Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (32 page)

She did just that, taking up where she left off.

“Barbara told Mark that Sarah had been stillborn. He
believed her lie until he told his parents about his cancer diagnosis.
Something she’d said about his children’s risk of cancer, namely his oldest daughter’s,
tipped him off.”

“What did he do?”

“He hired a PI, gathering evidence against his mother and
demanding to know the truth. She then put him in contact with Carys Ellison.
After taking a bribe, Carys admitted she and Solomon had switched my baby with
a homeless woman’s infant who’d died at the health clinic. Sarah was then
placed for adoption.”

Sam’s heart clenched as she read the truth. Her daughter was
alive! Needing to know for certain, she scanned the documents, confirming it
aloud.

“Mark’s investigator eventually tracked Sarah to a foster
family in Arizona, Colin and Fay O’Neal. They legally adopted her when she was
five and she has three older siblings, all adopted, two have found their
biological parents.”

The relief that stole through her at that moment robbed her
of breath, her nervous heartbeat slowing down some, regulating.

“That’s a miracle, Samantha. What’s your daughter’s name?
Does it say?”

“Abigail,” she answered, amazed as everything came together.
“Taran, my daughter has your mother’s name.”

“Would you like to meet her? I can make some calls, change
some court dates and we can go see her together. It sounds as if her parents
are nice people who’d be open to it.”

“I would like to,” she admitted. “What if she thinks I
abandoned her?”

“From what you’ve told me, I’d say her parents raised her to
understand adoption isn’t abandonment.”

“I really do want what’s best for Sarah…I mean, Abigail.”

“To you, she may always be Sarah. Let’s go meet her when it
can be arranged. Let her know that no matter what, you’ll be there for her if
she needs you. I’ll be there too.”

Sam read the last document. “She attends the University of
Arizona. The transcript here says she’s interested in being a criminal profiler
or joining the FBI.”

“She wants to solve crimes, right the wrongs, much as her
mom does. She must be an amazing young lady.”

Setting the file aside, Sam didn’t know what to do or say.
All of a sudden, her vision blurred with tears and Taran’s arms came around
her, holding her as she cried.

“It’s a miracle. Finally, I can sleep at night knowing my
daughter is safe and well and loved,” she murmured, lifting her head and
noticing she’d smeared her mascara all over his shirt. “Look at that, I’ve made
a mess.”

“It doesn’t matter. Makeup washes off. Are you up for a trip
to Arizona?”

“I am. But, Taran, I want to do this right. We can’t just
show up. I want to contact Abigail’s parents first.”

“That’s admirable. We’ll get in touch with them and go from
there. I do have a question for you, Samantha.”

“Yes?”

“You have a key to this house. You have a parking permit.
What do you say we stop bed hopping between your apartment and here?”

“Are you asking me to move in officially?”

“I’d say we’re already living together. I was thinking we
could get in touch with a contractor and see about making some changes around
the house when Ethan and Morgan move.”

“What sort of changes do you have in mind?” she asked
curiously. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it here.”

“I know you do, doll. But once we apply to become foster
parents, family services will want to do a home study before giving their
approval. It’d be nice if we turned this half of the house into several
bedrooms fit for teenagers.”

“What about the attic?” she asked.

“It’d be wise to have a house that won’t cause a social
worker to raise an eyebrow when he or she does a home study. I can talk to Alex
and see about moving our dungeon to Druid Creek Castle permanently.”

“And the workshop, won’t you and your brothers need it?”

“Maybe it can be moved to Phalen’s shop in Salem.”

“That’d work. Although I think we should spend a lot of time
in the attic before it’s gone.”

Taran raised his eyebrow. “You do?”

“Definitely, there’s so much I need to learn from my
Master.”

“In that case, will you move here? If it’s a hassle with
roller derby season opening in April, I’ll drive you to the Roller Emporium
when you need to be there if you’d like.”

“It’s a yes. I’ll look into getting out of my apartment
lease.”

Taran grinned, leaning toward her. “How about celebrating
the occasion upstairs?”

“Will you give me ten minutes to get ready?”

“Permission granted,” he said. “But since you’ve decided to
go to the attic, I don’t want you to have any more wine.”

“You’re right, I should remain clearheaded.”

“Good. Your ten minutes are ticking. I’ll meet you
upstairs.”

“Yes, Master Taran.”

Inclining her head, Sam set her precious file on the table,
hugged Taran and rushed off to his closet.

Taran was right to want to celebrate. Her daughter was
alive! Tonight, she was no longer afraid of the chains that bound her to the
past, no longer afraid to live the life she wanted to live with the man she
loved more than anything.

Grabbing what she needed from the closet, Sam headed for the
dungeon, stopping long enough to drop a hint for Taran.

“Rain check for Friday night is being cashed in,” she said,
rushing up the spiral staircase.

In the dungeon, Sam turned the lights to a setting that
wouldn’t be overly bright. Looking around, she saw the plastic bin where Taran
had stored the chains that had once been on the wall.

He’d taught her to never bind herself. And she wouldn’t do
that. She wasn’t altogether sure how to do that without him anyway. Instead,
she selected two sets of inch-thick chains, each with a clasp on the end that
looked as if they’d attach to an O-ring on a collar.

Shedding the robe and exchanging it for the men’s dress
shirt she’d taken from the closet, she left it unbuttoned. Thankfully, she’d
showered and prepared for this moment.

At the spa yesterday, she’d pampered herself after the mani-pedi
with a hot waxing by a talented aesthetician. It had hurt like a sonofabitch,
but once the burn subsided her mons was smooth and bare.

Going up on the multiuse platform Taran had built, she took
the chains, her hands shaking a little, and cinched them around her waist like
a belt. Liking how they looked, she relaxed, quickly discovering that the
chains weren’t frightening at all.

In the right hands, in Taran’s hands, nothing bad could
happen to her when he controlled the chains. It was a powerful and surreal
realization, one she wished she’d made weeks ago.

Taran’s footsteps on the spiral stairs signaled her ten
minutes was about to end. He walked into the room, wearing a charcoal-gray
business suit. It was as if he’d just come home from a day in court.

Holy smokin’ hotness! Taran naked was gorgeous. Taran
wearing his courtroom best was nothing short of breathtaking. Just looking at
him in that suit, the way his hair was combed back and his shoes gleamed to a
polished shine, made her mouth water and her pussy cream in readiness.

He paused in the doorway, scanning her from head to toe.

“Samantha, doll, you don’t need to prove anything,” he said,
his eyes on the chains. “I should’ve destroyed them by now.”

“Please, Principal Maddox, don’t discipline me too
strictly,” she begged. “I know this isn’t the standard uniform for one of your
teachers, but…I couldn’t resist wearing something of yours.”

Lifting the chains in her hands, she rattled them, bending
forward to expose her breasts to him. His eyes strayed to her breasts, his
teeth clenched when she wiggled just enough to make them sway.

“Are you intentionally being naughty, Ms. Riley?”

Standing taller, she grasped the end of one of the chains
and lifted it to her lips, rubbing the clasp against them. It tasted metallic.
It didn’t frighten her. “Are you going to do something about it if I am? My
only aim is to please you, Master.”

“You should know I am not an easy Master to please. Teachers
in my employ are expected to be disciplined, self-contained and professional at
all times. This is hardly professional attire.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It has affected me in the cruelest of fashions.”

“Affected you how?” she dared, allowing her gaze to lock on
to the hard-on tenting his pants.

“It’s made my balls ache and my cock stand in salute to your
beauty, Ms. Riley.”

“That can’t be good. I was only trying to be bad for your
sake. I found your hobby…in your private locker room.”

“Hobby?”

Again, she rattled the chains. “For kink, whips, chains, you
name it. I’m open to whatever you dish out.”

“Are you certain you want me to use the chains on you? If
you do, there’s always a safe word. If you so choose, I’ll toss the damnable
things the second we’re out of here tonight.”

“I’m not afraid of them as long as you’re in control. They
aren’t all that scary. In fact, I believe I could…yes, I could.”

“You could what?”

Sam smiled unweaving the chain carefully and sliding the
cold links up between her thighs. “I could fuck them,” she said, rocking her
hips forward and back along the cool metal.

“Cease. The only thing you will need to fuck is my dick, in
more ways than you might have anticipated. First, let’s show you how I use
chains such as those.”

In the matter of a few minutes, Taran made a quick trip to a
closet off to the side of the room where he’d stored some of his bondage gear,
grabbed a handful of items and came up on the platform.

Commanded her to turn around so she couldn’t see what he was
doing, he set everything aside. She heard some rattling and clashing then he
removed the chains from between her thighs, maneuvering his body into her to
push her toward the wall.

“Forehead to the wall, Ms. Riley, then I will have your left
wrist,” he requested.

Trustingly, she placed her forehead against the wall then
offered her wrist. He took it, slapping a leather manacle around it, and
fastened the clasp end of a chain to a D-shaped ring on the manacle. In a
heartbeat, he carefully brought her arm up above her head, attaching the other
end of the chain to a special hook on the wall.

“Now I’ll bind your right wrist,” he demanded.

“Yes, please,” she agreed.

“I don’t play BDSM games for kicks and giggles,” he said,
manacling her right wrist and chaining her arm to the wall as he’d done the
left. “This is my lifestyle, one I want you to take part in with me. Do you
understand?”

“I understand that I am bound for your service, Master
Maddox,” she said.

“Are you certain you wish to proceed? I aim to do naughty
things to your ass tonight. Do you know what those naughty things will entail,
Ms. Riley?”

“You’re going to spank me.”

“So much more than spanking,” he crooned. “We can start
there. Spank, kiss, tongue, fuck, anything and everything, that’s what I’ll
do.”

“I’m not afraid. Naughty teachers should be disciplined.”

“Naughty teachers should be fucked, so you shall be.
Naughty, naughty girl,” he muttered, his voice lowering as he suddenly began
tearing the shirt she was wearing to shreds.

“This is your shirt.”

“Don’t care. You. Need. To. Be. Naked.”

“Shouldn’t you be too?” She intentionally decided to break a
rule. She turned her head and flashed what she hoped was a daring fuck-my-ass
grin. The flat of Taran’s palm stung her backside until it felt bright red and
on fire.

“Were you granted permission to move? No. You are to submit
and avoid being bratty.”

“Sorry, Master!” she shouted, unaware that she’d offered her
ass for the spanking. “Show me who’s in charge of my body.”

“I’m about to. All you need to worry about is the price you
owe me for daring to tease me into wanting you.”

“Is that bad? Wanting me, I mean.”

“No. It’s good, baby.” Stroking his hand over her ass
cheeks, he squeezed and teased. “I’m not hurting you?”

“It’ll hurt only if you stop,” she said.

“That’s my Slam Bam Sam,” he praised, continuing to tease
her ass before dropping back and picking something up. “This is going to be a
little harsher than my hand.”

“What is it?”

He answered by smoothing something warm and flat and wooden
against her backside. It was a paddle.

“It’ll sting. Your ass will get hot pink and I’ll kiss it
all better when I’m done.”

“My ass is yours. Spank it. Paddle it, whatever you desire.”

Aware of the smell of her own arousal, the scent of his, the
sound of his breaths and the curious thud of her heartbeat, of the chains
securing her to the wall, she became more in tune with Taran. A wild, exciting
buzz slid up and down her skin, creating goose bumps.

Knowing deep down that the chains were a safe word away from
being removed, she relaxed and gave in to the sensations coursing through her,
letting herself go, letting years of sadness and regret and loneliness go.

“Here we go, baby doll, count for me. Ten swats,” he said,
continuously brushing the flat end of the paddle against her butt cheeks.

Sam braced herself, suddenly grateful for the chains. Taran
lifted the paddle, swatting her with it. It stung, sharply.

“Ah! One,” she shouted, gasping a little as the sting zinged
outward, as thrilling as the spanking.

With each paddling, she counted, not once feeling afraid or
worried that she was freaky for liking the bee-sting erotic heat that turned
her on so much. Her skin felt like it was on fire. Her pussy was creamy wet,
her body accepted her submission, relishing in it.

Taran suddenly stopped paddling and went down on his knees
behind her. “Look at you. Your ass is pretty in pink. You prepared your ass for
me, didn’t you? I noticed the waxing. Your pussy is gorgeous. You deserve a
reward, don’t you think?”