Bailey: Independence #1 (18 page)

Until the palm swatted her behind and sent her head snapping up, her hands and feet automatically jerking the restraints but going nowhere.

“Do I have your attention? The proper response, which you will surrender, is ‘Yes, sir,’” he instructed patiently. “And I want to hear it clearly, Bailey.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered immediately, the hitch in her voice making her clear her throat.

“Why are you wearing the collar, Bailey?”

Okay, easy test. I know this answer, she thought quickly.

“Because I belong to you.” She breathed a sigh until the palm struck again. “Sir! Oh, god, I belong to you, sir.”

“Why else, sub?”

Oh, god, there was another answer? Shit. Okay...

”Umm…so other people know I’m taken,” she said slowly, yelping when the palm came down again. “Sir!”

“You aren’t focused, Bailey.”

“I am! I swear, I am!”

“Then you’d remember that you’re not to speak unless I ask a question,” his palm swung again, connecting with the panty covered bottom. “Pretty soon your ass will be the same delicious color as your panties.”

Bailey worked to stop panting. Worked to slow her breathing because hearing was all she had and she wanted to know what was happening around her. Her body gave a lurch, a feathery softness in thin strands were being dragged up her bare legs. There was silence for several long minutes as he used the leather strips in his hand to leave feather soft trails along the insides of her thighs; over her behind and onto her shoulders. Anyplace it was bare of fabric.

“You sparkle,” Gabriel murmured, noticing the lights glinting off something on her legs. “Why did you wear the red dress, Bailey? The text clearly instructed you to wear black.”

“It wasn’t you,” she said hurriedly. “I can’t...you can’t…shit!” She jumped when his palm came across her ass again. “Because I was angry! Because I…was angry,” she repeated softly.

“Defiant,” he murmured, stepping back and swinging the multi-strand flogger at her thighs.

Bailey felt the light strands. Soft and almost delicate. She relaxed. She could handle this, she thought. Then she shivered.

“You believe now that because it wasn’t really my instructions, you shouldn’t be punished for defying those instructions.” Gabriel watched the tension ease as she relaxed, his wrist flicking the soft strands from her thighs to her hips.

She let his words enter her mind and winced. There really wasn’t a safe answer to that one. Sometimes she was too damned logical, she thought.

“I suppose…technically...”

“Technically?” He repeated with a small laugh, his wrist snapping a little stronger. That had her attention, her body jumped and she pulled on the restraints. “You disobeyed instructions that you believed came from me, Bailey. True or false?”

“I…oh…damn it…alright! Yes! Yes, I disobeyed! Oww…” She twisted but still found there wasn’t anywhere to go. “Sir! Yes, sir. True, sir!”

“Somehow I hadn’t imagined you quite this defiant,” he commented, the corner of his mouth tipped at the thought. This was where the voice warned him of how deep he was getting with his little sub. “I must be slipping in my old age.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered snippily and instantly, her reward another sweep with the leather strands. Only this time, the softness wasn’t quite there as they stung across her ass. But he didn’t quite hide his laughter.

“I suppose I’m going to have to be careful what I open myself up for with you.” He let the leather handle caress over the pink ass cheeks. “I owe you panties,” he murmured seconds before the satin and lace came away in his hand. He dropped it to the floor and stepped back to savor the view. “Much better.”

Bailey barely caught herself, the curse low in her throat and swallowed. She gave an ineffectual kick and stomped instead.

“Why do you think I wanted to talk to you, Bailey?”

Because you’re naturally bossy
.

She ground her teeth together, biting back the yelp this time. She closed her eyes tight behind the blindfold and began counting in Latin. Another flick and swish across her now bare behind landed, harder than the last. A couple dozen little bees stinging with sharp little nips into her skin. Then there was the aftermath of tongues of fire across every inch he swatted.

“I didn’t hear your answer, Bailey.”

“It’s probably for the best,
sir
.”

“Why are you wearing the collar, Bailey?” He continued when he saw her lips part. “Not what it means. Why are you wearing it? Think carefully, sub, I’m giving you a few seconds for honesty.”

Bailey swallowed the sudden bubble that rose in her throat.

“Because I trust you,” she whispered finally. “Sir.”

Gabriel almost let out a sigh. Progress.

“You trust me,” he repeated slowly, casually running the end of the flogger along the insides of her thighs. Up one side and down the other, never touching the swollen center. Her hips twitched and he heard a low whimper and grinned. “You trust me to know what you need even while you’re struggling to understand all the confused things welling inside you. You trust me to decide what’s right or wrong; what’s proper or desired. If I don’t think you deserve it, you don’t get to come. If I decided it’s best, we sit and talk. Even when it hurts to talk.”

Bailey kept herself from speaking. Kept herself from moving.

“Do you trust me, Bailey?” He finally asked again, softer this time.

“Yes, sir.”

It warmed him that her answer came so quickly, without thought or hesitation.

“But the idea of talking, at least tonight, seems to bother you. Why?”

Obviously she was taking too long to answer, the swish and dozen little strands striking expertly over her ass and making her jump.

“I don’t want polite, made up excuses, Bailey. Count of three, pet…”

“I don’t want lies. I don’t want placated!” She burst out, wishing her hands were free so she could cover her mouth before it was too late.

“And you believe I’d do that to you?”

“I have to do something,” she began raggedly, swallowing and continuing when there wasn’t another swat. “Those women died and I have to do something to stop it.”

“It isn’t your responsibility. The police are handling things,” somehow he managed to push the words between his teeth, his knuckles whitening on the handle in his hand. Never punish in anger.

“Maybe they need help. Maybe I could do
something
…
anything
…I haven’t slept a couple hours a night. If I’m not drowning in work, her picture comes back to my head and I think about the people that had to be…had to be told...parents and…and…and I can’t even look into the box at the costume…” A sob broke free finally, tears soaking the blindfold around her eyes.

Gabriel didn’t think she even realized he’d removed the restraints before lifting her from the bench and carrying her to the bed at the far end of the room. The end shrouded with small dim lights all along the corners of the room. He sat back against the headboard, one palm stroking over the curls while the other cradled her against his chest.

He slipped the blindfold off, her tears soaking into his shirt. Some Dom he was. He’d never given a thought to how she’d feel about a woman looking like her, dressed like her but no longer alive like her. His palm stroked gently over her head until her breathing leveled off.

His palm slid behind her, the small hooks holding the decadent red corset in place opened one at a time. She shifted against him in an uneasy sleep and the corset was pulled free and dropped to the floor. One palm gently stroked over the indents from the ribbing, a gentle soft sigh breaking free beneath his ministrations.

Gabriel slowly, cautiously, wrapped her in the soft sheet before pulling the blankets up over them both. It had been a very long time since he’d allowed a woman to stay with him all night. Longer since he’d actually wanted one to be there in the morning when he woke.

Making a decision that he intended to have her in his life, he carefully removed the blankets and moved to stand beside her. Lifting her was simple and easy enough. She snuggled against him like a purring kitten, wrapped in the sheet. He tapped the lights as he left the playroom and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

He liked how she looked in his bed. In his bedroom. He brought a small bottle of water and one of the soy shakes she drank and left them on the nightstand beside her before heading into the shower.

Chapter Eighteen

Bailey pushed her face further into the pillow and inhaled. Citrus, she thought, a little frown making it into the fuzzy, sleep shrouded brain. One eye opened slowly to peer through intermittent lines of dark hair.

Morning.

She sighed and yawned.

Morning meant the night before had ended. And the scent of citrus and soft blankets weren’t the last memory she had of the previous evening. Slowly, she pulled her hands from above her head and tucked them into her sides. Her naked sides. Naked with no clothes on, her mind pointed out, connecting the dots between the night before and the morning after. And she slept. Really slept.

Her head popped up, her arms pushing against her sides and palms covering the tops of her breasts, which her brain pointed out, had been displayed to the world in the red dress she wore. Both eyes were blinking through thick curls now, taking in the expanse of empty bed to the right of her and the nightstand to her left.

Gabriel entered his bedroom in time to see her head and upper body literally pop upright. He heard her gulp in several breaths and watched the pert behind wiggle as she levered herself high enough to reach the bottle of chocolate milk on the nightstand.

He leaned against the doorjamb to the bedroom, his hands holding the ends of the towel around his shoulders.

Bailey went slowly straighter, carefully keeping the sheet around her front and neglecting to cover the back side. The bottle cap snapped and opened after she shook it. Her stomach growled and then thanked her as she drained the bottle with a long sigh.

Gabriel saw the pink toes peeking out of the blankets and how she used her good knee to maneuver herself to the edge of the bed. He smiled, watching her try and hold onto the sheet, move her hair out of her face and hold herself upright on the edge of the bed. He cleared his throat and watched her freeze.

“You’ve been watching me,” she said without looking over her shoulder.

“A better hobby a man couldn’t have,” he admitted, pushing off and striding to stand against the window she faced. “Are you feeling better?”

“I can sit down, so that’s a good sign,” she murmured, baring her teeth at the chuckle from in front of her. She hadn’t looked up but could make out a pair of running shoes and shorts. The man had seriously muscled legs. “Thank you for the chocolate milk. How did you know?”

“I saw a bottle on your drawing table. Somehow I see you easily getting involved in things and forgetting to eat,” he answered honestly.

Bailey sighed and squirmed as gravity took its hold on her bladder. She looked up, avoiding him and searching for doors that led somewhere. Like a bathroom.

“Leave the sheet, Bailey. The bathroom is the right door.”

“I don’t have my pajamas,” she pushed the words out and ground her teeth at the same time she tried holding her thighs tighter.

“You wear pajamas to bed.” Gabriel didn’t bother hiding either his curiosity or amusement. He was positive his vision of her night wear was vastly different than what she selected for herself. “Let me guess, they come with feet, flannel and zippers?”

Bailey’s head shot up, thick lashes narrowed as she pushed to stand up. One foot kicked out to sweep the sheet aside, her hands trying to adjust it at the same time he reached forward. Before she could get a firm hold, he’d ripped it away like a magician clearing a table with glassware on top. And she was left just as bare.

She scrambled for the lost covering at the same time her body told her the clock was ticking.

Gabriel tossed the sheet aside and took her arm, gently guiding her past him to the open door. “I’ll find you something to wear since that dress is definitely not daywear,” he released her and brought his palm down with a snapping swat on her behind. “I put things on the counter you might need, Bailey.”

Grumbling darkly, she somehow mustered the dignity to walk instead of bolting. But she did slam the door, wincing when she realized what that might get her. But for the moment of relief, she was grateful.

She stared down at the collection on the counter. A new toothbrush. The small purse she’d carried that held a comb. She slid the heavy shower doors open and wondered how someone got a shower the size of her whole bathroom, complete with a convenient bench if you got tired running all the hot water out.

She thought about him while lazily lathering her hair, nails digging in while the steam formed around her. He’d been dressed in a very snug fitting tee shirt and shorts. His hair looked disheveled, like he’d run his fingers through it. Then she remembered he’d told her about a workout room.

Bailey knew she was in seriously trouble when the towel was big enough to swamp her. She wrapped it around after rubbing it briskly over her head. She used her fingers to comb the thick mass back and pulled a small clip from her bag to keep it to the side of her face. She stared into the fogged mirror and made a face. No make-up to hide the freckles. She shrugged and reached for the door knob.