BeyondAddiction (10 page)

Fallon was his one and only failure; the sub who had broken
loose before he was ready to discard her. A situation he was determined to
rectify.

He’d managed to push it to the back of his mind after she’d
left so abruptly and he’d failed to get her back immediately, unwilling to look
as if he was begging her to return. He never begged. Ever.

He’d thrown himself into business, and gone through three
subs who’d turned out to be just pale imitations of Fallon before he’d found
his current possession. But for more than a year the memory of her had simmered
in a dark corner of his mind.

Today had slammed it all back to the forefront. He’d barely
been able to leash the anger that threatened to burst from him.

No one—
no one
—left Brian Willoughby, not in his
personal or professional lives. They were gone only when he was done with them.

Getting through the rest of the day had taken great
discipline on his part, but that was something he had in abundance. And he
allowed his wrath to make him even more voracious during his business meeting
later that afternoon. The partners in the financial firm he was negotiating to
buy looked as if they’d been thrown under a train when they finally left. Even
his attorney, who’d been with him a long time, glanced at him strangely but
wisely withheld comment. Evan Hollander knew when to keep his opinions to
himself.

Brian had deliberately eaten a solitary dinner at a
restaurant rather than returning home. He had certainly not felt like sitting
through the meal but his consuming fury was tempered by the knowledge that his
latest sub was waiting so patiently at home. The longer he made her wait, the
more unsure she would become, and the more anxious to please him when he
finally arrived at the house. He would push her to her limits, let his rage be
appeased by her unsatisfied need.

And tomorrow he would make it his business to learn every
single detail of what Fallon Crowe had been doing and who she’d been with since
her friend had yanked her so unceremoniously from his house. He’d waited, not
so patiently, for her to return, tugged by that invisible leash. He was sure
that once Claire Panetta got tired of playing babysitter, Fallon would be back
under his whip before he could blink.

He did manage to ferret out through a private detective that
she’d tucked herself away in the Hill Country, never venturing into the city at
all. She’d also taken up with a Dallas transplant named Cord Jamieson.

If she was with a new Master, that person best be on his
guard. Brian Willoughby never lost, and never let go of anything until he was
damn good and ready.

As for the moment, Natalie would be waiting for him, worried
as always that she’d displeased him. She’d be so willing to please him that
she’d do anything he wanted, no matter how extreme. Only the thought of her
complete submission helped him battle the anger bubbling inside him since
running into Fallon.

Briefly the thought crossed his mind that if he was
successful in his plans for Fallon, he’d have to figure out what to do with
Natalie, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He’d solve that sticky
little situation just like he did all the others in his life, his own
satisfaction being the most important goal. The fact that Natalie would be
another casualty didn’t give him a moment’s hesitation. He’d long ago stopped
worrying about anyone but himself.

Climbing out of the car, he let himself into the house
through the side door. The place was immaculate, as always. The people who
cleaned for him knew that one forgotten smudge or missed film of dust and
they’d need to move to another city to find work. Mrs. Hudson, the housekeeper
who came in each day, had left a small lamp on in the front hall as well as one
in the kitchen, as instructed. He didn’t need all the lights blazing away but
he didn’t like entering a house that was completely dark.

Many people wondered why he, a bachelor, lived in such a
large home. Ten thousand square feet was beyond pretentious but he didn’t care.
He’d bought it because he could, and that was reason enough for him.

“Everything is yours for the taking,” his father had repeated
over and over. “You just have to grab it and not let anyone get in your way.
You have power. Use it or lose it.”

He’d lived by that all his life. Power was his drug of
choice and he fed his need for it by eating people and businesses alive. He saw
something he wanted and took it. Possession fed his hunger. People had accused
him of being emotionless but they were wrong. Nothing got his juices flowing
more or his pulse beating faster than acquiring something new. And acquisition
just increased his supremacy.

Yes, that’s what he considered it. Supremacy over lesser
beings.

His father had built an empire, firmly managing his life and
the lives of everyone around him. Brian’s mother was little more than a faded
smudge on his memory, background for his father, someone who’d embodied the
meaning of subservience and actually seemed to thrive on it. Brian had
exhibited a thirst for power and control at an early age and his father had
been happy to be his tutor.

“As good as I am,” he’d said frequently, “
you
will be
better. Never let anyone say ‘no’ to you and never let anyone cross you without
being punished. People don’t have to like you but they must respect you. That’s
what counts.”

Brian had taken his father’s empire and expanded it many
times over. The Willoughby brand was found in every corner of the global
business community. Too bad his father had died in a plane crash before he
could enjoy his son’s success.

Now he paused a moment at the foot of the broad staircase to
the second floor, looking around. The house was designed to convey both power
and status and could be called nothing less than a mansion.

“Impressions,” his father had drummed into him. “An
impression is a door opener. Everything you own is part of your image, of who
you are. Project power and you become power. And power is intimidating. That’s
your best weapon.”

He applied that to every area of his life, the house being
an extension of his image. The rooms on the ground floor were spacious and
filled with carefully chosen furnishings and accessories. He was a voracious
bidder at high-dollar auctions on items that caught his fancy. When he
entertained at home, he enjoyed watching his guests eye his spectacular objects
with envy. Everything shrieked quiet and substantial wealth.

He climbed the staircase, enjoying the feel of the polished
oak bannister beneath his hand and the plush carpeting on the stairs. A small
lamp was lit on the side table in the upper hallway, also, and he moved toward
the closed door of the suite where Natalie was housed.

Confining his sub to her own suite was another method of
maintaining control over her. It kept her from intruding into his personal
life. She was there for sex and nothing else. As he approached the room, his
groin tightened in anticipation of what awaited him.

Outside the door, he paused for a moment, composing himself.
These first few moments were always such a rush, better than any stimulant.
Letting out a slow breath, he turned the knob and opened the door.

Here too there was only a dim light, this time from the wall
sconce that was on a timer. It allowed him to drink in and absorb every detail.

Natalie sat obediently in the big armchair by the window,
naked, just as he’d ordered. Her hands were folded in front of her, eyes
focused on them, her feet placed just far enough apart that he could see her
cunt. If she’d followed his instructions—and by now he had no reason to think
she wouldn’t—she would have finished the dinner tray Mrs. Hudson brought to her
then showered completely and prepared herself for his return.

When he left each morning, he never told her what time he’d
be home. Or even
if
he’d be home. Often he had functions and meetings
that kept him out at night. Not giving her the specifics of his day kept her
off balance, just the way he liked it. Sometimes he was gone for two or three
days, leaving her to the routine he’d established but making sure she lived
with uncertainty. Removing every vestige of choice was important in
establishing command. It was so much easier to maintain control that way. He
had taken every bit of power away, leaving Natalie completely at his mercy. His
cock swelled just thinking about it.

When she was hired to help his executive assistant, he’d
spotted her at once as prime submissive material. She was thrilled when he
asked her to dinner, even more so the first time he took her home. Her reaction
to the activities in the bedroom confirmed his feelings, that she had been
involved in BDSM before. Perhaps nothing as extreme as what Brian practiced,
but at least he hadn’t had to start from scratch.

In the beginning, he’d allowed her to keep her position at
the office but once he actually moved her into his house, she’d worked from
there. If Jocelyn, his executive assistant, had any questions about that, she
didn’t voice them.

And then, so imperceptibly Natalie barely noticed, he’d shut
the door on her friends and acquaintances. He didn’t want any outside
influences, neither personal nor business. She was his. Every minute of her
life belonged to him.

She had been with him six months now and her training had
come along nicely. No one questioned her isolation. When she accompanied him to
certain events, no one commented on her docile attitude or her complete
deference to him. He dressed her appropriately, schooled her on proper behavior
and displayed her like a prized possession. He thought secretly other men
envied him; men whose women spoke in shrill voices, wore too much makeup,
behaved unacceptably. Questioned their authority.

Whatever the reaction might be when he and Natalie were out
in public, who would doubt the motives of the great Brian Willoughby? He
believed most of her friends thought her damn lucky that she was in a
relationship with him. Living in his house. Enjoying all the advantages he
provided. They didn’t need to know the particulars of the situation.

“You may look at me now, sub.”

She lifted her gaze and in her eyes, he saw intense relief
that he had actually come home. That she hadn’t been forced to spend another
day alone in the room, watching only the television shows he permitted, reading
the books he left for her, taking her meals in solitude. She was never allowed
in other parts of the house when he wasn’t home.

“I decided not to leave you alone again tonight.”

Her mouth curved in a familiar tiny smile. “Thank you,
Master.”

Brian took a moment to let his eyes rove over every inch of
her body. Her skin was smooth, almost the color of alabaster. High breasts were
firm and tipped with large almond-colored nipples. Her legs were long and slim
and she always moved with the grace of a dancer. Sometimes he just sat and had
her walk around the room naked so he could watch the movement of her body.

He insisted she wear her hair down all the time. It fell
just below her shoulders, a rippling mantle of sable-colored silk that moved
fluidly whenever she turned her head. Once a month he took her to a high-end
salon where a stylist trimmed and fluffed and conditioned. At the same salon,
she got manicures and pedicures and complete waxing, including her eyebrows. It
was important to Brian that Natalie’s body be well cared for so it was always
pleasing to his eyes.

He admired her now the way he would a statue, the lust in
him brewing at the satisfaction of owning such a slice of perfection. His cock
was giving him fits and already in his mind, he was devising ways to torment
her tonight to give himself the maximum amount of gratification.

He undressed, hanging his suit in her closet and discarding
everything else in a clothes hamper. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a pair of
sweatpants and tugged them on, the waist resting low on his hips. He turned to
find Natalie watching him intently, poised on the edge of her chair as she
waited for his commands.

“Come closer, sub,” he directed, standing with his feet
apart and his arms folded across his chest. “Do it the way I like you to.”

She slid from the chair onto her knees, placed her hands
behind her back and crawled to him. He had spent some time training her to move
that way without toppling to the side or falling forward. He watched the
movement of her legs, her thighs still open so her cunt was exposed, and the
sway of her breasts, the nipples already hard and darkened.

When she was in front of him, she bent forward, hands still
clasped behind her back, and touched her forehead to the floor. Brian knew she
would stay in that position until he told her to move, no matter how
uncomfortable it became. He was tempted to leave her for a while but his barely
leashed rage from earlier in the day demanded that he release it in some way. And
a passive situation wasn’t going to do it for him.

“Did you shower and prepare yourself for me?” he asked. He
knew she had. The special bath soap and the cream he insisted she apply to
every area of her body were made just for her, and he could smell them now. For
each of his subs, he chose a different fragrance. With Natalie, it was the soft
aroma of apricot that drifted from her body, tantalizing him.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Rise to your feet.”

She stood somewhat awkwardly but waited in an expectant pose.
Yes, she was definitely coming along very nicely. Her entire life had become
bound up in his wishes, desires and commands. Her pleasure now came only from
doing whatever he dictated, and from knowing that she pleased him. The
satisfaction he derived from that made his cock harden and swell even more.
Tonight he would drive her crazy until she screamed for mercy. Maybe that would
help wipe the anger at Fallon Crowe from his mind. And the sense of betrayal.