Yes, anything, I want to say, so deep in submission I almost don’t care what he feeds me.
But when he starts jostling the butt plug, fear infiltrates the muddy waters of my brain.Does he mean the butt plug?The question fires off urgent desperation through me, but my reactions are softened by the submissive daze, and the stir of the toy, working against my sensitive nerves, fires off different signals that drag me back into the cloudy haze.
I forget about the threat, so when the butt plug pops free and suddenly appears before my face, it’s like a strike of lightning deep into my foundation. It rips through my brain, obliterating every trace of soft submission, hurling me straight into blinding panic.
I start jerking to get away, but my brain is the only part of me that has woken up, my body still slack and slow. I try to scoot away and turn my head, but Killian simply grabs my hair and lowers his weight onto me.
Pinned in place, I gather all the power my lungs can muster under his weight and scream.
“Enough.” Ian’s sharp demand is a vague sound somewhere in the distance. All I see is that vile thing dangling in front of my open mouth; all I hear is Killian’s mocking voice.
“Shall we have a taste, princess?” He moves it a little closer, and I go absolutely frantic, screaming and banging my feet against the floor.
“Stop!” This time, Ian’s order cuts through the blazing panic—cuts through Killian’s demented dominance.
The plug disappears, Killian drops a quick kiss on my cheek, and gets off me. “Relax, princess, I was just kidding.”
But there’s no relaxing. A state of alarm has me in a chokehold, and I can’t stop crying out and thrashing even when Ian helps me off the table.
26
The Trust
Ian
Jenna is absolutely wild, writhing and screaming, when I remove the cuffs, lift her from the table, and curl her up in my lap on a chair. Once again, I wonder if I took things too far, letting Killian push her to the line.
I honestly didn’t expect him to do it like that. He had told me which toys he’d use and that he would humiliate her, but I thought he meant some verbal humiliation, not threatening to shove the butt plug inside her mouth. I told him to be careful not to trigger what seems to be her abandonment issues, and he agreed. So I didn’t ask more. If I had, I might have told him to find another way. But as I sit here, holding a hysterical Jenna tight and seeing Killian watch us with the same proud look as when he mastered his first Liszt étude, I can’t help but marvel.
He kept Jenna wanting and needy—even deep in subspace—right up until the point where he broke her into howling despair. With one simple threat.
Sometimes, I think I underestimate Killian and his wicked mind. He often seems simple in his way of practicing BDSM, resorting to toys and blunt-force humiliation tactics. But I alsonever see his girls until they’re already deep in the muck and he puts the icing on the cake by parading them in front of me. Right now, seeing the way he handled this “assignment,” I feel proud.
I see a part of myself in him—his ingrained instincts and precise understanding of what makes someone snap. Really, thinking back to that video he showed me of their first night together, I should have realized it already back then. He was only sixteen, had no experience whatsoever, and his only tools were my hastened advice before he approached Jenna—talk softly and treat her like a princess. She might have had a crush on him, but the way he made her ask for all those kinky things and even made her feel safe and genuinely like it—an almost virgin—was impressive.
He deserves a medal. And I’m holding that prize in my arms. But he will have to wait a while longer. I’m still not sure he can keep the same composure when he gets her alone, and Jenna needs more time after the stunt we pulled on her tonight.
“Don’t ever let me be alone with him,” she cries hysterically the moment I remove the gag from her mouth.
“Shh-sh-shh.” I pat the back of her head. “He wasn’t going to put the plug in your mouth. It was just an empty threat.”
“How do you know?” she all but screams, pushing at my arms. I don’t think she actually wants to get away, but she needs the physical outlet of fighting.
“Easy now.” I rock her from side to side, but it does little to calm her.
“How can you even consider leaving me alone with him? He’s fucking crazy.”
“I know him. I trust him.” At least I trust his mind. If his temper takes over, his mind shuts off. But I don’t tell her that, of course. That’s a risk I have to take—everything involves risk, after all, and I don’t consider this a major one.
“I don’t. He’s crazy. I don’t trust him. I can’t. Not ever.”
“I know.” I adjust my grip around her, trapping her arms at her sides, leaning close to her ear. “But do you trust me?”
She goes still. “I—No. Or…”
I lean to the side to catch her eyes. “Do you?”
She searches my face as if she could find the answer there. “I shouldn’t.”