Chambers of Desire: Opus 1 (23 page)

She shook her head in disapproval. “Some people are just tasteless. If you were my kid, and some loser cheated on you, I’d have his balls in a bag before the words
the wedding is off
left your mouth.” She looked like she meant it, too. We shared a smile.

“Hah. I wish. Although I tell you what, Brandon’s balls are already in his own mother’s vise grip.”

“A sissy mama’s boy and a cheater? Calvin may seem domesticated around me, but nobody tells him what to do. You got yourself an upgrade, girl.” She winked at me again.

I nodded in agreement. “I’m so glad I did. Even though I had to do it, it was still hard to leave my parents. They haven’t spoken to me since.”

“Good for you. They sound like pompous assholes.” She gave me a sideways smile. It was nice to know that someone thought I’d made the right choice.

“Thanks. Most people back home have made it clear that they think I’m a rebellious brat.”

“Like Bitsy here? Nah, anyone who says that’s jealous. So, now you’re here.”

“Now I’m here. I hope I’m not saying too much. I know it’s fast, that I’m with Calvin already, but I can’t explain it. Something about it feels so right. And we’re taking it slow,” I added, gnawing on my lip.

“That sounds about right. One step at a time. It may be soon, but if it’s right, it’s right.” Donna tugged on Bitsy’s leash again. “Leave that squirrel alone, devil dog!” Bitsy wagged her tail as if she’d been praised instead of reprimanded and trotted along happily. Donna rolled her eyes. “It’s my own fault,” she said. “I love her too much.”

“No such thing,” I replied. Donna looked at me thoughtfully. She took her time, before her next words.

“Listen, Sabrina. Calvin is a hard man to get to know. He has... a lot of defenses up all the time.”

“You can say that again. I can be staring right at him and have no
clue
what he’s thinking.”

“He’s always been like that, ever since he came to live with me. Stoic. Though, who’d expect him to be any other way? It was horrible, what that boy went through. Things no person should have to experience.”

“He told me about his dad,” I said quietly. “And his mom. How she died.”

Donna nodded, eyes ahead, brow furrowed.

“Calvin only told me a little, how awful it was. When he came to live with you, did he talk about what had happened?” I asked, hoping to hear some more about his childhood.

“Cal should tell you himself. That’s his story.” She didn’t say it unkindly, but I knew she didn’t want to spill his secrets. Which was right, I thought. She clearly loved him too much to break his trust. I could learn a thing or two from this woman.

She shook her head again, as if to convince herself. “I can’t say anything about the rest of it. It’s not my place. But be patient with him and he’ll open up in his own time. Those things, they aren’t easy to talk about, not for anyone, but especially a man like Cal. He’s guarded. Always has been.”

“I know,” I said softly. “I just want him to know I care.”

“He knows, love. I can see that. He’s very sensitive, he wouldn’t have brought you here if he didn’t know. He’s always had an uncanny ability to read people.”

“I wish I was good at reading
him
,” I laughed.

Donna laughed, too. “You will be. Like I said, be patient. He’s worth getting to know, Sabrina. Sweet and incredibly kind, underneath the tough exterior. Those defenses are there because he’s actually very tenderhearted. I won’t say he isn’t damaged, but you know what? Nobody makes it out of here without a few scars. Calvin’s are just a little deeper.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” I agreed, thinking of all my own scars, my baggage.

Suddenly, Donna looked at me strangely, her voice getting more serious.

“He’s worth fighting for, Sabrina. I hope you know that.”

“Sure,” I said, puzzled about why she’d suddenly become so grave. Then her face lightened again.

“Ok, honey. Enough about scars for today.” She gave my hand a little squeeze, and I squeezed back. It was a sweet, motherly gesture, the kind of thing that’s totally spontaneous--unlike the studied affection of my own mother.

“I’m so glad we came to meet you today, Donna.”

“Me too, Sabrina. You are welcome in my house anytime. I mean that. Also, let me get your number, just in case.”

We walked in a comfortable silence down the rest of the street, her small house coming into view as we rounded the block.

As we turned up the walkway to the house, Calvin stood in the door, one shoulder leaning against the frame, arms crossed over his broad chest. A sexy half-smile played on his lips as he watched us walk up to the front steps. “I almost called Search and Rescue. Where did you two run off to? ”

“I bet you hardly noticed we were gone,” Donna said. “Found that stash of Playboys and marijuana, did you?”

Calvin clutched his heart, features darkening in mock agony. “How could you think that?”

I laughed, enjoying their routine. It was nice to see Calvin relaxed, at home; his adoration for his aunt was obvious. I hadn’t seen him banter like this with anyone else.

“I made some tea while you were out,” Calvin said. “I thought you might need some warming up after your walk.”

“Thank you, love.” Donna touched Calvin on the cheek. “Hot tea sounds wonderful.”

*

“I loved her,” I said to Calvin, shutting my car door, rubbing my hands together, chilly from the short walk to the car. “She’s awesome.”

“She is,” he agreed. He started the car and looked back at the house once more before pulling away from the curb. “She was all I had after I lost my mom. I’m grateful for her every day.”

“I think it’s amazing how close you are. That’s hard to come by,” I said quietly, thinking of my own strained relationship with my parents and how I’d give anything for them to treat me the way Donna treated Calvin.

“I’m lucky,” Calvin agreed. “But right now, the only person I want to be
close
to is you.” He glanced toward me, full lips hungry and kissable. My breath quickened as his hand brushed against my thigh.

“Maybe that can be arranged,” I said, smiling coyly, batting my lashes at him.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said, voice low. “Every time you leaned forward on that couch, I could see right down your shirt. It was torture, you know that? All I could think of was sucking on that perfect pink nipple.”

“Naughty boy!” I said blushing, the thought of his lips on my breast causing a slow heat build in my stomach.

“Admit it, you were thinking about me naked in there, too,” Calvin said. His hand settled lightly on my upper thigh.

“I was not!” I protested. “I was enjoying your aunt’s company, thank you very much!”

“What about now, then?” He lowered his voice a few octaves, tightening his grip on my leg.

“Now?” The answer was yes. I felt myself getting wet, knowing that he had been fantasizing about us. The feel of his hand through my skirt brought a tingle up my thighs. “Well, you’re right, now I’m thinking about it,” I admitted.

“Are you turned on?” he asked softly. Grabbing my hand, he moved it to the front of his pants, letting me feel the swell of his cock. “Because I am.”

“Yes,” I breathed, rubbing my hand over his hardness. “I can’t help it when you talk like that.”

“Let me feel how wet you are,” he instructed.

“Right now?”

“Now.”

With my heart beating rapidly, I pulled my skirt over my hips, exposing the lace on my thong, separating my legs slightly. The sun was setting and darkness settled in the sky.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Calvin dropped his hands between my legs, stroking the outside of the thin lace. I breathed out heavily, closing my eyes. He worked his way to the edge of the thong, pulling on the elastic, moving his fingers inside. A small moan filled the car as he discovered the silky wetness, circling his fingers around my opening.

“I love how ready for me you are,” he growled. “I want to feel it on my cock.”  Slowly, he dipped his finger inside me before raising it to his mouth, tasting my arousal.

“Let’s go somewhere,” I said.

“Anywhere you want, Sabrina.” His eyes met mine and I could see the hunger I felt.

“But, I want you to come this time,” I said, rubbing harder against his pants. “Tell me what I have to do.”

“We’d have to do it my way,” he said. “And I’m not sure if you’re ready yet.” His hand was back on my thigh, stroking gently.

“Ready for what?” I asked.

“Ready for what we’re going to do. Things you’ve never experienced before.”

“I’m a little nervous. Sex is not something I’m all that comfortable with,” I said. “But I trust you. I’d do anything with you.”

He smiled, dark eyes flashing, all sinister and sexy at the same time.  “Alright, then.”

My body pressed against the side of the door as Calvin stepped on the gas, spinning the wheel. However, once we entered his mansion, he motioned towards the back, away from the front entrance.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

His grin widened and he winked. “You’ll see, Sabrina. You’ll see.”

A jolt of anticipation shot through me and I slipped my hand through his, buzzing with the thrill of the unknown.

Chapter 13

I was ready. The sex had been great. The touching, the teasing, the dominance. I was in a fairy tale; I knew that. I was courting a magical man, a man who could make my skin light up at his will, who could make my senses dance to his low, gravelly voice.

I’d read myths, though. Magic has a price, and so did Calvin. For all his wiles, for all his perfect one-word answers and his finely honed muscles, he was only indulging a shadow of his real lust, only the part of him the world would understand. There was so much more to learn. I stepped out of the car and stared up again at the towering roof and the plummeting columns crashing down into the high stairs that led to the door. I felt good. Calvin’s price was one I was excited to pay.

“Sabrina,” he said, waiting for me on the far side of the car. I walked around, and he raised his hands to my neck. His fingers were strong, but not gruesome or grossly thick. They clasped something around me, but when I looked down, I saw nothing. I felt around for what he’d done and wrapped my fingers around a choker of some sort. It felt like leather.

“Your collar. You offered yourself to me. Tonight, I accept,” he said. I stared, then blinked, then smiled. He smiled back, a thin hint of approval.

“Come.”

I could walk myself around most of his house by that point, but I followed him, anyway, nervously adjusting my new gift. It was thick, and there was a small metal ring attached to the front. It was loose enough that I could fit a finger easily between it and my neck. Even so, it felt exhilarating to know it was there. The new weight on my body, the unusual sensation of having it on, was like a string tied around my finger—every time I felt it, I was reminded why I had it and why I was here.

Calvin steered me away from his bedroom and toward a door leading to his basement. It turned out not to be some small storage space, but a huge open room with gray, rough-hewn stone walls. The lighting was low and uneven, and only when I looked up and saw no lights did I realize that the room was lit entirely by a huge fireplace on the east wall. Its flames sent shadows dancing across all the walls and reflecting off the glass of the four large, framed paintings mounted on the west wall. A lone chair sat in the middle of the room.

“Undress. I’ll be back shortly,” Calvin said before leaving me alone.

I walked to the chair and circled it. Wood, cushioned arms, a cushioned seat. It looked comfortable, a nice place to sit and watch a woman perform. I peeled off my clothes and stared into the fire. I felt half mesmerized. Despite the warmth the flames threw, I felt cold. It was anticipation. It was being alone. It was not knowing. The fire danced wildly, and I began to feel a rising sense of urgency in the pit of my stomach. I trusted Calvin; I knew I could. I trusted myself. I knew what I was getting into. I wanted to do what I assumed we were about to do.
I’m ready
, I thought to myself.

I’m ready.

“I’m ready,” he said. I nearly jumped at the sound. Behind me stood Calvin, his brow raised and his thick, hard body loosely covered by a crimson velvet robe with black lapels. Around one arm, he held a coiled length of black rope. With the fire reflected in his eyes, he looked almost diabolic. I swallowed dry air. He was so handsome. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t noticed before, but at that moment, I was hit with it so acutely. It was his mouth. The corners of his lips peaked in small upturned points. He looked relaxed in a way he never had. He looked confident. He looked unbound.

“Calvin…
”

“Master,” he corrected me.

“M-master,” I managed, “would you like to sit?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he clasped me by the shoulders and pressed until I collapsed into the seat myself. It
was
comfortable.

“First, I’m going to tie you. Then, we begin. The safe word is
fire
.”

I felt my thighs tense just thinking about it. I spread my fingers over the end of the chair’s arms and watched him as he wove the rope around me. It is difficult to explain what he was doing—some of it was behind me, some under my arms, some knots he made looked too complicated to understand, whereas others were just in places I couldn’t see. What I was aware of was the feeling of the rope roughly rubbing my skin. My flesh raised with goose bumps, my nipples grew hard and flushed red. It felt good to be restricted and, once he was finished, it felt amazing to be stared at. He did stare—I couldn’t tell whether at his work or me—but it was exciting, nonetheless. I felt low, degraded. I wanted more.

“You do look precious tied up like that,” he decided. I felt warm between my legs. His tone was strong and patronizing. Why did his talking down to me feel so good? Why did I get such a rush out of being his property?

We’re going to have fun tonight, you and I. It’ll hurt, but that doesn’t mean it won’t feel good,” he said as he walked behind me. Wood and stone grated as he spun my chair to face directly away from the fire. Before I could grunt, his hands descended over my shoulders, pulling two thick ropes together to squeeze my breasts. I moaned. He was right; it felt amazing to be so absolutely at his mercy. His fingers pinched my sensitive nipples, caressed my tingling skin. I felt, perhaps because of the ropes, an intense need to move. I wanted to squirm and touch myself, and I couldn’t. I felt fear, a livid sort of claustrophobia, and although I didn’t know how I felt about that, his touch pushed my worries to the back of my mind.

“Master…,” I moaned. He gently pinched my nose and pulled it up, while pulling my jaw down. I let my mouth open and he slipped something between my lips. It was long and a bit hard. At first, I thought it some sort of phallic toy, but the taste quickly gave it away. It tasted like wax.

“If only you could see yourself right now…,” he mused sadistically and removed the long candle from my mouth. I tried to look up at him, but he had disappeared. I turned my head and saw movement near the fireplace out of the corner of my eyes. When he returned, he walked around the front of my chair, his sleeves pulled to his shoulders and the candle, as white as milk, burning in his hand. I reacted immediately, recoiling in my chair. Something about the fire set me on edge. I felt like running, but I was trapped. I felt like crying. I didn’t want to be so afraid; I wanted to be ready. I wanted to be his. I wanted to be turned on, not frightened.

But it was all so out of my control. I didn’t know what to do.

“Sabrina,” Calvin said softly. His hand rose and caught a tear as it dropped from my eyes. I felt so ashamed, and not in a good way. I turned my head aside. I couldn’t even wipe my face.

“I’m sorry, Calvin. I…” I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even know what I was, or how I felt, or if this was even somewhere I wanted to be. Was I just embarrassed now? Was that why I wanted to rip off the ropes and sprint for the door? Was this whole submissive thing not for me? Was there something wrong with Calvin? Was I afraid of a candle?

“Hey, none of that,” Calvin whispered. He let the candle drop from his hands and sputter out against the floor. In a minute, the ropes joined it, and I was free. I sat, my hands coiling over each other in my lap. I felt like a complete failure.

“Were you scared?” he asked.

“I guess,” I answered, though with little conviction.

“Well, we can stop. Take a few seconds, and just breathe. If you want to stop, just say the word.”

And then, I really did start to cry. I fell into him like a child and began to sob into his shoulder. His strong embrace felt better than any ropes, and when he kissed my ear, I felt warmth spread through my cold skin.

“I’m nervous,” I admitted into the skin of his neck. He rubbed my back in gentle circles.

“Of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be?” he asked, peeling our bodies apart and giving me a gentle smile. “That’s very normal. I might be able to help you, if you’d still like to try it. If not, I can drive you home. ”

“What can you do?”

“I can try to relax you. All you have to do is sit and listen to my voice.”

That didn’t sound so bad. I really didn’t want to run away, so I nodded and leaned back into the seat behind me. Calvin took a position behind me and laid his hands on my shoulders. He cleared his throat, as though about to read from a book.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered.

“I want you to relax your body, starting with your toes. I want you to feel the tension in your toes disappear. Let them just sit; don’t let them twitch or move at all. Once your toes are relaxed, relax the rest of your foot. Let your foot release any tension you’re carrying in it. By the time you’re finished, you shouldn’t even try to feel your foot. Pretend, if it helps, that you’ve buried it in sand.”

Whatever he did, it worked. I felt the muscles in my foot relax at his urging. Although they didn’t feel quite numb, they did feel almost weightless.

“Now, your calves. Let go of the tension, relax…”

With his handsome voice to guide me, I allowed the peaceful sensation, so much like being buried under warm sand, to take over my limbs. He guided me all the way up my legs, then from my fingertips to my shoulders. Then my stomach, then my shoulders, then my neck. By the time he was done, I almost felt as though I weren’t even there. Somehow, despite myself, I felt at peace.

“Very good,” he said. “Now, I want you to imagine yourself floating on water. I want you to visualize it. Feel the water on your body. Feel the sun above you shining on your skin. You’re drifting slowly, but you’re going nowhere. You feel at peace, you feel as if you’re floating over the waves. Let feelings of worry and anxiety drift away. All that will be left is calmness.”

Slowly, I breathed. With each breath, I imagined more. I felt the rolling waves under me, lifting me and bringing me down, but never forcing me to move or swim. I felt the sun against my face. I did feel comfortable. I
did
feel calmer.

“Now, I want you to imagine that I am the water,” he said. “I can push you, pull you, move you wherever I want. You trust me as you trust the water. When I speak, you yield to me.”

It was dreamlike. I could hear him, sure, but I couldn’t see him. Somehow, in my head, I had crossed the wires that thought of him as a man and as an ocean because, suddenly, I was there—floating on the waves. His voice surrounded me. Every time he spoke, the water pushed gently against me, sending me here or there. Whenever it did, I yielded. Something about his voice sounded so genuine.

“If you can hear me, say ‘yes’.”

The voice that answered him seemed disembodied, and I didn’t recall opening my mouth to use it. There was only the feeling of the ocean and the sun where I was, and the sound of his voice.

“Good,” it said. “Now, listen. When I snap my finger, you will leave the water and come back to my house. Once you’ve woken, you’ll no longer feel any anxiety. You know I have no bad intentions toward you, and you know I won’t judge you. You’ll wake wanting to have fun and to try the new things I want to show you. I’m going to snap my fingers in three seconds. When I do, you’ll wake up. One, two—”

My eyes shot open. Strong hands massaged my shoulders, and I looked around, confused. The basement, the pictures…

“Wow!” I said.

“Nice, isn’t it?” he said with that casual confidence.

I felt like a new woman. Not only did my body feel completely relaxed, but I also felt more clearheaded than I had in a long time.

“I can’t believe how horny I am,” I blurted. Calvin gave a low chuckle.

“I’ve heard that can happen. So would you like to try again?”

I absolutely did. Crazy as it sounded, Calvin’s little talking session had relaxed me so much that I felt ready for anything. It felt different from just pushing my worries away. I felt truly relieved. I promised myself I’d ask him how he did it later. His prediction while I relaxed had come true—I wanted to try the ropes and the candles. It didn’t take him long to tie me back up. This time, though, I was a bit more playful. I tested my restraints, nipped at Calvin’s ears when he leaned in to tie a knot. I felt wetness between my legs. I wanted him badly, and I knew that would only make the restraints all the more erotic.

Once I was bound, he grabbed the sides of my face and kissed me. I relished the feeling of his tongue invading my mouth, lashing against mine dominantly. The back of my head was pushed into the chair from the force of him, and I moaned desperately.

“All better?” he asked, as our lips parted. I nodded eagerly. He walked away to light the candle again.

This time, when he held it in front of my face, all I felt was excited. I could feel the flame as it came near my skin, and when the droplets of wax fell off it, I hissed with satisfaction. The pain felt good, just as he said it would. The splatter cooled almost immediately, but it stuck to my skin in lewd white pools between the ropes on my thighs. Repeatedly, he did it, torturing me while he stared. His eyes were narrow, contemplative. Mine were teary and squinting. I yelped; I hissed; I moaned when he took a moment to massage between my legs. Compared with the pain, the pleasure of his touch was twice as good as it usually was. My skin was so sensitive, and his fingers exploring inside me made me want to scream with delight.

“I told you you’d like it,” he said, seeing the desperation plain on my face. I wanted to kiss him; I wanted to jump from my chair and rip that robe off him. I wanted to fall to my knees and send his cock deep down my throat. I wanted to inflict on him the pleasure he was inflicting on me. It almost
hurt
to be unable to move. I strained against the ropes, trying to kiss his skin. He leaned back, a cruel smile on his lips.