Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

Brynn

I’m aware that Easton and Drake Riley own Edge, but I’m not prepared to face them. I wasn’t thinking. It didn’t occur to me that they had an office on the third floor and that Mr. Bennett would lead me right to them.

I stiffen as soon as we step into their office. After all, they should be pretty pissed with me since Mr. Bennett essentially quit my job for me without including me in the conversation. A job I was working last night and should be tonight, too.

The brothers turn to face us in their matching swivel chairs. They’re identical twins, and their resemblance to each other is uncanny. They’re both smiling at me as though they’re completely unfazed by my sudden departure from their employment.

“What did you think of the second floor?” Easton asks.

Mr. Bennett stands behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He gives them a squeeze, encouraging me to speak.

“Uh, it was interesting and, uh, a bit overwhelming. I’m sorry to have quit on you with no notice.” I wince.

Drake waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t worry. Neither of us holds it against you. We’ve known Asher since college. We’re well aware of his ability to steamroll people.” He chuckles.

I bite into my bottom lip. I don’t even care if Mr. Bennett sees me do it. I need the slight pain to ground me.

Easton laughs with his brother. “I promise if you need us as a reference for another job, we’ll happily give them rave reviews. You’re a fantastic employee anyone would be lucky to have.”

Mr. Bennett growls like a lion protecting his den at my back. “Brynn is focusing on school. No more jobs.”

Drake covers his mouth as he continues to chuckle. “It’s possible she will want to get a job after she graduates,” he points out.

It’s also possible I will stab Mr. Bennett in his sleep for being so overbearing and controlling. As long as I don’t get caught, I’ll be out looking for another job the next day.

With that thought, I lean my head back to look at Mr. Bennet with a saccharin-sweet smile. “You never know when my current employment will stop working out so well for me, and then I’ll be back to job hunting.”

He smirks. The bossy man smirks at me before turning me around and guiding me out of the office. He doesn’t even say a closing word to the owners.

A few seconds later, I find myself in front of another door, which Mr. Bennett opens with a code like he did at the door leading to the third-floor stairwell.

I hold my breath as we step inside, but I’m relieved to discover this room is not some sort of torture chamber. It’s actually a fairly ordinary studio apartment. It has a king-sized bed, a loveseat, a small table and chairs, a microwave, a fridge, and a door that looks like it leads to a bathroom.

If it weren’t for the spanking bench in the middle of the room and various whips and paddles hanging on the wall, I would probably think I was simply in someone’s ordinary apartment.

I’m not sure what I expected, but I can’t believe he pays five thousand dollars a month to rent this room. Why?

I turn to him and ask, “Couldn’t you just have a room like this in your home? Why do you need one in another location?”

He heads toward the loveseat and sits, crossing one leg over the other as casually as if we were in a normal apartment discussing the weather. “Come, Brynn.” He points toward a narrow pad situated on the floor a few feet from where he sits. “Kneel in front of me.”

I shuffle closer, my breath catching in my lungs as I obey him. Part of me wants to tell him no. I could use my safeword. Red . Or I could simply stand in front of him, cross my arms, and cock out a hip, demanding he answer.

But I find myself magnetically drawn to obey him. He’s so calm in his dominance. He never raises his voice or appears the least bit frustrated with me, even when I’m slow to obey.

The moment I drop to my knees, I instantly feel far less argumentative. It’s like he puts me in a trance. When I kneeled before him in his closet this morning after my fitting session, I felt the same overwhelming sense of submission that I feel now .

“Good girl. I’m going to answer you, baby, but I want you to kneel before me while I do. It helps center you in your submission. Simply kneeling for me will chase away some of your defiance.”

He’s right. Darn him.

“Clasp your hands at the small of your back. Or hold one wrist with the other hand.”

I do as I’m told, which forces my chest higher.

“Good girl. Shoulders back and spread your knees wider.”

I bite my lip as soon as I part my thighs. I was already turned on by what I witnessed downstairs, but now I’m as aroused as I was several times earlier today, especially the time I kneeled for him.

“That’s better. When we come into this room, I want you to assume this position first without me telling you. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur.

“Now, as for your question, just so you know, I do have a room in my home very similar to this one.”

I gasp. Holy cow. The idea that he might bring me into that room on any given day of the week suddenly makes me lightheaded. The act of simply kneeling in front of him drives my arousal through the roof. There’s no way I could do this regularly and still pass my classes. I would end up wandering around in a fog all the time—a desperate, wet, needy, trembling mass.

He continues, “Don’t worry. I have no intention of dragging you into my playroom every hour of the day, Brynn. I’m a Dominant all the time, as you well know. But there’s a difference between dominating you casually—by ordering you to spread your knees or picking out your clothes—and restraining you to a piece of bondage furniture and either punishing you or tormenting you with orgasm denial.”

My eyes pop out as my mouth drops open. He would do that?

He smiles. “Don’t panic, baby. I’ll know when you’re ready for heavier play. We’ll figure out what you can and can’t handle on a daily basis. I won’t push you further than you can manage so you can still keep up with your schoolwork.”

I lick my lips, but my mouth is so dry it does no good.

“The reason I have a room here is because I like to play, Brynn. Sometimes, I meet a woman on the second floor, and we move our play up here where we can continue in private. I’ve never brought a woman to my penthouse before. When I first bought the penthouse and had the entire floor designed to my specifications, I added the playroom, thinking I would eventually be glad to have it. I’ve never taken anyone into that room. You will be the first.”

I assume I’m free to speak, and I have so many questions, so I ask, “So, you come here, wander around on the second floor, pick someone random out, and bring them up to the third floor to fuck?” The idea makes me feel kind of icky.

He narrows his gaze. “Language, Brynn. I don’t like to hear foul language coming from your pretty mouth. Are we clear?”

I nod, feeling contrite. He does that to me. What’s frustrating is that every time he imposes a new rule, I tremble more fiercely with need. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, as for your question, my life isn’t usually quite so perverse as you’re insinuating. I’ve been a member of Edge for seven years. Usually, when I pick up a play partner, we end up spending a few weeks or months together with a mutual understanding. Sometimes, that arrangement doesn’t include sex at all. Some submissives enjoy the act of submission without sex. Though I enjoy including actual intercourse in my play, it’s not always mandatory. I am capable of keeping my cock in my pants and servicing a woman with the dominance she needs without penetration.”

I feel contrite for being such a bitch. “Of course. Sorry, Sir.”

“I’m not angry with you, baby. I want you to feel free to ask me anything. Don’t hold your thoughts back.”

I ask the next thing that pops into my mind. The question I’ve been pondering over and over again for almost twenty-four hours. “What makes me different?”

He leans back and rubs his chin. “I have no idea, Brynn.”

At least he’s honest. I certainly don’t have any clue why I react to him as strongly as I do. I can’t expect him to understand it, either. It’s like we got struck by Cupid’s arrow, except instead of falling in love, we fell into a deep, kinky lust.

He leans forward again, with both feet planted on the floor, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together. “I promise you this, Brynn. For as long as you and I are in this mutually agreeable arrangement, I will not look at another woman. I know I didn’t specify that last night when I asked you to move in and pretend to be my girlfriend, but I’m telling you now. There will be no other women while I’m with you, and that is not dependent on you agreeing to any of this. It certainly doesn’t mean you have to sleep with me. If you spend the entire year on my arm and never come to my bed, I will still not glance at another woman.”

I’m so stunned I can’t blink. I guess I’m glad, but his speech is unexpected and jarring. I hadn’t considered that side of things. Now that he’s mentioned it, I cringe at the thought of him seeing other women on the side while I’m living in his home. I shouldn’t. He’s not my boyfriend.

Mr. Bennett could easily come to Edge on weekends without me, dominate anyone the way he enjoys, and have sex with them in this very room. No one would ever know. Meanwhile, he could publicly maintain a fake relationship with me on his arm. It would be a win-win for him. But the thought makes me feel kind of sick.

I look down, my hair falling around my face like a curtain. I shouldn’t feel like I do. I have no right. Mr. Bennett is paying me a lot of money to pretend to be his girlfriend for the sake of public appearances. I’m not actually his girlfriend.

What am I doing here? Bringing me to Edge on his arm is not helpful to his public image. The paparazzi won’t find out we were here. In fact, the lines are blurry, which has happened a hundred times today.

Thoughts of standing naked before him within hours of arriving at his penthouse make my heart race and my nipples harden. I’ve been wet all evening, and I can feel my arousal running slowly down my inner thighs. With my legs parted, the cool air in the room is hitting my folds and reminding me that I’m submitting to this man. This isn’t what he’s paying me for.

“I’m dying to know what you’re thinking, Brynn,” he says gently. “I just told you I wouldn’t date other women, and you look dejected. Share your thoughts.”

I draw in a breath and lift my head. “You’re not dating me either, Mr. Bennett. This isn’t real. And it’s confusing because you’re dominating me so hard my head is spinning. I can’t stop it. But I also can’t stop you from sleeping with whoever you want while we’re pretending to be a couple.”

“You don’t have to stop me, baby. It’s just not going to happen. And the fact that we happen to fit together so well in the kink department is a bonus. It was unexpected. I can’t stop myself from dominating you any more than you can stop yourself from submitting to me.”

I lick my lips. “But it’s more than that. It’s sexual. And that line is blurring badly.”

“You’re right. I still promise to keep my pants on, but I can’t resist giving you what you crave.” He leans forward even closer. “What we both want right now is for me to spank you. And when I’m done turning your bottom hot pink, I’m going to fuck your sweet pussy with my fingers until you come so hard your eyes roll back.”

I sway a bit toward him because I want that so much. It’s irrational. It’s dangerous. I’m putting my heart on the chopping block. But I can’t stop it. I want this experience. I crave his dominance.

“We can discuss our odd arrangement more tomorrow when you’re well rested. For now, how about we table it and follow our instincts?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He holds out a hand. “Stand for me, baby.”

There is nothing graceful about the way I rise to my feet, but he doesn’t mention it. He takes my hand, lures me closer to him, and lifts my dress over my head, leaving me in nothing but the silver heels that have surprisingly not managed to kill me yet tonight .

His voice is low and sensual when he speaks. “Your body is perfection. I’ll never tire of looking at you.” He trails a finger down the center of my torso between my breasts until he reaches my belly button.

I whimper as goosebumps rise all over my skin.

“A part of me wants to take you over my knee, but I think you need the experience of the spanking bench.” He stands, takes my hand, and guides me to the mentioned apparatus in the middle of the room. It’s a bit like a picnic table with three padded sections.

Mr. Bennett lifts me off my feet and lowers me onto the bench so my knees and elbows land on both padded sides and my torso rests against the middle section. My legs are wide, forcing my pussy open. My arousal coats the black leather instantly.

Mr. Bennett grabs my hips and hauls me back several inches so that my stomach drags through my wetness, and my pussy now hangs exposed off the end.

“I’m going to start off spanking you gently and build up the intensity as you relax. Try not to clench your bottom. You must keep your knees and elbows on the padded section. I want you to focus on obeying that order at first so you’ll know what it feels like to restrain yourself without physical bindings. After a bit, I will add cuffs to your wrists and ankles so you can feel the difference.”

Does he know that his words alone lure me into such a deep, submissive state that it won’t matter what he does to me? I’m putty in his hands. I’ll agree to damn near anything, and that’s scary.

I know the most important factor here is trust. If he were a random stranger off the street, I would never be able to give him my trust. But he’s not. He’s Asher Bennett. That alone doesn’t mean he isn’t abusive behind closed doors, but I also trust Drake and Easton. There’s no way they would let a man take me into a private room if they thought he might harm me.

This club is one of the most elite hotspots in Seattle. They would never survive if the members were abusive. They have excellent ratings and reviews. There’s not a chance in hell that one of their elite members is going to injure me. Emotionally, perhaps, but not physically.

“Are you ready, Brynn?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He rubs my bottom, keeps his other hand on the small of my back, and spanks me. The first swat makes me flinch, but it doesn’t hurt. He peppers me with three more, back and forth from one cheek to the other before pausing. “How does that feel, baby?”

I’m surprised by his care. “Good, Sir.” I don’t know what else to say. It doesn’t feel like much yet.

He continues, spanking me harder this time. I feel it more intensely. The sting. The burn. At first, I’m unnerved, but after several slaps all over my bottom and upper thighs, I start to relax into the bench. It’s sort of oddly cathartic.

I’m disappointed when he stops to rub my skin again. “You’re doing so well, baby. I see you accepting your punishment.”

I’d forgotten I was being punished for something. It nearly makes me giggle.

He must see me smile because he chuckles. “You forgot, didn’t you? You forgot what a naughty girl you were today; all the times you hesitated to obey me, bit your lip, and used inappropriate language.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He reaches for my hair and drapes it over my opposite shoulder before stroking my cheek with a finger. “Submit to me, baby. Let it feel good. I’m going to spank you harder. The pain will chase away your stress like a soothing massage.”

His words seem odd, but somehow, I already sense he is right. No wonder people enjoy this. I watched several people being spanked, flogged, or paddled downstairs, and I wondered why they had such a blissful look on their faces. Now, I get it. “Please, Sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Arousal rushes out of me when he praises me. It happens every time. I love pleasing him. I love how he looks at me when I obey his directives, but I love it even more when he praises me.

He spanks me harder, causing me to go into my head as the rhythmic slaps burn deliciously. I experience an odd, freeing sensation. Like I’m floating, and all my problems disappear. I focus on nothing but how good it feels as the sting increases.

The next time he stops, I whimper.

“I’m going to give you more, baby. Let me add restraints to your wrists and ankles. I want you to feel the difference.” He squats next to me and wraps something around my wrist. It’s oddly soft, and as soon as he attaches it, my heart starts racing.

I’m panting by the time he’s done with all four. Part of me feels scared; but most of me feels so incredibly horny.

He smooths my hair back and leans in close to my face. “Don’t fight it, baby. You know I will never hurt you, right? I would never do anything you can’t handle. Let yourself submit more deeply.”

“Yes, Sir,” I whisper. I don’t have much of a choice, not now that I’m strapped to this bench .

“Your pussy is dripping wet, Brynn. Your submission makes you desperate.”

My face heats. “Yes, Sir.”

“I’m going to spank you again. Are you ready?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He resumes his spot next to me and continues spanking my already burning skin. It feels even more intense now. I don’t think he’s swatting me harder. I think it’s the cuffs. I’m flying. I might come without him touching my pussy. It’s powerful. It’s freeing.

Suddenly, I know I’m going to come. My body clenches, and I lift my head off the bench.

Mr. Bennett stops spanking me at that exact moment and reaches for my pussy. The moment he touches my clit, I come hard. So hard that the room starts spinning as waves of pleasure wash through me.

It’s the longest orgasm I’ve ever experienced, and when it finally winds down, I realize I’m grinning like a loon and breathing as though I went for a jog. “Oh, God…” I murmur.

“So, I guess I can add spanking to your approved list of kinky activities,” Mr. Bennett muses.

“You can spank me any time you want, Sir.”