Elle
moved swiftly down the long hallway, her heart pounding as she drew closer to
the room where Sarge was currently training. She hadn’t even taken the time to
clean herself off before hastening out of Ash’s room. She could tell from the
tone of his voice that he was extremely displeased with her, and she knew from
personal experience that it wasn’t wise to keep him waiting.
She
shivered as the images of what may be waiting for her when she answered his
summons flashed through her mind.
Reaching his door, she slowed her pace, and tried to regulate her
breathing so she would appear calm as she walked into the room. Her eyes
settled on him, and her face blanched as she felt the fury emanating from him
in waves.
His
displeasure flowed across her heated skin like ice, and successfully erased the
passion that had built during her episode with Ash. Dejection settled on her
naked shoulders like a shroud as she recognized the disappointment lacing his
strong features, evident in the stiffness of his movements. Elle dropped to her
knees in the corner of the room, her heart pounding as she waited for her Sir’s
attention.
Sarge
had his back to the door, and resisted the urge to turn around as it opened. He
didn’t hear Elle walk into the room, but he could feel her presence as she
entered behind him. The sheer force of the possessive rage that flooded him as
he remembered the image of his beautiful submissive being bathed with another
man’s cum rocked him to his core.
His
knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table before him. Memories
flashed unbidden through his mind; each image of Elle’s obvious hunger for and
enjoyment of the other man felt like a dagger of betrayal in his heart. She had
deliberately disobeyed him. She had made the conscious choice to break the
trust of the man she had pledged her heart, her body, and her passion to serve.
Taut
muscles trembled as he wrestled with his inner dilemma. His hand, however, was
stable by the time that he reached for the intercom; his voice was steady when
he issued instructions to the faceless receptionist that answered. He slowly
turned when he heard the door open again, his face emotionless as he watched
his team sedate Zhanna and transport her to the holding room for cleansing and
rest.
Sarge
glanced through the glass partition only long enough to assure himself that his
directions for Ash were also being followed, and then turned away. He knew that
it was a necessity to see to the physical and hygienic needs of his “guests,”
but he simply didn’t trust himself to look at the other man under the present
circumstances. He had an irrational and instinctive need to do the man harm,
and that was a lack of control in himself that he intended to remedy.
He
didn’t match glances with any of his staff as they carried out his commands.
The nonchalance of his large frame as he leaned against the wall was in stark
contrast to the piercing intensity of his gaze as it finally came to rest upon
the source of his internal conflict. Anger flushed through him again as his
eyes travelled over the sticky evidence of her disobedience.
His
fists clenched as he sought to dampen his feelings; he’d never once touched
her, much less been tempted to discipline her for a transgression, while he was
upset. Even though she’d violated his
trust, he’d never violated the promises he’d made to her, and he definitely
wasn’t going to break those vows now.
Sarge
stood there in the silence as seconds stretched into uncomfortable moments. His
deep blue eyes lingered on her bowed head, tracing her exquisite features
before they roamed further down her body. The corner of his lips twitched in
begrudging approval of her submissive pose; the anger receded as he felt his
iron mask of self control slip back into place, once more allowing him to cage his
negative emotions.
The
minx knew that his eyes would be drawn to the sight of her heavy breasts, the
taut tips peeking from behind a curtain of ebony hair, he thought to himself.
She knew how he loved the contrast of it laying against her alabaster skin, how
it taunted his fingers with its long waves. His gaze traveled to her hands
resting quietly on her spread thighs, the faint tremble of her fingertips the
only outward sign of her anxiety.
Her
slender hips rested on her heels, her knees spaced far apart to give him full
access to the most secret part of her. He realized, as he scrutinized her
positioning, that she had instinctively bowed to his dominance. She was
apologizing for her behavior in the only way she knew how. He pushed himself
away from the wall and slowly stalked toward her. His acute stare watched her
trembling increase as he closed the distance between them.
His
steps, slow and measured though they were, came to an abrupt halt as the
beautiful woman on her knees shrank away from his presence.
Elle—his magnificent, passionate, rebellious Elle—feared
him.
Fast
upon the heels of that stunning realization, an overwhelming sense of guilt
slammed into him. Images of love and adoration shining brightly from her eyes
flashed through his mind, refusing to reconcile with the dejected woman in
front of him. Memories of her body begging for his touch, his passion, his
punishment warred with the image of her distrust.
He
wracked his mind, thinking of all the times they’d enacted this same scene in
the past. Not once had she ever broken her word to him. Not one single time had
she ever reacted to another man without his approval, without his express
instruction. Elle had given herself over to his control…her body, her pleasure,
her pain were his to command. Why, then, had she betrayed him?
Sarge
tried to remember their last “play date” and suddenly, all of the anger he’d
felt toward her for her disobedience evaporated. How long had it been since
he’d ignored everything and everyone but the exquisite creature poised so
delicately before him? She was a sexually insatiable woman, filled with a
hunger only he’d been able to satisfy. How long since the last time he’d
devoted himself to giving her what she craved?
In
that moment of brutal clarity, the memories of watching her performance with
Ash took on a whole new meaning. A serene mask of calm enveloped Sarge as the
realization slowly dawned on him.
He
had failed her.
He
had gotten so caught up in the intricacies of their daily routine at the
“office” that he’d neglected her needs. His eyes narrowed as he studied her
diminutive form; his fingers slipped into his pocket and softly stroked the
strip of leather he always kept there. Sensual heat replaced the previous anger
in his eyes as he withdrew the small studded collar.
Her
wayward actions could not go unpunished; regardless of the reasoning, she had
chosen to disobey. A wicked smile played across his chiseled features and he
felt desire stir to life within him as the thought of her pleas for release
played through his mind. Perhaps it was time to remind her why she belonged to
him…and him alone.
To be continued...
