Strapped Down Page 22

“Shyla, what the hell is going on? What are you so pissed about?”

  I spin around. “How could you bring me here? Around these women you fucked? That Lane bitch, the way she looked at me…I almost slapped her.”

  “You’re jealous? That’s what this is about?”

  “I’m not like Lane, or Em,” I say mockingly.

  “That was all a long time ago, Shyla and I am glad you’re not like them.”

  “You shared all these things with them. I’m willing to do it all, because it’s special to me. You’re the only person I would ever do this with, but to you, I’m just number 36.”

  “You think you’re not special to me?”

  “Do you want to share me? Do you want me to be like that girl we watched? Is that what this is about?”

  “No. I told you I want you all to myself.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Do you want to leave? That’s all you had to say.”

  “No!”

  “Then what is it Shyla? What the fuck do you want from me? You can’t keep saying you want something and then throwing it back at me because of your shame or insecurity. None of this works if you don’t trust me or yourself.”

  “But, I can’t stop thinking about it. You did those things with Lane. I don’t want to share you, but it’s too late for that. I already have.”

  “Shyla it’s just fucking! It’s only been you. It’s only you!” Taylor lets out in exasperation. I stand there in silence. “You feel like you’re somehow less than these women or because they came before you that makes you less important to me? You need to stop with the insecure bullshit. I took you here because I trust you. There was no pressure to do anything. You keep saying you’ll do whatever I want, but you fucking fight me every step of the way! You wanted this godammit,” Taylor paces, running his hand through his hair, his jacket parting open. “You told me you wanted to do this! I said we could be vanilla and now you try to make me feel like shit about it? Fuck you for that! You want it, you know you do, but you won’t be satisfied until you can put it all on my head. This is all about being terrified of who you really are.”

  My lip begins to quiver. I want it; I am scared how much I want it. When I saw that woman, I was terrified that I could become her. If Taylor wanted me to go to someone else, I say I wouldn’t, but if nothing else would make him happy, I know I would give in eventually. I can’t show him he has that much power over me. I want to be everything to Taylor and the thought of it frightens me. The jealousy of the subs is real, but it’s only because I want to be better at it than those women before me.

  “You’re right,” I say softly.

  Taylor opens his mouth to shout again, but then catches himself when he realizes I agree with him. He looks confounded for a second, but then he recomposes.

  “Well, then we’re gonna fucking do it my way,” he says, hooking his finger around the O-ring on my collar, dragging me back to the entrance of the house. I open my mouth to say something. “Shut up,” he says firmly. And for once, I obey.

  He pulls me up the stairs and again, the doorman lets us in. “Lane!” Taylor calls out like he owns the place. I can’t catch my breath; my heart pounds powerfully. Lane runs out to the mezzanine atop the two adjoining staircases, a look of confusion on her face erased when she sees he has me by the collar. She wanted a piece of us tonight and now I am afraid she just might get what she wished for. He cocks his head, directing her to follow us as he leads me to wooden double doors. Taylor busts them open with the type of confidence that leads me to believe he was either certain no one was on the other side or he just didn’t give a shit.

  “Lane, close the fucking door and sit over there,” his firmness, his complete and total ownership of the moment gives me a thrill. Especially watching him completely dominate that red-headed bitch. She follows his directions.

  “Oooh, are we going to have some fun?” she asks.

  “Shut the fuck up. You’re going to sit over there and you are going to fucking do what I say.”

  She cowers, her body language changing in an instant. She must be a switcher, I read about those. Taylor still has me by the collar, and he pushes me down to the bed with it. I fall back, watching his frustration and rage translate into something else. He rips off his jacket and thrusts it across the room, then he unbuttons his shirt angrily as he scowls at me.

  “Lane, crawl over here slowly.” He doesn’t even look in her direction and he points to a spot beside him on the floor, he glares into my eyes as if daring me to defy him. Instead, I am hypnotized, in complete awe of him and his unfettered dominance. Lane slips down from the upholstered wooden chair, getting on all fours. She slowly slinks over towards us, her long fiery mane grazing the floor, arriving to the foot of the bed, just where my right leg dangles. “Lick her boot slowly,” he says, not breaking his gaze with me, his abs peaking through the unbuttoned shirt. My breath pauses for a second. I believe this is a little gift from him for Lane making me feel inferior and it only solidifies how much I want him at this moment. Lane, looks up at us, doe-eyed, and she grabs the heel of my boot, extending her tongue, slowly gliding it over the patent leather of the foot of the shoe, running it up the entire length. As she reaches the top, Taylor interjects. “Don’t touch her skin,” he says raising a finger but still not looking at her. “Shy, you see that woman there? She is nothing to me, nothing.” I look over to her for a second, suddenly feeling guilty for putting her in this position, but then I realize she might like the putdown. “Look at me. She was only a convenient place for me to stick my dick. Now she’s going to watch, she’s going to learn her place. Lane, get on the bed. Play with her hair.” She crawls on the bed, slowly unraveling my ponytail, so that my hair fans out onto the comforter beneath us. She strokes my hair gently, a far cry from the confident and boisterous woman who greeted me not an hour ago.

  Taylor pushes my skirt up and I tense. I’ve never had anyone watch like this before, and I don’t know what to do with myself. “Relax,” he commands, with the first hint of softness in his voice since I stormed out. As much as I loathe to admit it, Lane’s gentle caress helps put me at ease. He firmly rubs my inner thighs as I try to prevent myself from hyperventilating; the tight corset makes me hyperaware of my breathing. Taylor finally pulls off his open shirt and unbuckles himself, whipping his belt out in one motion like an angry father about to spank his child. I hold my breath thinking he might use it. Instead he keeps it taut in his hands for a few seconds, relishing the effect the moment of uncertainty has on me, then throws it to the floor. He rigorously pulls out his erection as his pants drop. “No one makes me as hard as you do,” he says, holding his firmness in his hand.

  I catch myself biting my lip and then he does it too. Lane pulls all my hair away from my face, but will not do anything further unless Taylor commands her to do so. Finally, he tells her to undo my top. Hook by hook, she meticulously undoes my bustier; I let out a large exhale as my breasts become exposed. “You nervous?” He asks.

  I nod.

  He leans on top of me, whispering into the ear opposite the one Lane is laying next to. “It’s always been you. Do you understand? Before I even knew you, it was you. No one else. You aren’t number 36, you’re number one. You’re my first.” He slides his fingers into my mouth and I suck on them, grabbing his thumb and pinky as I suck on his forefinger and middle finger. He softly pulls his hand away and slides his wet fingers inside of me, but he doesn’t even need to, I am so ready for him to enter me. Everything below is so hypersensitive, just aching for his touch, begging for him to make me explode. He completely spreads the corset, so that my entire upper body is bare now, but I feel sheltered in his presence. I trust him with my body.

  Lane’s fingers delicately massage my scalp, calming my breathing as Taylor finally plunges into me. I wrap my booted legs around him as I wail with pleasure. I try to embrace him, but he grabs my wrists and pins them overhead, elevating his upper body so that he can take in the scenery. “I
need you to just surrender to me. Just fucking surrender,” he commands in a breathy voice as he thrusts into me. “You can’t keep fighting this. I can see how bad you want this. You won’t lose yourself, I promise.”

  But there is that last part of me, the last hand I haven’t showed. If I don’t fight him anymore, all doubt will be removed. I am a goner.

  “I…I just can’t,” I whisper.

  “Just fucking surrender to me. Let me take it all.”

  I stare at him in silence, unable to let go of that last piece of my old self. He presses my face with both hands and leans in close. “Just fucking surrender to me already,” he says powerfully as he goes deep inside of me.

  “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes.” He smoothly gyrates his hips like a snake, maintaining constant friction.

  “Can I touch you?” I ask, my breath shallow.

  “Yes,” he says.

  Even though Lane is still stroking my hair, it’s like she’s not even in the room. “Do you see where Lane is and where you are?”

  I nod.

  “You are the one. You. You’re the center of my universe.”

  I nod as he dives into my neck, sucking, kissing, biting, his rock hard erection, stimulating everything inside of me. I dig my nails into his muscled back as I call out his name over and over.

  Taylor lies next to me, shadow from the dim light casting various shapes on the curvature of his muscles. “We’re done here,” he says to Lane, who is still twirling my hair. She nods, rising from the bed, then makes brief but deliberate eye contact with me as I lie there, still exposed. There is a humility in her eyes I did not see before, and I find myself having an unexpected affinity for her after this shared experience. She exits without saying a word.

  “So what now?” I ask.

  “Do you understand now?”

  “I think I do.”

  “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No. Actually, I can’t believe I am about to say this.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t hate her so much anymore.”

  “That’s why I like being a Dom, people are much more enjoyable when they do what you tell them to.”

  “But you can’t control everyone.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not interested in everyone. Though I’d beg to differ that you can’t control most people.”

  “So you think you can control me?”

  “No. You and I, we do what we want.” He knows he doesn’t have to control me, I’d willingly follow him off of a cliff.

  “But isn’t that what this is all about? Me surrendering?” The word comes out of my mouth as though it weighs 1000 pounds.

  “It’s still your choice. You always have a choice. I was just helping you allow yourself to make it. But damn you make it hard. It’s like breaking in a mare. I’ve never wanted someone so badly who has made it so difficult for me to give her what she wants.”

  “I can’t believe I just did that…I say, rolling onto my stomach and covering my face with my hands. I just met her.”

  “That’s the thing, you didn’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. I know what you want. I can sense your limits, I can tell when you want something.”

  “How so?”

  “I don’t know, instinct I guess. Your kisses taste sweeter, your scent, the way you move, the pitch of your voice when you moan. You don’t know you want it, but your body tells me you do.”

  “You and your psychic sex panther ways.”

  Taylor rolls his eyes. “I just want you to see, this is not about a competition. Even if it was, you’ve won by light years. It’s my responsibility to take you to those places you can’t go yourself. Sometimes it’s scary, but those risks carry the greatest rewards. Lane was never a threat in any way and now you know that from experience, not just words.”

  “Sorry, I just get so jealous. I want you all to myself.”

  “You have me all to yourself.”

  “I know, but even before we met, it’s like I want to go back into time and claim you.”

  “You’ve had me since I was four years old, Shy.” My beautiful little guardian.

  “Will we come back here?”

  “I think you’d like that.”

  “I’m still scared. What will be next?”

  “Scared is good, it’s what makes us feel so deeply. I don’t know what’s next, I know when I’m in the moment. No other man will have you though. I’m not interested in sharing you.”

  “Does that go both ways?”

  “I only want you.”

  “What’s the benefit of coming to a club then?”

  “Oh there are other ways to use people. Lane barely touched you, and it had a great effect.”

  “You made me feel like a queen today.”

  “Like I said, it’s my responsibility to make you feel good.”

  “You make me feel so bad.”

  “Oh, but you are.”

  ***

  The ride home is quiet, but comfortably so. Exhausted from the emotionally loaded day, I want to crawl into bed with Taylor, feel his warm skin enveloping mine. It’s just past 3am when we return the car to the garage and tip toe back into the house. Feeling like two teenagers who stole daddy’s car, we creep through the home, hoping not to get caught. As I try to stifle my giggles, I poke Taylor to try and make him laugh. Of course he’s not ticklish, so he wraps his arms around me, playfully swinging me in a circle. As we make the full turn, Randall is standing at the end of the dark hallway in his robe and pajamas watching us with a smirk.

  “Hi,” Taylor says stiffly. “Sorry, did we wake you?”

  “No, I was having a tough time sleeping tonight. You two just getting in?”

  “Yes,” Taylor responds.

  Please don’t notice my hooker boots.

  “Looks like you were having some fun.” He finally got a glimpse of the Taylor he was so curious about.

  “Yes, it was a long night. We’re tired. We’re heading to go to bed.” I stand there in silence, feeling so busted even though we never needed permission to go out in the first place, being adults and all.

  “Well, goodnight or good morning I suppose.”

  “Goodnight,” both Taylor and I say in unison.

  “Oh Taylor,” Randall says as we are about to enter the bedroom.

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you enjoy the Rolls?”

  Taylor grins, the glimmer of youth illuminates his face. “Yeah, dad. She’s all in one piece; I promise.” Dad. He knows how to play people so well.

  We slide into the bedroom and once the door is closed, we let out muffled laughs.

  “Wait, did you really not tell your dad you were taking it?” I whisper. I thought Taylor was sort of joking about that or that his father wouldn’t care.

  “Shyla, I wasn’t bullshitting you. He never lets anyone touch his Rolls, even me.”

  I shove him. “You always drag me into your shenanigans. Now he thinks I am a terrible influence on you,” I whisper loudly.

  “But you are. I wanted to impress the pretty girl who I was taking out tonight,” he says, throwing me over his shoulder. I let out a yelp. “Shhhh! Randall’s gonna ground me,” Taylor says throwing me on the bed. “I am so beat.”

  “Me too.”

  We both yank off our clothes, and entwine with each other, becoming a crumpled, sleeping pile of limbs on the large wooden canopy bed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The ride back from the Holden estate is sunnier and warmer than the ride up.

  “I have plans for you,” Taylor says.

  “Such as?”

  “Oh, you’ll see in time.”

  “Why does that make me nervous?”

  “Because you know I’m disturbed.”

  “Well, at least you’re self-aware.”

  “I may have many issues, lacking self awareness was never one of them. I know myself very well.”

  “I always thought I did, but apparently, I don’t know any
thing about myself.”

  “You are very self-assured, I just think you are far more complex than you give yourself credit for.”

  I ponder the thought for a second, and he’s right. Accepting the job offer, leaving Rick for Taylor, my tendency towards masochism, helping Taylor frame Eric, I guess I am rather complex. And to think I always found myself to be rather dull.

  “Maybe complexity is not such a good thing,” I say.

  “It’s the best thing.”

  My cell phone rings, I pull it out of my jacket pocket and sneak a peek, it’s MacAllister. Shit.

  I ignore the call.

  “Who was it?”

  “Wrong number.”

  “It said Mr. MacAllister. Do you usually preemptively store stranger’s phone numbers on your phone?” Why the fuck would I save his name on my phone? I suck at top secret investigations.

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “Why did you lie?”

  “It would be easier to just explain that than who it was.”

  “We have plenty of time to talk on this drive. We’ll be sitting here for a while.”

  Normally, I am pretty good at crafting a quick story, but he has me frazzled, and nothing I can think of seems to make sense other than the truth. So I go with the truth, sort of.

  “It’s Kristin’s cousin. He must be looking for her.”

  “You refer to her cousin as ‘Mister?’”

  “He’s much older.”

  Taylor frowns pensively as he looks at the road ahead. I think I may have pulled it off.

  “It’s just that, if it was just her cousin, then why would you lie about who he is?”

  “I don’t know. I just did, okay?” Going on the defensive has always worked for me in the past.

  “Shyla,” Taylor says calmly. “You’re not going to actually try to lie to me here? I am a professional bullshitter and you, well, I know you. I can easily find out who he really is. I would prefer you just tell me.”

  He has me cornered, but I can’t reveal the information about his mother like this. I have to do that willingly, he needs to know it was my choice to reveal that. I elect the next option; it will no doubt make him angry, but at least I can avoid opening up the wounds of his childhood. It’s about time I tell him about the texts anyway.