The Dom's Dungeon (15 page)

A hand
closed around her bare arm in a firm grip.
Alex
.
He turned her toward him.

Her hands
closed into fists, but she kept her gaze on the floor, at least until his
finger under her chin raised her gaze to his.

Cold, cold
eyes, like blue ice. “I seem to recall putting you in a maid's outfit.” His
voice had deepened, but he spoke softly. “Why are you not wearing it,
MacKensie
?”

“I-I…” Why
the hell hadn't she thought up a good excuse upstairs?
“Um.
It was uncomfortable, and Zachary…um—a Dom—removed it for me.”

“Did
he
.” It wasn't a question, and his eyes didn't leave hers.
“Master Zachary?”

“She
mouthed off,” Zachary said in an unemotional voice. “I removed her corset as a
punishment and told her to find you and explain why.”
Just
the facts, damn him.

“Ah.”
Alex's brows drew together, and his lips flattened. The nervous flutters in
Mac's stomach kept moving out until her knees started to tremble.

“You
talked back to a Dom. You disobeyed a Dom's direct order. And you disobeyed me.
Did I miss anything,
MacKensie
?” He loomed over her
as if he'd added another foot in height.

She tried
to swallow. “No, Sir. That's all.”

“More
than enough, actually.
Do you understand what you did wrong?”

This was
worse than any chewing out she'd ever had. His eyes held both anger and
disappointment. He didn't yell; his voice stayed level.

“Answer
me,
MacKensie
. What did you do wrong?”

“I wasn't
polite.” She thought about ripping free of his grasp and running, but her feet
stayed frozen on the floor. “I didn't obey his order. I didn't wear what you
told me to wear.” She felt her lip quiver and couldn't stand it. She tried to
pull away. “Damn you, I'm not going naked in a roomful of fully dressed
people.”

She heard
gasps from the two other subs.

“Actually,
if it pleases me that you be naked, then you will do so and be proud that I
choose to share your beauty,” he said softly. “In situations like this, what
you wear—or don't wear—is at my discretion.” He stepped back and crossed his
arms over his chest.
“Strip.
Now.”

Her mouth
dropped open. “No.
No way.”

“Well
then.” Moving so smoothly she didn't realize his intentions, he grasped her
wrist, stepped back, and sat on the couch behind him. He pulled her to his
right to stand beside his knees. An ironic smile crossed his face. “I think
we've done this before.”

She stared
down at him in confusion. “What?”

He grabbed
a handful of her shirtfront and yanked. She landed painfully on her stomach
across his knees.
“Oomph.”
Gasping for the air knocked
out of her, she struggled to rise.

Her left
arm was trapped between their bodies. Alex reached across her back to grip her
other arm, holding it against her side and pinning her shoulders at the same
time.

“Let me
go, dammit!” She tried to roll off his legs.

She felt
movement on the backs of her thighs as he pulled her skirt up, baring her
bottom. He wouldn't! She fought harder.

Slam!

The shock
of his hand striking her bottom rendered her speechless for a second. And then
she screamed in fury.

Slam. Slam. Slam
. The shocking pain of the
stinging blows silenced her.

He said,
“I do this because I care for you,
MacKensie
.” His
voice sounded almost tender. “I don't like having to punish a sub, but this is
for your own good. And because I care.”

Slam. Slam. Slam
. Each blow stung like a
searing flame on her skin.

“Damn
you, you asshole.
You bastard.
I don't—”

Slam. Slam. Slam
. She choked as pain began to
overwhelm her.

“You were
disobedient and disrespectful, as you are now. So you are being punished
because I care how you behave.” His hand stroked over her burning skin gently,
then…

Slam. Slam. Slam.

God, it
hurt.
Hurt way worse than when he had spanked her before.
He was hitting harder. Tears pooled, then ran from her eyes. She tried to free
her arm, and his grip tightened to a steel band.

“I can
keep this up all night,
MacKensie
, if that's what it
takes to get this through your head. Obedience is rewarded. Respect is
rewarded. Subs who disobey are punished.”

Slam. Slam. Slam
. “If I didn't care about you,
I would simply ask you to leave.”

She froze
as his words entered her, echoing through the hollows inside her. He cared.
Cared enough to punish her.
He hadn't made her leave.

Slam. Slam. Slam.

A sob
welled from deep inside her and wrenched out past her constricted throat. As if
the first sob had opened something, the next and next ripped out, faster,
hurting her chest.

His hand
caressed her bottom, and the pain of his touch mingled with the pleasure of his
warmth. “When you apologize and sincerely beg forgiveness, then I will stop.”

Never,
she'd never.
She smothered her sobs. “You bastard,” she
whispered, yet her defiance lacked real anger.

Slam. Slam. Slam
. The blows moved lower to the
tender crease of her thigh, the sharp slaps agonizing. She gritted her teeth.

“I was
proud of your behavior earlier tonight, of your sweetness and your compassion.
You are a beautiful, intelligent woman,
MacKensie
.”

Slam. Slam. Slam.

His words
tore through her, more painful than the stinging blows. Something, some dark
emotion, tore loose, and her chest shook with its passing. The pain on her skin
filled her world even as his words emptied the lake of pain inside her. She
couldn't fight either one. He had control.

He cares for me.

“I'm
sorry,” she whispered. And he held his blow. How could he hear her? But the
ringing noise she heard was all inside her head and didn't diminish when he
paused.

“That's a
start.” His hand stroked her back. “Do you know what to do now?”

She
remembered from the dungeon a lifetime ago. “
Kneel and apologize
.” She nodded.

He
released her, and his big hands steadied her as she slid off his legs and onto
her knees. Her voice shook as she stared at her hands clenched together in her
lap. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

No answer.

She looked
up. He was waiting for…for the rest. “Please forgive me, Sir.” She felt tears
still rolling down her cheeks and didn't dare move to wipe them away. His gaze
held her pinned as he studied her, looking for…something. She wanted to give
him whatever he wanted, and then maybe he'd hold her. She wanted to be held so
badly.

“I forgive
you, little cat,” he said gently. “Strip for me now.”

One second
of shocked horror and then she caved. He had control, and she'd given it to
him. To finish seemed…right, as if it satisfied something within her. Her
clothes dropped to the floor, and she stood before him naked.

When he
held his arms out, she fell into his embrace.

MacKensie
vibrated in his arms like a badly tuned machine; the trembling rolled through
her body in waves. Alex tightened his grip, tucking her head into the hollow of
his shoulder, and let her feel his warmth and strength.
His
comfort.

“I'm proud
of you, little cat,” he murmured, stroking her sweat-damp hair. “It's not easy to
submit, even if it's what you want to do. Giving up control takes as much
internal strength as taking control.
Maybe more.”

He glanced
up and realized the others had cleared out when the punishment began. Some
discipline should be witnessed; some should be private. The
Doms
had known what he'd planned. They'd helped push
MacKensie
into defying him so he could give her what she couldn't admit she wanted. From
the feel of her in his arms and the calm look on her face when she asked
forgiveness, the spanking had satisfied something in her.

His next
task would be to find out why.

But first
she needed to be held, and he needed to hold her. Erotic pain aside,
deliberately hurting a woman could indeed hurt the giver too. A Dom's nature
was to
protect
a helpless woman, but
sometimes the path to healing came through pain.

He pulled
her closer, pleased at the way she snuggled into his arms, as trusting now as a
sleepy kitten. And he knew he'd spoken truly a few minutes ago.

He did
care.

* * * * *

A while
later, Alex set
MacKensie
on her feet and picked up
two heavy blankets. He wrapped one around her.
“Time for some
more fresh air.”

She
glanced toward the clothing still piled on the floor, and he shook his head,
amused at her look of outrage. His little cat recovered quickly.

The wind
off the Sound moistened his face as he guided her down the beach to a spot
where piles of driftwood on three sides gave an illusion of privacy, and the
sand hid everything else. Not
that restraints
would be
needed tonight.

After
opening his blanket on the sand, he took a seat and used a weather-smoothed log
for a backrest. Smiling at her wary expression, he drew
MacKensie
down to sit between his legs.

She gave a
muffled yelp when her sore ass hit the rough blanket, then relaxed, resting her
back against his chest, his arms around her waist. It was a rare evening with
no rain, and there were few places as lovely as the beach. The waves washed
onto shore in a soft rhythm as lighted freighters and ferries traversed the
Sound with a slow dignity. Overhead, patchy clouds drifted in front of the
waning moon, creating shadows that flowed across the white sand.

Gradually
the tension eased from his little sub's body.

“I've
canoed on a lake at night,” she said, her voice hushed. “This is like it but more…alive.”

“Yes.” He
kissed her cheek. “I'll have to take you to the ocean. Our Sound is sweet and
gentle; the Pacific has more moods.” In an unhurried move, he slid his hand
under the blanket and cupped a pert breast. He could feel as well as hear her sharp
inhalation. His arm tightened around her waist, a quiet warning about whose
body he held.

He felt
the tremor run through her and the stiffening of her muscles. Her discomfort at
being touched intimately by a man, even him, hadn't diminished much. He had no
intention of pursuing sex now, but he needed his hands on her to read her
responses and show him the way.

Most
people's beliefs and responses to spanking originated in childhood. He'd start
there. “I've lived close to Puget Sound all my life,” he said easily. “Where
did you grow up,
MacKensie
?”

“Iowa. You
know that,” she said.
Terse answer.
Not a subject she
wanted to pursue.

“Ah yes,
that's right. Did you grow up in that town you came from?
Oak
Hollow?”
He'd never have detected the quickly controlled jerk if his
hand hadn't rested on her breast.

“That's
right.” She tried to sit up, and he pulled her back.

“Are your
parents still there?”

“They
died.
When I was four.”

He felt as
if he were Butler, pursuing an elusive mouse through the grass. “Who raised you
then?”

“I went
into foster care.”

She
strained against his grip. Foster care might hold the key.
“How
were you punished in foster care, little cat?”

“
Frak
, that's not… I'm not going to talk about…
None of your business.”

Frazzled
and a little lost, and the spanking still affected her emotions. He'd counted
on that. “Answer me.”

“We had
time-outs.”

Well, that
sounded harmless enough, except the tension buzzed through her body so
fiercely, it made his hands ache. What could go wrong in a time-out?
Length or location?
“
Send
her where you didn't have to look at her
,” she'd said. “Where did you have
your time-outs?”

Her whole
body stiffened as if he'd hit her.

Right question
.
“
MacKensie
?”

“A
closet.
She'd lock us in a closet,” Mac said, her voice thin and high.