His Battered Submissive (Restrained Fantasies Book 3) by Brandi Evans

Author:Brandi Evans [Evans, Brandi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blushing Books Publications
Published: 2020-08-02T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Maddox forced himself not to rush as he took Sarge out for his last nature call of the night and then filled his food and water bowls. While the dog chowed, Maddox checked the locks and engaged the security system. He even put his phone on "do not disturb", so they'd have no interruptions for the next several hours, not unless they were absolute emergencies.

Speaking of interruptions, he knelt beside Sarge. "Kat and I will be quite engaged for some time. If I were you, old man, I'd stay out here until things go quiet, okay?"

Sarge stopped eating and spared Maddox a glance. If Maddox didn't know any better, he'd have sworn understanding reflected in the animal's eyes.

"Good then. We understand ourselves."

Sarge nodded—he fucking nodded—and then promptly returned to his dinner.

Maddox gave the old cop a good stroke from head to tail, grabbed the paper bag from where he'd left it on the barstool, and then headed to the bedroom. True to his instruction, Kat—his sub—sat cross-legged in the center of the bed. She'd taken time to pull the covers down, the dark blue comforter and sheets folded back neatly. The dark hue was the perfect backdrop for the pale-skinned beauty waiting for him, adrift on an ocean of cloth, and he had to take a moment to steady his breath.

His cock went rock hard. If he weren't so disciplined, he would have stripped down that very second and fucked her blind but getting his rocks off wasn't the purpose of tonight's scene. Although, if all went well, he'd still get his rocks off. He'd play that by ear, though. Baby step by baby step, he'd inch her back into the lifestyle and see how she responded. Wanting something with the mind didn't mean the emotional self would react accordingly.

The part of the brain responsible for fear could hijack the rest of the emotions quickly, and an emotional battlefield was all too often the result. He didn't want that for Kat. He'd seen similar scenarios in many of his abuse victims. They wanted to testify against their abusers, but they also wanted to go back to them. The brain was a fickle meat computer.

At the edge of the bed, he produced the delicate box he'd stored in the bag and crooked his index finger at her. Obediently, she pushed onto hands and knees and crawled to him. Her pert breasts jiggled with the movement, and her bare ass swayed. His dick ached to be inside her again, but his inner Dom had a firm hand on the reins.

When she reached him, she sat in a kneeling position, and he handed her the gift, wrapped in simple butcher paper. What the simple-looking wrapping concealed, however, was far from bland.

She tore the paper away much too slowly for his liking, as if she purposely wanted to drive him mad.

When she freed the treasure—a neutral-colored box with a pair of manacles shaped into an "R" and an "F" carved on top—her eyebrows knit together.

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