Stray (8 page)

“Marnie, if Karla broke his trust, how come he…” I covered my lips with my hand. I wanted to ask how she’d ever got him to give her a more permanent collar. How she’d got him to fall in love with her.

“How come he collared me?” Marnie smiled when I glanced up at her. “It didn’t happen right away, and I’m sure if I hadn’t been there before it happened, this collar wouldn’t be around my neck.” She touched the leather again as a wave of calm seemed to wash over her. “I’d seen him the way no other should. I held him when he broke down in the middle of the day. Flogged him when he wanted to escape into subspace. Fed him when he didn’t want to eat. Made him drink when he wasn’t thirsty and slept with him so he’d have someone’s arms around him at night. I did what any slave would’ve done. I watched after my Master. This collar was my reward.”

I sat there for a long while, unable to imagine Dylan being anything other than the Dom I knew. I couldn’t see his red eyes or tear-streaked face. All I could see was his wicked grin, his fierce eyes and tightened jaw. There was compassion there as well—his arms around me, the hand in my hair, his lips on mine. But he wasn’t broken. Not in the least.
Not like me.

“Maybe that’s why he wants to keep you here.” Marnie’s voice thrust me from my thoughts. “If he can fix you, maybe he can fix himself.”

I narrowed my vision as I looked over at her, her head bowed as she opened and closed her palms in her lap. “He still cries?”

“Sometimes, when Master doesn’t think I’m looking. There’s no sound. Only tears. I…I never asked. He probably doesn’t even know how much I’ve seen.”

“Then you are a very good slave,” I said, smiling as I hugged her. “He’s lucky to have you, and I’m glad you’re here even now. It’s nice having someone to talk to. Someone I don’t always need to address as Master.”

She laughed. “You don’t need to call him Master, you know? I do it out of habit and respect. But you? You only need to do it when he asks you to.”

“Marnie.” Dylan’s voice floated over from the doorway. “You aren’t filling her head with sad puppy stories, are you?”

We both turned around. There was a smirk on his face, while Marnie and I shared an expression of shock.

“No, Master,” Marnie began, slipping off the bed to stand at his side. She bowed her head and grinned when he said something in her ear before giving her a kiss on the forehead.

“You can play with her later,” Dylan began, swatting her ass as she scurried from the room. He leaned against the doorframe, loosening the tie around his neck. “Damn responsibility. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you got up.” Dylan removed his tie and came to stand beside the bed before leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. “She didn’t use up too much of your time, did she?”

I swallowed and shook my head. “What else am I going to do all by myself?”

Dylan smirked. “I can think of a few things.” He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled me into his arms. “Looks like you made a friend—fast, too. I’m glad. It’s about time she stopped moping around the house. It’s been quite some time since she’s opened up to one of my subs.” His gaze grew distant then. “What were you talking about before I interrupted you?”

I licked my lips and stared down at my lap. Marnie had spoken to me in confidence, and even though we shared a Master, and I knew I was supposed to be loyal to him, the sisterly bond I’d sensed earlier had remained after she’d left the room. “About you.” It was a simple answer, and one I hoped would keep both of us out of any unwanted trouble.

“Is that right?” Dylan rubbed his chin. “And tell me, what exactly did the two of you talk about?”

I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t. My eyes would tell him well before the words spilled from my mouth. My mind wandered, and as a dull ache filled my chest, Dylan’s grip on me tightened. It felt wrong to have learnt about his past through Marnie, and even though I was thankful for it, I wondered why he hadn’t told me himself.
Weakness.
If she’d seen him cry, he probably didn’t want to look that way in front of anyone else. He didn’t want to lose control in front of me.

“Alyssa?” His voice was calm. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

I looked up at him with wide eyes. Had he been listening this entire time? Had he even left for work? My vision darted around the room as I looked for an escape, but there wasn’t one.

He brushed the side of my cheek. “She told you about Karla, didn’t she?”

I inclined my head. “I may have pushed her, though.”

Dylan cocked his head to meet my downward gaze and smiled. “I assure you, you didn’t.”

“You aren’t mad?”

He shook his head. “I’m not that kind of Dom. You could’ve learnt the truth by asking a fair portion of the community. Marnie just got to you first, and I’m glad she did. A lot of the subs I bring in tend to turn away after hearing Marnie’s stories, assuming I’m not a good fit.”

“So it’s a test?”

“Sort of. There are going to be times when we both test you, not only physically but mentally, as well. But, tell me—did Marnie’s story change the way you look at me?”

He straightened his shoulders and sat up. He looked the same way he had before. He had the same set jaw line, the same eyes and strong hands. And even though I’d had a glimpse into what could be called his weakness, I hadn’t seen it first-hand.
He’s still a Dom.

After giving his question some thought, I shook my head. “What you went through doesn’t change the fact that you’re a Dom. My Dom.”

“Good answer.”

“And the story? Was it real?”

“Every ounce of it. But in order to understand Marnie, you need to take a different look at the relationship we share. You know how it is with single men who are also parents, right?”

I bobbed my head, still trying to figure out where he was going with this.

“Then you must know how the child sometimes tests the new girlfriend to see if she’s safe, right?”

I nodded again.

“Marnie is like that child. If a sub doesn’t work for her, then she doesn’t work for me. I’ll never try to push her away, so whomever we bring into this house must either be a Dom or a sub who will accept both of us. Our flaws included.”

“And none of the other subs—”

Dylan was shaking his head before I could finish. “If they even bother to make it past my background, they tend to shy away before things can ever get too serious.”

“But you’re still a trainer—for new subs, I mean.”

“Of course. But if I ever find a sub who can truthfully get along with Marnie as well as myself, I probably wouldn’t be willing to let her go.”

I shifted my weight so I could face him, my legs folded beneath me. “And no one’s ever gotten close?”

“Nope. I’ve fallen in love, of course, because I’m a sad sap, but that’s it.”

I frowned at him. “I think you need to find yourself a new hobby, then.” We both smiled, and I continued, “I hear woodworking’s nice.”

“Tried it. Ended up hammering my own finger.”

“And hammering subs is better?”

Dylan caressed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I do like a good project.”

I shook my head and tried to look offended. The corners of my lips curled, and I knew I’d lost. “I suppose you do. So, about this client…” Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t he know what Saturday means?”

“I don’t even know if
I
know what it means.”

“Sleeping in, showers and sex.”

Dylan hit a hand to his forehead. “I should’ve known.” He leaned in to kiss me on the lips, moaning when we drew apart. “Does my pet need some extra attention today?”

I curled up in his arms. “Would it help if I made sad puppy eyes?”

“Hell, no! Anything but the puppy eyes.” He took my hands in his as he slid off the side of the bed. “Come with me. There’s something I need you to do.”

Chapter Eight

As soon as we reached the hallway downstairs, I froze. Even though I hadn’t gone into the kitchen last night, I knew it had changed. Most of the chairs were in the hall, lined along either side of it. Dylan had moved the table, which was completely bare save for an old bed sheet, into the middle of the room.

Beside the kitchen table was a smaller one, with an assortment of bowls and razors sitting on top of it. My mind immediately went back to last night, back to the club where I’d got to see Dylan, fully shaved, for the very first time.

“I’ll be shaving you soon.”

A chill ran down my spine, leaving gooseflesh in its wake as I eyed the ropes tied to each of the four table legs. It was then that I realised how much of a game this was for him. He wasn’t just planning to shave me.
You don’t have to be bound for that.
Anticipation pricked at my skin, pulling at my hairs as I tried not to think about it. Any of it. Not the table. Me on my back. A razor against my skin. Ropes on my wrists. None of it.

My teeth chattered. I chewed at my bottom lip, hugging my arms around my chest as if they could hide me from Dylan’s sight.

When he finally turned around, the expression in his eyes had changed. He was my Master now. And I was his sub. Taking a breath, I let my hands fall to my sides as I averted my gaze.

We both stood motionless for a long, painful moment.

I knew he was watching me. Reading me. Making sure I was ready. I wasn’t, but I didn’t want him—or any of this—to stop. All I had to do was say one word and it would all go away. Just. One. Word.

I didn’t speak.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t move.

A hand rested on my shoulder as he whispered into my ear. “Are you scared?”

“No, Master.”

“Are you nervous?”

I bobbed my head.

“Alyssa, are you nervous?”

I licked at my lips. “Yes, Master.”

“Do you trust me?”

It isn’t you I’m worried about.
“Yes, Master.”

He reached behind me and grabbed one of the chairs in the hall. After moving it in front of the table, he met my gaze. “Lie down on the table. On your back.”

This is it.
This was what he’d promised at the club. I hadn’t had time to prepare. To have second thoughts. To call it quits.
We’re really doing this.
I locked my jaw and looked straight ahead, past the table, staring at the kitchen sink. Shiny metal winked at me, and I winced at the pain in my palms as I dug my nails into my soft skin.

Dylan took one of my hands, easing it open before doing the same to the other. “No pain. No marks on your skin.” He nodded to the crescents in my hands. “I’m the only one who can leave marks, understood?”

I forced my hands to remain open as I climbed up onto the table. “Yes, Master.”

“Good.”

With his back turned to me, I tried to make myself comfortable, almost forgetting I was still clothed. I released a sigh of relief, glad for the extra layers between my skin and the polished wood. Using a little more effort than I would’ve liked, I centred myself on the table, my wrists hovering over the edge and my knees bent down towards the bottom.

Dylan moved, his footsteps echoing as he made his way over to the head of the table. Without saying a word, he offered a reassuring smile before taking some of the rope and tying it around one of my wrists.

He touched my fingertips. “Too tight?”

I shook my head as best I could.

“Not tingling?”

Again, I shook my head.

He nodded to me and did the same thing to the other wrist, squeezing that hand until I returned the gesture. Even though I wouldn’t be able to walk out of the room without dragging the table with me, the restraints were actually quite comfortable. The rope itself was smooth and didn’t bite into my skin as I’d expected it to.

Dylan leaned over to kiss me on the lips, moving his arms from my wrists down to the buttons of my blouse. A shiver caused me to pull at the ropes as I remembered to breathe. Dylan fingers undid the top button, his thumb drawing arcs on the little bit of skin that was revealed.

“Shaving can be very erotic,” he said, his voice a mere whisper in my ear. There was no doubt in my mind that anything could be erotic so long as he was in the same room as me. He kissed my neck as he undid the second button. “Intimate and thrilling.”

Another button. Then another. With his thumbs, he reached under my blouse and bra to the swollen flesh beneath. He pinched at my nipples, and I squirmed against him.

“Breathe. Try to relax. All I want you to do is listen to my voice. Let everything else go.”

He caressed both of my cheeks, his touch lulling me into a light trance. I closed my eyes as he unfastened the remaining buttons. My blouse hung open at my sides. I drew in a deep breath, and as I exhaled, I did exactly as he’d asked. The tension in my back subsided. My arms went limp against the table. I drew in a series of even breaths.

“Good girl. Don’t open your eyes until I tell you to.”

Bound and blind, I listened to his breathing, which was more even than my own. He was at the foot of the table now, walking a trail with his fingers between my breasts, down to my navel. He worked the clasp on my skirt, unzipping it before pulling it, as well as my panties, over my hips. Down my legs. Onto the floor.

Instinctively, I drew my legs up onto the table, digging my heels into the bottom of it. Dylan’s hand brushed the inside of my legs, drawing them apart. I bit my lip, screwed my eyes shut as tightly as they could go. His touch was barely there, the heat from his skin constant as he moved his hands along my inner thighs.

My clit throbbed, begging for his attention. I rolled to one side, then the other, lifting my hips away from the table. Dylan pressed an arm down on them, forcing me to stay still.

“We’ll get to your needs,” he growled, repositioning my feet so that they were flat on the table, my knees as wide as they could go. “Don’t move.”

He then tied a rope around one of my ankles, just as he’d done to my wrists. He kissed the inside of the bound leg before doing the same thing to the other one.
Breathe. Remember to breathe.
I chewed at my cheek, sucking in a breath when Dylan’s fingers slid into me.