Free BeyondAddiction by Desiree Holt Page A

you’re
expecting a punishment session. Am I right?”
    “Yes, Sir.” Her voice trembled. “I deserve it. I want you to
punish me.”
    “Not until you tell me what you did wrong. We aren’t playing
for pleasure here. Not at the moment.”
    She studied the floor and clasped her hands behind her back.
“I didn’t tell you all about him before.”
    He could barely hear her. That would never do. “When I ask
you a question, girl, I expect you to answer in a loud, clear voice. So tell me
again why I’m going to paddle that sweet ass of yours.”
    “Because I hid things from you.” Louder this time. “Because
I didn’t let you know everything about him.” She wet her lips. “About B-Brian.
About our relationship. Because I wasn’t going to tell you about t-today.”
    “And why is that important?” he prodded.
    “I should never keep secrets from my Master. Secrets that
might…affect our relationship.”
    “That’s correct,” he nodded. “And this is a big one. A very
big one. Because Brain Willoughby screwed up your head and I need to know how
to straighten it out.” He paused. “We can’t make this work unless we have
complete honesty between us. You need to have that impressed upon you.”
    “Yes, Sir.” She bobbed her head. “That’s why I need to be
punished.”
    “No.” He ground his teeth. “Not tonight. I will never punish
you for what someone else did to you.”
    He loved the way Fallon embraced punishment, riding the edge
of pleasure and pain that drove her to intense orgasm. But that was always
within the context of the bedroom play. This was the first time he had ever
seen her stripped down to almost nothing emotionally, pleading with him to
reprimand her inappropriately, for something that was beyond her control.
    But this situation was fraught with danger. He had to make
her understand the depth of his feelings for her, and understand that punishment
for running into someone completely by accident was cruelty, and he was not a
cruel man.
    Still, he had to handle this in a way that illustrated who
was in control.
    He blew out another breath. “On your knees. Hands behind
your back. Forehead to the floor.”
    He watched as she arranged herself as directed, bent low,
ass in the air. The slight discomfort would serve as the punishment she thought
she needed. He sat at the foot of the bed, hands on his knees. And steeled
himself for what was to come.
    “Now,” he said. “I want every single detail, what happened
from the moment you bumped into him everything you said and felt. Leave nothing
out. And speak up, so I can hear you.”
    Fallon’s halting recitation of the run-in with the fucking
asshole made him grind his teeth in silent rage. Her description of the man’s
effect on her, of her fear, as well as the addiction she battled, made him want
to shoot someone. Preferably Willoughby.
    Cord was a well-trained Dom. He’d studied at a couple of the
best dungeons in Dallas and observed other Doms carefully. Safe, sane and
consensual had been drummed into him. Respect. Negotiation. For every D/s
relationship, there was a different degree of intensity, different definitions
of how far to take things. But the basic rules were always in place. If anyone
violated them, the D/s community policed its own.
    To hear that Brian, someone who obviously had only a sketchy
knowledge of the philosophy and practices, had subverted BDSM because he could,
made Cord angrier than he ever remembered being. He’d never understood how any
man could so extremely abuse a privilege granted to him. Listening to Fallon
made his blood boil.
    When she was finished, he sat for a moment, gaze fixed on
her bent form. He wanted to pull her into his arms, soothe her, tell her they
would get through this together and everything would be fine. But he knew that
she wouldn’t believe him. So much of her emotionally destructive upbringing
still lingered, still fed her insecurities. Punishment was like an anchor to her,
but