Bound by the Past (17 page)

Night knew where her thoughts were leading and he had to admit she must have the courage of thirty Navy Seals to suggest it.

“She’d be punished.” Jon’s voice was hard. He was furious about what she was considering. “And I don’t mean a few taps on her bare ass, Carly. She’d be beaten with canes, whips, paddles. You name it. Now are you finished with this supposing game? Because I can assure you, I am.”

She ignored Jon’s tantrum and directed her next question to him. “Night, if you’re trained in using those things, the beating isn’t necessarily painful, right? I mean, if someone were a trained and careful Master, those things could actually bring a person pleasure?”

Night groaned at the picture she was drawing in his mind. They were both well-trained and accomplished Masters, but only a few times in the past years had they allowed themselves to step back into that realm, usually undercover working a case. They were infrequent members of an underground sex club at Reilly’s urging. Their boss thought it best to keep the rumors circulating about their continued play in that arena.

The idea of introducing her to that lifestyle, to the possibility of expanding their bedroom play to that darker side, sent a wave of nausea through his body. What if they pushed her too far? Revealed too much and scared her away for good?

“In theory, yes. Do you have any idea what you’re inviting here? I mean, we haven’t even fucked that gorgeous ass of yours yet and here you are asking us to beat you with a whip. Beauty, the sum total of your sexual experience before crawling into bed with us would fit on a teaspoon. I don’t think you’re ready for what Cassandra would expect us to do as part of your training.”

“And Trisha Jackson is? She’s a virgin, you know. We talked about it once. She said she was determined to wait until after marriage.”

Jon’s anger exploded full force. “Fine. Have it your way. You think you can handle a trip to the dungeon? Let’s see, shall we? For the next twenty-four hours, you’re ours. If you can take everything we dish out without crying ‘uncle’ then we’ll continue this discussion.”

“No.” She shook her head. “If I make it through the whole day, the discussion is at an end and I go undercover with you.” She stuck out her hand as if to shake on it.

Jon’s jaw set and Night knew his friend was about to call off the whole thing.

“Deal,” Night answered for them both, and took her hand.

Jon shook his head and wondered how on earth he’d lost control of this situation. He’d gone from flat-out refusing to participate in the scheme to bring Cassandra down to not only agreeing to help, but including Carly in the plan. To make matters worse, over the next twenty-four hours they were going to have to show her every deep, dark secret of their past and expose her to things he wasn’t ready to show her.

“Uncle.” Night was talking to her.

“What?” she asked.

“Your safe word. It’s
uncle
. If we do anything you’re uncomfortable with or that you don’t like, simply say that word and we stop.”

“And the deal is off.” Jon felt it was important to repeat that part. He didn’t think he had it in him to do anything that would possibly hurt or scare her, and that was what they were going to have to do to convince the damn stubborn woman to stay home. Looking at Night, he saw his friend felt the same way.

Christ. There was no way he’d let her near his mother. He would have to push his headstrong ladylove hard and far if he stood a chance of gaining her surrender.

“We’re wasting time.” Jon forced a dangerous tone into his voice. She felt too secure and safe with them. If they had any hopes of winning this game, they had to show her another side. The sinister one they’d both spent years shedding. “From this point on, Carly, you’re our prisoner. Our slave. You will only speak when spoken to and you will refer to us as Master Jon and Master Night. Do you understand?”

She nodded as a wary expression entered her eyes.

“I said, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes what?”

“Yes Sir?” Her wariness disappeared at the words and she rolled her eyes. Her independence would never make her a true submissive and that was one of the things he loved so much about her. She would always be a challenge, always make things exciting and fresh and new.

“I assume you saw that, Master Night.” Jon placed his arms akimbo, his pose threatening.

“Oh, I saw it.” Night crossed his arms and Jon could see she was confused by their reactions. “Take off that shirt, slave.”

She looked as if she wanted to protest the nickname, but thought better of it. She reached for the hem of Night’s T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She hadn’t bothered to don panties and Jon was sorry not to have another excuse to punish her. “From this point on, you will remain naked. You are not to cover yourself with anything unless we give you permission. Do you understand?”

“Yes Master Jon.” Her answer came easier this time and she didn’t roll her eyes, though Jon could still detect a glimmer of humor behind them. He’d soon have to correct her of that problem. God forbid she won this deal and made it onto the compound. His mother would have a field day beating that beautiful spirit out of her.

“Go to the kitchen table and bend over it. Place your hands above your head and grip the edge.”

She quickly complied. Jon heard Night’s dark chuckle from behind him. “So eager for her punishment.”

“Punishment?” The question slipped from her mouth and as soon as it did, she seemed to realize her mistake.

Walking to one of the kitchen drawers, Jon rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. It wasn’t a real paddle and was sure to hurt a lot less, but he wanted to introduce her to this form of punishment slowly. Gripping the wooden spoon, he approached her. Her head was turned and she was looking at him over her shoulder. He shook his head.

“Have you ever seen such a disobedient slave, Night?”

“Nope, this one takes the cake. Avert your eyes, slave.” Night walked to the head of the table and placed his hands firmly around her wrists. She wouldn’t have moved them, regardless of the paddling she was about to receive, but Night knew the additional feeling of helplessness his hold would produce.

No sooner had she turned her head away than Jon swatted her with the spoon. She cried out at the impact, even though the tap wasn’t really that painful. He suspected her cry was one of surprise. He hit her three more times before he stopped and clucked his tongue. “This is going to be a bit harder than I thought.”

Night laughed before leaning forward and placing his lips at her ear. She was trembling. Jon could smell her body’s sweet juices even though her legs were clenched tightly together.

“Your pose is all wrong, slave,” Night explained to her as Jon stood and watched the effect his friend’s words were having on her. “Your legs should be open. Never, never close your pussy in front of your Masters when they are punishing you.”

She moved her feet about a foot apart. Jon stepped behind her and shoved them so far she had to stand on her tiptoes.

“That’s better.” Night continued his instructions. “You’re supposed to count.”

She seemed confused by that command. “Count?”

Jon swatted her twice more with the spoon and this time he let the wide part of the utensil graze the edge of her pussy lips. She cried out and he watched with amazement as even more fluid flowed from her opening. Her body was begging to be fucked. “That’s the second time you’ve spoken without permission, slave,” Jon barked.

“The strokes. Count each time he hits you. Aloud,” Night explained.

She nodded. Night stood up and resumed his hold on her wrists.

Jon swung the spoon again and she choked out a “one”. He hit her three more times, each time varying where the spoon landed. Each time, she called out a number.

“Do you know why you’re being punished, slave?” Jon asked as he delivered blows five and six.

“No Sir.”

“Your eyes will always give you away, Carly. I warned you once about rolling your eyes. When you call me Master, I never want to see anything but devotion in your gaze. Do you understand?”

“Yes Sir.”

He continued to pepper her ever-reddening behind until she reached number fifteen. By the time Jon finished, she was groaning and squirming on the table. She was actually fighting her arousal and he shook his head.

Getting her to call “uncle” was going to be harder than he’d thought. Keeping himself out of her warm, welcoming body would be even harder. Disregarding what his brain was telling him to do, Jon couldn’t fight the unbearable desire permeating his senses. With trembling fingers, he yanked down the zipper of his jeans and shoved them around his ankles.

That was all the time he could spare as he leaned forward and pushed into her hot, wet body. He was buried to the hilt in one thrust. He stayed there for a moment, soaking up the sounds of her grateful cries, loving every ripple as her muscles clenched around his painfully hard erection.

Glancing up, Jon watched Night pull out his cock and rub it with his hand. Her head was raised and she was attempting to get her mouth closer to Night.

Night laughed. “Not this time, slave. You’ll have to wait for this cock.” Looking up at him, Night’s eyebrows rose as if to ask, “What are you waiting for?”

Jon grinned and gripped her hips. He was vaguely aware of her sharp intake of breath as he touched the heated flesh of her bottom. Her breathing soon turned to pleasured cries as he held her hips firmly in place and powered into her with a force he felt certain was shaking the Earth. Night leaned against the other side of the table, no doubt holding it in place, all the while watching and rubbing his own cock.

She came twice, her orgasms fast and furious against him. Gritting his teeth, he continued to pummel her sweet body, refusing to give up his refuge so soon. Unfortunately, she wouldn’t be denied his pleasure, and as she came again, her clenching muscles dragged and pulled every drop of come in his body into hers. Jon heard Night leave the room, but couldn’t force himself to pull out of the sanctuary of her warmth.

He bend forward, his chest covering her back. She turned her head and he couldn’t resist placing a kiss on her soft cheek. She pushed up and he allowed her the movement, not bothering to punish her for moving her hands and coming without permission. His cock slid from her wet folds and she turned, taking him into her embrace. He couldn’t deny himself the delights of her loving touch. He couldn’t recall anyone in his life touching him with such gentleness and love.

Try as he may, he couldn’t see a way to beat her at this bet.

When Night came back into the room, he wasn’t surprised to see Carly in his friend’s arms. She was touching Jon’s face and looking at him with such love in her eyes, he knew his friend would never be able to do what was necessary to convince her to bow out of the investigation. Jon was too deeply in love with her. Everything about her called upon Jon’s need to protect.

Taking a deep breath, Night steadied himself, realizing it would be up to him. She needed to understand this wasn’t fun and games they were playing in the bedroom. Cassandra never treated sex as an expression of love, only power, and Carly ran the real risk of being hurt badly.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

Jon shot him a nasty look before remembering himself and their purpose. He offered an apologetic shrug. She started to stand up as well.

“No.” Night gripped her upper arm and twisted her back into her original position, facedown over the table. She tried to resist, but he placed strong hand in the middle of her back and forced her to remain on the flat surface. At her sharp intake of breath, he could tell she was surprised by his rough touch.

“I didn’t give you permission to move.”

“I-I’m sorry, Master Night.”

“Keep your legs apart and your eyes averted, slave.”

Night held up what he’d gone to the bedroom to retrieve. Jon’s eyes darkened. Neither of them had breached her ass, nor had they discussed it. They’d both sensed she was a bit afraid of the idea and they were leery to frighten her until she became more accustomed to them. Time had now run out. She’d forced them to take off the kid gloves.

Jon moved into Night’s former position at the head of the table. He didn’t grab her wrists, but instead ran his fingers gently through her hair.

Night shook his head. Jon’s softness was going to get them all killed if they ever made it onto the compound. Jon’s hand stilled as he took a deep breath. Then he tightened his grip, tugging roughly on Carly’s hair, provoking a gasp from her beautiful lips.

Night watched his friend’s great effort to return to his former self. The transformation was staggering. For the first time in years, he felt as if he were facing his teenage friend once again. Jon’s face turned hard and cold. Night realized how much he preferred the man Jon had become. He and Reilly had been wrong. Bit by bit, they’d demanded Jon put away all the good parts of his personality he’d struggled to create since leaving the CAA and embarking on his teaching career. Night’s chest tightened. What if Jon couldn’t pull it back again? What if this time the darkness swallowed him whole and refused to release him?

Night faced the same fears himself, but somehow it seemed easier for him to turn his emotions off. He’d lived a lifetime as an empty shell.

Carly shifted slightly on the table. Night cursed his cruelty. She was no doubt uncomfortable in the position. Goose bumps on her arms proved that she was cold. For a moment, he considered taking her upstairs and keeping her buried under the soft quilts, tied to the bed until this mess with Cassandra was straightened out. He only ever wanted her warm and safe and happy. Right now, the idea of holding her captive in order to protect her seemed a lot saner than sending her straight into their past hell.

Jon must have read his thoughts because he moved to stand beside him.

“This will be cold, slave.” Jon took the lube from his hands and, as Night watched, spread it around her puckered rosette, pushing a single finger in slowly. Her entire body was tense as Jon moved his finger in and out. “Relax.”