Sybil Disobedience (8 page)

They sighed together as he slipped into her. Slowly, ever so slowly, they gyrated together, neither speaking as if words might break the spell woven between them. He seemed to touch her everywhere though his hands moved even more slowly than their hips. She shuddered as he pushed his finger into her pussy, rubbing her clit as he stroked in and out. He knew her body so well. He never stopped circling and tapping until she was jerking, out of control.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured in her ear.

“Kellon,” she breathed.

“Yes. Only me.” He bent her leg toward her chest, and his cock scraped across her g-spot.

Stars danced before her eyes as he thrust, and her fingers dug into his arm. Quiet, breathy moans spilled from her lips. His hips moved faster as the frenzy took them.

Turning them, he moved her to her belly then yanked her to her hands and knee. His hand buried in the hair at the back of her neck as he sawed in and out of her. “You’re mine, Sybil. Only mine.”

“Yes,” she exclaimed, canting her hips toward him. Release after release piled inside her until finally his fingers clenched in her hair, dragging back her head, and his hand locked on her hip. His cum spewed into her cunt. “Yes, Kellon. Yes!” she cried.

He pressed his face between her shoulder blades as he pulled free of her. Slowly, he rained kisses down her spine until he got to her ass. It was still a bit sore from earlier, but that didn’t stop the pleasure when he nipped at the bruised flesh.

Playfully, he pulled her to him and they curled up on the pillows. “Make waffles for me in the morning?” he asked.

Laughing, she looked over her shoulder at him, squinting to see his face in the darkness. “What?”

“I’ve missed your waffles. I’ve had to eat the frozen ones you put in the toaster.”

“I thought you missed me,” she teased.

Kellon pushed her onto her back and crawled over her. Her legs went naturally to either side of his hips, cradling him in the curve of her body though there was no hope of anther round of sex…for a few minutes anyway. He brushed the hair from her face. “If I never had waffles again, I’d be okay as long as I had you. You’re all I want, Sybil.”

“Even after I left you?”

He nodded, his thumb caressing her chin as he looked into her eyes. “Don’t do it again.”

She shook her head, a little stunned that this was it.

He gently pulled apart her lips as he kissed her. His tongue leisurely took her mouth, tasting, stroking, reclaiming as she stirred beneath him. Her need for him was an undying ember, flaring to life at the slightest provocation.

“So will you?” he asked against her lips.

“What?” she whispered, dazed. “Make waffles?”

“Move in like we’d planned.”

Had he asked that? Surely she couldn’t have missed that. “Are you sure? I mean…I…hurt you.”

“You hurt you, too. Which is unacceptable, by the way, and will result in punishment in the future.”

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured.

“And, yes, I’m sure. You never stopped being mine. I want you with me. Always. I want to eat waffles with you in the morning. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and have you in my arms. I want to fuck you in every room of this massive house—”

“Not in the basement. It’s creepy and I think they’re spiders.”

“Everywhere but the basement,” he agreed. “Even the porch. I want you to ride me while we swing. In broad daylight.”

She bit her lip, thinking about it and nodded. She liked the idea.

“You know what I’ve missed even more than your waffles?”

“I can’t imagine. You made a point of seeing me every day. You’d make a good stalker.”

“Smart mouth.” He kissed her hard. “I missed hearing your damn sewing machine every damn day. You always had some urgent project going.”

“It drives most people nuts.”

“Not me. See? Meant to be. Your machine soothes the growly beast.”

She made a face, telling him she didn’t believe it.

He traced her collarbone, his gaze focused on his finger. “You never answered.”

“If you have the stuff, I’ll make waffles.”

“And move in.”

She grinned, sunlight filling her despite the dark room. “Yes, Sir.”

* * * *

When she walked into work on Monday, Syb was pretty sure everyone in the club knew what she’d been doing all weekend.
All
weekend. Kellon had made good on his need to christen every room of the house. Her entire body, including her ass, was sore from the overuse. As far as she was concerned, that was absolutely perfect.

She glanced sideways. If her huge grin didn’t give her away, the man looming at her side did. He looked almost…cheerful. He wouldn’t intimidate anyone today.

“Syb,” Marcy called out as they walked past the desk. “Rob wants to see you upstairs in the theatre. You too, Kellon.”

“I have an appointment in fifteen—”

“He said you were to go up immediately, no matter what,” Marcy interrupted.

Kellon took Syb’s hand. “Come along, Sybil mine. Let’s get this over with.”

“Get what over with?” she asked, digging in her heels. The mirth glinting in his eyes annoyed her. “You know what this is about, don’t you? It was him you were on the phone with earlier.”

“Sybil, now,” he grated, his tone calling her back in line. “He wants us upstairs, and you will comply.”

“But the theatre…”

“Sybil,” he warned.

“Sorry, Sir,” she muttered, allowing him to lead her to the elevators. The theatre was used for exhibition play. That wasn’t really her thing. Sneaking sex in the open where she might get caught was one thing, but knowing she’d be naked in front of a group was another. Sometimes, group scenes turned into full-on orgies.

He paused outside the side doors that led to the backstage area. Taking her shoulders, he turned her to face him. “Remember that you belong to me.”

“Yes, Sir.” That didn’t come close to easing her mind. Was there a chance that might be an issue? That someone else might try something with her? That he planned to let someone else have her but wanted her to know he was still taking her home. That was not okay at all. She was into kink, but not swinging and sharing. No one else touched Kellon’s cock and no one else touched her, either.

The door opened to reveal Rob, stern-faced, with two of Kellon’s security personnel behind him.

“Sybil Anderson,” he announced, “you are being taken into custody for your unacceptable actions toward your Dom and breaking the rules of this club in regard to befitting behavior. You will be judged by a panel of your peers and submit to punishment as we see fit.”

Butterflies took off inside her. She didn’t want someone else deciding her fate. That was only up to Kellon. Before she could stop this, the guards stepped forward and grasped her arms. She soon had chains secured around her wrists.

“No, let me,” Kellon interjected when one produced a blindfold. Taking the cloth, he stepped before her.

“Don’t let them do this,” Syb begged. “You own me.”

Holding her gaze, he lifted the black silk.
And that’s your answer,
she thought as he fastened it in place, his face her last sight before the world went black and she was roughly yanked away from him. She stumbled along with her captors, damning the fact she’d worn the five-inch pumps today.

But then…

These shoes had been Kellon’s idea, as had all her clothes today. She’d emerged from the shower this morning to find him on the phone, all the garments he’d picked for her placed on the bed beside him—a black and white halter and a micro-skirt that zipped up the side and barely covered her. No panties. No bra of any sort.

She’d stood for inspection as he’d circled her, running his fingers over her body. She’d shivered as he circled the bruise from a bite on her upper breast. He never bit hard enough to break the skin, but she liked how he marked her. His.

You’re Kellon’s,
she thought reassuring herself as her heels clicked on the stage’s wood flooring.
It doesn’t matter what anyone says. He won’t let anyone touch you. No one will hurt you.

Hadn’t he proved that even when they’d been parted? Even when she’d claimed to have a new Dom, he’d exerted his possession. Now that she had recommitted to him, not even their boss could step in to let anyone else touch her though she’d seen it happen. Sometimes, subs were subjected to punishments for their public transgressions, and their Dom’s let others do the whipping. It seemed harsh, but she knew the people in question and understood that was their thing. It wasn’t Kellon’s or hers.

Trust Kellon,
she thought, trying to calm her apprehensions.

Soft fabric brushed her body as she was brought to a small dais in the center. She’d seen this enough times to know what was happening even without her vision. She stood on an octagon platform, sheer, white chiffon drapes surrounding her. The stage’s heavy green velvet curtain blocked her from view.

For now.

“Ladies. Gentlemen,” Rob announced out front. “You’ve been called here for the trial of Sybil Anderson. You’ve heard the charges—”

“I’d like to hear the charges,” she muttered.

“—and the testimony presented by me, Peter McBride via video conferencing and Kellon her Dom via phone.”

Kellon had taken an active part in this? Outrage vibrated through her until she remembered he’d promised delayed reparation for Peter and her treatment of her real Dom. It had never come up this weekend, and she’d thought she’d dodged that bullet.

And Peter. Just see if she’d ever make him another costume or repair one he’d damaged in a display of virility.

She heard the heavy main curtain pull back, leaving her shrouded only by chiffon.

“Sybil,” Rob said. “What say you to these accusations?”

“I haven’t heard them,” she snapped. A low murmuring rumble rolled through the audience gathered.

“I think that says it all,” he replied. His voice raised a note. “I call for the vote. How find you, friends?”

“Guilty,” they cried. “Guilty!”

Had she expected anything else, she wondered as the calls continued. She’d never witnessed anyone found innocent. Club members and staff liked a show.

She heard the chiffon drapes she’d felt earlier move. The metal rings that held them rang along the rods, telling her she was being fully revealed to anyone who gathered. Someone attached a chain to those around her wrists, and her arms were dragged upward to suspend over her head. She jerked as foreign hands grabbed her ankles and pulled her legs apart. Her skirt hiked up, exposing her as she was shackled to the floor by cuffs on short chains.

“Everyone,” Rob went on. “Over the past months, we’ve had some discord here at
The Dungeon.
Our Syb has put her Dom, Sir Kellon, through hell. She refused her submission and devotion. She even pretended to take another Master. Through this all, Sir Kellon remained steadfast to regain his sub. But…”

And where was Saint Kellon now when she was in trouble? Oh right, he was part of this. She kept her face impassive. It wasn’t as if the things Rob said were untrue.

“But,” Rob repeated, “as Lord of this dungeon, I cannot let such disobedience go unpunished.”

Syb rather thought calling the breakup “disobedience” was going a bit far, but she didn’t argue. She didn’t make a sound, just waited. If this was what Kellon wanted then she’d submit to it. She needed to regain his full trust in her loyalty.

“As punishment, Sybil, you will be disciplined. You may choose…a belt, paddle or flogger. You will receive twenty-four strokes, representing each hour of the day you forced Sir Kellon to be without you. Afterward, you will publically submit to your Dom.”

Her breathing increased, even as her damn pussy got wet. Twenty-four? That was a lot. Even more, Kellon was going to make her come—or not, if that was his choice—in front of everyone here. And damn it, she didn’t know who they were.

“So what will it be? Belt, paddle or flogger?” Rob asked.

Her ass twitched at the idea of any of them, and tension began its slow burn in her belly. Any of the three would be fine, but here was one step toward showing Kellon her commitment to him. “It is for Sir Kellon to decide,” she replied, using his formal scene name. “I am his so he should choose.”

“The birch paddle,” Kellon said firmly, speaking from somewhere behind her for the first time since they’d entered. She trembled. The birch would hurt like hell; her ass wasn’t accustomed to more than his hand right now. She guessed that was part of his plan.

“Very good.” Rob seemed far too cheerful to her, and she heard him move away. “You may begin at your ready.”

Applause and cheers followed the pronouncement, and Syb rolled her eyes beneath the blindfold. Only at
The Dungeon.

Almost immediately, Kellon stepped close, his body brushing her back. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. His concern resonated deep inside her. He was concerned for her well-being, but she heard his unspoken question. He worried that this would be too much for her. Their reunion was still fresh. Her big, strong Dom was afraid she’d leave again though he’d never say it aloud.

She turned her head toward him, needing to reassure him. “I love you, Kellon. I accept this as my due. Then we can be finished with this once and for all.”

Cupping her head, he angled her for his hard kiss. “Thank you.”

As she faced completely forward once more, he reached for the closure of her top. Her entire focus trained on him. The audience she couldn’t see faded, and it was only her and Kellon and their love for one another.

The top skimmed her body as he let it fall, exposing her breasts and already tight nipples. Fingers ran lightly over the tips while she moaned. Suddenly, he tugged the peaks, clamping a bar onto one, and her knees buckled. Quickly, she stiffened them to keep from showing how aroused she was. She couldn’t help her small cry when the other bar was screwed into place, sending fire through her breasts. The sweet ache roared through her, reminding her he owned her. Her clit throbbed in time with the sensations radiating for her nipples, and she felt her cream coating her pussy.