Truly Helpless

"Hush, sweet boy, don't say a word. Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird..."

  He shuddered, but he gripped her hand on his chest like he'd never let go. And he was letting her rock him, rocking with her. She kept going, telling him if the mockingbird didn't sing, then she'd get him a diamond ring. Lyric after lyric, saying that no matter what thing didn't work out, mama was going to make it okay. And no matter what happened, she was going to always think he was the sweetest boy that had ever been born.

  She wasn't his mother, but there was a serious, deep purpose to Mommy/boy play that wasn't play at all. She had maternal instincts, and he needed them. He was plunged deep into the abyss of his childhood, where his mother hadn't protected him, hadn't been capable of thinking of anything but her own survival, the two of them merely random strangers trapped in the same prison with a monster.

  He didn't cry. He never even spoke or made a sound at all, but he held onto her. Slowly, his heart's racing started to slow, and his body relaxed into a more natural position, rather than the tight fetal coil. She kept singing, kept rocking, kept stroking. After a long, long time, a little sigh lifted his shoulders. Then he was still.

  They lay like that for a while. She thought he slept some while she hummed to him. Eventually, she curled an arm all the way around his chest and squeezed, a way to partially wake him. "Let's move to the bed."

  He nodded and rose. Though he helped her up, he moved as if in a groggy dream state, collapsing onto the mattress after they reached it. Removing the shirt she'd taken from him so she could press her bare skin against his back, she pulled the blankets over them and curled back around him. She also resumed her singing, taking him back to dreams.

  She went there herself, but it was a slumber populated with some dark and disturbing shadows. That was okay. If they were his nightmares, she'd hold them off as long as he needed.

  Tonight, she would make sure he had peace.

  When the shadows dissipated and her eyes opened, there was only him. Early morning sunlight filtered in through the panel, outlining his upper body. He was facing her, his head propped on his hand, elbow pressed to the mattress.

  She stroked his jaw with light fingertips. He looked tired still, but not as haunted. Not right now. Just pensive.

  "If you're a proper sub," she said, "you know how to make your Mistress coffee."

  His eyes were more blue-gray this morning, becoming even more blue when they warmed and he agreeably left the bed. She watched him. He'd slept in the jeans, though they were unbuttoned, riding so low it hinted at the crease between his buttocks. As he stood in front of the coffee maker, he had one hip cocked, upper body curved in an easy slouch he made look appetizing. But she enjoyed the simmering effect of the lust, keeping it in check while she considered other things. He had the first question of the morning, though. He delivered it with his back to her.

  "I guess you figured out why I asked you to come, even if I'm not sure of it myself," he said quietly. "But I don't know why you did. Or why you stayed after you found out you'd come to a freak show."

  She frowned at his choice of words, but decided to not start the day with contentiousness.

  "I wanted to give you a safe place." When he turned his head to look over his shoulder, she swept a hand up and down to signify her entire body. "This is it."

  His weary expression showed amusement. "That's a hell of a padded cell."

  "Watch it, boy," she warned.

  He grinned and returned to the bed while the coffee brewed. Sliding in under the covers when she gestured, he came into her arms and rolled her to her back. His heat and weight were welcome. She was a Domme who held control on the top or the bottom, so she enjoyed either position equally. Her leg hooked around his hip, and his hand closed over her wrist, holding it pinned at her side, his gray eyes measuring her response. She cocked her head, gazing up at him. "What, baby?"

  His gaze flickered. "You do that. You bring up the anger and then, you take it away. I don't want to hurt you and be angry, but I am, and I can't stop it. You make me stop it. I can't figure it out. That makes me feel..."

  "Out of control. Which makes you mad again. You're trapping yourself in a cycle." She lifted her other hand and traced his shoulder, the one with the armor tattoo. "How about for now, you not try so hard to figure it out? Just ride the ride for a little bit."

  His gaze sparked. "Was that an invitation?"

  She chuckled. "Only if you're always thinking about sex. Oh, wait, you're male. That answers the question."

  "Well, I am lying on a hot, naked woman. Kind of hard not to think about it."

  "Kind of hard, period." She undulated against his morning erection and purred as he answered in kind, rubbing himself against her mound. "That's nice." She curled her fingers in the short hair at his neck. "When you're ready, I want you back inside of me."

  His fingers constricted on her wrist, telling her he was all for that, but regret flashed through his eyes. "I'll have to make a trip across the street to that Quikstop we passed."

  "No, you won't. You had a box of condoms in your glove compartment. I put it in my purse. Aren't you glad I'm nosy?" She tilted her head toward her pinned arm. "You going to keep holding onto me like that?"

  "Maybe." He bent and put his mouth to her throat. As she turned her face away to expose her neck even more to him, he bit, making her draw in a shuddering breath. She pressed up against him, breasts and taut nipples rubbing against the coarse hair on his chest. He gripped her other wrist, holding her pinned on both sides.

  "Trying that topping thing this morning?" she asked in a deceptively lazy tone, though her pulse kicked up, a warning.

  He shook his head. She wasn't sure he knew what he was doing or why, but she waited him out. He was staring at the way his fingers looked curled around her wrists.

  "You're so delicate."

  She snorted. "That's the last thing I am. I..." She stopped as he looked down at her, his expression switching to something else.

  "Don't be afraid," he said.

  In a heartbeat, he'd moved and flipped her. He had her arm behind her back, holding her firmly in place. His knee was pressed firmly between her legs, his thigh against her buttocks. His other hand was on her wrist, which he'd angled to make it impossible for her to move unless she wanted to break bone, similar to how she'd put him on his knees the night with Siren. When she tested it, the sharp stab of pain made her suck in a breath and him speak.

  "Don't move. It only hurts if you move." He bent and kissed her between her shoulder blades, moving up to her nape, his mouth dwelling there to nip and caress, suck. She wasn't liking the hold, but she tried to relax, enjoy the sensations he was giving her while she figured out what the hell he was doing.

  His grip tightened. "It's that easy," he said. "I could break your wrist with little effort. One punch to the face, and I could break your neck." He stretched out on her full length, some of his weight held on his knees, but his cock beneath the jeans pressed against her buttocks. He shifted to hold her wrists in a normal way, extending her arms out to either side like wings. He pressed his chest to her back. His breath was heated on her neck. "But you can break me with a word, or a look. It makes me not trust myself with you. But you do."

  "Yes." Relaxing, she closed her eyes as he nuzzled her cheek, kissed her neck again. "Be inside me like this. Take off the jeans, get the condom out of my purse."

  He obeyed, the mattress depressing under his movements as he left the bed. She drew a deep, calming breath, listening to the rustle of clothing, the tear of foil, as he complied. She'd left her hands where they were intentionally. When he returned, he clasped her wrists again. She lifted her hips, accommodating him, and he slid into her slick tissues. He let out a soft oath. "I wasn't expecting you to be that wet."

  "I woke up and saw you. That was enough to get me started. But don't get too used to that. I'll still expect foreplay."

  His chuckle vibrated against her, a heavy rumble, as if it were still weighed down by his
thoughts. "Yes, Mistress."

  He stroked inside her, slow, easy, the two of them in no hurry. Somewhere along the way his grip became a hold, not a pin, his fingers caressing her pulse points and forearms. When the climax came upon him, he held himself back, sliding a hand beneath her to stroke her clit. "Come first," he urged. "I want to hear you. I love hearing you."

  Since it sounded more like a request than a demand, she obliged, and he followed behind her, a spinning, dizzying, intense but soft, morning lovemaking.

  They breathed slow and deep together in the aftermath. He turned them to spoon, only he was behind her this time, his arms wrapped around her, breath on her neck. A couple of times last night she'd woken to find him in that position, a possessive arm around her waist, his body curled as protectively around her as she'd been around him when they first went to sleep. Yeah, he did have some of that in him. A sign that he wanted something for himself. It was a good sign.

  They indulged another short doze until the smell of the coffee teased her senses. But she wasn't ready for him to move yet.

  "I want to adopt a dog," he said. "But I don't want to screw it up."

  She tilted her head toward him, her temple brushing his jaw. "You're such a puzzle," she said, but she put a smile in her voice. "Have you been thinking about this for a while, or just now?"

  "Yes and no." He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deep and giving a pleased growl when she stretched against him, rubbing her backside against his cock. "Fuck, that feels good. Will you do it again?"

  "Since you asked so nicely..." She savored her own reaction when he fondled her breasts, stroked the nipples. Just a pleasurable, playful aftermath. "Tell me about the dog."

  He curved his arms back around her, one over her breasts and one around her waist, holding her so close to him, like he didn't want to let her go, even for an inch of space. She didn't deny him, not right now. But he was going to get his ass out of bed and bring her coffee soon.

  "When I was little, I wanted a pet, but he said no. I didn't know why...until. Then, after he went to jail, the shadow went to be with her sister. She handed me over to her second cousin in Miami for a few years. He had a spare bedroom and said if I helped with household chores, I could stay there until I was old enough to be on my own without social services coming after him."

  If his best relative was a cousin who grudgingly took in an adolescent for the free labor, Regina needed to have a talk with the powers-that-be about letting a kid be born under such an unlucky star. But she put that aside to hear the rest of the story.

  "He had a dog, a chocolate lab named Ricky. I didn't ever pet him, because...animals just don't take to me. But sometimes he'd come lay outside my room at night when Fisher went to work second shift. It was cool. I'd watch him and think about touching him. His ears looked so soft. I liked how he'd pile on the couch with Fisher and they'd hang out together."

  He propped up on an elbow as she turned onto her back. Sliding a finger along the outside of her breast, he cupped it, seeming to like the act of simply holding it, his fingers moving in a slow knead that sent tendrils of arousal back down between her legs. They'd be having sex again before they left the room, she was sure of that. At this rate, they'd probably fuck themselves to death by noon checkout.

  "Well, boys and dogs are a lot like girls and horses," she observed. "They naturally gravitate together. Maybe you need to ease into the adoption thing, see what your options are in the right environment. Ever been to New Orleans?"

  "No. I've barely been outside Florida."

  "Good. I can show you something you haven't seen." She smiled at him. "I'm giving a workshop there next week. If you don't have anything pressing, why don't you come with me? It'd be a three-day trip. There's a guy there, a retired Navy SEAL and a Dom. He runs a unique kind of animal shelter. You could check it out if you want. No pressure. We can enjoy the food and a couple tourist attractions, then come on back home. NOLA also has a great club, Progeny, and The Zone has reciprocal guest privileges there. If I get in the mood to use some fancy equipment on a sub, we might go there."

  "Would you be using the equipment on 'a sub' or me?" He said it as if he were teasing, but his gaze became a little more challenging. "You'd pick someone out and I'd watch with my thumb up my ass?"

  "That would depend on you," she said. He behaved better if she didn't let him get away with being too pushy. But she wanted to test the ground some, so she asked him straight out. "How would you feel about me working out another sub?"

  "I wouldn't like it."

  "Then I suggest you stay on your best behavior," she said, concealing the little trip to her pulse. Possessiveness wasn't always a good thing in a sub, and could go too far. But in Marius, it was progress, wanting something enough to show it, work at it, rather than sabotaging it. She wanted him to embrace the idea that he could choose, could desire a Mistress instead of playing her. He could have something for himself. "Does that mean the trip interests you?"

  "Yeah. I can chip in for gas, because my car's not reliable for a distance that far. Not if I'm chauffeuring a lady."

  His considerateness pleased her. "We'd be flying. I have a friend who private jets it between New Orleans, Tampa and Miami, because he and his wife like The Zone and he's the plant operations manager for a bunch of Central American facilities. I checked with him a couple weeks ago to see if I could hook up with his latest flight schedule, and it worked out. His wife will be with him on this trip. You'll like her."

  "Okay." He looked a little taken aback by the idea of a private plane, and she expected the jolt was giving him some other second thoughts. It was a pretty big step from where he'd been only a week ago. She tapped his cheek.

  "If you change your mind, all you need to do is let me know so I'm not waiting around on you. But I hope you decide to go. I'd enjoy your company. Now where's my coffee? Two sugars, one cream."

  He left the bed without saying anything more, though his thoughts were loud enough. When he started to pull his jeans back on, she cleared her throat to command his attention.

  "Did I say you could get dressed?"

  He stopped. She'd dialed down her usual Mistress level this morning, instinct telling her a lower tone had been needed, but those same instincts told her now might be a good time to raise it up again, to help his focus.

  As he met her gaze, she sharpened hers, a rebuke. It was amazing how responsive and intuitive a sub he was. But then again, he knew all the rules--thoroughly and bone deep. It was why he was so accomplished at breaking them. Not right now, though. Indescribable pleasure unfurled in her belly when he pointedly dropped his gaze toward the floor.

  "No, ma'am."

  "We'll call that one infraction, then. Bring me my coffee."

  He left the jeans and moved across the room, all flexing ass and thigh muscles, and mixed the brew according to her specs. When he brought it back to her--another pleasing view--she sat up and took the cup with both hands, inhaling the scent with gratitude and sipping. "Not bad for hotel coffee." She pointed to the chair, where he'd draped the belt that had been in his jeans. "Bring that to me."

  That intriguing muscle in his jaw jumped again, but he complied. She gestured. "Stretch out across the bed, your chest against the edge of the mattress, hands gripping the side rail. Spread your legs out."

  She slid out of the bed as he complied. Setting the coffee aside, she threaded the belt through her fingers. "Mistresses in the past punished you because they thought you were asking for pain, and you were, but to hide what you really wanted. When I strap your ass, Duncan, I'm not after your pain, though that will be an intriguing side effect. I'm reminding you that you did something wrong, and you've disappointed me. Watching a powerful ass react to being strapped, watching you hold all that strength in check and submitting to discipline...that eases my disappointment while reinforcing the lesson. You understand?"

  He had wrapped his hands around the rail, his head bowed so she could see his concentrated profile
. Slowly, he nodded.

  Part of the build for her, the anticipation, was taking a long, drawn out pause to speculate on what might be going through a strong sub's mind before he was punished. Right now the kick of it was so powerful she felt a tremor go through her. Circling the bed, she squatted in front of him, stroking her fingers through the hair over his brow. It was quickly becoming a favorite caress, running those spiky, soft strands through her knuckles, tugging on them like a horse's forelock. Could he feel the faint quiver through her fingers, like he had yesterday? Wasn't it amazing that, for once, she wanted a man to feel that reaction?

  As he started to lift his lashes, she tsked, and he kept them down. "You have no idea what your obedience does to me," she said, low. "Makes me want to care for you, protect you, fuck you until your legs shake. Wrap your throat and your dick in a collar with my name stamped on them. Not just on the collar, but into your very flesh." She watched his fingers whiten on the rail. A lovely reaction.

  "Do you know why I'm feeling that way, Duncan? I can see--truly see--how hearing it breaks things open inside you. The truth of it makes your cock hard, makes your heart hurt and pound. Now, tell me why I'm punishing you."

  He had to sort through a maze of emotions to find it, and when she saw the brief flash of panic at not having the answer ready to hand, she adored it. That panic came when a sub truly wanted to please his Mistress, and was afraid of that disappointment she'd mentioned.

  "I started to put on my clothes without permission."

  "A gold star for the right answer, though delivery time needs work." Rising, she circled back around him, trailing her fingertips over his shoulder.

  "Spread your thighs wider. I want to see those big, badass balls of yours. Make you worry I might include them in your punishment."

  His thighs spread, and she scraped her nails down one buttock, pleased with the light fur and muscled flesh. "Beautiful."

  Doubling up the belt in her hand, she struck, hard. She was satisfied to see he hadn't been expecting the force and flinched, a breath whistling out between his teeth. "I may have my fragile moments," she said with amusement, "but am I weak, sweet boy?"

  "No, ma'am." The red mark was already showing on his ass. His biceps bunched as he constricted his grip on the rail.