by Roni Loren
NOT UNTIL YOU SURRENDER
TWENTY-SEVEN
Even though the restaurant wasn’t cold, I couldn’t stop shaking. Foster had blindfolded me with his tie in front of all these people. Yes, apparently everyone was here for some sort of private kinky party, but that didn’t make it better. This was declaring an intensely private and personal thing to a crowd. It went against everything I’d been taught growing up. You weren’t supposed to do “naughty” things in the first place, but if you did, you sure as heck didn’t tell anyone. Being submissive to Foster in the safety of a bedroom, exposing my desires to him, had been challenge enough. But this was far, far beyond that. I was still wearing all of my clothes. I’d never felt more naked.
Voices murmured around us as Foster guided me forward through the dining room, and I silently wished for a hatch to open up in the floor and suck me in. These people knew now, knew what I doing. And probably had figured out that I was in some sort of trouble. Embarrassment burned my face, and I lowered my head. God, what must they be thinking? Panic and shame coalesced inside me, swirling into an uncomfortable mix. My safe word hovered in the back of my throat, but when I opened my mouth, I couldn’t bring myself to use it.
And I didn’t know why I couldn’t freaking say it. One word, and I had full confidence that Foster would end this right now. He didn’t have the right to punish me like I was some disobedient child. I could go home and chalk this up to something that’s not for me. Move on. I hadn’t even told my family I wasn’t coming home. I could simply revert to my original plan.
But picturing that scenario left me feeling hollow on the inside. Some strange part of me wanted to make it up to Foster for lying to him, wanted to show him that I could handle whatever he meted out. Even if I didn’t really know if I could handle it. If he made me do something in front of all these people . . .
My throat seemed to close up.
“Breathe, Cela,” Foster said, his voice a low, warm caress over my ear as his arm tightened around me.
“I’m trying,” I said in a strangled whisper.
Trust.
It was really what this lesson was about. I was at his mercy. He was making me walk on a narrow ledge with only his hand to keep my balance, and I had to put all of my faith in him in the moment—believe that he would only subject me to what he knew I could handle.
An old homily from church snuck into my brain at that last thought and I snorted—the comparison absurd considering the circumstances.
“You find something funny, angel?” Foster asked wryly.
“No, sir.” I gave a swift shake of my head, my nerves making me near delirious. “I’m sorry. Just a random, bizarro thought.”
“Oh, please,” he said, slowing our step and, based on the swish of air that blew over my face, opening a door. “Do share with the class.”
I blew out a breath and looked toward him, even though I couldn’t see anything through the silk over my eyes. “I was thinking this is oddly religious—the amount of blind faith required. Our priest used to talk about trusting God to only give you what you could manage.”
This time Foster’s voice held amusement. “If you’re comparing me to God, angel, I totally approve.”
A door shut somewhere behind us.
“So you decided to play after all?” another voice interjected, giving me a start.
My mouth clamped shut, and all humor vanished from my system. I crowded against Foster’s side, away from the other voice and approaching footsteps, like a mouse who’d heard a cat’s hungry meow.
Foster gave my hip a squeeze. “Yes. Change of plans.”
“Fantastic. Well, we have equipment set up on second level in the main space. It’s not a fully outfitted dungeon since we only bring in temporary stuff for these parties, but I think you’ll find it adequate. A few people have wandered up there already. We also have a few things set up in the banquet room down the hall.”
I realized quickly, listening to the other man talk, that this was Kade, the restaurant owner I’d met earlier. My hold on Foster eased from death grip down to only mild panic. I’d instantly liked Kade, his manner easy and his eyes kind. Plus, knowing who was on the other side of my blindfold made me feel marginally better. He was simply the party host, telling us where we could go. I didn’t let my mind process the rest of what he’d said—talk of dungeons and other people and such. Nope. Wasn’t going to think about that.
Not. At. All.
Anxiety bit at me like ruthless snapping turtles.
“Thank you, Kade,” Foster said, shifting me forward a bit and taking me by the elbow. “I’m not sure that’s quite what I have in mind.”
Thank you, thank you, thank you. My body melted in relief.
Yes, I could get totally turned on imagining watching others or doing things in front of them. But actually doing it—yeah, that might make me pass out in sheer terror. I’d barely gotten comfortable being sexual in front of Foster much less strangers.
“I understand,” Kade said.
“But I was hoping,” Foster continued, “you might be able to help us out in another way.”
“What’d you have in mind?” Kade asked, his curiosity and interest evident in his voice. I could almost picture him there, blond head tilted, mischief sparking in those blue eyes.
Foster left my side for a moment as he spoke in low tones with Kade. I inclined my head toward the sound but couldn’t make out most of the damn words. But the few I did hear made my spine go stiff. Was he inviting Kade to be part of my punishment? Oh, hells no.
“Foster,” I said in a harsh whisper as my body started to quake with nerves again. He didn’t answer. I felt like a child urgently trying to get her parent’s attention, looking for a pant leg to tug on. “Sir.”
“Hush,” he said, a bite to the simple word.
“I can definitely help you out with that,” Kade said, a smile in his tone.
Oh, screw this. I stepped back, bumping into a wall, and yanked the tie off my eyes, frustration and fear surging in me like a battle cry.
Foster’s frown was unmistakable in the soft light of the hallway. “Cela.”
“No,” I said, words spilling out of me without going through any kind of filter. I threw the tie onto the ground. “I lied, okay? So I didn’t tell my family yet. Big deal. It wasn’t a freaking capital crime. That doesn’t mean you should get to punish me and invite your friends along for the ride.”
“Invite my—” Thunderclouds crossed Foster’s expression, an ominous spring storm blotting out the sunshine, and he stepped forward. Automatically, I pressed my back fully against the wall, half hoping it would just absorb me into it. To my dismay, the drywall didn’t cooperate. Foster moved into my space—not touching me, not trapping me, but freezing me in place nonetheless with the hard look in his eyes. His voice was like a winter-chilled gust when he spoke again. “Not a big deal? Were you or were you not the one who wanted to stay so this could become a relationship—not just kinky fun?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I said, my words sharp but my voice quavering and my fingers pressing into the wall for support.
“You lied to me. People in relationships are supposed to be honest, to talk about what they’re going through.”
“And it pissed you off,” I said in a huff. “I get it. I’m sorry. I said I was sorry.”
He scoffed. “Pissed? You think this is about me being pissed?” He bent his head toward me, his gaze boring into mine. “I’m hurt, Cela. If you’re just using me to get some wild oats out your system, then fucking tell me that. At least I know where I stand. But don’t make me care about you, and then not even trust me enough to talk to me. How would you feel if I said your punishment was that I get to tell one free lie to you when the time suits me? Would that seem like a big deal?”
I
glanced away. That would, of course, be awful—wondering anytime he said something if this was the time he was going to choose to lie. Gah. I didn’t want him to make sense. My righteous indignation felt so much better than thinking I’d actually hurt him.
“You know what it makes me feel like when you lie to me?” he asked, his voice soft now.
I pressed my lips together and shook my head, feeling a little more miserable with each passing second.
“Like your fuck buddy, Cela. Like some guy.”
I winced at his pained tone.
So it was true. I’d hurt him.
The thought ran through my head like a storm warning on repeat. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Foster wasn’t just angry that I’d lied to him; the lie and my lack of trust had honestly affected him. And that did something to me I couldn’t even explain. Hurt meant that this was important to him. Hurt meant that his feelings were involved. Hurt meant that earlier tonight he hadn’t jumped my case about the peephole because he was some overbearing asshole—he did it because he was genuinely concerned about me.
Hurt meant everything.
And even though I hadn’t realized I’d needed confirmation of that, something ragged inside me smoothed. My heart wasn’t the only one on the line here. We were both stripped-down and vulnerable.
And he was right. How could I demand all those answers from him over dinner only to lie to him when he’d asked about my family? I hadn’t wanted to look like a coward or explain why it was so hard. But he was right. If we were going to be together, I needed to stop showing him only the parts of me I wanted him to see.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and in that moment, I realized how damn pathetic those words sounded. What did they mean anyway? Those words were supposed to make everything better? Show true remorse?
Now I understood.
Without saying another thing, I took a deep breath and slowly lowered myself to my knees. Once there, I picked up Foster’s tie, and lifted it to him, staying on the floor at his feet. He stared down at me, blue eyes going tender, and took the strip of silk from my hands. “Thank you. Stand up, angel.”
He took my hand in his, helping me to my feet, then lifted my hand to his mouth to brush a kiss over my knuckles. His gaze stayed on mine, conveying so much through just one look. Appreciation. Heat. And relief. He’d been afraid I was going to walk out. Finally, he turned his head and sent a curt nod toward Kade, who’d stayed in the shadows while we’d been arguing. Foster tied the blindfold over my eyes again and then placed my hand in the crook of his elbow to guide us further down the hall.
I had no idea where we were going or what awaited. But though nerves still bubbled in my belly, the rest of me had morphed into resolve. Foster cared about me. And I trusted him. If he was going to have Kade be a part of things, then I needed to have faith that he would only take it as far as he thought I could handle. And if either of them tried something I didn’t like, I had my safe word. I knew down in my gut that Foster would honor that no matter what, so that gave me the courage to keep putting one foot in front of the other. Even when I felt damp night air hit my face.
“Take off your shoes, angel,” Foster said, his breath gusting over my neck. “I don’t want you to stumble.”
“Okay.” Keeping my hand on him to steady myself, I slipped out of my heels. My bare feet hit a smooth, uneven surface—like the cobblestone that paved the sidewalk into the restaurant. Surely he couldn’t have me standing barefoot and blindfolded in front of the building, right? There was a parking lot out there and windows along the front of the restaurant where anyone would be able to see me. I wet my lips, worry like a heavy coat I couldn’t shrug off.
“Easy,” he said, lifting my hair off my shoulder and pressing a kiss to the column of my neck, sending shivers down to my painted toenails. “Just try to breathe and focus on my voice and touch. That’s all you need to worry about. Not Kade or what’s around you. Just me and what you’re feeling.”
“Yes, sir.” I nodded, warmth from the simple feel of his lips against my skin gathering low. “Is Kade still here?”
“No, he’s getting a few things for me. But see, you’re still worrying. Focus, angel.”
I sighed and closed my eyes behind the blindfold, trying to center myself and pay attention only to Foster—his gentle touches and kisses, his scent mixing with the faint scent of something earthy in the air, and the warmth of his body next to mine. Soon, I could sense my muscles starting to unwind a bit and my mind easing.
A few minutes later, footsteps sounded to my right, and I knew we were alone no longer. Foster shifted and left my side. There was a rustling sound and low-spoken words. I kept breathing. Mostly. I’d learned in the class that submitting could almost be a meditative state, like reaching some other plane, and I wanted to get there. Foster had brought me there before—the place where nothing mattered but the two of us and what we were doing, where time seemed to slow and inhibitions fell away. That was a happy, happy place.
When fingers touched my elbow again, I jumped. “It’s okay, angel. I’m going to lead you a few more steps. I promise I won’t let you fall or hurt yourself.”
I let Foster guide me, the smooth stones cool beneath my feet, then he was turning me. On the next step, my feet pressed into something soft. I bit my lip, my mind trying to scan through where I could possibly be. Out front there was only stone and then a paved parking lot. But I didn’t dare ask the question.
“Cela,” Foster said from somewhere behind me. “I’m going to take off your dress.”
Panic lodged in my throat, swelling. “Foster.”
But his fingers were already on my zipper. “Shh, just listen to me. You are beautiful, and it pleases me to see you bared for me like this. You have nothing to fear or be ashamed of.”
My fists curled but I forced myself to breathe through the panic. Trust. Trust. Trust. God, I’d never thought it would be this hard to put that faith in him. But my mind had me standing in front of a well-known restaurant. I’d only been semi-naked in front of four guys in my life, counting Foster and Pike. And now here I was, with God knows who looking on, being stripped down to my barely there bra and panties. My heart was making a valiant attempt to break through the prison of my rib cage and leave me behind.
Foster brought my dress down my hips, then helped me step out of it. The night air, though warm, instantly raised goose bumps on my skin. “Foster, I’m kind of freaking out.”
His palms glided over my upper arms and his body pressed against my back. Already I could feel the stirring of his own arousal. “Take a breath, angel. Do it with me. In. Out.”
I forced myself to follow his instructions, bringing oxygen into my lungs.
“I’ve got you, okay?” he said, his voice quiet and reassuring. “Now lift your arms for me.”
Though I was still on the verge of panic, I lifted them. Hands took my wrists. Hands. Oh, shit. Kade was still here. And from what I could tell, he was helping Foster wrap something around my wrists—rope if I had to guess by the slightly abrasive feel of it. The heat of a full-body blush started in my cheeks and rolled downward like a crimson tide. They stretched my arms out above me at an angle and secured them on opposite sides. Before I could even process that, the same material was being wrapped around my ankles.
Foster ran a palm along my calf. I assumed it was him. I couldn’t imagine Kade taking such liberties, but I couldn’t be sure. “Spread your legs a little wider, angel.”
It was Foster. A little sag of relief went through me, and I adjusted my stance. They secured my ankles, leaving me completely at their mercy by the end of it. I flexed my fingers, trying to maintain some sense of calm, but was failing miserably. I probably could’ve provided electricity to half the homes in the Metroplex with the amount of nervous energy racing through my veins.
“Comfortable, Cela?”
&n
bsp; “Oh, yeah, totally. I hang out like this all the time.” The quip was past my lips before I remembered my role here. I locked my mouth shut, prepared for a hand to land on my ass at any second, but instead I was met with chuckles from them both.
“I meant,” Foster said patiently, “does anything feel too tight or uncomfortable?”
“No, sir. Sorry.”
“I didn’t take you for the kind who likes a brat,” Kade observed, though there was humor in his tone.
A brat? I huffed, affronted. “Excuse me, but—”
That’s when a hand smacked the back of my thigh, drawing a yelp from me. “Calm down, sweetness.”
I turned my head in the direction of Foster’s voice, hoping he could sense my oh-no-you-didn’t glare.
“She’s not a brat,” Foster said to Kade. “She’s just brand new. And feisty. But . . .” The volume of his voice increased as he apparently directed his words my way. “If she keeps up trying to glare at me like that, I may have to demonstrate why bratting isn’t going to work out well for her. Care to add an additional punishment to your docket tonight, angel?”
I jutted my chin forward but turned my head away. I was opinionated but not stupid. Don’t provoke the guy who has you tied up. That was probably a good rule to add to my arsenal. “No, sir.”
“Good. Now I want you to count down from one hundred aloud. Slowly. When you get to one, I want you totally focused and ready for whatever I ask of you. Do you understand?”
“Where are you going?” I asked, stiffening at the thought of being left here.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, impatience creeping into his tone.
“Yes, sir,” I said, trying to swallow down my smart remarks and questions.
“Count.”
I took a deep breath. “One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . .”
He unsnapped the hook of my strapless bra, and the bra fell away, my nipples beading from the exposure. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I was naked—outdoors. I stumbled in my count.