Sweet Persuasion

CHAPTER 30

No.

Serena knew it was the word Damon expected to hear. Did he want her to say it? Did he want to push her until she had no choice but to give up and call it quits?

No, there was something else in his eyes. He tried hard to hide it, but she could see it, a glimmer of . . . hope? He didn’t want her to quit, but neither would he force this on her.

She locked gazes with him, hoping her eyes said more than words ever could. She shook her head wordlessly and braced herself for the pain and embarrassment of what lay ahead. It was hers. It belonged to her and she would own it with grace and humility.

He undid his belt and pulled it from his pants. In plain view, he carefully doubled it over and handed it to Micah, who once again looked questioningly at Serena.

She briefly closed her eyes but then reopened them and nodded at Micah so he would know that she accepted this. Micah took the belt from Damon and circled behind her.

“You will look at me and only me,” Damon said.

Her arms already ached from the strain, and her toes were numb from the awkwardness of being stretched so that her weight rested on the balls of her feet.

Again she nodded, just hoping he would get on with it. But she should have known better. Damon was nothing if not patient and exacting.

The first lash startled her. Her entire body jerked, and she cried out as pain burst over her back.

Strong fingers dug into her chin and forced it from her chest where it had fallen.

Her gaze found Damon, his stare hard and penetrating. “At me, Serena mine. Look at me. At all times.”

She raised her chin from his grasp and steeled herself for the next blow. It came like fire. This time across her ass.

When she made no sound and kept her stare locked with Damon’s, she saw approval spark in his eyes. It was obvious the last thing he wanted was for her to dissolve into a blubbering mass of hysterical female.

The next lash came quicker, across her shoulders where the skin bunched from her arms being stretched above her head. She closed her eyes and blew out her breath in a long whoosh.

Damon’s fingers yanked at her chin, and she opened her eyes to see reprimand in his.

“Add another lash for her disobedience,” Damon said to Micah.

She sucked in her breath and stared at him with hurt in her eyes.

“At me, Serena. Look at me. Every time you disobey me, I’ll add another lash.”

The next blow fell in the middle of her back, and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, but she kept her eyes open and directed on Damon.

Micah spaced the lashes equally over her back and buttocks, careful not to put two in a row in the same spot. By the time he got to eleven, her entire back pulsed and ached with red hot intensity.

At twelve, Damon called a halt. Hope surged within her. Maybe she’d pleased him enough that he’d pardon her from the remaining thirteen he’d promised.

“The rest I want on her ass and only her ass,” Damon said. “I want it red. Beautiful, like her. Alternate cheeks, but don’t spare any effort.”

Her body went rigid, and she sucked in her breath, her protest surging to her lips.

“It will only hurt worse if you tense,” Damon said gently. “Relax, and it won’t hurt as bad.”

She took a long breath and forced her muscles into submission. Just as she wilted against her bonds, the first lash, stronger than before, streaked across her ass.

They came fast and furious, no break in between. Micah set a relentless pace, one destined to try the limits of her endurance. Locked into Damon’s loving gaze, his strength bleeding into her, bolstering her, the pain diminished. What was given in punishment became intensely pleasurable, and yet she knew it was not meant to be.

The room became hazy around her as she slipped beyond the immediacy of her bonds, of the welts rising on her ass. A soft sigh escaped her, and she stopped mentally counting the loud smacks as they fell.

Damon was all she could see. His hand cupped around her chin, supporting her even in punishment. His gaze was hard but proud and she reveled in that pride.

Do this for me.

It was as if she heard the words aloud. As though he asked her to understand, to take it because he demanded it, because she wanted to please him.

And she did.

Sorrow bled through the pleasure. Regret that she’d disappointed him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as the final lash descended.

Damon cupped her face in his hands and gently kissed away the tears that she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

“Serena mine.”

He said her name like a benediction, and his warm approval was all she felt in that moment. The pain diminished. Tension lessened in her arms, and the souls of her feet met the floor again.

Micah’s hands touched the tops of her shoulders and pressed firmly down. At first she didn’t understand what he wanted. She was still hazy, her back hypersensitive. Light shudders worked over her body at the slightest touch. Her skin was alive, crawling, edgy with unfulfilled need.

Damon was more patient this time as he waited for her.

“Down on your knees,” Micah murmured close to her ear.

Her knees buckled instantaneously, and Micah caught her underneath her arms to keep her knees from hitting the floor.

In front of her, Damon loosened his pants, unzipping them with deliberate precision. Micah’s hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head up just as Damon reached into his pants and pulled out his cock.

Damon stepped forward, his erection fisted in his hand. With Micah’s hands at the base of her neck forcing her head back, Damon put his palm on her forehead and guided his cock past her lips.

Unlike at the auction, where he had to reprimand her for taking control, this time she was exhausted and let him use her mouth as he wanted.

Micah supported her neck while Damon thrust repeatedly to the back of her throat. Damon’s words echoed in her mind.

You will give me pleasure and receive none in return.

But he was wrong. Her pleasure was tied to his.

She opened herself to him fully, her gaze seeking his. Damon’s eyes glittered above her as Micah angled her back even farther so Damon was all but straddling her face.

He sank into her mouth until her lips met the crisp hairs at the base of his cock. For a long moment he remained there, still, his sac pressed firmly to her chin.

She struggled but Micah’s hands tightened in her hair and Damon pressed harder. Her gaze flew up again, seeking his and she immediately calmed.

He withdrew, sliding his engorged cock over her tongue until the crown rested on her bottom lip. He reached down and cupped her chin as his cock was poised for reentry.

“The longer you resist, the longer I’ll make this last,” Damon said. “You’re mine, Serena. Your body is mine. Your mouth is mine. I own you. I’m fucking your mouth because it belongs to me. I’ll use it for as long as it pleases me before I come, and you’ll swallow everything I give to you.”

In response, she merely opened her mouth wider to show him her submission. Immediately, he shoved forward, forcing himself to her very depths.

She controlled the urge to fight, to gag and to reject the cock so deep in her throat. It took everything she had, but she focused on Damon’s eyes, locked on to the warmth and approval she found there, and she blocked everything else out.

As soon as she relented, he quit prolonging his orgasm and sped up his pace until he fucked her mouth as he would her pussy. Her cheeks hollowed and the sucking sounds filled the room as he smacked in and out of her mouth.

Precum spilled and coated her tongue as he swelled larger. Two men held her head. She was powerless and immobile. On her knees, her legs spread and bound, a cock possessing her mouth with relentless force. It was almost as though she were having an out-of-body experience, for as with the whipping, she slipped from the boundaries laid by her body and floated free, high on pleasure she didn’t understand but embraced with her entire being.

Damon’s face blurred but she felt him. His hands, his strength, his cock and finally the very essence of him. Male, primitive.

She drank greedily, determined that she would reject no part of his offering. In his hands, she found a comfort she’d never imagined. A security and safe haven that she would never know outside of his arms. She knew it, accepted it as an irrefutable truth.

“Serena.”

She heard her name. Soft and mellow. From a distance.

“Serena mine.”

Loving. Tender and approving.

A dreamy smile tugged at her lips, and it was then she realized that Damon had slipped from her mouth. Micah’s hands had left her hair. Gentle hands were tugging her upward as fingers pulled at the bonds at her ankles.

Her legs shook, and she wobbled precariously, but she was caught against a hard chest. Whispered words melted over her ears. Damon’s face came into focus. She blinked. Once and then twice.

“Go and kneel by my chair,” Damon said in a low voice. “You’ll remain there until our guests have taken their leave. I’ll bring you food and drink once everyone else has been served.”

Numbly, she stepped forward. Though Damon let her walk alone, he followed close behind, and she knew he wouldn’t let her fall.

As she sank to her knees on the soft pallet by his chair, a soft moan escaped before she could call it back. The warm, heady flow of pleasure faded and was replaced by a pulsating ache across her throbbing back and buttocks.

Awareness of her surroundings flooded back as she watched the activity in the room return to normal. She was largely ignored save for the occasional curious glance thrown her way.

She held herself rigid, determined not to disappoint Damon further in front of his friends. Her jaw ached from being set so hard, but she’d allow no sound of discomfort to escape her.

How could she have gone from such indecision just hours earlier to complete and utter acceptance of Damon’s demands? Did distance change her perspective? Did proximity blind her to all reason?

What had possessed her to goad Damon as she had done? At the time she’d been angry, lashing out, more over her own indecision and frustration than anything Damon had done. Now she just felt foolish.

And she still had one more punishment to suffer.

Her shoulders sagged, not in fear, but in regret.

Across the room, Damon stood with Micah and one other man. They conversed in low tones, occasionally stopping as others joined. Damon was comfortable with these people. He smiled easily and gestured with his hands.

A flush crawled over her cheeks when, at one point, she obviously became the conversation piece because they all turned to glance at her. One man gestured toward her and smiled broadly at Damon. Damon’s expression changed rapidly, becoming dark.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the man had wanted.

She lowered her head, refusing to look at those observing her any longer.

“Your shame becomes his.”

Serena’s head came up to see Robbie standing a foot away holding a drink as he looked over at Damon.

“Hold your head up so that he can hold his up. Give him pride.”

She resisted the idea of this man telling her anything, but neither did she want to cause Damon any more embarrassment than she already had.

Her gaze slid coolly over Robbie’s face before she nodded briefly in acceptance of his dictate.

Evidently satisfied, he walked away to join a beautiful woman across the room. Was she his slave? His touch was possessive as he slid his hand up her back and then around her waist. She smiled welcomingly at him, and he bent down to nuzzle at her ear. There was clear affection between them even if her posture was submissive.

The next hour was a test of her staying power. Her back ached, her legs ached from kneeling. Her spine was stiff from her position, and she wanted nothing more than to lie down and curl into a ball.

Damon had largely ignored her, sparing her only an occasional glance before he returned to his guests. There was laughter and conversation, and for the most part, Serena ceased to exist.

Then the call for dinner was given, and if Serena thought being on display in front of everyone had been difficult, the sudden quiet of the empty living room was worse. The guests filed into the dining room, and she could only hear them in the distance.

She could get up and walk out. Nothing was keeping her here. She could go to the bedroom and crawl into bed or she could simply walk out, get into her car and go home. To her apartment, back to her life. Fulfilling other people’s fantasies. Selling them lies and half-truths. Shades of gray, pocket dreams and a day in the sun.

But still she knelt there, determination driving her relentlessly. It was no longer about her and her fantasy. If she left, if she walked away, her failure became Damon’s. He didn’t deserve it when he’d only given her what she wanted.

Is this what you want?

It came to her as a whisper, a soft ribbon threading its way through her consciousness. It was a question she couldn’t answer. Or maybe she didn’t want to answer it.

She lost track of time and was startled when the guests began to trickle back into the living room. Damon approached, holding a plate. Without saying anything, he settled into the chair beside her. With a gentle hand, he directed her head until she rested on his lap.

A sigh of contentment, of weariness and relief, expelled from the innermost part of her body.

He fed her, small bites, coaxing them past her lips. Occasionally he stopped to offer her a drink from the glass at his side.

There was a calmness and intimacy to his movements. He didn’t just feed her mechanically. He touched her frequently, short little brushes across her cheek, or he’d smooth a strand of hair from her face. When wine gathered at the corner of her mouth, he wiped it away with his thumb and then licked at the pad.

She closed her eyes as her cheek rested against his leg. He didn’t make any further attempt to feed her more. Instead, he simply stroked her cheek. As he spoke to those around him, his fingers slid into her hair and to her nape where he gently massaged.

She was very nearly asleep when she heard Damon say good-bye. Her eyes opened sluggishly, and Damon carefully pushed her head away as he rose. She wobbled and then steadied herself as she watched him see his friends out.

Soon there was only her and Damon. He stood at the doorway of the living room, staring at her. In that moment, she wished she could read his thoughts, wished they were broadcast on his face, but he was expressionless.

Nervous apprehension fluttered deep in her stomach when she remembered that he’d promised her a private punishment after his guests had left.

She swallowed as he finally made his way over to her. He stopped a short distance away and simply held his hand down to her. She reached up and slid her fingers across his warm palm. He pulled her to her feet and then turned her in the direction of the bedroom.

They walked in silence, her dread growing with each step. The bedroom was dark as they entered, but Damon made no move to turn on the light.

“Do you need to use the bathroom before bed?” he asked, startling the silence with his deep voice.

“No,” she said quietly, not sure he’d see her head if she shook it.

He left her a few feet from the bed and went to pull back the covers. When he was finished, he turned and took her hand. Unsure of what he wanted or what he would do, she let him guide her to the mattress. But then he merely eased her into bed and pulled the covers up over her as her head settled onto the pillow.

Without a word or gesture, he simply turned around and walked out, leaving her there in the dark.

For a long time, she lay there, waiting, expecting. Fatigue settled into her limbs, but she fought the veil of sleep, waiting for Damon to return.

Loneliness ate at her. She wanted him there, even if it meant her punishment. She wanted him to return and settle it so they could go back to the easy companionship they’d enjoyed during the week she’d devoted solely to him. She wanted to tell him she was sorry.

She watched the clock, flinching as each minute passed. After an hour, desolation covered her like a fog. Where was he?

She curled into a ball, gathering the sheets around her in an attempt to comfort the coldness that invaded her. As tired as she was, as much as she fought the urge to sleep, it wasn’t right. He hadn’t bound her. He hadn’t come to bed.

As she huddled there in the dark, alone with longing that nagged insidiously at her, bleak realization came. This was her punishment, and it was worse than the lash of his belt.