Deep Control (Dark Dominance 2)

“If you wanted to go—” he began, then stopped. “Well, you could do whatever you wanted now. Which is the way it should be.”

My mind said, yes, leave, that’s the answer, but my heart thumped so hard at the thought that the tears waiting in my eyes spilled over. “I don’t know,” I said aloud, being careful to steady my voice. “I don’t think I can leave just yet. We’re in the middle of things, and with Leo gone, it opens up new possibilities, you know, to bring more scientists in, scientists who didn’t want to work with him. He isn’t the most well-loved guy in the business.”

“Imagine that.”

I held the phone against my ear, wishing Devin was here instead of on his way to the airport. His wry ‘Imagine that’ gave me feelings that made no freaking sense.

“Have a good flight,” I said. “Where are you headed?”

“Just an overnight to Ireland. I’ll think of you when I’m closer to the stars.”

He thought I dealt in stars and planets, and outer space, which was endearing, but the reality of my research was so much more abstract. It was so hard to put things into words sometimes, especially when it came to him. I wondered if I should even try, or if I should let things go, the way waves rippled across time.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” I said, shoving all the feelings down.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Devin

Hey Dev. Coming to The Gallery tonite?

I looked down at Milo’s message, knowing it wasn’t really meant for me. Yes, I’m coming. Bringing your fave sub.

He texted back a devil emoji, and I tried not to feel jealous. The Gallery was a sharing space. Those were the rules, how we’d always done things, because it added an extra layer of eroticism to the experience, and kept love triangles and possessive feelings from becoming a problem.

Well, I was in a triangle now. Milo had broken things off with his preferred submissive a few weeks ago because she got too clingy, and started acting damned clingy with my submissive instead.

Do u mind if I get in on your scene tonite? he texted.

Like you do every weekend? I snarked mentally. But I texted back, Whatever u want. Fort said he might bring Juliet for a while.

Milo sent another devil emoji. He won’t let me touch her.

Because Juliet’s not into your thing, you ass.

Yeah. Not like Ella.

ELLA IS MINE. My fingers itched to type it, but it wasn’t true. The more Ella and I connected in our tear-filled, sadist-joy scenes, the more she held me at bay afterward, like the magic between us hadn’t happened. And I always used to prefer it that way, until her. Damn, I was turning into such a fuckwit, all because of that body, and her ridiculous brain.

What did I need with a brainy woman? What did I need with a girlfriend, someone to tie me down when my job involved flying all over the world with infinite access to women? Ella wasn’t even fun. She was anxious and quirky, and she stressed me out. She didn’t want me as anything more than a fuckbuddy.

I have some ideas in mind for our little maso, Milo texted. See you in a few.

I didn’t text back because I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, which was I don’t want you to touch her. That wasn’t the agreement, not for any of us. She liked Milo, and he was one of my oldest friends.

I wanted to punch my feelings into a wall, but I wouldn’t. I wasn’t my father. I always stayed in control.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Ella

Putting on my Gallery uniform had become a sort of ritual. I did it slowly, mindfully, appreciating my resilient body, remembering all the creative sadists who’d done things to it. When I put on the peekaboo bra, I remembered the men who’d hurt my nipples for their pleasure—and mine. When I placed the garter belt over my hips and cinched it at the waist, I remembered the men who’d grasped my waist, who’d made me be still, or turn back around for more punishment.

Then there was my ass, a favored target for whipping or fucking. It was exposed, always exposed, framed by the back of the garter belt, offered to anyone who wanted to hurt it. The stockings and stilettos went on last, smoothed up my legs, which might be parted or punished also. When I was really aroused, my legs trembled. When I was afraid, I went weak in the knees.

And Devin would be there beside me, propping me up, looking into my eyes to be sure whatever terrifying thing was happening to me was really okay. Even if he wasn’t doing that terrifying thing, even if someone else was playing with me, in my mind it was him, because he was my sponsor and protector. My collar might say Property of The Gallery, but I went to The Gallery because I wanted to be with him.

After lingering over the collar, arranging the tag just so on my neck, I hurried to put on my makeup, including the mascara and eyeliner he preferred. I’d learned to apply the amount he liked, so it would run down my face in irregular streaks when a hard blowjob or spanking made the tears flow. Before we left the dungeon at the end of the night, he’d take me to the submissives’ bathroom and wipe it off, holding my chin, staring into my eyes with his particular brand of possessive mayhem.

“You can’t go out on the streets looking like this,” he’d say. “It’s too delicious.”

He would share me inside The Gallery, but not outside. His actions with Leo were proof enough of that. He couldn’t bear for any other man to hurt or control me, except with his permission. It was about dominance, not love. We didn’t feel love for each other, not really.

If I kept telling myself that, maybe I’d believe it.

When I heard Devin’s knock, I threw on my coat and opened the door. He stood there in his requisite suit, the essence of a fantasy man.

I stood back to let him in. Before I could even say hello, he had me in his arms, kissing me hard, moving a hand up to grasp my neck. There was something about being kissed and choked at the same time, something about the heady mix of affection and fear. I went limp, sagging against him, letting him steal my breath until he was satisfied and broke away.

“Hello, Ella,” he said.

I blinked, still clinging to him. “Hi. What was that for?”

“For this.” He pressed his hips against mine, letting me feel his hardening cock. “Are you ready for tonight? I feel horny as fuck.”

“I’m ready.” I laughed, not able to hide my excitement as he gripped my neck and kissed me again. He frowned this t

ime when he pulled away.

“Where are your glasses?”

“I’ll get them, Sir.”

When I was properly bespectacled, he led me down to his car and helped me into the passenger seat. The ride to The Gallery was another opportunity to reflect, and meditate on the adventures to come. We rarely talked during this drive, as both of us were getting into our roles. By the time we arrived, he was in full Dominant mode, and I was more than ready to surrender.

The ride up in the elevator was excruciatingly sexy. He found my hand beside his, wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed. My submissive. Mine.

Somehow, it was okay to belong to him here, more okay than falling in love with him on the “outside.” Outside, there was the fear I’d develop the kind of love my father had felt for my mother, the love that would cripple me if anything ever happened to Devin. He was a pilot, there was so much danger.

Even now, you’d be devastated if he left you. Just admit it.

Yes, I’d be devastated, but I could continue my life and career without descending into a sort of madness, like my father. I wouldn’t suffer the bonds my parents had forged: marriage, family, a child…true love.

But you like to suffer. You’re a masochist.

I told my inner voice to shut up as we exited the elevator and walked into The Gallery’s lobby. Rene stood at his podium, looking as young and flawless as ever.

“Good evening, Captain Kincaid.” Rene turned and nodded at me. “Ella. Welcome to The Gallery.”

I signed and dated the usual paperwork and we made our way up the stairs, into the heaving, throbbing space that would never stop amazing me. It wasn’t just the soaring beauty of the clock tower, with its multiple levels and balcony. It was the erotic freedom of every participant there, the willingness to expose everything, and accept everyone’s body types and kinks.