Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender (57 page)
Read Mastered 2: Ten Tales of Sensual Surrender Online
Authors: Opal Carew,Portia Da Costa,Madelynne Ellis,T.J. Michaels,Emily Ryan-Davis,Jennifer Leeland,Cynthia Sax,Evangeline Anderson,Avery Aster,Karen Fenech,Ruby Foxx,Saskia Walker
The Surrender Series — Book One
Karen Fenech
After her life is shattered by her Dom, can Corinne trust another man with her submission and her heart?
Copyright 2015 Karen Fenech
Table of Contents
“Kitten . . . kitten . . . kitten.”
Over and over Corinne Jenkins repeated her safe word, though her Dominant, her husband, Steven, was no longer near to hear it. It didn’t matter if Steven were near, she’d repeated it when he was with her and he hadn’t stopped.
He’d finished with her a long time ago then just left her here, in the cold, dimly-lit dungeon in the basement of the sprawling house. All around her were the things that evidenced their BDSM lifestyle. A rack against one wall held an assortment of paddles and floggers. A spanking bench backed against another wall. A St. Andrew’s cross took up a third wall. And, centered in the room was her Dom’s personal favorite and once a favorite of hers as well, a hook in the ceiling from which he enjoyed suspending her.
It was from that hook that Corinne hung now, naked, her wrists bound by a rope that was tethered to the hook above her. Her legs dangled above the concrete floor and without purchase to support them, her arms and shoulders screamed with the pain of supporting her full body weight.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her throat was parched from screaming her safe word. No one could hear her, as remote as this location was deep in rural Blake County, New York. And the one man who had heard her had ignored her. He’d ignored everything including her hard limits during this session and had left her bleeding. Now, her voice hoarse, she continued to repeat her safe word in a whisper, like a mantra.
She heard something. Movement above stairs? At the door that led to the dungeon? Was Steven returning? Corinne shivered with fear. More tears filled her eyes.
Bondage, the helplessness of it, had always been a turn-on for her, carried its own eroticism. In the past, she’d enjoyed being bound. Bondage coupled with an edge of pain was the sweetest of torments. But this had long gone beyond bondage and pain for pleasure and had become something cruel and mean and ugly.
It wasn’t the first time.
It had to be the last.
Since their marriage a few months ago, she’d been seeing something in Steven she’d never seen before. Steven had become abusive, wanting to hurt her for the sake of causing pain, rather than for their mutual pleasure. Corinne had never seen this side of him before they were married. She didn’t doubt that it had been there all along and that he’d kept it carefully masked in the year since their relationship began. Until now. She’d seen how turned on he was at causing her pain, causing her true harm.
She shuddered then gasped. Even that slight movement hurt. It hurt to breathe. Steven had used a bullwhip, something they’d never introduced in their play because it was a hard limit for her. He’d cut deep and the leather had wrapped around her waist. She’d felt a rib break. And still, Steven hadn’t stopped. A part of her that had loved Steven had broken along with that rib.
She held her breath but no further sound came from upstairs. Steven wasn’t coming back down here. Part of her felt relief that he wasn’t returning to hurt her further while another part of her feared being left down here indefinitely. No longer able to support her head, she let it droop and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she focused on the drops of blood that dotted the floor beneath where she hung. She watched them as if they weren’t hers, as if she were unsure of what she was seeing. Was she going into shock? If not from her injuries, then possibly from what had transpired here tonight that marked the end of her submission. The end of her marriage.
That brought with it more pain and no less intense. She’d loved Steven. Had committed to him with both her body and her heart but that commitment was over. She released a shaky breath and shook her head, despite the pain moving caused. In this instance she welcomed that pain for the resolve it brought.
She needed to gather her strength and get off this hook, out of this house. Her vision swam. Exhaustion and pain were sapping her strength. Draining her. But she had to do this.
The sound came again. Corinne’s gaze darted above her head. The hook. It was coming from the hook. The hook on which she was suspended was detaching from the ceiling.
Corinne forced herself to pull hard on it. Then again and again. Finally, the hook pulled free. Bits of drywall and white dust rained down on her. Corinne hit the floor hard. One shoulder took the brunt of the fall. Winded, she remained still for an instant but an instant was all the time she could allow herself. Had Steven heard the hook break? Heart now pounding, she used her other hand to push herself up to a seated position then staggered to her feet.
She couldn’t waste time getting a knife to cut the ropes from her wrists. Gathering the rope, she coiled it until she could hold it in one hand then lurched to the basement steps. Grabbing the railing for support, she climbed the stairs. Her instinct was to hurry but she had to move slowly, not make any noise. Leaning heavily on the banister she made her way to the top.
The door was closed. Palms damp with perspiration she touched the knob. He hadn’t locked the door. But then, why would he? She hadn’t been in any position to leave.
Corinne opened the door slowly and peered out. The door opened into the long hall, well appointed with rugs and artwork. Steven liked the trappings of the wealth he’d amassed as a successful soft-ware developer.
At one end of that hall was the front door. At the other end, a back door. In between those doors was a multitude of rooms, all equipped with telephones. Dialing 911 from inside the house was a risk Corinne wouldn’t take. If Steven found her . . . She shivered. Fresh tears filled her eyes.
The front door was visible from the upper story. Steven could come upon her there. The back door would take her to the yard. The back door it would be.
Corinne forced herself to remain still, to listen for a sound that would tell her what part of the house Steven was in. If he was in the house at all. She didn’t know for sure that he hadn’t gone out and that was why he hadn’t responded to the hook breaking. Again, though, she couldn’t take any chances.
She didn’t hear him moving around and her breathing shallowed. Perspiration broke out on her skin as she imagined him pouncing on her from out of the darkness.
Corinne swallowed and licked her dry lips, fighting back the fear. She had to move.
With her palm flat against the wall for support, she made her way down the hall, looking back over her shoulder at each step. The walk seemed interminable. At the back door, she twisted the lock, then she was outside.
Cool night air struck her. It was October and she was naked. Shivering, she crossed the long yard. A quarter moon offered only a sliver of light. Corinne couldn’t make out more than shapes around her. She felt grateful for that. If she couldn’t see much, neither could she be seen.
The huge property was fenced. The gate. She had to make it to the gate. To the road. To Nate. Nate Stanton had been Steven’s friend since boyhood. Steven and Nate had both bought property on the outskirts of Blake County. Theirs were the only two houses around for several miles.
In the year since she and Steven had known each other, she’d hadn’t seen Nate much. She’d seen a lot of him at the beginning of her relationship with Steven. So much less as that relationship progressed. She’d liked Nate and thought he’d liked her as well. Maybe not and that was why he’d made himself so scarce even when he was home which wasn’t often.
Nate was a Navy SEAL. His tours of duty kept him out of the country but on the times he was home, still, she rarely saw him. She recalled thinking how she would have hated to have been the reason Nate stayed away. She wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. None of that mattered now.
Huddling into herself to stave off the cold and to keep from jostling her body more than necessary, she moved as quickly as she could to Nate’s house. With every step she prayed that he was at home and not deployed. She hadn’t seen him since he’d stood as best man for Steven at their wedding. She couldn’t recall Steven mentioning Nate recently, but then she’d been focused on her own troubles with Steven.
If Nate wasn’t home, what would she do? She pushed the thought aside and closed the distance to his door. She raised her hand and knocked, continuing to knock until she heard footsteps inside the house drawing nearer.
The door was flung open. Nate filled the doorway. She could hear the television in the background. The crowd on the TV gave a rousing cheer. Sounded like Nate was watching a ball game.
He was laughing but his smile faltered when his gaze lowered to her. He frowned. “Corinne?”
Nate was big. She didn’t reach his wide shoulders. He wore jeans. His dark hair was cut military short. He wore a T-Shirt over his powerful chest. The sleeves were short and she could see part of the tattoo on his right arm that extended from shoulder to elbow. His dog tags hung down the center.
“Corinne, you’re not wearing any clothes,” he went on. Something flared in his eyes but then was gone. “Shit, you’re shivering.” He drew her into the house, a much smaller dwelling than Steven’s, and into the hall then kicked the door closed behind her. “Sweetheart, you’re bleeding. What happened?” His gaze lowered to her bound hands. Alarm filled his voice. “Did you have a break-in at the house?” His eyes bore into hers. “How badly are you hurt?” He raised a hand and despite his obvious urgency to get his answers from her, his touch was unhurried and gentle as he smoothed the long brown hair that was matted to her face with sweat and tears back from her cheeks. “Corinne, Steven’s—”
At the mention of Steven’s name, Corinne whimpered. Her breathing hitched. Her pulse ratcheted up. She could feel it pounding above the uncomfortably tight, wide collar she wore that declared her Steven’s submissive. For an instant, Corinne would have run back out the door but Nate took both of her hands in one of his. He frowned. She pulled back from him, struggling against Nate now but if he didn’t choose to release her there would be no getting away from him. And, at the moment, he wasn’t letting her go.
One small part of her brain overrode the panic overtaking her and registered what Nate was doing with the hand that wasn’t holding her. He pulled a knife from an ankle holster and cut the rope that bound her. Nate flung the rope to one corner of the hall. He took in her now red, abraded wrists and gently rubbed his thumb over her sore flesh.
“Corinne, what happened?” He said the words quietly.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled but she brought herself back from the edge. She latched onto Nate with all the strength she was capable of, her fingernails bending against his hard-muscled forearms. “Nate, help me.”
“Easy. Easy.” Nate pitched his voice low, soothing, though Corinne could feel his anxiety. “Tell me what happened. Tell me who hurt you, sweetheart?” He brought her against him, wrapping his arms around her shaking body.
When Nate’s arms touched her sore back, Corinne cried out. He removed his arms from around her at once then his gaze lowered to the traces of blood that now dotted his own arms. Blood and welts that had broken the skin on her back also marked her buttocks. Nate’s body tensed as hard as steel. His voice lowered to a lethal whisper. “Who hurt you, Corinne?”
Corinne shuddered. “Please. Please. I can’t go back to him.”
Her words tumbled out one over the other. Tears fell onto her cheeks, a flood of them that dripped off her face.
Nate shook his head slowly. “Go back to him? Steven? Do you mean Steven? Are you telling me Steven did this to you? Steven hurt you?”
Corinne swallowed back the tears that threatened to choke her. Shame filled her at having to tell Nate the truth about her marriage, about the truth of her submission, but she had to speak up. Her safety depended on it. “Y-es.” Her voice broke.
Nate closed his eyes.
Fear gripped her. What if Nate didn’t believe her about Steven or chose not to? What if she’d made a mistake in coming to him? Nate was Steven’s friend after all and also a Dominant. She’d heard Steven and Nate speaking of Nate’s own dungeon in the basement of this house. What if Nate took her back to Steven? “P-please, Nate. Please. Don’t send me back to him.”
“Nate, what the hell? You’re missing the game, dude.”
Corinne froze at the sound of Steven’s voice. An instant later, her husband sauntered out from the living room and into the hall, a bottle of beer held loosely in his fingers. He was movie star handsome with his tall, athletic body, sun-streaked blond hair and finely chiseled features, but to Corinne he looked like a monster.
Corinne made a desperate mewling sound and flung herself back from Nate and against the door. The impact hurt her back. She could feel fresh blood trickle down her skin but fear overrode the pain. Stupid.
Stupid.
How could she have come here? She hadn’t thought that Steven might be here with Nate.
Nate’s eyes went to Steven. Darting her gaze from Steven to Nate, she watched her husband and his friend like a cornered animal. Her breathing harsh, erratic, she moved her hands behind her back and clawed at the door knob. Her hands were trembling, and slick with perspiration and the knob slid out of her grasp. She tried again.
Just as she got the door open a crack, Steven crossed the hall to her. He reached out and pushed the door closed.