The Gate (Dark Path Series) (11 page)

“The game starts now. You do not speak. Just nod your head yes or no. You obey my every word. If I tell you at any point to leave the room, you leave with no questions asked. If you complain, you’re gone for good.”

He nodded and tried licking his lips. Instead, he swiped his tongue across her gloved palm. He almost sighed from the taste. When she released him, he dug his fingers in his palms to stop from grabbing her and sticking his tongue into her mouth.

“If I find out you told anyone what went on here, I’ll make you regret it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” The word
mistress
swirled in his head.

“Good. Let’s begin.” She opened the door.

He followed her into the room. She closed the door behind him, pushing him into a metal chair. He got comfortable—as much as his happy dick would allow. Spreading his palms over his legs, he took stock of the room.

A husky, broad man, who looked twenty years older than him, was bound on a cross-like structure. A red rubber ball had been stuffed in his mouth, held in place by a belt buckle. Clamps sheathed his nipples. His dick was covered in some constricting leather apparatus. He yanked on his cuffs, mumbling around the ball.

Catherine strode over to the guy, slapping him in the face. Seizing him by the hair, she shook his head, whispering something to him. His eyes were wide, bright with dampness. Her hand went in between his legs and twisted. The man howled into his gag until she released him, disgust crossing her face.

Bryan flinched along with his hardening cock. He dug his fingers into his thighs as he charted her movements. She went over to a queen-size bed where a woman lay bound and gagged.

Catherine ran her finger across the woman’s face then trailed her nails over her chest, circling her nipples. She drew invisible lines down to her stomach then between her legs. Kneeling on the bed, she blew a kiss at the bound man just as her gloved finger disappeared inside the woman’s pussy.

The woman arched, releasing a muffled cry. Catherine pumped her hand, slapping the woman’s hips, stomach, and chest with the other until red marks appeared. After a minute or so, she removed her hand, flashing her finger. It glistened, damp with a slight white coating. She licked her gloved digit clean.

Bryan curled his fingers into his palms, his nails stabbing his skin. He wouldn’t lose control. He would make her proud, and then he’d collect his prize.

Catherine approached a small cabinet, opening the doors. She flipped on the stereo. A booming combination of instruments played followed by a woman’s high-pitched singing. It sounded like some sort of opera, but since he didn’t listen to such boring music, he didn’t recognize the singer or the song.

She pushed the door open wider. Hanging on the side were various whips and different types of canes. On the other side, a shelf displayed all types of instruments and toys. Grabbing a black flogger, she stalked to the center of the room, flicking the leather device high in the air.

God, she’s gorgeous!
His mouth pooled with saliva as she worked the whip. His cock throbbed, and his balls constricted. The familiar buildup of heat in his stomach traveled low in his gut, forcing him to inhale through his nose.

She slashed the flogger across the man’s thighs, his navel. The edges snapped over his dick and balls. The man squealed in pain, sweat pouring down his face.

Laughing, she shook her head. “Pussy.”

She continued flogging him. Not once did she mark him above the waist but abused the flesh around his flanks and thighs.

Bryan gritted his teeth, driving his nails deeper into his palms. But it didn’t help. He crossed his leg over his raging boner to stop his orgasm from building. As she abused the man, he expected blood to be drawn, but it never happened. Welts and bright red marks emerged.

Pausing, she gripped the man by the back of his head, whispering something to him. He nodded, closing his eyes. His head dipped down, and his entire body bent forward as much as his bonds would allow. She stared at the woman on the bed while she twisted the clamps on the man’s nipples. When he cried out in pain, the lady struggled on the bed.

Catherine laughed again. “This is the beginning of your punishment. Just wait until you see what else I have in store for you two.”

Returning to the cabinet, she coated the flogger’s handle in what looked like lubricant. She then stalked behind her male captive.

She met Bryan’s eyes, showing no reaction as she smacked the guy’s ass cheeks and spread them apart.

Bryan almost jumped up from his seat, squirming as she stuck the handle in the man’s asshole. The man rocked on it, clenching his ass cheeks. Catherine slapped the back of his head, telling him to behave or she would break out the
Tear Jerker
.

He didn’t know what the fuck a
Tear Jerker
was. He almost looked away as the man was plugged with the instrument. His own ass clenched as if he was the one tied up being punished.

His cock leaked more fluid, so he cupped himself. Shit, he had at least another hour to go.

When she seemed satisfied with the man bending forward and staring at the floor, she returned to the cabinet, taking out a flesh colored dildo.

The music swelled louder, a chorus of voices filling the room.
Did she plan it that way?
When they finally came together, their heavy breathing and moaning would be enough noise for him.

She swayed her hips as she approached the bed. Standing at the side where the couple could see her, she lifted the dildo to her mouth and deep throated it. Both spoke—or tried to—behind their gags.

He bit down so hard on his bottom lip it split. He winced, the coppery taste splashing his tongue, then groaned, his cock jerking against his palm. Watching Cathy suck the rubber phallic had him so hot he didn’t think—

Oh, shit
!

Sitting forward, he covered his mouth to stop from calling out her name. She knelt next to the bed and, without any preparation, jammed the rubber toy deep into the woman’s pussy. She arched, stiffening as her hips rose from the mattress. Laughing, Cathy bent down, taking her captive’s nipple in her mouth. She pumped the dildo while she sucked. The woman ground her pelvis into the toy, her entire body jerking up and down.

He couldn’t look away while she pleasured the woman. Her tongue circled around first one nipple then the other. Inching down, she swiped her tongue over the woman’s stomach. With the dildo still inside, she spread open the woman’s pussy. Turning, she winked at him then did the same to the bound man who tugged on his bonds.

“Cathy,” he whispered.

Her tongue swiped over the woman’s waxed cunt. She licked her captive like an ice cream cone, wiggling her tongue alongside the dildo still thrust deep into the weeping pussy.

The music ended. The remaining sounds in the room were Cathy’s slurping and the muffled moans from the other two.

The man jerked once, twice…then fell forward. As he strained in his bonds, his head hung low. The woman thrust her hips up high, trembling. Removing the dildo, Cathy positioned herself between her captive’s thighs. When her face landed over the woman’s cunt, his balls swelled, and his cock pulsed. He squeezed down but couldn’t stop. In a hoarse voice, he called out her name as he shot his load.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his release to overtake him. It went on forever. When the music began again, his entire body humming from satisfaction, he opened his eyes. His sexy dominatrix was no longer on the bed but in the middle of the room with her arms crossed.

“Game’s over, you lose. Now leave,” she ordered. With a cane in her hand, she strode over to the man, rounding behind him. She raised the thin rod and hit him on his ass.

Bryan got to his feet, overcome with dizziness. He didn’t say anything as he left. She didn’t acknowledge him. She was too busy beating the man.

Wrung out, he shut the door and dropped to the floor. It was more than worth it to see Catherine in action. Even coming in his pants didn’t embarrass him. She’d done that to him, and he wanted much more.

His cock sprang to life again. He wished he was back in the room, so he could come a second time. He didn’t cave with the impulse to find release in his usual way the entire time he watched her. He would go insane if he didn’t release the nagging restlessness consuming him. He refused to go to anyone else for help. Only Catherine would do. In the end, he would be her slave, welcoming her whippings and canings. She would tease him until he sobbed like a baby.

But for any of it to come true, he would need to have patience.

From his shirt pocket, he took a razor the bouncer had failed to find when he’d patted him down. He stroked the blade over his cheek, swearing he heard it hum. Many times the sharp edge sang to him.

Fuck, he was weak.

He stood, steadier than before, in search of a bathroom where he could reacquaint himself with his own instrument of pain. The razor would give him the oblivion he needed until he figured out a way to get Cathy to do it for him.

Chapter Ten

The ache in her back and shoulders woke her. Erika shifted on her side, pulling the covers over her head. Her throat was parched, her lips chapped. When she shifted, her inner thighs cramped.
It’s like I’ve completed a boot camp, step, and kickboxing class all rolled into one.

She opened her eyes, blinking to bring things into focus. The sheet covered her head, protecting her like a lover.

Lover. Maxwell.

Yanking the sheet down, she rolled onto her back, wincing as more aches popped up. She eased upright. Pushing back her hair, she flinched then rotated her wrists. The skin was red and tender.

“What a night,” she whispered into the dark room.

Her bladder prodded her, needing relief. Stepping onto the floor, she paused while dizziness overtook her. She breathed in deep to clear her head.

A slant of light came through the drapes that cloaked the room in obscurity. She searched around for a clock, locating one with an empty condom wrapper laying in front of it on the bedside table. It was a little after ten in the morning.

She checked the room for her discarded clothes. She couldn’t remember how or when she got undressed. Most of the night was a blur. The moment he bent her over the table she’d lost her mind.

Where did he go?
She didn’t hear any sounds outside the bedroom. Would he leave her here to fend for herself? She couldn’t imagine him doing that. But then again, how well did she really know the man?

Her bladder cramped again. She needed to use the bathroom. Walking across the room, she opened a door she believed might offer her relief. She covered her mouth by what she found.

Soft nature sounds, much like the ones played in a spa, came from a sound system. In the middle of the room, a huge tub that would comfortably fit more than two waited, filled to the brim with bubbles. Next to the tub sat a plate of fruit and a pitcher of water. A navy terry cloth robe hung on the wall. Walking over to the table, she picked up the piece of paper next to the fruit.

Erika,

Enjoy your bath. Drink and eat to replenish your energy. Afterward, put on the robe and join me.

Yours,

Max

Yours. He signed it yours
. She traced a finger over his handwriting. The bath looked so inviting she couldn’t resist.

After using the toilet, she stepped into the tub. She stood there a moment, growing accustomed to the heated water. At last, she eased down into the frothy suds, biting her lip to hold back a yelp. Her entire body was one big ball of soreness, but the stiffness would diminish thanks to the wonderful bath her Max had drawn for her.

Her Max. Or was he?

She splashed water on her face, a million thoughts running through her head. Where did they go from here? How in the world would she be able to write her article and keep things professional between them? Was their encounter a one-time thing, or did he want more? Did
she
want more? The night before had blown her freakin’ mind. She’d never acted in such a manner with any man—never had thought to. Max not only devoured her body but also her soul. He’d taken her to heights she never thought possible.

The thing he’d done with his tongue in that certain area that was off-limits had left her crazy for more, not to mention him tying her up, leaving her at his mercy.

Her calf cramped, causing her to grimace. Leaning back, she poured a glass of water and sipped it. It didn’t take long for her to relax enough to fall asleep again, but her mind buzzed with Max. Before she decided whether they should have a more personal relationship that exceeded friendship, she needed to know more about the man.

Easing from the tub, she gasped at her reflection in the mirror while she dried off. Small bruises and teeth marks riddled her throat and chest. Black and blue fingerprints covered sections of her hips and thighs where he’d held her down while he pounded into her.

“I look like I’ve been in a fight.” She hugged herself.
Her two previous lovers had been tender, controlled—unlike Max, who was like a steam engine. She’d heard from other women that sometimes lusty lovemaking or sex led to bruising and hickeys.

I have a hickey!
Giggling, she ran a finger over her throat, poking the love marks. It didn’t hurt—unlike her aching inner thighs or higher where the twinge between her legs wouldn’t stop.

Her stomach growled, although she’d eaten more than half the fruit provided. Grabbing her glass, she walked out of the room. Someone had opened the drapes, allowing the light in. The storm from the night before gone, clear blue sky lay beyond the windows showcasing an excellent view of the Manhattan skyline. She would have loved to stare out the window, but she was more interested in finding a certain individual. She wanted to thank him for his thoughtfulness, even though he had yet to make an appearance.

Leaving the bedroom, she entered the living room, stopping in her tracks. A shirtless Max, wearing flannel pajama bottoms and nothing else, sat at the dining room table. Plates filled with breakfast foods along with a pot of steaming liquid that smelled like coffee beckoned. Her mouth watered over the caffeine as well as the beautiful man who approached her barefooted.

“Good morning. Did you enjoy your bath?” He stroked the side of her head.

She shivered from the pleasure of his touch. “Yes. It was wonderful. But I would’ve enjoyed it more if you’d joined me.”

“I had some work-related things to take care of first. I’m not a great sleeper, so instead of waking you, I let you sleep.” His stare became pensive, and he drew his hand down her hair to her shoulder. Frowning, he brushed his thumb over her hickey. “You have other marks on your body.”

When he loosened the belt around the robe, she almost stopped him but thought it best to let him look. She kept her arms at her sides as he undressed her.

His fingers outlined the front of her body, tracing each one of the marks. Her breathing deepened as he touched her breasts, stomach, and between her legs. She stumbled but grabbed his arms to steady herself.

His face morphed into one of satisfaction. “You look beautiful with my marks.” Pulling her into a hug, he rubbed his face in her hair. “Have breakfast with me?”

“Yes, but we need to talk about…things,” she said on a breathless whisper.

He reached under her robe and squeezed her butt. “Of course.” His mouth rubbed hers. “We’ll eat then talk.”

Parting her lips, she slid her tongue inside his mouth. He moaned in appreciation, joining in the kiss, his hands cupping her ass, pulling her to him until his arousal poked her leg. She became achy all over again, but in a different way that only he could soothe.

“I feel like a princess. I never had anyone draw me a bath and serve me breakfast.” Not wanting to ruin the mood, she purposely left out “man”. She had a strong inkling any mention of her past lovers—all two of them—wouldn’t go over well.

Releasing her, he filled her plate while she sat down. After serving her, he filled a second one for himself then took a seat. Taking her hand, he brushed his thumb back and forth across her knuckles, sending tingles down her arms and legs.

Smiling, he titled his head. “Why are you sitting here with me when you should be running out the door in fear for your life?”

His words shocked her. “Um, why would I be scared of you? Is it because of what you did to me on this table that I hope you had the decency to wipe down?” She rapped the polished wood. “Or tying me up in bed?”

“Both.” He released her hand, his face revealing nothing.

She scrutinized his eyes for some sort of emotion, but they were vacant. Max shutting down scared her more than being tied up or held down on a table while he had his way with her. She needed to figure out a way to prove to him she didn’t mind his forceful, animalistic side.

Standing, she walked to him, bending to give him a long, deep kiss. She savored his mouth, flicking her tongue across his lips. His arms came around her, pulling her onto his lap. She kept kissing him until his hand crept inside the robe to cup her breast.

She broke away, feeling both drowsy and protected in his hold. “Now, do I look like I’m ready to run out of the room, calling you a pervert and demanding you leave me alone?”

She swiped her finger over his chin where he had yet to shave. She leaned in to lick over his scruff. Fisting his hand in her hair, he pulled her away until they were face to face.

“You liked what I did to you last night, how you were tied down and at my complete mercy?” His voice came out more like a purr, and she pushed her legs together to stop the ache from growing.

“Very much so. I’d be open to doing something like that again,” she admitted, gazing into his eyes.

He didn’t smile or kiss her. His grip in her hair tightened, but she restrained a wince. The blank slate on his face disappeared, his eyes darkening, his lip curling. “You would?”

His hand slithered down her front, landing on her stomach, where he circled his palm. Her eyes flickered shut. She wanted to ask him to touch her between her legs, but she held back, growing wetter as he caressed her. Soon enough, he would give her what she needed.

“Yes. Last night was one of the most amazing sexual experiences of my life. I want to have more of the same with you.” She shifted, parting her thighs to show him what she wanted.

His hand didn’t move down to stroke her where she throbbed. Instead, he pressed his forehead to hers. His breath washed over her face. She smelled the dark roasty scent of the coffee he’d drunk.

“If you want to be with me, you have to play by my rules. When it comes to sex, I like it rough. I like to be inventive. My needs aren’t simple when I try getting off. That’s why I need some kinkier play in bed like bondage, toys, going as far as whipping and sexual torture. Erika, I’m aroused when I’m in charge, giving the woman I’m with some sort of pain or discipline.” His hands came around her head, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Last night I restrained myself. Barely. Even though I was gentle, I still gave you marks and bruises. If you agree to be my lover, you have to open your mind, allow me to do whatever I want to you.”

She covered his fingers with hers. He moved back, the dark expression vanishing, apprehension taking its place. Her stomach clenched. It wasn’t a sexual reaction but more like worry.

She rubbed her thumbs on the inside of his wrists, over his steady pulse. Drawing his hand to her mouth, she kissed his palm, keeping her lips on his skin, breathing in his manly scent. She would never get enough of his smell or wanting him to touch her all over. But first, she needed to know how far he wanted their association to go, what he expected of her, and how intense things would become if she accepted his rules.

“You’re into S&M?”

“Yes. I’ve been in the scene for years, ever since I was a teen. An older girlfriend, who was around twenty-one at the time, introduced me to the lifestyle.”

“Why the interest? I’ve heard….” Her question logged in her throat. She didn’t know how to ask without offending him.

He combed his fingers through her hair. “You heard what?”

“Please don’t get upset. I can understand if you don’t want to answer because it’s very personal, but most people involved in sadomasochism were abused in some way as children or come from messed up homes.” She closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion to follow.

Guffawing, he rocked back in his chair. His arms came around her, hugging her tightly while he chuckled.

She relaxed, hiding her face in his chest. He tugged on her hair, and she looked up at him. The smile he gave her was genuine, filled with humor.

“I’m not laughing at you. Your question is a valid one. I wasn’t molested by some aunt or uncle, and my parents didn’t punish me by locking me in the basement, accusing me of having the devil in me. My father could be a cold bastard at times, and he was a tough taskmaster with my two brothers and me, but he never beat us or threatened to kill us. The most damaging event to my psyche was the death of my mother.”

“Your childhood was pretty normal, not fucked-up at all?”

Frowning, he tapped the top of her nose. “Can you not curse like that? Hearing such a crude word from you bothers me.”

He can’t be serious
. She opened her mouth, but he lifted an eyebrow, daring her to argue. She could ask him why he didn’t like her to use such language or fight him on it, but then their conversation might end, and she wanted to know as much as she could about the secret sexual desires he kept hidden from the public.

“You don’t like the word, fu— Um, a nasty word that’s an alternate description to sex?”

“Coming from you, no.” He traced her lips with his fingertip. “A lady doesn’t use that type of language. Plus, I’d like to think you still have some of your sweet nature inside of you that I didn’t destroy.”

“Max, I’m not some shrinking vi—”

“I know.” He kissed the side of her throat. “You’re a very strong woman. Even with your fear of crowds, you don’t let that define you. I respect that.”

A blush filled her cheeks from his compliment. She drew her fingers through his hair. “And what defines you, Mr. Crawford? Your name, company, or fortune? Or is it the man who tries to keep his sexual nature under lock and key?”