SubmissivesSurrender Page 2

  “Then this—” He tightened his hold. “Is for you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I run a tight ship,” he said. “I can’t afford to have employees who aren’t committed to their job and our clients. I expect everyone to stay up-to-date in all facets of the industry, to not make mistakes.”

  He might run the world’s most fascinating business, but she couldn’t imagine working for him. Maybe that was because she’d been self-employed for so long. She took pride in what in essence was a one-woman shop. Having someone looking over her shoulder and judging her performance—

  “What?” he asked. “You think I’m too rough on my employees?”

  “I don’t know. Besides that’s not what we’re here for.”

  His chuckle didn’t last long enough for her to believe in it. “In other words you’re eager to get started.”

  No! I’m not sure.

  He drew her wrists apart then captured both thumbs with one hand. A moment later he’d clipped the cuffs together so her left wrist crossed over the right. She could separate them by a few inches, but her ability to use her hands had been severely restrained. She couldn’t reach the clip.

  “That’s what it feels like to have lost a certain degree of self-determination.” He stepped back from her and studied what he’d accomplished. His expression became speculative.

  As she tested what he’d done to her, her self-consciousness grew. She could probably turn the doorknob and walk out of this room but wasn’t sure she could operate her vehicle. What if she got pulled over and had to explain the cuffs to some cop?

  What if Rico wanted to keep her here?

  Suddenly she couldn’t think and her belly clenched. Delicious warmth flooded her core.

  Chapter Two

  He’d just cuffed a woman.

  Judging by how she continued to look up at him, Rico surmised she was waiting for him to make the next move. The hell of it was, despite what he’d told her, he hadn’t had time to research everything about the BDSM lifestyle.

  Doms were always in control. That much he understood. What complicated things for him was that while a successful top in a BDSM relationship focused on cueing into the bottom’s emotional needs, that wasn’t his strong suit.

  He deeply loved his parents, and his nephew and nieces had him thoroughly wrapped around their sticky little fingers. It was other relationships that pushed him into unfamiliar territory.

  Damn it, he wasn’t going to let inexperience get in the way. He’d parlayed a deep understanding of how the Internet worked into a multimillion-dollar business that protected his clients’ online businesses. Today constituted the first step in another goal.

  “I’m going to put you through an exercise designed for getting to the core of your submissive nature,” he announced. “In order—”

  “I’m not a submissive!”

  Her declaration would have carried more weight if she hadn’t just allowed herself to be cuffed. When he’d first seen her he’d been surprised by her height or rather lack of same. It was hard to see her as a mature woman when the top of her head barely reached his chest.

  “We’ll address that later. For now I want you to tell me what you like the most about your body.”

  Frowning, she reared back, which was the reaction he’d been going for. One thing he was absolutely sure of, he was going to remain in control throughout.

  “My body?” She glanced down as if she’d never considered her physical form before. “My hands I guess.”

  That surprised him because her breasts looked like a C-cup and society put a lot of emphasis on that part of the female anatomy. She had too much hip for a model but they were just right for filling out her soft white skirt. “Why’s that?”

  “Because I use them so much.”

  “What’s your least favorite part?”

  “Ah, maybe my hair. I don’t know what to do with it.”

  Her brown/red mane reached her shoulder blades. He wondered what the strands trailing over his chest would feel like. In contrast to the soft waves, her bangs were blunt cut. He figured she did them herself.

  He stepped to her side and grabbed her hair. Not giving her time to figure out what he had in mind, he pulled down and forced her to arch her neck. She tried to reach his hand but her compromised fingers fell short.

  “A submissive should have long hair.” Studying her expression, he drew her head back even more. “That way it becomes an always accessible means of control.”

  “I don’t want—”

  “Yes you do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

  She opened her mouth but instead of the denial he expected, she widened her stance. She’d stopped trying to touch his hand and stood before him, her undersized body quiet and waiting.

  Speaking volumes to his.

  He’d never forced himself on a woman. Men who used their greater strength to bully women disgusted him and he prided himself on treating his employees equally regardless of their gender.

  Today was different. The rules of business didn’t exist here.

  Mindful of the strain he’d put her neck under, he let up on the tension but didn’t let go. When she tried to turn toward him, he tugged on her hair to let her know he didn’t approve.

  The faint drum and guitar sounds from unseen speakers pulsed through him and the scent of roses filled his nostrils. The Unchained facility was on a hill overlooking the city where real estate started at several million dollars. He could afford to live there but had no interest in rubbing shoulders with the wealthy. He wondered if the neighbors knew what took place in the brick house beyond the tall hedges.

  A world apart from the real. Space set aside for exploring a great many things. Unchained had a contract with his company so he knew their professional-looking website said they catered to clients’ personal and private needs. At first he’d thought Unchained might be a cover for prostitution or drugs, but the PI he’d hired to check them out had reported there were no ties to organized crime and none of the principals had ever been in trouble with the law. He’d given Unchained the standard service, namely a robust firewall and sophisticated tracking system so the principals would know who was contacting them.

  Then over drinks the senior vice president explained they specialized in addressing clients’ unresolved issues. Many of those issues were sexual—women unable to achieve orgasm, men who either couldn’t sustain an erection or had a hair trigger. That wasn’t all. A number of clients had been molested, some had been crime victims. A couple of cops came to them because they were having nightmares about people they’d had to shoot. Obsessions were a large area of concern, as were fears.

  By the end of the evening, Rico had been sorry the vice president had opened up. He kept thinking he should sympathize with the clients when truth was he didn’t have a clue what was going onside their heads. He’d hoped to draw things to a close by saying it sounded as if everyone who came to Unchained was screwed up. To his surprise the vice president had said he and his coworkers enjoyed the hell out of their work. Then the man had dropped the biggest piece of news as far as Rico was concerned—everyone on the Unchained staff was a shrink. Oh the man had spelled out his coworkers’ professional degrees but to Rico, shrink covered it all.

  What did Karmen need a shrink for?

  Hell, what was he doing here?

  Dodging the answer lurking in the back of his mind, he focused on the woman whose shoulder brushed his middle. He released her hair then finger-combed it until it again spread over her neck and shoulders. He liked having cart blanche to touch her in every way he wanted.

  Liked compromising her freedom of movement.

  “I want to hear about your sexual fantasies,” he told her. “Because I don’t know you, I can’t be sure if you’re telling me the truth, but I hope you’ll be honest.”

  She glanced over at him, then went back to staring at the wall. “Why?”

  “Why not? Unless you’re afraid.”


  “I’m not, damn it.”

  Too much denial. As for whether she was lying—

  “Of nothing?” He ran a nail from the end of her sleeve down to her wrist, prompting a deep sigh from her. “There were never any monsters under your bed or in your closet?”

  Her laugh sounded distracted. “No monsters but there were bears.”

  He retraced his nail’s path, going slowly and riding out her shivers. “I had a problem with lions and tigers. So, Karmen, how did you deal with the bears?”

  Judging by how the cords stood out on the sides of her neck, she was waiting for him to again do what he had. Maybe wanting the sensual touch. “I don’t remember. I guess I must have outgrown them.”

  “And you want me to believe you’ve outgrown fear in all its forms?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  He wanted to touch her again, to do something different and study her reaction.

  His reaction too, he conceded as he slid his hand under her hair and closed his fingers around the back of her neck.

  She shuddered and started to slide away only to stop. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting to know you.” Maybe getting to know me.

  “That’s not the way—”

  “Hush.” He turned her toward him. “This discussion is going off course. Let’s give it another try. What do you want from sex that you aren’t getting? When you’re alone in the middle of the night, what do you fantasize about?”

  Although she nibbled on her lower lip, he gave her credit for meeting his gaze. “Having someone who understands me.”

  He hadn’t expected that, wasn’t sure he wanted it. “In other words you’re looking for someone who knows what you need in bed without you having to give a single clue? That’s asking a lot.”

  She tugged on the cuffs, but he wasn’t sure she was aware of what she was doing. “That’s not what I mean.” Her mouth tightened. “Maybe what I’m trying to say is I can’t imagine committing to a man if—”

  “By committing do you mean getting married?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  He started stroking her neck. “Go on.”

  She arched her back and tried to bring her hands up to his. “I need to feel I can trust a man in all ways. To, hell, to open my legs and know he gets that this says everything about my trust in him.”

  “What about ropes and chains? Are you looking for a man who knows how to handle such things?”

  She sighed and let her head sag. “I don’t know. I’ve never considered—”

  “Then why did you sign up for what you did?”

  Still looking down, she shook her head. “I thought I knew. Now I’m not so sure.”

  Even though he had no use for conversations without a direct path, he felt no need to point this one in a particular direction. Unexpected things were happening to him. He’d come here hoping for a blueprint for emotions. Trigger a certain memory and this would be the reaction. Hear a certain song or smell something and the heart would respond, that sort of thing.

  He hadn’t acknowledged that getting physically close to a woman he barely knew would turn him on. There was something heady and powerful about touching her when she couldn’t touch back.

  “What did you think you knew?”

  His hand on the back of her neck was getting to her. Unless he was one hundred percent wrong she wasn’t relaxed so much as locked into the sensual massage. His idea of the perfect date consisted of fine dining and drinks followed by taking the woman to his place for more drinks and sex. The women he courted—did anyone think of it like that anymore?—saw intercourse as their contribution to the evening. This was different, so different he didn’t know where it was taking him.

  “I, ah, I teach self-defense to women. I want the so-called weaker sex to take charge of their lives.”

  Right now she didn’t look in charge of anything.

  “Why would a woman agree to let a man control her?” she continued. “To want to be controlled? That’s what doesn’t make sense to me but if I’m going to…”

  If she was going to communicate with those clients, she needed to grasp what compelled or drove them to assume a subservient role. Instead of helping her articulate what today was about for her, he ran his fingers over the side of her neck. She sighed and widened her stance.

  “Experience,” he said, “just experience. Leave analysis for later.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. Let your body talk to you.”

  She swayed. “I don’t know what it’s saying.”

  Neither did he, but he wanted to pay close and protracted attention, almost as much as he wanted to tap into his own system. He’d long known what he wanted career-wise. Personal goals were less clear.

  “You need to break out of your box,” he said. “Go to the edge of your comfort zone and then step beyond that. Stop thinking about work and focus on your dreams.”

  He didn’t know where the words came from and that concerned him. Fascinated him too.

  “I know what it’s like to run my own business so I have a fair idea how much time you’ve devoted to yours,” he said. “Work can be a hell of a mistress, right?”

  “Right,” she whispered.

  “But today isn’t about that.”

  He positioned himself in front of her and closed a couple of fingers around her blouse’s top button. “You aren’t in charge. I am. If I don’t want you wearing this blouse, which I don’t, I’ll take it off.”

  Her gaze locked on his fingers. “I’m not sure—”

  “Not being sure is the whole idea. Letting go of the reins won’t be easy for you, but in the end you’ll be glad I took you on this journey.”

  Heat spread from his fingers to his crotch as he slipped the button through the hole. He’d undressed his share of women but never while one was wearing restraints. Moments ago he’d wanted to discuss this exercise with her so they were clear on the ground rules. Now all he wanted was to experience, to take himself where he’d never been.

  After unfastening the second button, he steeled himself for a question or protest. If she said no, he’d comply of course. She remained silent, swaying a little, her mouth slack and arms limp.

  His career had taken him a thousand miles from the randy adolescent he’d once been. These days he managed the occasional sexual frustration by lifting weights or tackling a work problem. Now with his fingertips inches from her flesh, the teenager returned. That boy/man had wanted sex any way he could get it, which hadn’t been very often. He’d thought about sex almost every waking minute, and a glimpse of breasts gave him a hard-on.

  He was aroused right now, his skin on alert and the veins in his temples pulsing.

  The third button popped free, and he glimpsed her bra. It was a buttery yellow with lace and a tiny white bow between the mounds. Intrigued, he drew the blouse off her breasts and stepped back for a better view.

  “Feminine,” he said. “Girly. Is that what you are beneath your kick-ass exterior?”

  “I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  She sighed. “All right, I am. My job calls for mostly sweats and workout gear. What I wear beneath is no one else’s business.”

  Shaking his head, he grasped her linked wrists and lifted her arms over her head. “Today it’s my business. If you belonged to me, if you were my submissive or slave, I’d only let you wear black or red—when I let you wear anything.”

  Keeping her arms up called for standing so close their heads nearly touched. A careless move on his part and she’d feel his erection. For now he wanted to keep his condition to himself.

  “When I wear something? How often would that be?”

  He didn’t know. Hell, he hadn’t known he’d been thinking what he had until the words came out. “Depends on the weather.”

  “Okay, I’ll buy that.”

  Darn it, he didn’t want her to see this as a game. They were stepping into new and exciting territory, territory he
was supposed to be in charge of.

  Determined to fulfill his role, he held her arms in place with one hand while attacking the remaining buttons with the other. She didn’t protest. He had to tug the blouse hem out of her skirt’s waistband before he could reach the last one. When he was done, he let go and pushed her back from him. From sharp collarbones to yellow-covered breasts to flat middle she was pure femininity. Vulnerable and waiting.

  “I’ve done my job,” he said as he folded his arms over his chest in his best interpretation of a manly man pose. “Now it’s your turn. Take off your blouse.”

  Gaping at him, she extended her arms toward him. “I can’t.”

  “Give it your best shot. You want to please me, right?”

  She didn’t answer. After a few seconds, she bent her elbows and awkwardly pushed the blouse off her shoulders. She even managed to slide the garment down her back a little before the fabric tightened, trapping her arms. Looking both bemused and uneasy, she stared at him.

  “I’ve gotten myself into a bind,” she said.

  She had indeed. His admittedly incomplete study of BDSM had taken him to a site devoted to rope bondage. He’d wondered how much time it took to wrap a naked woman in yards and yards of red rope and whether her circulation was compromised. The images had been somewhat erotic but nothing like what he was looking at now.

  “Not at all in control, right?”

  It took a moment but she finally said, “Yes.”

  “Needing me to get you free.”

  Her sideways look left no doubt that she’d gotten the deeper meaning. He wasn’t going to ask if she wanted back the freedom she’d always taken for granted. She hadn’t protested when he put on the cuffs or unbuttoned her blouse. Time to kick things up a bit and see where it led for both of them.

  Smiling, he cupped his hand around her fingers. “The problem with the position you’re in is that it hampers me as well. Otherwise, I’d just watch you for a while.”