AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He wouldn't break her. She wouldn't let him. She was a Domme, for fuck's sake, and that was her fucking safe place.
“Okay, sweetheart, you want to fight me, this is the time to do it. I've got all night.” He hummed and waggled his finger in her sensitive rear passage, stirring all the nerves to life. Making her feel sick. “I find it strange you didn't put anal on your hard limits when it's obvious it distresses you. That makes me wonder if you believed I wouldn't go down this road, or if you were hoping I would.”
She held on to her silence like a comforter.
“Blindfolds, watersports, blood play, pet play.” One by one, he listed her hard limits. “Would you like to add anal to that list now?”
She'd been through worse than this, she reminded herself. Atticus wasn't hurting her, certainly wasn't being malicious. Keeping her mouth shut was the only thing she had to do, and he'd get bored. He could be patient, but she was the living embodiment of the trait.
He sighed. “In my line of work, you get to know people. How to read them, how to judge them. When they're lying and scared, or truthful and evasive. There's a file on my desk with a big red sticky note on the front. There's a lot of papers in that file, documenting the consistent abuse of—”
The scream in her head deafened her. She stiffened, her blood running through her veins like rivers of ice until every inch of her was frozen. The warmth of his hands on her was the only thing keeping her grounded in the here and now, and even that connection was tenuous.
The story she'd told Anarchy only a couple months before about the Dominant she'd served had been a lie, but only Connie knew that. There was only Connie left alive who knew the truth about those eighteen months of utter hell…or so she'd thought. How the fuck had Atticus managed to dig up that level of hell from where she'd buried it?
Blood dripped down her chin, she'd bitten her lip so hard. “Stop.”
“I will when you let yourself go.” He removed his finger gently from the place she hated beyond reason, and she found herself being lifted, turned, placed gently on his thigh. His eyes darkened when he saw the blood on her face. “I should spank you again for not using your fucking safeword, Connie.”
She’d prefer it over talking about her past. Sitting quietly when he set her on the bed and rose, she watched him prowl over to a cupboard and yank out a packet of wet wipes, saying nothing as he came back to her and began tending to her boo-boos.
Daddy Doms were the best at fixing boo-boos.
It was just a shame she wasn’t a little…
Because being taken care of felt nice.
“My objective tonight is to make you cry, Con. We both know it, and we’re both aware you’ve got it in your head that you’re not going to. So, I’m not going to play nice. I’m going to tie you up and flog you until the cork pops on all that shit inside you, and I’m not against cheating.” He dabbed at her sore lip with a wipe, meeting her eyes with a sober gaze. “I read the file on Evan Saunders, sweetheart.”
It took a lot of effort not to react to that name. Once, she’d had nightmares for days at a time if anyone so much as mentioned it in casual passing. That asshole was in the past, and she kept her past locked in, locked away, and hidden.
“I don’t get why you care so much, Atticus.”
“Because you’re my annoying best friend and I love you. Because you’re family, and because Avalon sees you as an honorary matriarch. None of us will be the same if anything happens to you, and the way you’re acting has us all scared, sweetheart.” He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Are you going to talk to me, or do I need to get the cuffs and flogger?”
Miserable, Connie dropped her gaze to her hands as she worried her fingers together. They both knew he’d need one, because he wouldn’t give up until he got his way, and she couldn’t give in. “Don’t forget the condom.”
“I think it's time you let me worry about the details, little sub.” Strong fingers gripped her chin, urged her face up so she couldn't avoid meeting vivid green eyes. “I want you to stand up and go over to that curtain in the corner. Feet apart, hands at your sides, eyes closed.”
Everyone knew Atticus's favored position was doggy style. Ninety-nine percent of his scenes involved a hapless sub being bent over just the way he liked. Connie frowned as she realized he was deviating from his usual habits, which meant she wasn't going to be able to read him as easily as she'd hoped. “I thought…I thought you'd want me on hands and knees. Sir,” she tacked on hastily when his eyes narrowed.
“Already told you how I want you. Don't believe you can outthink me, Connie—I won't let you top me from the bottom.” Atticus released her jaw and stepped back. With a snap of his fingers, a pointed jab toward the corner, and a raised eyebrow, he gave her no doubt as to what she was meant to do.
She rose and slunk into the corner, setting her feet shoulder-length apart and forcing her hands to hang limply by her sides. Eyes firmly closed. The muscles in her back and shoulders grew tense as she heard him rummaging through cupboards, sliding drawers open and closed. She was desperate to fidget, to move, to escape if that's what it would take to ease the anxiety building inside her.
Fingers trailed down her right arm from her shoulder to her wrist. Before she could yank away, a padded cuff was slipped around her limb, tightened, and assessed. Heat pulsed into her as the snugness stole part of her independence. A second cuff was fixed into place, and Atticus hummed as he reached around her waist to fasten what she thought was some kind of belt in position, just above her hips.
“Master Atticus?” she asked hesitantly.
Ignoring her, the bastard continued to hum, snapping what sounded like a quick release hook onto her right cuff. Another onto the left. “That looks real pretty.” He moved in front of her, and something made a soft whooshing sound. A small draft caressed her bare skin. “Lift your hands for me, little sub. High as you can.” His fingers trailed over her shoulder as he returned to his position behind her.
Wary, Connie raised her hands slowly, recognising the trap. Still, it was a shock to find her range of movement was now limited to about six inches before the chains attached to the belt around her waist yanked tight. She made an uncomfortable noise in her throat and stepped back quickly as though that would help her predicament.
“Connie, you know the drill. I can get you out of this in five seconds flat if it's too much.” The soft thwack of flogger strands made her flinch and step back again…into Atticus's chest. He nudged her forward, gathering her hair and draping it over her shoulder so the ends tickled her breast. “Open your eyes when you're ready, Connie.”
It was okay, she told herself. If Atticus was flogging her from the rear, he couldn't see her face. Maybe he'd read her body language, but if he couldn't meet her eyes, he wouldn't have any power over how he made her feel. The most effective method of breaking someone down was with eye contact, and he'd put himself in a position where he had none.
Connie arched away as the fronds flicked lightly, almost playfully over her shoulders. No one had been allowed to do this is a long time, and it felt both weird and amazing. The exhaustion in her bones rose to rest beneath her skin as the flogger encouraged her to relax. If she wasn't careful, she'd collapse in a limp heap.
