The Commitment (The Unrestrained #2) (26 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I sat with my phone in my hand, the email and link open, debating with myself whether to watch it. Finally, I opened the link, my heart pounding. The woman in the video was attractive, of East Indian descent. She was petite, with long dark hair and huge dark eyes. She was beautiful.

The video showed a man binding her, his careful movements designed to place the leather strips in specific locations, creating a pattern on her body. The man's face was hidden, but I recognized Drake's firm ass and nice body. His black hair was shorter than it was now, but I could tell it was him.

She watched his face intently as he bound her, an almost worshipful expression on hers.

I closed the link and threw my phone into my backpack.

I walked aimlessly, feeling like I couldn’t breathe, hiking through the slushy streets, my heart racing, a sick feeling in my stomach. I walked on, not certain where I would go or what I would do, afraid that the video would show me something I didn’t want to see.

Finally, I arrived back at the apartment. Drake had gone so I was alone and I felt a huge hole inside of me because I'd left angrily and over such a stupid thing. I wandered around the apartment and felt totally lost.

I went back to my email from Dawn and clicked the link once more.

Drake moved her to a St. John's Cross, her hands and ankles cuffed, now blindfolded and gagged. He kept his back to the camera, standing in front of her, using a riding crop, slapping her thighs and shaved pussy with it, dragging it between her spread thighs to tap her labia over and over, repeating a pattern. She moaned when he slapped her pussy, and he leaned closer and squeezed a clamp attached to her nipple, tugging on it, twisting it so she writhed on the cross.

He released the clamp on the other nipple and bent to it. She writhed and moaned over the ball gag and I assumed he'd sucked her nipple to soothe it.

"You
like
that, do you,
slave
?" he said, his voice breathy. "You're such a bad girl. You need this."

With that, he slapped the crop over her breasts, repeating the process on the other breast before moving back to her labia, which he slapped repeatedly with the crop.

The video ended at that point and I was glad. Nothing on the video meant that Drake was into pain or had engaged in edge play or knife play with Sunita. Still, there were bruises on her thighs. Drake told me that he tried to make Sunita happy, but that in the end, he didn’t respond to pain, giving it or receiving it.

Ultimately, I had to accept one of their accounts of their relationship. The video did nothing except make me feel extremely guilty and I was no further along than if I had never clicked on the link. Except that now I had the image of Drake twisting a clamp on one of her nipples, and slapping her with the riding crop.

I sighed, a knot in my stomach. In truth, I felt sick.

I took a taxi to my father's place and entered the apartment to the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

"Hey, sweetie, you’re up and around pretty early."

"I was awake and bored so I thought I'd come for a visit."

"I'm always glad to see you. Where’s Drake?"

"Taking care of business," I said.

"Come on in. I'll get you a cup of Joe."

While he fixed me a cup, I texted Drake.

I'm sorry, Drake. Please don’t be mad at me. I was being a spoiled child. Forgive me? It's just that sometimes, I have so much desire for you, I forget how to submit.

I sent the text and sat with my father at the island in the kitchen, drinking coffee and chatting about nothing in particular. I checked my phone for Drake's response, but there was nothing.

"Let me get you some breakfast," my father said and proceeded to make some silver dollar pancakes, like he used to when Heath and I were kids.

Later, when my father went to his study to take care of his own business, I took a taxi to the studio in Chelsea and worked on my canvas. I checked my cell frequently to see if Drake had texted me, but there was nothing. He was ignoring me or punishing me.

I had lunch of Pho from a nearby Vietnamese restaurant that Keith brought in for the three of us, and when I finished working on the canvas for the day, it was late in the afternoon. I stood back and checked it out, pleased with my progress.

Keith stood beside me, his head tilted, examining the painting that showed a naked Drake with his arm thrown over his eyes, the white bed sheets twisted between his calves. His ample erection laid to one side of his hip, a trail of hair leading down from his navel to his pubes.

"A bit of an exaggeration?" Keith said beside me. I turned to him, noting the way he grinned.

"Not at all," I said, frowning.

"You know that the Greeks deliberately sculpted men with small genitals, viewing men with large penises as more animalistic, less civilized."

"I don't think there's a correlation between penis size and civilization…"

He laughed. "If you want to exhibit this, you'll have a lot of men very jealous."

"This is for a private collection," I said and smiled. "Mine."

"It's very good," he said.

"Thank you."

I said goodbye to Nathaniel and Keith and then took a taxi to Drake's apartment in Chelsea. I walked up the stairs, wondering if Drake would be there, my stomach all butterflies, and a sense of impending doom filling me. The apartment was empty, so I went to the living room, plopping down on the couch, turning on the news to try to distract myself. At about three, Drake finally replied:

Of course I'm not mad at you. There's nothing to forgive. I always want you to be completely honest with me, even when it might be something painful for me to hear. I know submission isn’t easy. If it were too easy, you’d grow bored.

I love you.

That sent a thrill through me, and only intensified the guilt I felt about watching the video. In truth, it made me regret my doubts so much. I texted back right away.

I love you.

I
did
love him. I wanted to ask him when he'd be back, eager for our time together and maybe some really hot makeup sex, but I resisted pushing him. I had to submit.

About four o'clock, I received another text from Drake.

I'm coming home in an hour, Katherine. I want you naked, wearing your garters and stockings, kneeling by my bed. Use the blindfold in my closet. I want you to think of all the things I'm going to do to you. I want you wet and ready, waiting for me. I'll call and let the phone ring twice before hanging up. That will be the signal that I'm almost there. You should be ready for me, nice and wet and submissive when I arrive.

A jolt of desire went through me. Drake was going to do the scene with me – one of the ones from his letters to his subs.

Finally
.

Maybe he was trying to please me after disappointing me earlier. It was sweet of him. I was determined to be the very best sub I could, pushing the memory of Sunita's video to the back of my mind. I probably should tell Drake about the video but for now, I was glad he wasn’t too mad at me for storming out earlier. He had enough stress in his life right now without me adding to it because of my doubts about him. I kicked myself mentally and promised that I would be even more cooperative, perfectly submissive, to make it up to him when we were together later.

I showered quickly, keeping my eye on the time to ensure I was ready for him when he arrived. I pulled out my stockings and garter belt, and slipped them on while I stood and watched in the full-length mirror. Then, I wandered around the apartment, letting the cool air caress my skin, preparing for when the call would come and I'd know it was time to kneel on a pillow by the bed, a blindfold on, my hands behind my back. I went to his closet and removed the blindfold that was folded in the cabinet where he kept his bondage equipment. I held it up to my eyes to test how well it kept out the light. It would do the job.

A very intense ache between my thighs distracted me. Waiting all day like I had really did increase my level of need and arousal. I sat at the table, watching out the window to the Manhattan skyline. My cell buzzed twice and then stopped.

Drake was on his way.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I quickly went to the bed and took one of the pillows, dropping it onto the floor. Then I knelt down, fastening the blindfold around my eyes, my mouth dry from excitement. I was already wet thinking of what would happen, imagining Drake entering the apartment, seeing me waiting. Would he already be hard, imagining what he'd do to me? Would he tie me up using more intricate knots, like some of the pictures in his photo album?

My heart beat faster as I waited and I couldn't help but smile to myself. I'd have to keep from smiling when Drake showed up or it would ruin the mood, so I bit my bottom lip and inhaled deeply, trying to squelch the glee I felt that he was going to go all Dom with me. It surprised me that he decided to do a scene after the silly tantrum I threw that morning, but perhaps he realized how hard this was for me. Maybe he'd duplicate one of the actual letters that I'd read. He said he might try something new with me and my body responded.

I knelt quietly, the beating of my heart the loudest sound I heard. In a few moments, I calmed down a bit, and then I heard other sounds – a siren in the distance through the window. The knocking of the radiators from the old steam heat system in the building, a brief soft hiss from the valve as it let off some of the pressure. Some woman's voice from the apartment below or beside us – I wasn't sure at first, but it sounded close. Then, all I heard was the sound of my own breath, flowing in and out through my parted lips.

Long moments passed and my ears became acutely sensitive. I heard a noise like a door closing at a distance and wondered if that was Drake. Could I actually hear him walking slowly up the stairs?

Then, the jangle of keys outside the apartment. It
was
Drake at the door. The lock clicked as the key slid inside and turned the barrel. The doorknob made a metallic sound as it turned and then the door creaked as it opened, a whoosh of air from outside. I heard his footsteps on the hardwood, and was amazed that I could hear everything so well, even from this distance.

The clunk clunk as he removed his boots and dropped them on the mat by the closet. I listened hard, noting the creak of the ancient hardwood. Was he standing in the doorway, watching me? I tried not to smile. I bit my lip once more to stop and lowered my chin in case he could tell I was fighting it.

Then, I heard the fridge door open. He was getting the bottle of chilled Anisovaya. It was as I remembered from his letters and finally, he was treating me as he did his new subs – having a brief shot of the liquor before coming to me. I almost felt his presence in the room. He seemed to be standing quietly watching.

Sounds I couldn't understand – was he undressing? I waited, imagining him naked, his erection thick and jutting out, the prominent vein running along the bottom side of the shaft. His nice hip crests, the thin trail of dark hair running down from his navel to his pubes.

He was
so
beautiful…

A hand stroked my head and I raised it instinctively. I parted my lips, remembering his orders to keep my mouth open, ready. I licked my lips and waited.

"Now remember your safewords, Katherine. Yellow is for when you need me to slow down and red stops everything. Do you understand?"

"Yes," I said. "I won't need either one, Master."

"I don't expect you will, but just in case, I want you to feel completely safe. Now, open your mouth wider," he said. "I've got some Anisovaya for you."

I felt the cool hard glass against my bottom lip and took it from his hands. I drank the liquor, enjoying the sharp burn of it as it went down my throat. I'd come to think of it as an aphrodisiac, and the taste made me even more aroused.

Then, his lips pressed roughly against mine. He kissed me and he tasted like Anisovaya, the slightly sweet taste of it lingering on his tongue when he thrust against mine possessively. He sucked my tongue into his mouth and I couldn’t help but murmur in response, a tiny whimper as a wave of lust flowed through my body. He pulled away and stroked my cheek with his fingers.

"Have some more," he said and placed another shot in my hands. I frowned, but didn't argue, drinking down the liquor. Did he want me drunk? I shot the vodka back, grimacing a bit as it burned down my throat and into my belly.

Then he slipped a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, my tongue rolling around the tip the way it would around the head of his cock.