To Command And Collar

Dammit.

* * * *

That afternoon, Raoul pushed back from his desk, rubbing his exhausted eyes. If he was going to continue designing at home, he needed a bigger screen.

On the left, Kimberly worked her way through the stacks of filing he’d accumulated. He hated paperwork. Normally, he’d summon his secretary to do the tedious business. But for now, it kept Kimberly occupied.

My friend, Kimberly. Smiling slightly, he watched her examine a paper and put it into a folder. Even lacking any power exchange, he liked having her in his house.

After she’d crawled into his bed last night, he’d discovered he still enjoyed making love to her. Then again, he was a man. Was fucking ever bad? Yes, the normal sex with Kimberly had been pleasant, although lacking any rich flavor or bite, as if someone had made tacos without adding cayenne or cumin.

She’d also felt the lack. He grinned, remembering how she’d goaded him, trying to make him lose his temper. He hadn’t-barely-although he’d given her the roughness and control that she needed. She’d come like a dream.

He shook his head. It was amazing she tolerated sex at all after her experiences, let alone with a man dominating her. Would she admit she wanted his control in the bedroom? Could she be that honest with herself-and him?

For a minute, he simply studied her. Pretty gatita, her black, shiny hair loose over her shoulders, her curvy ass filling her shorts nicely, reminding him of the feel of her soft hips under his hands. His eyes narrowed as he looked more intently.

Pretty…but not happy. The quiet content she’d shown in the weeks prior to the Shadowlands had eroded away over the past three days. Her body now lacked…grace…as if she were no longer comfortable with herself. Tension simmered under her jerky movements and tensed muscles.

Yet she wasn’t looking around nervously. He opened and shut a drawer loudly-no jumpiness. Not fear then.

He rested his elbow on the desk and leaned back in his chair, thinking. Serving her dom and others filled a need in her-whether she admitted it or not-but she was also more comfortable when she had rules. Boundaries. Consistency. Apparently, her erratic father had been loving, then not-stern when sober, nasty when drunk. She’d never known what to expect from minute to minute. Rules probably felt…safe.

When she’d requested that they be friends, she’d not only lost his domination, but the consistency that came with it.

She glanced over her shoulder, and his eyes met hers. He held her gaze, looking for-Dios, stop it, Sandoval. He turned away, disgusted with himself. Her need called to his, but she had said no. No meant no.

However, she wasn’t happy or at peace, and he wasn’t sure how to fix that. Not as friends. Hopefully, she’d discuss the problem with Gabi or Faith, but knowing Kim, she’d probably avoid discussions on dominance and submission.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

She was kneeling at his feet, head down, nape beautifully exposed. Begging for a collar. No, stop dreaming.

“You don’t have to kneel to talk to me, Kimberly,” he said. “We’re friends, are we not?”

“Yes. Kind of.” Rather than her hands resting open on her thighs, her fingers were laced and white-knuckled in front of her. “I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but being friends isn’t working for me.”

Well, apparently she was learning how to share her emotions. He smiled ruefully, then bent and tilted her chin up. “Do you have a request?” He winced, wanting to punch himself. Even when he told himself not to, he couldn’t speak or touch without dominating someone, especially this little one.

“Can we go back to the way we were?”

He stiffened. “What way, gatita? Explain more clearly.”

“I want…want to be your submissive again, like before. Until the FBI lets me go home or to Gabi’s.” Her blue eyes were earnest, without any apparent reservations.

The rising pleasure warred with his sinking feeling of dismay. How much more agonizing would it be to see her leave after she’d been his willing submissive? “Why?”

“I… It’s silly, but I can’t settle. It’s like when I know I’m doing what you want, I relax and let you do the worrying. I can concentrate on the one thing you’ve told me to do.” She shrugged. “I’m sure I’m just stressed over the past stuff and with not knowing what’s going to happen. But…” She huffed out an unhappy breath. “I liked it better when you were in charge.”

Kim stared up at Master R. His expression had changed to one of consideration. She loved how he’d take the time to think things through. Damn him. If he wasn’t so very smart or if he made hasty decisions or bad ones, she wouldn’t be here on her knees. But she trusted him to steer a straight path…as much as any human could.

She dared to lean forward, wrapping her arms around his legs and resting her cheek on his knees. A warm spring of contentment welled up in her heart. He could think as long as he wanted if he’d let her stay here, just like this. When he stroked her hair, she closed her eyes and enjoyed.

Sure, she still had a niggling worry that he or the slavers had brainwashed her into a weakwilled real slave, but right now she didn’t care. Once this time was over and she went home, she’d get her life straightened out. And until then, well, she’d consider having a master to be a unique kind of pill-a tranquilizer or something.

“You need this?” he asked gently.

“Yes, please.” She kept back the automatic Master because he hadn’t agreed to assume the role again. But inside, she was whimpering, Please, Master, yes, I do. Please.

Would he agree? He liked being in charge. She bit her lip. Was she asking more than she should? The silence seemed to stretch, reaching to the horizon. Please.

“All right then.” He paused. “I agree, sumisita, and I think you’ve overdressed for this house.”

She smiled and rose. But the anxiety, the worries…didn’t go away even with the relief rushing through her, and she still felt as if a rope was wrapped around her lungs, keeping her from taking a full breath. But, surely everything would settle down. Surely this was what she needed. “Yes, Master.” She stripped her clothing off, folded it, and placed it on a chair.

He leaned back, one elbow on his desk. His fingers rubbed his lips as he studied her. She stood beside him, shifting her weight, and…if anything, feeling worse. What have I done? Maybe this was the wrong decision. She realized her hands were clasped in front of her. Should she-

“Kimberly, stop.” He shoved his chair away from the desk and patted his knees. “Come.”

Yes, she needed to be held. That was all. She started to sit on his lap, and he ruthlessly turned her and pulled her stomach-down over his thighs instead.

“Wait.” She tried to push up. “No-I haven’t been bad. What’s wrong with you?”

His left hand pressed on her back, keeping her pinned down despite her struggles. “No, you haven’t been bad, gatita. This isn’t punishment.” His right hand stroked over her bottom. “This is about a little submissive’s needs.” He smacked her, barely a sting, then gave her five more before pausing and rubbing her butt again.

She sucked in a breath as her insides started to shake. “Do you want me to count?”

“No. Since this is not punishment, there’s no number, mi carino. I continue until I decide to stop.”

“But-”

The next set of swats hurt. He hit one cheek, then the other, waiting only for the stinging to die before giving another. She started to struggle again, trying to escape. Her eyes filled as the pain grew.

A pause, and he stroked over her bottom. Gently, not mean. How could he be loving and cruel at the same time? A gasping sob of frustration escaped her.

“Bueno,” he said under his breath and started again. Slap-slap, slap-slap, and it hurt. It really hurt. Pain with each hit of his big hand, and then she was kicking and screaming as the wave of pain rolled over her. And continued. And continued.

When the nightmare didn’t stop, sobbing tore through her. She beat on his legs and kicked, crying hysterically, until finally she went limp, unable to fight any longer, just taking the pain.