Page 18 of Crushed
“Like I said before, not even a little bit. I’m more of a top, myself.”
I had always been curious about dominance and submission. Being an assassin that lured the targets into our traps, made me see how sex was always soaked in power. It didn’t matter if you had whips and chains; each interaction was about who had control, who was submitting. It always made me wonder what it would feel like to be on the bottom, to let someone else take the lead.
“Do you get off on dominating people?” I asked.
“Get off on it?” She laughed. “Sometimes it’s not about pleasure, but about the bottom line.”
What was the bottom line to Cormac? When I thought of a slave, I thought of a woman with her head bowed, a collar wrapped around her neck. A doormat that didn’t have any personality left, because the only urge that existed inside of her was the obligation to please her master.
And that wasn’t who I was. I had feelings. Opinions. Urges of my own. I couldn’t give myself completely like that.
But when I pictured a master, I thought of a strong man with muscular arms and shoulders, the kind of hand that could envelop a throat and smack an ass into submission.Thatdidn’t seem so bad.
I didn’t want to become a mindless slave. But actively submitting? That was something I was curious about.
“Have you ever done that kind of stuff before?” Teagen asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not really the most experienced person in general.”
“Ah,” Teagen said.
Iris tilted her head. “You can check out my stuff if you want. See if anything intrigues you.”
Once we were finished, Iris and I cleaned the dishes. Then I followed Iris into her bedroom, which looked exactly like mine, but was slightly bigger. Every space on the wall was covered with a hook or shelf, displaying some kind of instrument to strike people with.
“These are impact toys,” she said, gesturing around the room. “I’ve got latex and leather in the closet.”
I slid open the door and reached in, touching the various, shiny materials. The earthy smell of leather mixed with the plasticky scent of latex.
“Do you wear this kind of stuff all of the time?” I asked.
“Basically, you can’t,” she said. “It’s a bitch to get into the latex. And sometimes casual is more appealing. It’s more comfortable too. I charge a high fee for anything that requires silicone-lube to get into.” I could see that. Some of the latex looked like they would be impossible to get on, and even more difficult to get off. “I’ve gotta talk to Dahlia about something,” Iris said. “You can play with them. Use any of the tools that you want. I’ll be back in a half an hour.”
It was equal parts intriguing and frightening, to know that there were people out there whowillinglyput themselves through these pains. I picked a red flogger off of the wall, lazily striking it against my forearm, the sound crashing with a thud. I put it back, then selected what I knew was a riding crop, the flap of leather pinned at the end, the delicate stem of the instrument. It whooshed through the air in a quick snap. I did it again, letting the leather land on my thigh. It cracked through the room, but the bark was more impressive than the bite.
How would it feel if someone else did that to me? If Cormac beat me?
Running my hands over a metal chain, I imagined being alone with Cormac in a sleek black room, his presence taking up space. His calm, collected persona matched with an instrument that was equally as brutal as his inner rage. I pictured a bamboo cane in his hand, tapping it into his grip, circling me, judging me for the things I had done wrong. Maybe he would tie me up, to make sure that I withstood his punishment. Or maybe he would handcuff me to hanging rings so that I couldn’t hide myself, so that I was forced to take everything he gave.
I couldn’t even trust myself in a situation like that. With my career, I had to always be in control, to not let anyone else take the reins. How could I trust him like that?
But maybe, with the right circumstances, I could experiment. In the end, it would help me get closer to Cormac. There was a good chance that if I wanted to do this on my own, I would need to give in to his desires. At least to some degree.
My gut clenched, thinking of those piercing green eyes looking down on me, as tears trailed my cheeks. What would he do to make me cry? Would he like seeing me like that? Was it about breaking a strong woman into a bumbling submissive, or was it more than that? Showing her where her fears were, showing her that she could face them, and come out alive too?
***
Sage City was about forty-five minutes away from the Dahlia District, but luckily, the client had picked a coffee shop at the edge of the city so that I didn’t have to drive any farther. I immediately spotted him, sitting in the corner, an espresso cup in front of him. Issac Berman had been a wealthy pharmaceutical CEO until Cormac had cut him out of his own business.
I waved, and Issac straightened. I sat across from him. He was in his late forties, possibly his early fifties, with dark hair and trim facial hair. Despite having nothing left of his fortune, he kept himself put together. He had spent what was left of his riches on Silent Network Consulting, hiring Lizzy and me to eliminate Cormac.
He lifted the tiny cup. “Coffee?”
“I drank enough caffeine for six weeks this morning,” I said. “What’s up?”
“I wanted an update on how the progress is going with the target.”
My body sagged. “I’ve made contact. We told you we would contact you when we had updates.”
