Chapter Nineteen

Oblivion

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“S HHH. IT’S OVER.” KYLE’S arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against his hard body.

She went to him gladly, unsure of everything that had happened since the final strike but grateful for the comfort of his embrace—and his heat was comforting—whether she wanted it to be or not. After so long struggling alone, it felt good to be able to finally rest her head on something real, even if that man turned out to be only a handsome illusion.

“You survived your first spanking, little girl.”

Fleetingly, she acknowledged the insinuation in his reassurance that it might not be the final time he physically rebuked her, but oddly, she only smiled against the shirt on his chest. For all its craziness, she didn’t mind the idea. In truth, she might even court it. The warmth of his strikes had dispersed to her sex, leaving her even hotter than she’d been before.

“Yes.” She gasped the word, pressing her hand on the smooth fabric of his gray waistcoat. The cloth smelled like spring flowers, but the plaid pattern evoked memories of walks in the cooling autumn. “I didn’t think I would.”

“Whereas, I knew you would.” He lowered to plant a kiss on her crown. “And based on how excited you are, I’d say you didn’t mind it too much.”

She squirmed at his conclusion, unsure whether it had been the spanking itself or his treatment of her beforehand that had inspired her arousal, but he wasn’t wrong—she was excited.

Maybe I like both?

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Her head ached at the admission, the tangled panties at her knees adding surety to the feeling. Who would choose to be spanked and gagged? Hell, she hadn’t even tried to pull up her underwear. She was reveling in his degrading treatment. “I shouldn’t want you to treat me this way.”

“You’re perfect.” His assurance was as steadying as his hand on her shoulder. “There’s no need to cry.”

Cry?

She blinked, abruptly aware of the tears brimming in her eyes. She hadn’t acknowledged the emotion until that moment.

“I...” Her hand rose to dab at the water. “I’m okay.”

How had he managed to reduce her to tears without her even being aware of them? She recalled the end of the spanking and the way he’d held her. Yes, there had been a swell of enmeshed emotions and confusion about her feelings, but... she’d had no idea she was crying.

“I’ll ensure you are.” The resolve echoing in his voice convinced her he meant every word. “Whatever I ask you to do, I’ll be here to pick you up afterward.”

That shouldn’t have sounded as enticing as it did.

“Thank you.”

He took a small step away. “The trial is working out flawlessly. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Well? The question pinballed in her head. Do I?

“It’s been... interesting, sir.”

“What would you have changed, little girl?” His lips curled.

That. The way you call me, little girl.

She pressed her lips together, unwilling to confess how uncomfortable, yet simultaneously sexy the term was making her.

“Why do you call me that?” She dodged the query. “I’m not a little girl, sir.”

“You can’t answer a question with a question.” He tutted but smiled as he shook his head. “Answer mine, and I’ll answer yours, then... you have dusting to do.”

“I thought I’d be organizing your diary and arranging deliveries, sir.” She clung to his jacket despite his stabilizing hand on her shoulder. “Not parading around here with my bits hanging out.”

His grin grew. “That’s still not answering my question. Do you need another ten swats?”

“No, sir.” Her heart rate spiked. “I just mean, I wouldn’t have chosen any of this, but...” Unable to meet his gaze, she stared at his expensive shirt. “Somehow, you’ve made it good.”

Good? Had she just said good? The bastard had exploited and denigrated her, and the first time he asked for feedback, she told him it was good ? Amy must be beyond insane. She must need clinical help.

“Lovely.” He sounded pleased. “And to your question, I call you my little girl because you are.” His alluring eyebrow cocked as though his point was obvious. “You’re so much more fragile than I am...” His focus fell to her chest. “All soft curves and emotions. I think you’re utterly captivating.”

“Do you?” What did that mean? Her hammering heart hoped for more than was possible, but she clutched at the ill-founded desire, anyway.

“I do.” He squeezed her shoulder. “But that does not excuse you from your responsibilities. If you want your money, then you’re going to have to work for it.”

“Yes.” She glanced around, catching sight of the gag still waiting on the sofa. “I’ll get to work, sir.”

“Bring the gag to me.” His hand fell to his side, leaving her bereft.

“What about these, sir?” She motioned to the fabric caught between her stocking-clad legs, longing for permission to pull them up, yet unwilling to do so until he assented.

“Ah, yes. They are rather in the way. Take them off.”

That hadn’t been the answer she’d been hoping for, although as she shuffled them to her ankles and kicked them aside, she wondered if she’d known all along what his plan had been.

“Here.” He held out a palm, his face expectant, and gingerly, she crouched to collect the damp fabric.

Placing them on his upturned hand, she cringed, contemplating if any moment had ever been so shame-inducing, except, she wasn’t half as chastened as she might have been. It seemed every time he disgraced her, he pushed her limits of what she considered embarrassing a little more, and ultimately, he always seemed able to make the act seem hot.

“Thank you.” His fingers closed around her panties, and she watched helplessly as he slid them into his inside pocket. “And the gag?”

His sterner tone sent her scurrying to obey. As she moved, she realized the back of her skirt was still tucked into the waistband of the dress where he’d slid it to spank her. In the course of around an hour, he’d managed to reduce her to wearing only an elaborate silky belt and stockings. Everything else was bared—for him.

Anxiety spiked in her chest as she presented him with the evil-looking contraption. She could scarcely believe he wanted her to wear the damn thing, let alone that she’d yielded on the issue.

“How long will I have to wear it for, sir?” No doubt he could hear the alarm rising in her voice. He probably liked it.

“Until I say you don’t.” His reply was matter-of-fact. “You have plenty to be getting on with.”

He wasn’t wrong. She’d hardly even started work on the dresser of antiques.

She sighed, the sound shuddering. “It’s just... I don’t know how I’ll be if I—”

The light touch of his finger under her jaw silenced whatever she had been about to say. That, it seemed, was another Kyle superpower—the ability to make even the weirdest shit seem tender and logical.

“Trust me.” He lifted her chin, insisting she meet his eyes. “Have I let you down so far, little girl?”

“No, sir.”

He’d taken plenty of scandalous liberties, but he was right—he’d always left her feeling satisfied or at least safe. He might have had the means to get away with outrageous crimes in his country mansion, but she’d never had the sense of real risk with him—only that dizzying awareness that things were lusciously out of her control in the best possible way.

“Then know I won’t start now.” His gaze bored into her. “You’ll wear the gag and dust for me, and when you’ve had enough, I’ll take you somewhere to warm you up.”

To warm me up?

Despite her nakedness, she couldn’t say she felt cold, but she definitely wasn’t going to argue. She had an idea that she’d appreciate whatever he had in mind as a so-called reward, and she still remembered his earlier words—if she complied, he’d give her a bonus.

More pleasure.

She wanted that. She wanted that badly.

Bad enough to assent to the gag.

Bad enough to potentially cede to a great many other obscenities.

“Open that pretty mouth.”

Her toes curled as her lips parted, awareness that she was actively participating in her disgrace compounding her feelings as he steered the ring toward her mouth.

“Now, close your mouth around it,” he instructed as he walked behind her.

She tried to obey, settling her lips over the edge of the rubber as he tugged the straps and fastened them behind her head. It was the strangest sensation. The ring held her mouth open, and although her tongue was free to roam around its interior, she was no longer able to close her lips or, she assumed, speak properly.

“Turn around.” A smug grin lit up his face as she did as he asked. The moment she was compelled to meet his gaze again was agonizing, his delay in speaking only lengthening her ordeal. “You look gorgeous.”

She doubted that very much.

“So fucking tempting.” He reached for her breasts and clasped them in his hands. “If I didn’t need a cleaner so much, I’d have you over that couch again in a heartbeat.”

A desperate mewl escaped her throat at his teasing proposition. She hankered for that, longed to feel the strength of his body behind her when he took what he wanted.

“Later.” He threw her a wink as his fingers and thumbs pinched her needy nipples. “First, there’s work to be done.”

She watched as he stalked back to the chair, vaguely conscious that she should resume her task, yet unable to persuade her feet to move. She shifted just as he relaxed back in his chair, grabbing the dusting cloth and the glass figurine she’d been cleaning before her alleged error.

Standing there in his drawing room, with her breasts and tender ass exposed and her mouth gagged, a surge of rapture rose from within.

She was being humiliated past anything she’d believed was possible, but even as he pushed her to the depths, her body responded, and she could feel herself coming to life. It was as though the lower she went, the higher she flew, and the throbbing at her clit assured her she would fly—just as soon as there was an opportunity.

Her jaw ached as the time passed, the ring forced into her mouth applying equal pressure to both her chin and her clitoris. For every inch of her that loathed its terrible effect, there was another part that reveled in her belittlement. It was a side of her she’d never acknowledged until Kyle had bowled into her life.

Not being able to speak was new territory for her, though, and as frustrating as it was, there was something terrifically arousing about his ability to control her. Sure, she could have tackled the clasp and removed it herself, but she found she had no desire to. She wanted to endure it for him, wanted to know how much of the ache she could take and, critically, what recompense he would offer in exchange for her obedience.

Amy’s head fogged with the quandary as she glided the cloth over each intricate figurine. She had no idea how long she stood there, her legs trembling as she polished one piece after the next. Glancing up, she realized she’d completed the vast majority of his ornaments and had dusted the shelves they sat upon. The version of the dresser in front of her now was unrecognizable to the one she’d found when she walked into the room. It was a fitting analogy for her own transformation.

“What a tremendous job you’ve done.”

She hadn’t even heard him moving, but by the time she’d turned her head, he was right there with her, assessing her work.

“Well done, Amy.”

Her chest heaved as she absorbed his approval. It was what she burned for, of course—to be in his favor—yet after so long, the passion inside of her was so great, it was difficult to think of anything except her arousal.

“Here.” He walked behind her, tugging at the straps until they hung free from the sides of her mouth. She waited like a well-trained animal for him to give the order before she dropped the callous ring onto his unfolded hand, along with a mortifying amount of her own drool. “How was it?”

“Horrible,” she murmured.

“And?” His tone was as knowing as normal.

“And ridiculously hot, sir.”

Where there might once have been shame at the confession, she felt only liberation. She had found the gag arousing, and there was no point attempting to deceive him. He already knew how horny she was, and she was more than happy to illustrate the point for him.

“There’s my good girl.” The sparkle in his eyes conveyed how happy he was, her pride swelling at the perplexing thought.

That she should care what he thought of her work was natural, she supposed—he was paying her for it—but that she should have come to crave his approval was something else completely. She’d never known such a complicated connection.

“You’ve definitely merited your reward.”

“Sir?”

She was breathless as his hand rose and slid into the back of her hair. By the time she’d adjusted to the tug at her scalp, he’d already swooped, his mouth colliding with hers for a punishing kiss.