FatalSubmission Page 5

  She turned to her husband, her displeasure clear in every tense line of her petite body. “The idiot hasn’t even told her what’s going on. She probably thinks the broken dates mean he found her lacking.”

  “Laurie­­—” Cam warned.

  “Lacking,” Mason said. “Why the hell would she think that?”

  Laurie spun in his direction, hands fisting on her slender hips. “Because, you idiot, you keep showing up late or canceling. Since you didn’t tell her what’s going on, what else is she supposed to think other than she couldn’t hold your interest?”

  Fuck, he never would understand how women’s minds worked.

  Mason pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and fingers. He pictured ever-impatient Claire all dolled up for their date, sitting in the restaurant waiting, drumming her fingers on the table. She would have been embarrassed and hurt by being stood up. And he hadn’t even called until he’d been a half hour late. Even then he hadn’t spoken to her, just had the hostess tell her.

  Laurie had it right—he was an idiot.

  “See,” Laurie declared. “Look at the guilt written all over his face.”

  The ringing phone saved Mason from dealing with her anger as she stormed out of his office. But it didn’t get him out of facing Cam.

  “Christ, Mason. I told you to tell her about Trina.”

  “What the fuck was I supposed to say?” he snapped. “Sorry I’m never around but I’m trying to find my missing cousin who either skipped town with an invisible lover or was abducted by aliens?”

  His partner didn’t dignify the outburst with a response.

  “What am I supposed to do now?”

  “Well.” Cam considered the situation. “How did she react when you talked to her?”

  Mason groaned and dropped his forehead down onto his desk. “I called the restaurant and had them tell her I wasn’t going to make it.”

  “Laurie’s right. You’re an idiot!”

  Lifting his head, Mason glared at his friend. “Not helping.”

  Cam threw up his hands. “It’s not rocket science. If you still want Claire then you have to go and talk to her. In person. I suggest taking some flowers. If you’re really desperate, get down on your knees and grovel.”

  “Doms don’t grovel,” he grumbled.

  “They do when they’ve screwed up,” Laurie hollered from the other room.

  Cam nodded. “If she’s important then you do whatever it takes.”

  Laurie appeared with a white steno slip, which she handed to Cam. “Flowers aren’t going to cut it. Get her jewelry.”

  “I don’t know anything about jewelry.”

  Laurie rolled her eyes, earning a swat on the ass from Cam.

  “It’s not that hard, Mase. What color are her eyes?”

  “Depends.”

  His comment drew Cam’s interest. “On what?”

  “What she’s wearing and her mood.” He shrugged. “When she wears green her eyes look greener. When she’s impatient they look brown.”

  “Hazel,” Laurie nodded. “Nice. Get her something emerald-green to enhance the color of her eyes. Earrings and a matching pendant would be nice.”

  “Sounds pricey,” he grumbled. “I’ve only known her a handful of weeks.”

  Laurie scowled at him. “Yeah, but you screwed up. If you want to keep on knowing her then you have to make it up to her.”

  He didn’t miss the “cheapskate” muttered under her breath. From the narrowing of Cam’s eyes, her husband hadn’t missed it either. Mason felt certain the mouthy little sub had earned a punishment.

  She knew it too and attempted to lessen the damage. “If you want, I’ll come along and help you pick out something nice.”

  At times he might be an idiot but Mason wasn’t stupid enough to turn down feminine help. “Thanks, Laurie. I’d appreciate that.”

  “How about if I take a look at Trina’s file? Fresh set of eyes might make a difference.”

  Mason handed the thick folder over to Cam, thanking his lucky stars for his good fortune when it came to friends. Now if he could manage to get his cousin home safely and hang on to Claire, life would be good.

  * * * * *

  Ever the gentleman, Carl held the door and allowed her to precede him down the stairs. Second thoughts stopped her for only a few seconds before stepping through the strange entryway. Nothing ventured…

  With her heels clicking on the wooden steps she couldn’t be certain, but Claire thought she’d heard the soft snick of a lock being engaged. Every hair on her body stood on end and her muscles tensed.

  Why the hell would he lock the door? Weren’t they alone in the house? If she ran back up the stairs and turned the knob, would it open?

  Taking a deep breath, she descended the stairs and shoved her crazy fears aside. She’d gone into this with her eyes open and she would not freak out. Carl was a Dom. Her Dom—at least for tonight. If she went into this without trust, limiting her submission, they might as well not even bother.

  When she safely cleared the last step, she lifted her gaze and looked around the room in awe. An actual dungeon.

  Heat washed through her body as her nipples puckered and her panties grew damp. Lord, she felt as if she’d waited her whole life to submit in a real dungeon.

  Gray cinderblock walls and cement foundation. Track lighting fixtures on the ceiling cast a soft glow yet left areas in shadow. A pegboard held a wide variety of floggers, whips, crops and paddles. There against one wall was a strange chair with a padded V-shaped seat to spread the legs open and leather cuffs attached in strategic locations. She noted the familiar shape of a St. Andrew’s Cross looming in the shadows next to an ancient-looking stockade. The dungeon was well-stocked with various padded tables and spanking benches, each one equipped with built-in restraints.

  A small part of Claire hadn’t believed Carl had a dungeon in his basement. But the proof surrounded her. At that very moment in time, she stood in the middle of a private, subterranean, fully equipped dungeon.

  Anticipation supercharged her blood, sending it zooming through her veins. Her abdominal muscles fluttered and she wasn’t sure if the cause was excitement, fear or a combination of the two. She hadn’t thought this far ahead or even got around to wondering how it would feel to be in a dungeon. To know that soon, Carl would restrain and dominate her.

  She shuddered as slender fingers skated over her shoulder and down her spine. Carl. How had she forgotten she wasn’t alone?

  “Go ahead. Take a look around. Check out the equipment while I fix a drink.” He nodded toward a small wet bar. “Would you like anything?”

  She had to pry her tongue from the roof of her dry mouth to respond. “Water.” A strong drink might help bolster her courage, but Claire didn’t want anything to dull her senses.

  Carl turned to the bar and she moved about the room to get a closer look at things. Hanging from a sturdy chain in the ceiling was some kind of contraption with thick, flat metal vertical slats and horizontal bands. It was elongated, rounded at the top then broadening before tapering again toward the bottom. She estimated it at six to six and a half feet tall.

  Her hand flew upward, covering her mouth to hold back a gasp.

  It couldn’t be? But it was. The damn thing was some kind of cage, roughly in the shape of a human.

  Moving past it quickly, she came to a standing device, shaped like the one hanging from the ceiling but solid. An iron maiden? The device had hinged doors, one of which had been left open, revealing an interior lined with spikes. When a person was shut inside, those spikes would press into the flesh.

  Shooting a nervous glance over her shoulder, she located Carl, still at the bar with his back to her.

  Lord, had she made a mistake believing in this man? If he went too far and she asked him to stop, would he?

  Kind of late to get nervous.

  Skirting around a gynecological table complete with stirrups, she approached the center of the room and
the least threatening apparatus she’d seen so far. Similar to a padded massage table with thick wooden legs but oddly canted, as if the maker cut one set of supports shorter than the other. The table surface itself was short, perhaps two-feet long. At the higher end the padding curved over the rounded edge. She noticed a cut out section at the lower end, and off to each side were wide, hinged metal cuffs that would lock someone in place. She stepped around the table and saw similar cuffs toward the bottom of the taller legs.

  Just as she stepped forward, hand extended to test the thickness of the leather padding, a scraping sound had Claire turning her head toward Carl. The toe of her shoe caught on something and her forward momentum threw her off balance.

  Several things occurred at once. She felt herself moving through the air as if she’d been pushed, practically flying with her arm extended, her pelvis slamming into the curved table edge. Her hips folded and her upper body continued, coming to an abrupt halt on top of the table, knocking the breath right out of her. The material of her skirt flapped up, bearing her panty-clad ass to the chilled air.

  She heard the scrape of wood on the concrete floor as the heavy piece of furniture was shoved by the hard impact of her body. This was followed by the loud clang of metal on metal.

  Claire struggled to draw air into her abused lungs and make sense of what had happened. After several painful, wheezed breaths, she pushed with her hands to lift her upper body but was stopped short, her right wrist held firmly in place. Horror dawned as she turned her head to see the cuff had snapped closed over her wrist.

  Her palms were sweaty, her heart pounded against her ribs and her ears were filled with the loud swish of her galloping pulse.

  Lord, she wasn’t sure what won out, her mortification over the undignified position or fear that she’d had help getting into this mess. Had Carl pushed her or had it been an innocent trip and fall?

  “Umm…Carl. Could you help me up?” A burst of nervous laughter passed her lips.

  Catching movement in her peripheral vision, Claire arched her neck to watch Carl’s slow approach. Too slow for her comfort. Apparently the jerk was enjoying the view of her bared butt sticking up.

  Men, ugh!

  She blindly reached back with her free hand, trying to catch the hem of her dress and push it down. As she grasped at material, hard fingers closed over her wrist and forced her left arm toward the open cuff. Claire kicked, bucked her body and struggled against him but Carl had strength on his side. Within moments he had her left arm and both ankles locked down to the table. As she continued to struggle, he fastened a wide leather strap over her hips, severely limiting her movement.

  “Carl, let me go. We haven’t talked about my limits yet.”

  Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. Nobody knew where she’d gone and Carl had turned into a complete psycho. He had her immobilized in his basement dungeon, far from any other house. No one would even hear her scream.

  “Carl,” she screeched, “this isn’t funny.” Claire put all her strength into trying to break free, knowing the effort was wasted but unable to stop fighting for her freedom.

  “I will allow no limits, Claire. You will take what I give you and thank me for it.”

  “Fuck that!” The man was insane. “I changed my mind. Let me up.”

  A crack split the air a heartbeat before a stinging line of pain hit her upper thigh, shocking a scream out of her. Christ, she felt like he’d sliced through skin and muscle almost to the bone with a burning-hot knife.

  “Thank me, Claire.”

  His voice sounded different, deep and autocratic, the demand causing her spine to stiffen in defiance. “Fuck you, you sick bastard. Let me up right now.”

  Another crack and sizzling line of pain, this time on the other leg. Carl waited as her pain-filled scream faded to soft sobs before speaking again.

  “Not a fast learner, love? That’s okay.” He sighed. “We have all the time in the world and no one will disturb us. This room has been completely soundproofed. Feel free to scream all you want.”

  Oh Christ. She’d landed smack-dab in the middle of a nightmare of epic proportions. The man was out of his mind. He intended to torture her, inflicting pain until…what? How long would he continue? Would he stop short of causing serious injury? Leave her with disfiguring scars? Or worse. Would he keep going, beating her to death?

  Panic sent her heart into a wild, fluttering rhythm that made Claire fear it would burst. She was totally screwed. Her damn impatience had brought her to this horrible place with an insane maniac.

  What would he do with her when she no longer held his interest? How long would she be forced to endure before he did something that ended her life? She’d die here, in Carl’s drafty basement, after being tortured endlessly. He’d dump her naked, abused body somewhere for a hapless stranger to discover.

  She’d heard a news report of naked, mangled bodies found in a landfill somewhere. Had it been Florida? Lord, how mortifying. She didn’t want to die and be left to rot in some stinking pile of garbage with flies swarming around her decaying flesh. Have cops snapping pictures for evidence.

  Shudders racked her body and black spots floated at the edges of her vision. Her breathing was out of control and Claire knew if she didn’t get a grip she’d pass out, leaving Carl to do whatever the hell he wanted to her defenseless body.

  “Now thank me for your punishment.”

  Say what? Maniacal bastard?

  Her stubborn refusal to thank the freak for whipping her would probably make the whole situation worse but she couldn’t force herself to say the words.

  “Fuck you, Carl!” she defiantly hissed and braced for the next blow. Claire howled in pain when he delivered several lashes to her ass cheeks in rapid succession with barely any pause in between.

  * * * * *

  Jewelry shopping with Laurie had been an interesting experience. She’d been more reasonable than he expected and suggested something nice but not overly extravagant. Mason wanted to run right over to Claire’s and give her the present but he had work commitments to deal with first.

  What should have been an easy gig, supervising the installation of an alarm system at a movie theater near the college in Champaign, turned into a nightmare. One thing after another went wrong. One of the guys got sick and a problem with the building’s electrical wiring had taken most of the night to fix. By the time Mason got home he’d barely had enough energy to shower and drop into bed.

  Today would be different. He’d make sure of it. Smoothing his fingers over the gift box, he decided to call Claire before the day got busy and set up a date for dinner.

  He dialed her number and while waiting for her to pick up, he opened the box. Teardrop green gems accented with white crystals set in silver glittered against the deep-blue velvet lining. He imagined Claire on her knees, wearing nothing but the jewelry. The glittering gemstones would look stunning against her creamy skin, the silver chain draped around her neck, pendant resting just above her full breasts. And the earrings, dangling from her earlobes, would add sparkling green fire to her gorgeous eyes.

  Blood rushed to his groin, his cock jerking as it elongated in anticipation. Christ, maybe they’d forget dinner and get together for lunch instead. Or breakfast since it was still early.

  The phone rang several times before her machine clicked on. He sighed in disappointment. “Hey, Claire, it’s Mason. Sorry about the other night. I’d like to get together, explain what’s been going on and make it up to you with lunch or dinner…or something. Give me a call when you get this.”

  He dropped the receiver in the cradle as Cam stepped into his office.

  “Hey, did you get everything worked out at the theater last night?”

  Mason rubbed a hand over his head and schooled his features. “Yeah, it was a bitch but we finished up around one this morning.”

  “Ouch. I’m heading out to the call center for a meeting with the manager. While I’m there, I’ll have them run a test
on the theater’s system.”

  Noticing the box, Cam pointed toward the jewelry. “Oh hey, that’s nice. When you going to see Claire?”

  He bit back a frustrated groan. “I got her machine when I called but hopefully today.”

  “Good. No working tonight.” He held up a hand to forestall the argument already forming on the tip of Mason’s tongue. “No excuses. I’ve got Trina’s file and I’m not giving it back until you’ve been on at least one date. Maybe more.”

  “Pushy bastard.”

  “Hello, that’s pushy Dominant bastard. Forget who you were dealing with?”

  “Whatever.” Honestly, it would be a welcome break to spend the evening not focused on work and his cousin.

  “I expect you to be out of here before I get back this afternoon.”

  “Yes sir.”

  He saluted as his business partner walked over to Laurie’s desk and instructed her not to put any calls through. She was to take messages and he’d put out any fires when he got back. There was even promise of a reward if she got Mason to leave the office before lunchtime.

  Cam was edging past pushy and headed straight for meddling but Mason didn’t fight it since he really did need some time off. Thinking back he realized the last time he’d taken a full day off had been before he got the call about Trina.

  He cleaned up the work spread over his desk, grabbed the gift box and headed for the door a few minutes later. Laurie’s mouth hung open and her eyes were as huge as saucers.

  “I’ll make sure Cam knows I left before lunch so you get your reward.” Holding up the gift box, he smiled. “You earned it.”

  Mason turned when he reached the door and winked. “See you tomorrow.”

  Laurie just continued to stare in stunned disbelief as he walked out, grinning like a loon. He wondered how difficult it would be to talk his impatient little sub into playing hooky with him. They could spend the next twenty-four hours in bed, making up for lost time.

  Oh yeah, that sounded like a great plan.

  Chapter Five

  Waking with an annoying crick in her neck, Claire said a little prayer that she’d dreamed the entire terrifying experience with Carl. She lifted her head, hissing as her muscles spasmed in protest.