Bodhi Page 10

  And she agreed.

  She might’ve once wished for some sort of formality, something akin to what Kate had described between her and Peyton, but this moment surpassed her imagination because what she felt for Gavin was more important than having witnesses or wearing pretty things. These words between them now would be their vows, their commitment.

  “We’ll inform others later.” He glanced at her neck. “This means I own you. We make our own rules. But you are my submissive.”

  Gavin had said he’d collared the girl who’d taken her own life. She knew he didn’t take this step lightly. And neither did she. She pushed away the nagging voice reminding her they hardly knew each other and focused again on the feelings. The love Darcy had intuited. And she shoved aside all thoughts of Gavin and Peyton, his revelation … what it all meant. Did the men fuck each other too?

  “You already own me,” she said as he trailed a finger from her tailbone to her nape and tugged on the loop.

  “Yes,” he said above a whisper, his voice cracking.

  “What if I want more?” Tears laced her tone. “What if I want to be with regular people?”

  “Regular people,” he said on a tight laugh. “You’re free to see others. Open communication first. Honesty. I would never keep you from others. But regular people won’t share you with me. And I will always have you. One foot here…”

  Sighing, she dropped her chin toward the floor. “You will never be in my other life?” She hadn’t meant to say those words in the form of a question — or out loud.

  “You mean, will I meet your children, have romantic dinners with you? No, Audrey. You’re my property. I will protect you, see to your every need, assign you tasks, but I won’t insert myself somewhere I’m not needed.”

  “But…”

  “I won’t be part of society as you are. I married at eighteen, divorced at twenty-one. Michael rarely speaks to me anymore. He’s a Christian who takes every word of scripture quite literally. According to him, I’m an apostate. And that’s his label because here in this world, the world where you dip your toes and only get one foot wet — this is where I am me.”

  He tugged on her hair in succession — one, two, three.

  “You wish for me to only wear this here?” She grazed her fingers along the edges.

  “Yes. But I don’t wish. If you accept it, then you’ll be expected to wear it. There will be consequences if you don’t. You may keep it on your person. We’ll both have a key. But the moment you enter my building, you will have it on, and you won’t take it off again until you leave.”

  “Please, sir.” A carnal begging flooded her tone.

  “Please, what, baby girl?”

  “Own me. Please. Use me for your pleasure and make me your property.”

  Placing his index finger inside the circle on the collar, he dragged her by her neck to the floor, opened his pants, and shoved his cock into her mouth. She choked and sputtered. He yanked harder on the collar and thrust forward.

  “Suck,” he moaned. “Take it.”

  Pulling her head off him for only a second to demand she breathe, he then shoved his full length into her mouth again and groaned louder than she’d ever heard him groan before.

  Spit spilled from the sides of her mouth as he used her hole for his own pleasure, causing her lips to swell, her jaw to ache. Every few seconds, he allowed her to breathe, but each time he reentered her mouth, it was with more violence. She felt like she was in a military line, obeying strict orders, constricted but freed in his clutches, filled with his cock and safe with his collar pinching her neck.

  Closing her eyes, the eager sounds of her feasting increased as he pumped her face, balls slapping her chin. And she wanted all of him, more of him, wanted his balls in her mouth along with his cock, wanted to suck him off until it made her faint or gag or vomit.

  She would die for him.

  Maybe the other girl, the one he loved, had hung herself for him.

  Sacrificed her life for him.

  Audrey’s death would be the ultimate freedom.

  And then Gavin pulled out, and she regained her senses, her logic, her maternal instincts. She wanted to live, wanted to soak in his cum … and she did.

  He released over her lips and her cheeks and her chin, and then he smeared it all over her face, rubbed his semen into the collar and underneath it. Finally, after pulling her to her feet, he stroked his cum-covered thumb across her bottom lip, dipping it into her mouth as she sucked the taste from him.

  “I love you, Audrey,” he said, his eyes transfixed, otherworldly, possessed. “But don’t confuse my love for store-bought romance. I’m not your husband. Not even your lover. I’m your owner. You will obey my every fucking command,” he hissed.

  And then, after wiping her face with his shirt, he kissed her, cupped her cheeks, bit her bottom lip until it bled … until she sobbed against his mouth and sagged against his chest.

  A few minutes later, he laid her on the bed. His bed. He told her she would need her strength because soon she would make her debut as his pet, his submissive, his property.

  She would not refuse him.

  King would never fall from her lips.

  Even if it meant Kate and Peyton and Gavin would all have their way, each of them filling a hole, all but the one in her chest, she’d learn to live with it — the other side of denial.

  Lust would be her penchant.

  17

  The merits of having a man around:

  He could go on the roof and clean and unclog the lint trap.

  He could load the dishwasher the wrong way.

  Kill spiders in the bathtub.

  Assemble furniture.

  Board windows for an approaching storm.

  He could lie in bed and welcome a woman’s center over his groin, straddling him, taking him inside her.

  Except … he wasn’t exceptional at any of those things. She did the cleaning, the washing. She usually instigated the fucking. And he didn’t like to call it that feral word.

  Dell didn’t like any of the really good words. Cunt, fuck, bitch.

  This was marriage.

  Or it used to be.

  Had been.

  Has been.

  Over.

  She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, her fingers sudsy and sticky from the gunk on the plates and cups. The kids were in bed. Maybe they were even sleeping. And if she were lucky, she would get a few minutes alone without the possibility of a disturbance before she slipped into her own bed.

  She wore the collar at night as she slept and thought of him — the man who had no interest in being a husband, only an owner.

  The silence had never felt so good.

  18

  Protocol for their relationship had to be discussed. Their relationship had to be discussed … period. How had they come this far and not laid out their expectations? Gavin’s came in the form of whispers and bondage and now … the collar.

  He finally explained, during the next weekend she came to him, what he normally expected of his submissive: 24/7 control in most aspects of his slave's life. But he told her that due to their unique circumstances, adjustments would have to be made.

  “Everything about this is new to me,” he said from the confines of his private room. He sat in a chair near the couch and bookshelf. Audrey stood near the door. Darcy had just deposited her there. “You’re on the outside. You have limitations.”

  It didn't matter how many times she’d already insisted otherwise, he didn't accept her weekend-only visits as promise of servitude.

  Yet, he’d collared Audrey.

  He owned Audrey.

  The lock across her heart proved it.

  Did he feel it whenever they were apart?

  “Darcy once told me you break all your own rules.”

  “With you, I find myself writing all new ones. Come.” He nodded at the swirls of paint on the concrete floor.

  She kneeled, relaxing into the postur
e they both needed, and rested her head on his thigh.

  “I love you, Audrey.”

  In the pause between that declaration and the next, Audrey had become nimble, pliable, her breathing like one of a small child taking comfort in the arms of a trusted parent.

  “What won't you do for me?” he said while stroking her hair. She imagined the look on his face: utter power mixed with a strained vulnerability. She released more air from her lungs.

  “Don’t ever tickle my feet, sir.” Her lips curved against his thigh, and she sensed his own smile filling the room. She didn’t need to look up at him or move to be sure of its presence.

  “Should we make a list?”

  She shook her head, pressing her cheeks and lips against his jeans.

  “Audrey…” His voice sounded pained with lust and love as he gripped strands of sandy hair from under her neck.

  “There’s nothing I won’t do, Master.”

  “That's not true.”

  “Don't ask me to choose.”

  In a split second, he jerked her chin upward, forcing her to lock onto his stark gaze. “I don't feel the need to continually remind you that I would never ask you to choose. You should feel that when I restrain you. When I hurt you. Everything’s a lesson. What I expect of you will be things you can always fulfill.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She inclined her head against the comfort of his body again.

  “I will assign you tasks outside these walls, and you must follow them to the letter.”

  Audrey gathered up what little give she could find in his jeans and bunched the material in her fists. “Yes, sir.”

  “None of what I ask or expect should burden you. And I trust you’ll inform me of such feelings if they occur.”

  The physical and spiritual response Audrey had to his words was strange … or maybe it was normal. It was erotic without any need for nudity. The nakedness was in their hearts. The words he spoke and the prospect she could please him even when they would be apart filled her with an indescribable hope.

  “Tell me about your routines.”

  Content to lie at his feet all afternoon, Audrey regaled him with details. Work schedule. School schedules. Extracurricular schedules. Errands.

  “Do you have time for yourself?” he asked when she’d finished.

  “This is time for me. Here.”

  “Your first task will be to meditate.”

  Her face must’ve been a sight because Gavin laughed. Audrey blushed.

  “Already balking. Would you like me to paddle you?”

  She stifled a groan but couldn't stop the sharp sensation traveling through her groin. She’d never before felt she could orgasm from such subtle instigations. This was the true beginning of her dream. The sex and bondage and pain had only been a prelude. This was what she wanted, needed, craved. Gavin had been right to make her wait. The months of coming here had prepared her for this new level of service.

  “Go to the shelf. Bring me the Bible.”

  It wasn't just the Bible; it was his. Gavin Sellers was engraved in gold lettering on the front. The traditional black cover felt like soft-bound leather. It smelled like him. And its size was what Audrey would’ve described as medium. It had both heft and weightlessness.

  “Undress,” he said, taking the book from her hands. He waited for her to slip off her jeans and shirt and shoes. “When I call you into my private room or ask you to wait for me in here, you are to present yourself to me, nude and positioned this way.” He guided her to her knees and proceeded to adjust her as though she were a wooden doll with joints he could bend and twist.

  Knees spread shoulder-width apart.

  Eyes trained on the floor.

  Breasts out.

  Arms to her sides, wrists forward, palms open.

  “Never wear jeans in my presence. Only skirts or dresses. And as you ready yourself to leave to come to me on the weekend, you’re to send me a text message first and await instructions. I’ll have a few other things to share with you later as well.” A pause followed, and then he lifted her chin, met her eyes, and said, “Answer me, Audrey.”

  “Yes, sir.” Joy spread through her poised body. She had to bite back a smile.

  “If it pleases me.” The same held-back smile lit Gavin’s eyes too.

  “Yes, sir. If it pleases you.”

  Reaching a hand between her legs, he slid two fingers down her seam, causing her eyelids to flutter and her mouth to part. She wasn’t sure just how wet she’d become during their conversation until he lifted his fingers and showed her the effect he’d had on her. He painted her lips with her juices, and then he wiped the remainder on his jeans.

  “You please me, baby girl. Always. Stay in ready position while I read … and think about why I chose this passage.”

  After opening the Bible to a page appearing to belong in Revelation, he began to read without paying her any mind. Except, even in his seeming disregard, she was under his thumb. Nothing escaped his eye. Audrey was a squirming, wanton ball of need.

  “‘Then I heard another voice from heaven say: ‘Come out of her, my people,’ so that you will not share in her sins, so that you will not receive any of her plagues; for her sins are piled up to heaven, and God has remembered her crimes. Give back to her as she has given; pay her back double for what she has done. Pour her a double portion from her own cup. Give her as much torment and grief as the glory and luxury she gave herself. In her heart she boasts, ‘I sit enthroned as queen. I am not a widow; I will never mourn.’ Therefore in one day her plagues will overtake her: death, mourning and famine. She will be consumed by fire, for mighty is the Lord God who judges her.’”

  Gavin read the verses the way he did most things: controlled, precise, no fuss. He asked her not to speak as he returned the Bible to its place on the shelf with the other books. Books on the art of Kinbaku. Books about infidelity and monogamy. Religious and spiritual titles. She hadn’t had time to observe all of the them.

  Audrey hadn’t moved from her ready position. Her limbs ached. Her thighs felt sticky. Still, he made her wait while he did other tasks. When he finally came back to her side, he had lube in one hand and her panties in the other.

  After preparing her body for his assault and stuffing the lace into her mouth, he positioned her on all fours, grabbed her hips, and shoved his dick into her ass, taking her roughly over the hard and unforgiving floor.

  She imagined what they looked like. Beasts meeting in a field. Animals fucking with the basest of instincts. Savages.

  Drool pooled down her chin, grunts came from her throat, and tears welled and poured from the brown of her eyes — muddy puddles of awareness — as peace settled over her consciousness … a peace she could never, ever describe.

  The closest thing to earthly Nirvana.

  Flying through an open field of pain and pleasure and ownership.

  “What does the scripture mean?” he snarled in her ear, his chest against her back, her small breasts scraping the floor. His dick had just finished pulsing its seed inside the tight hole meant only for him.

  I’m the only one who will fill this hole. Do you understand? I will share you on my terms. I’ll give you plenty of cock to suck, but no one — no one — will fuck this place. Ever. Mine… Mine… Mine…

  Sucking back a sob, her heart on the surface of her skin, Gavin removed the panties from her mouth, and before she could even catch her breath, she said, “It means God is the judge.” The cry she had held back released from her lungs. “This isn’t a sin. I’ve left Babylon and found something religion denies.”

  19

  Saturday night, he led her to a room. A private one. The one he’d first locked her inside of. She wore his collar. He didn’t or wouldn’t hold her hand as they made their way through the crowds. She’d expected that but not what was on the other side of the door.

  Three men sat on the bed, blindfolded. Hands behind their backs. Naked. She couldn’t tell if their wrists were bound or they wer
e simply compliant. She wondered how long they’d been sitting there. She wondered how they were already hard.

  Swallowing the largest lump of anticipatory fear and adrenaline, she gazed at Gavin, swallowed again, blinked, maybe breathed.

  “Put on the items I set out in the bathroom, then return to me. Here.” He nodded toward the foot of the bed where the three nude men sat. Each man shared similar features: dark hair shaved close to the scalp, abs taut and lean, tattoos … and dicks standing at attention, waiting for release.

  They were in the calm before the storm. Any one of them could’ve heard a pin drop. Each person waited for Gavin to make demands.

  “Go,” he said, eyeing her shaking hands. Gavin didn’t flinch. His confidence forced her to place one foot in front of the other and move.

  The bathroom contained three items:

  One white tank top, a few sizes too small.

  A white, lacy thong.

  A pair of athletic knee-high socks.

  Her hard nipples showed through the ribbed tank top. The formations (not cleavage) of her small breasts popped from the scoop, and the hem of the shirt inched way above her belly button. It had no stretch. Only give. The socks made her feel safe. The tightness. The length. The underwear bothered her. At thirty-five, she was beyond thongs. Never wore them. The string inside her crack aroused and irritated her — a double-edged sword.

  Even though there were four of them out there, she only saw one man as she came back into the black-and-white room — Gavin. His eyes dark, his breath strong. The other men, the beautiful creatures whose eyes were hidden behind the blindfolds, whose hands were not in fact bound, took shallow breaths. No doubt Gavin had been the one keeping them hard, talking to them, commanding them, keeping them on that delicious edge he owned.

  With a yank of Audrey’s hair, he pulled her closer, then he gathered up her dirty-blonde locks, tying them high on her head in a ponytail.

  “Face me,” he growled low in her ear.

  He tweaked her nipples repeatedly, and when she made the mistake of shifting her head to the right toward the men, he slapped her cheek. She groaned. He cupped her pussy.