I Will Not Beg Read online

  “Ah, how could I forget?” Sir Ethan shook his head. “In scene, I usually use the stoplight system for safewords where red means everything comes to a halt. However, since we don’t know each other, if you say no, I will stop immediately. If you say wait, we’ll pause and discuss what’s bothering you.”

  She stared at him. He was openly giving her…control. The ability to break things off. How amazingly wonderful.

  “Piper, did you understand what I said?”

  “Yes, Sir. Red or no means you will stop.” Her voice wobbled as she added, “Thank you.”

  His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were gentle. “No thanks are needed for something as essential as safewords.”

  He was so wrong.

  “Time for a break. Why don’t you settle in? I’d like lunch for us both in an hour. Soup and sandwiches are fine.” Sir Ethan rubbed her shoulders. “We’ll go out this afternoon to find you something to wear at Dark Haven tonight.”

  Oh God, oh God.

  “Ah, there’s another fear,” he murmured. “What are you afraid of right now, Piper?”

  “I own a company. I can’t… If no one respects me, then—”

  “Stop.” The iron in his voice sent chills through her. He gripped her arms and sat her back so he could see her face. “Is being humiliated what you’re concerned about?”

  Terrified about? “Yes, Sir.”

  He considered her, gaze on her face. “I occasionally use humiliation as a disciplinary measure, but never lightly. It serves well as a punishment for someone who deliberately breaks the rules, thinking no one will find out. Piper, you haven’t done anything to merit such treatment.”

  Her fingers were still curled tightly.

  He huffed a laugh. “You’re not thinking of punishment, though. You’re afraid I’ll treat you like a slave in public or select a sleazy outfit that would humiliate you in Dark Haven.”

  The pain in her chest showed she’d stopped breathing.

  “Take a breath, poppet.” He waited until she complied, then ran his knuckles down her cheek ever so gently. “Trust me a little further, sweetheart. My job is to build you up, not to destroy you.”

  Wait—what? “But I’m a submissive. Your job is to reduce me to—”

  “No. Bloody hell.” His jaw tightened, and she froze at the anger in his face. Then, to her wonder, the anger disappeared under his steely control.

  “Piper, some of the strongest people I know are submissive. They are not diminished in the least by giving up their power.”

  That didn’t make sense.

  “Consider this. Drill sergeants are the most capable beings in the universe.”

  Thinking about the Marines and army people she’d known, she grasped what he meant. She nodded.

  “Yet sergeants answer to their officers. Their captains.” He paused. “Captains don’t reduce their sergeants to less. Sergeants are valued for their skills, knowledge, and strength. Rather than running them down, their officers send them for more training. Build them up. Reward them for their abilities.”

  He laid his palm against her cheek, his thumb under her chin, his gaze an unearthly blue. “That’s how a good Dom treats his submissive.”

  Oh.

  Chapter Ten

  Early that evening, Piper finished scrubbing the countertops and looked around with satisfaction. Cleaning and tidying up gave her a feeling of control. Calmed and centered her.

  Sir Ethan had figured that out quickly. Then again, all day, he’d been determining who and what she was, as if she were a fascinating puzzle. He watched her closely. Asked her questions. Instructed her to take different positions. Used different tones—loud, irritated, bored.

  Each time she grew anxious, he intervened. His calm voice and his careful, gentle hands on her arms would break the cycle before she lost it. In fact, he paid such close attention, he usually sensed her panic before she did.

  With every episode, he taught her techniques to fend off the panic and made her practice. After, he’d assign something quiet and easy to do. He’d discovered that doing something for him calmed her faster than meditating or doing crafts or puzzles.

  That was why she’d been cleaning the kitchen.

  She leaned against the counter, taking a moment before returning to him. Aside from a quick shopping trip for her fetish clothing, the day had been…intense.

  That wasn’t what had her stalled in the kitchen, though. It was because of who he was. If he’d been white-haired and beer-bellied or…someone else…she wouldn’t be quite so rattled. But he was her English Dom, the champion who’d visited her dreams over the years.

  And he was so very dominant. When he told her to do something, if she didn’t panic, then, oh God, she slid right into the melty elevator-going-down submissive space.

  Just his firm voice could do that. His smoky, resonant voice stroked over her like rich velvet.

  When he looked at her with those eyes—a penetrating dark cobalt, the same deep color as the glass bottles her mother had collected—everything around her faded, leaving only him.

  Her reactions were out of line, dammit. He was just being a caring Dom. Helping her out as he would any other needy submissive. Remember that, Piper.

  She found him in the master bedroom, selecting his clothing for the evening.

  “Piper, good.” He set his hand on her shoulder, not making her kneel for which she was grateful. Because, boy, her overworked leg muscles felt like spaghetti. She was going to be sore tomorrow.

  “Sir?” She bent her head and folded her hands in front of her.

  As he studied her in silence, his gaze was an almost physical touch. “You did very well today, poppet, but you’re exhausted. I want you to relax until you leave for Dark Haven.”

  “But…” Her head came up. She wasn’t cured yet. “I’m fine. We can keep going.”

  “No.” He tapped her cheek with a finger. “You’re done for now.” The way he said it, so quietly firm, silenced her objections.

  And did more than that. Decisions, choices, plans weren’t in her control today, and the awareness gave her a bone-deep contentment.

  “Go sit on the couch and relax.”

  Once she was settled there, he plucked Churchill off the bed and set the cat in her lap. With a pair of pants over his arm, he disappeared into the bathroom.

  Churchill made a pleased meow and curled into a ball. As the sound of the shower drifted out of the bathroom, Piper stroked his soft fur. His body was a warm calming weight, and his low purr more soothing than any music.

  She’d been ordered to sit. Had nothing to do. Tension drained away, leaving exhaustion behind.

  Sometime later, the door of the bathroom opened, making her jump.

  Wearing only pants, Sir Ethan smiled at her. “You look better.”

  She could only nod…because her mouth had gone dry. All day long, she’d tried—really, she had—not to think of him as the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

  But now, oh God. He was barefoot and shirtless, with that just-out-of-the-shower clean scent.

  The promise of his aristocratic face was borne out by his finely sculpted frame. A spattering of dark hair covered the tanned expanse of his chest and rock-hard pectorals that bunched and rippled when he moved. A scar crossed his chest, cutting downward almost to the corrugated leanness of his abdomen.

  He turned away to open the closet.

  Wide, powerful shoulders. More muscles on each side of the furrow of his spine. Excitement swept through her, leaving every nerve sizzling. As he pulled on a shirt and his steely biceps flexed, the temperature in the room skyrocketed.

  Buttoning his shirt, he turned to her. “After I leave, take a long bath and dress in the outfit I bought you. Rona and Simon will pick you up at nine.”

  She stared. “I thought I was going with you.”

  “I must be there early, and you need some time and space.” He walked over to the couch.

  “But…”

 
“Enough, pet.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, gripped a fistful, and drew her head back. The confident ease of the maneuver reminded her of who was in control.

  She swallowed under his unyielding gaze.

  “You’ve done very well, Piper, but this has been more difficult than either of us anticipated. I want you at Dark Haven tonight.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “We’ll take it slow and easy. Although I will be touching you more.”

  A shiver ran through her.

  “If I leave you alone, do you promise to find enough courage to show up?”

  “Yes, Sir. I will.”

  “Good girl.” His gaze warmed with approval. With understanding.

  No wonder some submissives had so much trust in their Doms. Something she’d never had. Something she’d always wanted. Instead, she’d found only pain.

  Why couldn’t she have found Sir Ethan first?

  Something seemed to crack deep inside her ribcage, letting out all the emotions that had been trapped inside. Her breathing turned ragged.

  Yanking free of his hand, she buried her face in Churchill’s fur.

  “No, sweetheart.” Sir Ethan set the cat on the floor, sat beside her, and with firm hands, pulled her against his hard chest. “When you’re unhappy, this is where you belong.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She tried to push back, to escape.

  “Shh.” He kissed the top of her head. His arm around her waist tightened, caging her in safety rather than pain.

  Face against his shoulder, she couldn’t hold back the first sob or the next, and the storm swept over her. She cried.

  He…let her. His warm hand moved up and down her back in long slow strokes.

  Slowly, as the tempest eased, her mind cleared—leaving her appalled. What was she doing? Hiccupping, she tried to stop, tried to sit up.

  His big hand cupped the back of her head, holding her in place. “You’ve stored this up for a while, pet. Let it out. I have you.”

  He did—oh, he did. And she dissolved into tears again.

  Stockings. Boots. Victorian drawers with lacy edges that came to below her knees. A white puffy-sleeved chemise. Piper did up the hooks on the brown leather corset and fastened the outside decorative row of tiny buckles. She donned petticoats and finished with the full black skirt.

  Done.

  After checking herself in the guest room mirror, she looked at Churchill who was supervising from the dresser top. “What do you think, buddy?”

  He lifted his nose, eyes squinching in approval.

  “Okay, good.” She bent to exchange a cheek rub. “I think steampunk looks pretty good on me, too. Who would have thought?”

  That afternoon, the quick shopping trip for fetwear had been fun, especially since Dark Haven’s theme tonight was steampunk. Even better, Sir Ethan chose clothing she was comfortable wearing. He’d been wonderfully kind.

  Tonight, she’d be with him at Dark Haven. Yes, she was still scared, but not as much as before.

  A glance at her cell told her she was out of time. “Got to get moving, PM. Oh, no, the collar.”

  Sir Ethan had said he’d leave a play collar on his bed for her. She walked into the master bedroom. Yes, there it was. Sleek brown leather with fleece padding on the inside. It didn’t have silver stripes or say PROTECTED BY ETHAN. No, this one simply said ETHAN’S. As she buckled it around her throat, she felt queasy…yet almost pleased. Happy.

  No, you idiot. Do not tell me that you’re getting interested in that man. That Dom. What kind of weird psychology thing was this? A man terrifies a woman, and she falls for him?

  She walked over to the dresser to look at herself, her breathing still a bit fast.

  Then, she smiled. On the dresser was one of Chatelaines’ engraved silver bowls that the cleaners used to deposit stray items. She’d seen bowls with buttons, change, underwear, ties, socks, jump drives, eyeglasses, pill bottles, and earbuds.

  No matter how neat a client was, there was always something.

  Sir Ethan’s bowl had coins, pens, a tie tack, and a paper. The printing on the paper caught her attention. SLAVE ROUTINE: Assign cooking chores. Cleaning chores. Have her journal and ask questions about the material.

  The last item on the list was Spank to tears every night before bed. A chill ran up Piper’s spine.

  No. No, he wouldn’t.

  Heart pounding, thinking only of escape, she turned toward the door.

  But she’d promised Sir Ethan she wouldn’t run. That she would show up at Dark Haven tonight. People didn’t talk much about honor, but it meant a lot to her. She’d given her word.

  The doorbell rang. Oh, God, Rona and Simon were here.

  Okay, she’d go. Once there, she’d simply thank Sir Ethan and call this off. She’d thought he wasn’t like the Defiler, but he was. Spanking just to make someone cry? They hadn’t even talked about any kind of pain. He must be far more sadistic than she’d thought.

  How could she have liked him so much?

  As she answered the door, sadness filled her chest until her heart ached with every beat.

  After escorting the general contractor and his crew out, Ethan accompanied Xavier on a leisurely viewing of the interior remodel of the dungeon. BDSM and steampunk went well together. “It looks magnificent, Xavier.”

  “Yes, it looks good.” Xavier led the way up the stairs.

  On the ground floor, the changes were mostly decorative. One wall was exposed brick. Behind the right stage was a floor-to-ceiling sepia old-world map mural. Behind the left stage, odd gears and wheels covered dark wood paneling. Industrial light fixtures with Edison bulbs ran the length of the room over the social area of wooden tables and chairs.

  Ethan walked toward the rear of the room where the wooden bar was surrounded by vintage leather-and-metal barstools. Black pipe shelving held bottles of spirits as well as more steampunk oddities—leather-bound books, terrestrial globes, and antique knickknacks. “Where did you get all this?”

  “Abby and I spent the last year browsing antique stores.”

  Ethan grinned. She’d probably enjoyed herself thoroughly. Before moving in with Xavier, she’d decorated each room in her home around a different country. Living room—French. Kitchen—Italian. “Nice job of scheduling. You finished just in time for tourist season.”

  “Tourists.” Xavier growled under his breath. “Just what we need, more out-of-town guests with reciprocal memberships.”

  Reciprocal memberships were arranged with clubs in other locations so someone from another club could visit here, and Dark Haven members could play in a different city. Unfortunately, other clubs didn’t always adequately instruct their members as to proper behavior.

  Xavier wasn’t an easygoing club owner.

  The sound of conversation caught Ethan’s attention, and he turned to see Simon crossing the room with Rona.

  And Piper.

  Pleasure filled Ethan at the sight of her.

  She looked spectacular in the steampunk attire he’d bought. The deep brown corset matched her eyes and accentuated the curve of her waist. Her shoulders were bare, her full breasts pressed high, reminding him that he needed to discover if being intimately touched was one of her triggers.

  Damn, but the day had been difficult. His instinct was to protect her, not terrify her. Certainly not reduce her to tears. Rather than hating him—she’d been grateful. After an episode, she took a few minutes to recover, then would say, “I’m ready.”

  He’d told her if she wasn’t ready to face a memory, a counselor could approach it more gently. But she’d insisted on continuing. She was too brave for her own good.

  He’d have to monitor her carefully here in Dark Haven.

  It wouldn’t be a hardship. She was a delight to be with. The combination of a giving nature and indomitable courage was incredibly compelling.

  “Xavier, the new décor is amazing.” Rona turned in a circle to look at everything.

  �
�I’m glad you like it.” Xavier studied the two women and nodded. “You two fit in perfectly.”

  “Thank you, My Liege,” Rona said.

  “Thank you, Sir.” Piper curtsied. As she rose, her gaze met Ethan’s…and her smile faded. Looking away, she clenched her hands. Her shoulders and neck muscles tensed.

  When he’d left her at the house, she’d been open and warm.

  After studying her for a moment, he glanced at the others. Simon and Xavier had also noticed. “Excuse us, please.”

  “Piper.” He held out his hand, palm up. “I want to show you the”—no, not the dungeon. She didn’t need the edgy dark atmosphere down there—“the wall of gears.”

  Left without a polite choice, she set her hand in his. Her fingers weren’t cold. Weren’t trembling. She wasn’t afraid of him. At least they’d made that much progress.

  As they walked toward the wall, he studied her. “I would like to know what you’re feeling right now.”

  “I’m in awe of what Xavier has accomplished here.” Stilted, cool voice. Very unPiperlike.

  “No, pet. We’re not discussing the décor. I’d rather hear why you’ve withdrawn behind a wall.”

  * * *

  Piper stiffened. Why did he have to be so perceptive? On the other hand, he’d given her the perfect opening to tell him she was done.

  How would he react? Would he be angry? She should have called or sent a message with Rona…however, he’d been so nice to her all day. Thoughtful. Stern when needed, and oddly gentle at the same time. He deserved to be told in person. To be thanked properly.

  “Piper?”

  He stopped by the wall and looked down at her. A Master waiting for an explanation. The Defiler had done that in the beginning—before he stopped letting her talk at all.

  No, don’t think about that time.

  “It’s just…it’s been a long day.” She stared at the floor, disappointed in herself. That was honest, but she was avoiding the real truth. The memory of the list surfaced, and she felt herself close down further.