Reason (8 page)

“This is Ivone,” he announced. “She is mine unless we decide otherwise.”

The men nodded to him and the women gave her quick, covert glances. Ah, Doms and their subs, although she was the only one in a revealing outfit. The other women were tastefully dressed and clearly not in full mode. So this
was
a test. Damn him. At least he had acknowledged that she could terminate this relationship as well as he! Stabbing him with a salad fork was probably not the best choice, however.

Jamison pressed her to her knees on the pillow by his chair and took his place. Joyce and John came in immediately to serve, and the party began around her. Jamison fed her from his plate and offered her tiny sips of wine. No one spoke to her or acknowledged her presence directly although they asked Jamison about her. Some of the questions were quite personal, and he answered them honestly and matter-of-factly. Ivone found herself becoming resentful. She had not signed up for this. She hadn’t yet told him of all her boundaries, and he was pushing her to accept his. If he thought he would share her, then he had another think coming. Enough. Confusion roiled within her, and she so wanted to just trust him and believe. It was just that things were moving so quickly.

* * * *

Jamison felt the tension in Ivone the instant he had touched her to press her down by his feet, for her face had given nothing away. He thought that she would have settled once she came to understand how he honored her by introducing her to this select group of Doms and their subs. This was her initiation, and he thought she would recognize that fact, but instead she grew more anxious and wouldn’t eat. Damn it, what was he supposed to do? Had he made yet another mistake with her? Was he moving too quickly? Maybe he should have discussed this with her, but Ivone seemed to feel as strongly about him as he did about her, and he thought she had come to realize that he now had her best interests at heart. Jamison quit questioning himself. He had never claimed a sub before, but this was his group’s protocol. He had even invited his mentor and his sub here tonight. Patrick hadn’t been certain that his wife Madi would be well enough to attend, but they had made the effort, and he thought Ivone would do the same. He had thought Ivone would have simply trusted him and accepted it. He again forgot that he had carried her along with his need, his intent, and hadn’t discussed it with her, assuming she would read him and acquiesce.

* * * *

After the meal, Jamison announced that they would adjourn to the playroom. Ivone felt ambivalent. So that was his plan. She frantically thought of ways to extricate herself without totally humiliating him but couldn’t come up with any that would be believable. Well, she had her safe word, and this wasn’t going to be much different than the club. She wasn’t going to let anyone else touch her. And she and Jamison were going to have a chat later. He was simply pushing his luck. She meekly followed him to the playroom where he stripped her of her clothing and bound her to the cross. As he fixed the blindfold in place, he brushed his lips across her temple. Ivone took heart at the sweet gesture and tried to prepare, hypervigilant to the feminine murmurs and masculine sounds as the other members settled to witness her flogging. Jamison used the double tail. The first strike to her back made her aware of his choice and she nearly screamed at the bite of pain, and then rejoiced in it. He worked it carefully, and she soon slipped away, the endorphins flooding her system. She then became aware of being taken down, and cradled in someone’s arms, a bottle of water held to her lips, a deep voice urging her to drink. She scented Jamison’s familiar smell and relaxed into him, forgetting about their small audience. He then placed her over the bench and pushed her thighs apart. She expected him to push into her pussy but felt him at her anus. His huge, lubricated cock pressed against her and past the muscle, pulling a tiny cry from her lips.

“Quiet.” His growl silenced her, and she bit herself to stifle any sound.

She couldn’t hold back the purging tears however, and they soaked the blindfold and leaked down her face. She managed through his initial strokes as she had done their first night together, and again the burn turned to pleasure/pain, especially when he reached to find her clit. Ivone managed to muffle the sounds of her release when Jamison came inside her and pinched her clit at the same time. He pulled out of her to the sounds of approval of their audience and Ivone heard their voices raised in farewell as they took their leave. She allowed herself to slip to the floor and curled up as small as she could. She had relished it but was so confused. What had it meant? Was it a beginning or an end? He had said she was his, but things were moving so quickly. She heard Jamison make a small sound of consternation and he scooped her up. Ivone wouldn’t open her eyes, even after he removed the blindfold, not even when he lowered her into a warm bath. She was afraid of what she would see in his face.

* * * *

Jamison held Ivone in the tub, changing the water constantly, waiting for her to say something, anything. He knew his performance with the double tail had been flawless and had given her what she needed. He ass fucked her to establish his total dominance and claiming in front of witnesses and, aside from that one small sound, she had made him proud. He thought she would feel his pride and would see it, if only she would look at him.

“Ivone,” he tried, wondering what he might say to her that would make her speak, tell him what was wrong. “Ivone, you make me so proud.”

She finally opened her eyes and looked at him wearily. “How nice for you, Jamison. Thanks so much for considering me in your evening plans.”

Jamison froze inside at her words. He lifted her out and dried her gently then laid her over his knee as he tended to her anus. Ivone didn’t move, didn’t respond. He carried her to his room and tucked her between the sheets and retreated, turning off the lights as he went. He hesitated, and then went to his study. Patrick should be home by now.

“What can I do for you, Jami?” Patrick’s familiar voice instantly calmed Jamison.

“And congratulations, by the way, on your lovely little sub. I initially wondered about you going to that other club, even for variety, but you found yourself a gem.”

Jamison forced a laugh. “Thanks, Pat. But my gem is in my bed right now, pissed off or something of the sort.”

Patrick sighed. “Just how long have you known Ivone?”

“I met her last Friday night.”

“And you initiated her tonight?” Patrick asked incredulously.

Cautiously, Jamison concurred.

“Well that’s the quickest, most trusting D/s relationship ever, then, buddy. Or maybe not, seeing as she’s pissed,
or something
, with you. You are an adequate play Dom, Jami, but you clearly suck at long-term relationships. Oh, that’s right, this would
be
your first.”

Jamison could feel his anger building. “So tell me what the fuck I did wrong, you bastard.”

“Did you talk about her boundaries? Did you establish your expectations? Hers? Do you by chance have a contract? Did she know, even a little, about the initiation? Your little group pushes some of the hardest boundaries, after all. I’m surprised you invited me. Madison won’t go with me again.”

“She should trust me,” Jamison answered belligerently, ignoring the reference to offending the sensibilities of Patrick’s sub. “I am well trained. I know my Dom role.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jamison,” Patrick tried. “You are a
play
Dom. You seem to know what subs need almost without asking and you read body language as well as Graham and I. But you have absolutely no experience with any woman longer than one, maybe two nights, and then you inevitably find something wrong with them, as paltry as it might be. And even then you mostly do them at a club. I’ve never even seen the inside of your playroom before. I’m not sure I knew you had one. You are clearly in over your head here. Playing isn’t like building a lasting emotional connection. You would have rushed even the most patient sub.”

Jamison brooded. He heard Ivone’s words echoed in Patrick’s. Shit. He was more a show than talk kind of guy.

“So what do I do?”

“Well, for starters you take care of her body.”

“I know that. Jesus.”

“Okay then. The next part will probably kill you. This woman has obviously gotten to you on a very different level. A really deep level. Talk with her. Not to her, Jami. Talk
with
her. Communication is the most important part of any relationship. Any, Jami. She isn’t going to keep cutting you slack unless she gets off on the kind of treatment you really don’t want to continue. Not if you want a fulfilling relationship, and it appears that you do. Take a chance, buddy. I do know what I’m talking about.”

Jamison thought it through. Patrick did indeed know. He and Madi were solid, and Jamison had doubted that Patrick would ever settle for one sub. And he didn’t even share anymore. Same for Graham and Kennedy. They even had a kid. Well, Graham’s kid from that little blonde bitch, but Kennedy was his mom, too. Kennedy had tuned Graham in, if the rumors were to be believed, and Graham was one happy dude. Food for thought.

“Thanks.” Jamison hung up the phone and headed back to Ivone with renewed purpose. He wanted her again. She so did it for him. But he would have to talk to her first. Correction,
with
her.

Ivone was sound asleep, curled up in a ball on her side, precariously near the edge of the bed. She looked like she was protecting herself and had put her back to him. Jamison once again felt guilt. Come to think of it, he was feeling things he hadn’t felt for years, if ever. All because of Ivone. He stripped and climbed in beside her, carefully gathering her to him, ignoring his throbbing erection, and drifted away.

Ivone awoke to the sensation of hot breath on the nape of her neck and an enormous erection between her buttocks. She stifled the urge to scream and punch Jamison. Her bottom hurt. He had to know that and yet he…she realized that he wasn’t moving and accepted that he was sleeping. She eased out of his embrace and slipped to the floor. After using the facilities, she washed up carefully, and then felt a sense of déjà vu. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen, and she would need to seek out John. This time she was out of here for good. The sex and the erotic pain were simply not a good enough trade off for the guessing games. Jamison could find someone else. She ignored her heart’s protest. The stupid thing needed to get a grip. Last night had been the last straw in this bizarre relationship. Jamison was messed up, and she wasn’t a counselor. She had enough issues of her own, and it was time someone behaved like an adult and not like a teenager drunk on the pleasures of the flesh.

Jamison was awake when she went back into the bedroom. He watched her with an inscrutable expression, and Ivone ignored him. She looked around for his shirt, certain it would be on the floor and spotted it under the window. As she reached for it, Jamison surged off the bed and wrapped her up, pulling her back onto the bed.

Ivone didn’t fight him. “Let go, Jamison,” she said quietly.

Jamison responded by kissing her, and Ivone resisted a response with everything she had. He pulled back and stared at her, surprise on his face.

“I’m going to be late for work,” Ivone stated. “Let me go.”

Jamison relaxed his hold and watched her scramble up and don his shirt.

“John hung up your clothes in the bedroom across the hall,” he offered. “I thought you might want your own room sometimes.”

Ivone fought the urge to scream and throw something at him. This man sorely tried her famed patience. She had figured out what last night meant once he had put her to bed and she had time to think. It had been another breach of protocol. Claiming was a serious business and there was no contract, no discussion, no collar, nothing. Claiming was built on extreme trust, and she hardly knew the man. He should turn in his leathers. Maybe there was a complaint process.

She stomped out and found “her” bedroom with no trouble. It smelled of fresh paint, varnish, and new materials, and she realized that he had somehow transformed the entire room in one day. It was a princess room of cream and white, with accents of pink and had a queen-size bed draped in eyelet lace with roses and matching white French provincial furniture. Ivone hated it, and then she cried stormily at his attempt of thoughtfulness. Not that he had consulted with her. No, of course not. Ivone decided at that moment that the D/s lifestyle she had trained in was not for her. She must have been in the bathroom when the total control and sublimation part was discussed. Sure, she knew that there were some extreme elements in the lifestyle, but not in the club she belonged to. Jamison needed a dog, not a sub. This was as much her fault as his because she had let her heart, and her pussy, rule her head. Stupid. She pulled her clothes on and found her cell. The taxi company assured her a car would be there in minutes.

“Ivone?” Jamison stood just outside her door. “May I come in?”

“No.”

“I’ll drive you to work,” he offered.

“No.”

“That wasn’t a request, Ivone.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” she muttered.

It was actually kind of funny. He couldn’t come in her room without invitation, at least he knew that protocol, but she couldn’t leave unless she let him drive her. Stand off. Two adults acting like juveniles. So much for all that training. When it came to matters of the heart, it seemed as if it all went out the window. Ivone didn’t question her strong feelings for this man any longer, just as she intuitively knew he was head over heels in something for her. Not that it wasn’t stupid. It was the ass-backward nature of what they had. She sighed.