Michele Zurlo (13 page)

He admired the view of her naked body and her vulnerable position before he crossed the room to the large armoire situated between the doors to the main bathroom and the bedroom. The room came equipped with everything. He tugged open a drawer and rummaged around for a suitable paddle. Various shapes and sizes filled the space. Some had words cut out so that they’d leave an untouched imprint in the midst of the red mark. Most were leather. A few were made from rubber.

He chose one that packed more noise than sting. He knew she could take quite a beating. Subspace wasn’t the goal tonight.

By the time he returned, her body was strung tight. Bending down, he ran a finger down one of her luscious cheeks. She flinched. He chuckled. “Relax, honey. This will be different. Make no mistake about that. You spoke disrespectfully to me, and I will not put up with that. You’re a better woman than one who resorts to bitchiness and wild accusations. Tell me how many you deserve.”

She inhaled with controlled steadiness. “Ten.”

He would have accepted seven or eight. It was her first punishment and her behavior had been uncharacteristic. “Ten it is. Count and thank me for each one.”

Standing behind her had some drawbacks, but knowing her so well made up for that. “Two more for rolling your eyes.”

When she didn’t argue, he knew he’d guessed correctly. He swung hard. The sharp crack echoed off the floor tiles.

“One. Thank you.”

She’d altered her posture. He realigned everything before continuing. If they had been playing, he would have drawn it out, increased the sexual tension. She counted out all twelve. By the time he finished, she quivered with the effort it cost to remain on her hands and knees. It wasn’t a position she was used to assuming.

“Drop down. Rest your ass on your feet, your cheek on the floor, and put your arms back along the floor so your hands are near your feet.” It was a good resting pose, and it would keep her in a submissive position, give her some time to think about what she’d done and how he’d reacted.

He set the paddle on the island dividing the gourmet kitchen from the living room. Tomorrow night, he decided, he’d make dinner for the two of them. If they were still there. He couldn’t imagine how Heather would be able to make travel arrangements for all the guests and workers on the island.

Because she was unbound and on the floor, he left her alone while he went to brush his teeth. They’d spent the day trail riding and he was beat. He estimated five minutes before he returned to find her exactly where he’d left her.

He crouched down and put his hands on her hips. “I’m going to help you up. You need to tell me if anything’s fallen asleep.”

With his guidance, she rose slowly to her feet. She rolled her shoulders and flexed her feet. “I’m fine.”

“How’s your ass?”

A deep, delicious red crept up her neck and blossomed on her cheeks. Her gaze fastened on a point somewhere near his belly button. “It’s fine. You’ve spanked me harder with your bare hand.”

Using one finger, he lifted her chin until she met his eyes. “What did you think of your punishment?”

Pressed against his finger, he felt her chin tremble. “I hated it.”

That much, he knew. “Why?”

“Mostly because I didn’t like the fact I let you down. I was bitchy to you, and you didn’t deserve it. Being punished wasn’t the bad part. The fact that you had to punish me was the worst.”

A tear glistened at the corner of one eye. He waited for it to fall so he could wipe it away. “Now that you’ve been punished, the matter is resolved.”

Hopefully that would allow her to let it go. He didn’t want another apology or to have to issue additional assurances. Sabrina carried too much guilt for things that didn’t matter all that much to anyone else.

She nodded, a stilted movement. He didn’t push the matter. She needed time to process what had happened.

“Go get ready for bed. It’s been a long day.”

* * * *

Sabrina lay awake in the dark. Sounds of the sea drifted through the slider they’d left open to let in the soft trade winds and their soothing breeze. A glance at Jonas showed that he was crashed. The last two days had been physically and emotionally exhausting. She understood that he was trying to push their relationship to a deeper level. She wanted the same thing, only she didn’t know if his methods would work.

When he’d first brought up the idea of being submissive, she had agreed because she trusted him. While she didn’t regret her decision, she’d be lying if she said she completely understood her reaction to total submission. She also didn’t know if Jonas allowing her to have an actual conversation with Mistress Hera as an equal qualified as a submissive activity.

Gently, she shoved aside the soft sheet and slid from bed. One of Jonas’s chain store cotton shirts was draped over a chair nearby. She slipped it over her head and went out to the balcony. With the questions whirling in her head, she wasn’t going to get much sleep.

She paced to the other side of the balcony. It ran the length of their suite, so she didn’t worry about disturbing Jonas. Her mind raced as she stopped at the railing and gripped the edge. Above her, the Milky Way spun in the infinite space, dwarfing her problems, but not diminishing them.

Two years ago, her sister Ginny had talked her into taking yoga classes. Sabrina had enjoyed it and Jonas had been supportive, but between work and spending time with her family, there had been little time to continue practicing. She’d taken to using the breathing exercises when she needed a moment alone to relax.

At her core, Sabrina was one of those people who stressed about everything. If she tackled a project, she made sure it ended up a model of perfection. When they’d first married, Jonas had taught her how to take a step back and trust other people to live up to her expectations. It freed up a lot of her time, but it hadn’t changed the fact that she was an obsessive perfectionist.

Snapping at Jonas had been a very low moment. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone off on him. He’d spent years goading her into losing her temper as a way to relieve stress. When that didn’t work, and it frequently didn’t, he would strap her to a spanking bench or the St. Andrew’s cross and flog her until she broke.

She needed a good session on a pretty regular basis, and Jonas had been wonderful about giving her what she needed. While she didn’t think he wanted to have fewer sessions with her, she did feel his frustration that they were almost always just to help her relax. It put a lot of pressure on him. He didn’t seem to mind, but she sensed that he wanted to find other ways to achieve the same results.

Did she like being submissive? That was a difficult question to answer. She’d played the part in scenes, which she loved to do, and she was always submissive sexually. It was a formula that had worked well for them for the past five years.

And this was a vacation. How would being submissive work once they returned home? She had kids to consider now. Would seeing this different dynamic make them think women were lesser than men?

Pressure throbbed at her temples. As she rubbed them, she realized she’d let Jonas open up a clown car. It seemed so simple and compact, but one problem after another poured forth. Each of them brought more stress.

So she switched her strategy. Instead of thinking about the problems, she thought about what she got out of it. Being punished had been a little on the humiliating side. If she didn’t love and trust Jonas so much, she never would have been able to accept the spanking. Compared to much of the impact play in which they’d engaged, the spanking had been nothing. Though the smacks had resounded from the tile in the room, she’d barely felt them. The horse had done more damage to her rear end than that rubber paddle had.

Of course, that was the point. Jonas had known the humiliation aspect would be the worst part of it for her. He hadn’t felt the need for lasting physical punishment. Given the fact that she was a strong, opinionated woman in charge of multibillion-dollar marketing campaigns and a host of employees, she would have thought she would revolt at the idea of being a real submissive.

But that hadn’t been an issue at all. In fact, the punishment had absolved her of all the guilt she would have felt if she’d simply apologized. That simple act, one she didn’t have a problem performing, had never been enough. The way she beat herself up over those things definitely annoyed the hell out of Jonas.

One issue had been satisfactorily resolved. The others required more time and experience. She still had three submissive days left before their scheduled talk.

Since she still couldn’t sleep, she sat on one of the cushioned wicker chairs and stared at the sky. If she were a few inches taller, she could stare at the ocean. Given how the stars stole her breath, she couldn’t mourn the loss. Due to light pollution, this kind of clarity was only available when they visited the Lake Michigan sand dunes.

As she sat there, her mind cleared, and she realized that talking to the bank manager wasn’t going to get Heather anywhere. If the accounts had been frozen, then there was nothing a manager could do.

After a quick trip to the kitchen to grab her tablet, she settled back on the chair and called Ellen. Jonas’s best friend owned an upscale BDSM dungeon and the attached dance club. She might be able to shed a little light on the issue.

Ellen appeared on the screen fairly quickly. In the background, the room was dimly lit and Ellen’s hair was a mess.

Sabrina covered her mouth with her hand. It was the middle of the night. Ellen and her husband, Ryan, were probably asleep. Or they had been. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how late it is.”

The pretty brunette laughed. “That’s okay. We weren’t sleeping. What’s wrong?”

The fact that Jonas’s friend was so good at reading her had initially disconcerted Sabrina. Eventually they’d developed a close friendship. She trusted Ellen implicitly.

She tried to smile, but it came out tired and a little sad. “It’s that obvious?”

“You look a little worse for the wear, and not in a sated, good kind of way.”

Sabrina took a deep breath. Heather had confided in them, but Sabrina hadn’t promised anything except to listen. “It turns out the woman who runs Elysium is an old friend of Jonas’s.” She left out any mention of Helene. Just the name could set Ellen on a tirade. It made Sabrina feel a little better to know that Jonas’s friends and family liked her much better than his first wife.

Ellen lifted a dark brow. “Oh?”

Shaking her head, Sabrina said, “That’s not why I called. The owners of this place are in the middle of a nasty divorce. They’ve frozen all the bank accounts. There’s an island full of guests, and no way to pay the workers.”

“Or the bills.” Ellen snorted. “I bet there was infidelity. I’ve met the owners a few times. They were both sluts. It doesn’t surprise me that they’d screw over their entire staff like that.”

Ellen looked over at something out of frame for a second. Her cynical smile disappeared, morphing into something tender and predatory. Sabrina realized why Ellen’s hair was so messy. She probably had Ryan tied up and gagged. It was probably best to conclude the call.

“I was just wondering what kind of advice we could offer Heather about how to manage this mess.”

Ellen’s attention snapped back to the screen. “Heather McDougall? Tall, black, and beautiful? A Dominatrix?”

Sabrina nodded. “She’s going by Mistress Hera here.”

Ellen pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and grinned. “God I miss her. After Jonas trained her, she became one of my best. Then she left to work at a resort in France and we lost touch.”

Now that she’d realized what was likely going on where she couldn’t see, she wanted to get off the phone. If she were tied up in bed or anywhere else, she wouldn’t be too happy if Jonas stopped to have a conversation. She tried to prod Ellen. “There’s nothing she can do, is there?”

Ellen pursed her lips. “Let me think about it. I’ll call you back in the morning. Not too early though. The kids are spending the night at Ryan’s parents, so we’re sleeping in.”

Sabrina nodded. “Thanks, Elle. I appreciate it.” She pushed the button to end the call.

“What’re you doing out here?”

Sabrina’s heart raced. She felt like a naughty child who’d stolen an extra cookie and snuck outside to eat it only to find the law waiting. She put a hand on her chest as if that would slow the thumping there and looked up at Jonas, who wore only the boxer briefs he’d had on when he’d fallen into bed. The dim starlight glinted from the ripples of his well-defined chest. When he looked that good, there was no hope for her heart rate.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He held a hand out to her. She rose from the chair and went to him. The idea of refusing never crossed her mind. He pulled her into his arms and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re worried about what?”

Because she wasn’t close to figuring out all the issues she had and she had no idea how to resolve anything, she chose not to talk about that. “I asked Ellen if she had any ideas for helping Heather. I realized the bank manager won’t be able to help.”

His arms tightened around her for a second before he steered her through the door to the bedroom. The screen closed automatically. She set the tablet on an accent table as she continued to the bed.