I swallowed, then stumbled forward a little as he urged me to move toward the edge of the room. Until I stepped out from under the bright light I hadn't been able to make out what else was in there. He steered me in the direction of a large wooden stand in one corner that looked like something you'd see in a historical film: stocks? A pillory? It was T-shaped and there was a large hole in the middle with smaller holes for a person's wrists on either side. He lifted the top half and I obediently placed my neck in the middle slot. I discovered it was padded and nowhere near as uncomfortable as it had looked like it would be-there was a chin rest I hadn't noticed at first glance. I was bent over slightly, a position that would get tiring to maintain but for now was fine.
I could hear him rummaging around behind me somewhere. Now that I had a chance I could see we were in a playroom of some kind, with a high ceiling and industrial-looking walls. In this corner a coiled whip, a leather blindfold, and a few other BDSM toys hung on the wall, looking more like they were there for decoration than for actual use. They were slightly dusty. Funny what you notice when all your senses are heightened by arousal and endorphins.
His hands slid up my hot butt cheeks again and then he pressed his denim-covered hardness against me with a frustrated-sounding groan.
"Remember what being flogged feels like?"
"Yes."
"This isn't going to feel like that. But maybe we'll have some flogging later." The next thing I felt was something cool caressing my ass. Cool and flat.
The first whack wasn't that hard but it made me jump in surprise. A matching one on the other cheek followed and I hopped on one foot, trying to make it stop smarting. That was either a paddle or the back of a very big hairbrush.
"One moment," he said, and I heard him cross the room again. When he came back he put my ankles into heavy leather cuffs lined with thick fur and then attached them to either end of a bar that kept my feet apart. "That's better. Now you can't hop around so much."
And that was all the reprieve I got from the paddling that followed. I already knew how relentless Axel could be-with his kiss, with his cock-and in a way this was no different. His desire demanded that he give and I take, and give he did, in endless rhythmic smacks, all over my buttocks, down my thighs, and even a little bit between my legs, though he didn't hit as hard there.
And just like he had worn down the fight in me until there was none left that first time in the limousine, he chipped away at my pride and the lies I told myself and the wall I had built up with them. Don't ask me how he did it, exactly, since he didn't say anything. He didn't tell me I was wrong or explain or anything. He just hit me, and hit me, and hit me some more until my armor was completely worn through and everything I had been bottling up came out in a rush of tears.
It's one thing to tell yourself you feel a certain way: regretful, sad, angry, disappointed. It's another thing entirely to feel it so strongly you can barely breathe and water pours from your eyes. I don't think I'd cried so hard in my life. Not as an adult, anyway.
At that point he tossed the paddle away and ran his palm over my reddened flesh so tenderly I cried even harder. "That's it, let it out," he said gently.
"It isn't fair!" I heard myself shout.
"Life isn't fair," he said, rubbing harder and then grabbing a handful of ass that hurt but in a deeply delicious way. Even through my tears I could feel that. "But why don't you tell me what, exactly, isn't fair?"
"I made a promise. A stupid promise. I'm caught between you and Dad and my boss and Schmitt and every stupid man in my life and there's no way to make you all happy!"
"Ahhh, okay. So the game you're trying to play is to make all of us happy and it turns out the rules are rigged against that." He ran his hand soothingly down my back and somehow that encouraged me to take deep breaths. "What was the promise?"
My resistance was gone. In fact, I couldn't even remember why I had tried to keep this a secret from him. "I promised my father I wouldn't … do bondage."
Axel made a sound of sudden understanding. "And you thought that meant we couldn't have a relationship?"
"You'd be disappointed! I can't be what you want! I'm a bad sub!" I suddenly started to cry again.
He stood close behind me, so close I could feel the heat of him in the air on my back. A gentle hand stroked my spine. "We can talk about boundaries later," he murmured. "For now, try to hear me on this, Ricki. You'll never disappoint me, in the dungeon or in life, if you're just trying your best. What I want isn't for you to become some kind of perfect sub, okay? What I want is you. You being you."
I was crying so hard now I could barely hear him. When I slowed down again he came around to the front of the stocks and slipped his fingers into my hair. He held on firmly, securely. "Listen. The way to win the game is to play a different one. How about instead of trying to make all the men in your life happy, you work on what makes Ricki happy?"
He pulled gently until my head was turned and he could look into my eyes. He kissed the tracks of the tears at the corner of one eye and then my mouth, bringing me the taste of my own salt and sadness.
He let go and looked at me again. "Can you tell me? Can you tell me what you want, Ricki? What you need?"
None of this was easy to say, but it was easier, somehow, having him draw it out of me like that than it would have been sitting down to tea. I fought down a full-on, chest-heaving sob. "I need you … !"
I had meant to say "I need you to help me surrender" but I never got the end of the sentence to come out and I decided that what I'd said was perfectly true as it was. Terrifying as the thought was, I needed Axel.
"I think I figured that much out," Axel said. "But I can't keep doing this, Ricki. I can't keep chasing you down every time you run. We have to talk about it with all the cards on the table. No hidden agendas. You're a better actress than you give yourself credit for."
"I need to surrender," I said then, my heart pounding suddenly in the way it's supposed to when you say "I love you" for the first time.
"I know," he said gently, and kissed me one more time. The kiss flooded me with relief, and so did what he said: "The important thing is that you know it."
Yes, I knew it. Yes, I accepted it at last. "Yes!"
"Good."
I nodded my head as best I could in the stocks like that, and then a fresh swat from his bare hand fell on my sore flank. We weren't done? Somehow I had thought that my admission should have ended the scene, but no.
Because admitting I needed to surrender, and actually surrendering were not the same thing. The spanking started gently. Yes, gently, but on my already sore skin it sent shockwaves of sensation through my whole body. His bare hand was so much more intimate than the paddle. He varied the angle, the pressure, the rhythm, as if he were transmitting a message in code right through my skin.
And that message was I want you. I cherish you. I adore you. I love you.
You're endorphin high and imagining things, said a little voice in my head. But it was being drowned out by my cries, which sounded much less like yelps of pain than like throes of ecstasy.
And to think we weren't even having sex yet. Well, not in the strict sense.
AXEL
I know BDSM takes people to a lot of places in their heads. There's no guarantee it'll go where you want it to, though. It's like jamming with other musicians. You know basically how the song goes but you get ideas while you're playing, and you try them out, and if you like how it sounds, then you and the people you're playing with can chase after it. Sometimes the chase takes you down a rabbit hole and sometimes it takes you right back where you started.
When I spanked Ricki I had meant it to be the next step in punishing her, the next step after the paddle, but as I ramped up the spanking to full-force blows she sounded a lot more to me like she was getting ready to come again rather than confess more secrets to me. Maybe there were no more secrets? Sometimes you have to roll with it. I ramped back down to a light, sensual smacking and she moaned and thrust her ass back into my touch.
I could barely stand it. I grabbed her by the flanks and ground against her. The denim probably felt rough against all that sore skin, but I wanted something else more than I wanted her suffering right then. I pushed my jeans down to the middle of my thighs and rubbed against her again, my cock against her tailbone.
"How do you feel now?" I growled.
I was not expecting the answer to be "Loved."
I was terrible at keeping up the cold, cruel dom act-especially when I answered "Really?"-but I thought I had at least done a credible job of being a kidnapper/interrogator. "Ricki, I've just beat you pretty much to the point of bruises and now I'm menacing you with my cock. You're not scared?"
"I told you, somehow I lose all fear when I'm with you. That's the only reason you get through to me."