I do.”

“Then what lengths are you willing to go to in order to obtain that acceptance?”

The way Elton had worded things, an outsider might think he was asking a workman how he was going to address a problem with a project.

“That's a loaded question,” Reeve said, his voice expressionless. “One I can't answer because I don't yet know what acceptance entails. I refuse to overcommit. Neither do I want to appear as if I don't take the situation seriously.”

Elton snorted. “You should have been a politician. Talk about not saying a damn thing. All right, examples. Slave?” He spun Amber toward him. “You know what I insist on in the way of behavior and have both experienced and observed my training methods. I want you to tell this so-called slave what happened when I first took possession of you.”

Saree expected Amber to be so frightened that she couldn't speak. Instead, Amber lifted her head and stared at her. Her eyes were all but lifeless; only the smallest spark of the life-loving woman she'd once been remained. “I was home, in bed. I'd been at a club earlier where you approached me about exploring our mutual interest in domination and submission, but I'd said no.” She spoke in a monotone.

“And why was that?”

Amber swallowed. “I was interested in someone else.”

“Someone younger with a larger cock?”

Another swallow. “Yes.”

“Go on. You were in bed. What happened then?”

Elton's fingers remained on Amber's throat while she described how she'd woken up as a gag was being thrust into her mouth. She'd fought but not for long because Elton had choked her into unconsciousness. When she came to, her wrists and ankles had been tied together and her limbs secured in a hog tie. Elton had wrapped her in something and carried her out of her apartment as if she were a package he'd decided to take delivery of in the middle of the night; Amber suspected that he'd bribed the night guard to look the other way.

Her emersion into her new life had begun with sensory deprivation and isolation that had gone on for about a week, although it could have been less or more because she'd lost track of time. She'd seen no one except Elton, who provided her with what little food she was allowed to eat and insisted she exercise inside the closet-sized cage she never left. A bucket served as her toilet. She wasn't allowed a shower or clothes, and rope, chains, or leather always constricted her in one way or another. He barely spoke except to order her to spread her legs or open her mouth for him.

By the time he'd taken her from her cage to a shower, she was so grateful that she'd offered him her ass without being asked.

Then the true punishment had begun.

“Master had me sleep on the floor by his bed. A chain leading from my collar to a metal ring in the floor kept me there. He'd beat me as soon as he woke up and again before going to bed. Sometimes—sometimes he tied me spread-eagle to the wall and take a whip to me.”

“And why did I do that?”

“You—you ordered me not to ask. That because I belonged to you; you had a right to do whatever you wanted to me.”

“And what else?”

“You were teaching me how to be your slave.” Despite the awful words, Amber still showed no emotion. She also didn't seem to have noticed that Elton was no longer touching her throat. “I—I often needed to be corrected.”

“And have the lessons stayed with you?” Elton pressed. “You know how to please me?”

“I try, Master. I try.”

“But you aren't perfect, are you?”

“No.”

“In other words, I'm still sometimes compelled to correct your behavior?”

“Sometimes—sometimes you whip me simply because you enjoy doing so.”

“Ah well, yes, that.”

Elton shrugged and grinned at Reeve, who hadn't said a word the whole time Amber was talking. Not only that, Saree couldn't tell whether anything Amber had said had made an impact on Reeve. How could he just stand there when she was both physically and emotionally sick? Horrible as what Amber had described, what concerned Saree the most was whether her friend had been permanently damaged psychologically. Was there counseling for her and the others—if they ever got out of this mansion of horrors?

“So,” Elton said, “what this takes us back to is the question of what constitutes adequate
behavior modification
for the behavior we've just witnessed on the part of both slaves.” Taking hold of Amber's left nipple, he hauled her next to him. “Going by your experience, what would you expect me to do to you?”

A
moment ago Amber had looked like a mannequin. Now naked fear dominated her expression. Just the same, she was obviously struggling to respond the way Elton wanted her to. “My—my behavior was impulsive. By leaving the position you'd placed me in and embracing my—my fellow slave, I failed you. I will ask for forgiveness by bringing you the whip I want you to use on me. But you will not accept that small token of my shame. You will bind me as you see fit before administering punishment, and when you are done correcting me, you will order me into the surf where the saltwater will sting the marks you placed on me.”

Shaking his head, Elton gave Amber's nipples a hard squeeze before releasing them. “Did you notice something?” he asked Reeve. “This one still refuses to deal in specifics. She can't bring herself to spell out the details of her punishment. Once I've broken down that last barrier, I'll know she has truly given up ownership of her separate will. Of course”—he laughed, his eyes making Saree think of a predator about to make a kill—“then she'll bore me. I won't want anything to do with her.”

And then what? He'd turn Amber over to someone else, sell her—kill her? With hands like that, it wouldn't be hard.

Reeve was no longer holding her wrists, not that she felt any freer. What did the scraps of clothing she wore matter when she felt as if she was sinking into quicksand?

“I've wondered about that,” Reeve was saying. “A slave can hardly be fired or let go. What happens if things don't work out?”

“Depends,” said someone Saree didn't bother looking at. “We have several options. Bottom line, variety is what keeps all of us—the doms, that is—interested in this lifestyle. Swapping sometimes takes place, and there are underground auctions, but you know what they say about fresh meat.”

“Yes,” Reeve drew out. “I do.” He ran his gaze down her body and then up again. Stopping at her breasts, he unceremoniously pulled down on her top and tucked it under her mounds, exposing her. She knew better than to cover up. “That's what drew me in, taking a bondage virgin and turning her into something capable of meeting my needs.”

“Exactly,” Elton agreed. “Now, back to what started this conversation. Some of my
colleagues
will disagree, but I believe that you and I must teach our slaves that they've disappointed us, now. I promise it won't take long, too long anyway.” He chuckled. “Then we can get on to the evening's agenda. What if, in the spirit of things, I go first? Slave, assume.”

For a moment Saree believed Amber was going to run. Instead, although she looked as if she'd rather be dead than here, her friend widened her stance as far as she could and linked her fingers behind her head. She looked so vulnerable, so helpless.

“There are a number of responses for submit,” Elton explained, “depending on the situation. This exposure of her body shows she is presenting herself for whatever I choose to do with it. However”—Elton turned his piercing gaze onto Saree—“I propose an alternative to the usual punishment, one that will demonstrate how far your slave has progressed in her training.”

“What alternative?” Reeve sounded only mildly curious.

“As we've already discussed, there was equal error in judgment and restraint on the part of our slaves. I therefore propose that they each dispense the other's behavior modification.”

This room was designed for refined relaxation, for the appreciation of life's finer things, not cruelty. And yet going by the deep mutters of agreement, the men were looking forward to seeing women in pain. As for the other women, no one had so much as gasped. Was she the only one who saw this as insanity?

“What did you have in mind in the way of behavior modification?” The question came from Paul.

“Nothing too difficult to achieve.” Elton winked at Saree. “Granted, thanks to her former career, this creature is far from a novice in such things, but I don't want her to feel she's failed. She must gain some measure of satisfaction from a task well executed so she can appreciate it when it's her turn to be on the receiving end.”

She and Amber were going to be forced to punish each other! Yes, insanity! As for Reeve, how could he possibly just stand there? She couldn't raise a hand against her friend! She wouldn't!

A chilling thought stole her breath. If nothing was left of the old Amber, she'd agree to anything her master commanded her to do.

And if she refused, her punishment would only be worse.

Several of the men were debating what corrective tasks could be adequately achieved in a short time given the physical setting, not that she could hold onto the specifics of their disgusting suggestions. So this was what being trapped was truly like? No matter that she'd felt countless bonds on her body, none of that had prepared her for this moment.

“Interesting,” Reeve was saying. “I would have guessed that permanent restraint would have been incorporated into the room's design. Not having those certainly calls for a more innovative approach. I take it there's a supply of cuffs and ropes nearby. Otherwise, the slaves would see this space as a place of respite.”

“Right you are.” Elton sounded delighted with Reeve's perceptiveness. “We'd never allow that. And giving the slaves the misguided impression that they might one day make it out that door unrestrained”—he pointed toward the massive sliding glass door leading to the deck overlooking the ocean—“constantly plays on their minds.”

“In other words, being within sight of freedom while tightly restrained serves as its own kind of punishment,” Reeve said.

Sick. She was going to be sick! And when that was over, she'd attack Reeve with every bit of strength at her command!

“Once again,” Elton said, “you've grasped the essence of our association. I'll tell you what. Why don't I give you a length of rope to use as you see fit to adequately prepare your slave to receive her punishment. I'll take an equal length and weave it over and around this creature's body in such a way that she can't forget that her turn is coming. In other words, she'll have freedom of movement and yet she won't.”

Amber's arms were still uplifted and her fingers intertwined, and yet she seemed to be sinking into herself. What would happen to her if she fainted or sobbed that she couldn't do this?

What had happened to the funny and optimistic woman she'd once been? What had that bastard done to her?

“Now!” Elton snapped. He slapped Amber's cheek so hard her head jerked to one side. “You know what you're supposed to do. Two ropes. And the black paddle. That'll do for starters.”

“Master,” Amber whimpered. “Please—”

“Now!” Grabbing her shoulders, he shoved her so hard that she stumbled and fell. Instead of getting to her feet, Amber seemed to hug the carpet as if trying to gather strength from it. Everything from her defeated air to the exhaustion in her shoulders swept Saree back in time to when her parents had lacked the strength to get out of their hospital beds. But Amber hadn't been taken down by disease—a monster, a bastard was responsible!

“I shouldn't have to say a word,” Elton said, his tone conversational. “You know what I'm capable of because earlier I allowed you to see a demonstration, don't you?” He flexed his fingers. “Where my greatest strength lies. The decision's yours. Do you want to be the recipient of that strength?”

“Please, please.”

“Begging for mercy? Damn it, you know better. Now get the fuck up!” Elton kicked Amber's side.

Whimpering, Amber pulled her hands and knees under her in preparation for standing, but before she could do more than that, Elton kicked her again.

Something clicked inside Saree, a primal shift she had no words for or control over. She no longer saw Amber, the other women, or the men; not even Reeve existed. There was only the bastard cocking his leg for yet another blow. Screaming, she hurtled herself at the man who outweighed her by many pounds. Because he was off balance, they collapsed together. She started to push away from him only to find her hand tangled in her leash. Instead of shaking it off, she grabbed it in both hands, scrambled behind Elton, and looped it around his neck.

“No!”

Reeve? Not daring to look around for him, she started pulling. She'd never so much as fantasized about hurting someone, and yet tonight she knew with every fiber in her that she was capable of choking this bastard to death. More than capable, she wanted him dead! As for the consequences—

Gurgling, Elton reached back for her. She managed to evade his clawing fingers, but then he started thrashing, practically whipping her about. Scared but determined, she fought for balance.

“No!”

A steel arm wrapped around her middle. Another went around her throat. “Drop it,” Reeve ordered, his mouth inches from her ear, “before I break your wrist.”

He would; she knew it. Besides, the insanity that had catapulted her into action was being replaced by rational thought. Even if she managed to render Elton unconscious, his fellow slavers would do whatever was needed to stop her. Dead, she'd be of no help to Amber and the others. Dead, she'd never see her sister again, never touch Reeve again.

Propelled more by Elton's tortured breathing than Reeve's hold on her, she ordered the muscles in her arms to relax. Releasing the leash, she caught a glimpse of Amber's shocked expression. Then Reeve hauled her away from Elton.

Sounds began sorting themselves out. Elton was still trying to get air into his lungs and Amber was trying not to cry. Several of the other women were muttering, but the men's shocked and angry voices made it impossible for her to hear anything they were saying.

The men, they were still in control!

I'm sorry, so sorry!
she silently told Reeve.
I didn't mean—I shouldn't have—

For no more than a half second she longed to wrap her arms around Reeve and beg him to protect her, but if she did, she might have signed both their death warrants. If Reeve defended her, The Slavers would see him for what he was and attack him en masse. If he shook her off, he would have in essence thrown her to The Slavers to deal with. There was only one thing left to do, a single desperate measure.

Reeve let go of her throat. Not waiting for him to shift his hold to another part of her body, Saree dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around his legs. Praying her expression was that of a misbehaving animal begging for forgiveness, she stared up at him. “Forgive me, Master, please. Punish me—I need to be—please, punish me. Teach—I have so much to learn.”

That said, she released him and lowered her forehead to the ground in a gesture of absolute surrender. She even put her hands behind her, hoping he'd take her cue to begin restraining her.

What had happened? How could she have forgotten what tonight was about? Yes, that bastard had hurt Amber but—

Amber? Or her parents?

Silence, either that or she could no longer hear for her heart's chaotic pounding. At the same time she was aware of the beat of every passing second. Her impulsive action followed by her dramatic plea had dropped so much on Reeve's shoulders, but she couldn't take back trying to choke Elton. Once she'd done that, she hadn't been able to think of anything that wouldn't risk pulling Reeve down with her.

“I'll kill her!” Elton bellowed. “She deserves—”

“No!”

Risking a great deal, she lifted her head. Elton was only a few feet away, one hand massaging his throat, the other fisted. Reeve planted himself between Elton and her.

“Whatever she deserves,” Reeve continued, “I will administer, only me.”

“She tried to—”

“I know what she attempted.” Not taking his eyes off Elton, he grabbed her hair and yanked her to her feet. Instead of letting up on the pressure, he forced her head back so she had no choice but to rest her shoulders on his chest to keep her feet. Much as she wanted to touch him, she kept her arms at her sides.

“She's a wild one and hasn't learned her place in her new world,” Reeve said. “I've gotten a great deal of pleasure out of taming her, but its clear that I've allowed my enjoyment to get in the way of truly accomplishing my task.”

In nearly a single motion, he released her hair and snagged her leash, pulling her head down so she was looking at the floor. “Elton, I apologize. I would have done anything to avoid this happening, but it did. Now both I and my slave must deal with the consequences.” He slapped her buttocks so sharply that her knees nearly went out from under her.

“As for my amends, I propose signing a blank check and letting you decide on the damage amount. As for hers—” Another harsh slap made her quiver. “Obviously I was wrong to allow her out of her training room. I want to take her back to where she belongs. By the time I'm done with her, she'll understand her place.”

Despite her tumbling emotions, she sent Reeve a silent thank-you for trying to get them out of there alive. Even if he hated her for what she'd done, at least he wasn't turning his back on her.