Free Deep in the Woods by Annabel Joseph Page A

torture fulfilled them. He drew lines at scarring or maiming, but otherwise he was up for however much, or little, pain a woman desired.
    Sophie, so far, seemed most comfortable somewhere in the middle. A light spanking or sensation play was not enough. Serious violence and hard pain, on the other hand, drove her into a shell, and no wonder.
    It had taken Dave a long time to get over the feelings of rage and vengefulness every time Sophie showed him her body, marked by scars. Some were more noticeable than others. Some were so faint that he only saw them when he was right up close to her, licking her shoulder or stroking her bottom cheek under the high-watt lights. He thought he must have seen them all by now. He subjected her to such scrutiny the first days and weeks of their relationship, as much to soothe and reassure her as to inure himself to the damage. He spent hours going over every inch of her, whispering, You’re beautiful. You’re lovely. You’re perfect as you are. Thinking the whole time that he’d like to smash walls for what Barry had done to her. Thinking of what he’d do if he ever met him face-to-face.
    But there had been no word of Barry in the months since Dave met her, and she claimed she hadn’t communicated with him for months before. Dave made a halfhearted effort to get her to press charges against him, but her face at those words had stabbed at his heart. “I just want to let it go,” she’d said. “I can’t. Please don’t make me.” So he hadn’t, although he was a hard-ass about getting her to her therapy appointments even when she didn’t want to go. He knew they were helping. He’d seen a huge difference in her since they’d been together.
    He also worked with her on self-defense techniques gleaned from his martial arts experience, which gave both of them peace of mind. If Barry ever showed up at her work or night classes when he wasn’t there to defend her, he was determined she be able to defend herself. He practiced with her a couple times a week at least, wonderful, grapply sessions that always put him in an amorous mood.
    He squeezed her hand. Speaking of amorous moods… He turned into the driveway and looked over at his girl.
    “Tell me, Soph. What’s the rule about eye-rolling?”
    “I…uh… I didn’t think you—”
    “Answer me. Is eye-rolling respectful behavior, even if I’m not looking?”
    She swallowed, her hand opening and closing on the switch.
    “No Sir. It’s not respectful at all. I’m sorry.”
    “I’m glad to hear you’re sorry but we have a rule about disrespectful behavior, don’t we?”
    “Yes Sir.”
    “Remind me of the rule.” Ah, the squirming was delicious.
    “It’s…um…ah…”
    “Answer me without the stammering.”
    “The rule is that disrespectful behavior is punished, Sir.”
    “Punished how?”
    “However… However you see fit, Sir.”
    “Mm.” He took the switch from her fingers and tapped her thigh with it. “Inside. Take your clothes off and stand against the wall in the bedroom.”
    He watched her go, secretly thrilling to the reluctance in her movement. Lovely subbie. He would hurt her a little, but he would love her a lot more than that.
    He took his time corralling Cerberus from the backseat and collecting his photography equipment, enjoying thoughts of Sophie waiting, nervous and tense, in the bedroom. He even took a few moments to get a cola in the kitchen, then as an afterthought grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator for Sophie. He left Cerby waiting at the bedroom door.
    “Sorry, friend. You won’t like this scene. I’m going in there to bring the pain to your favorite person.” Cerby gazed up at him, droll canine accusation, and let out a small whine. “She likes it, Cerb. Don’t give me that look. But you’d best stay out for now, boy.”
    * * * * *
     
    She heard him shut the door. She was assailed with familiar feelings of fear, excitement and base lust. She tried to stand straight