"Always the charmer," she reproved gently. "Hush a moment, and listen. You remember how you couldn't answer me, when I asked why you thought you were submissive?"

"Yes."

"You couldn't charm your way out of that. You didn't know." She touched her thumbs to his lips, her beautiful blue eyes very close to his face, so that he felt he had fallen into them, that swirling Caribbean color, touched by a dying sun and turned into violet. His Violet.

"I believe that you don't know, any more than I know why being your Mistress is so important to me. You need to accept that, that there isn't any explanation. Then you can let go of the reins. You have to give up control to me, Mackenzie, for no other reason than I command you to do so, and you want to do it. You're afraid, you're angry, it doesn't matter. You just have to do it. I'm here to catch you. All right?"

He stared into her eyes, only inches away from his, and fought past his fear to obey, to hear what she was saying.

When he was seven, he had stood at the top of the steepest hill in the neighborhood, alone, clutching his skateboard, scared to death but knowing he was going to do it. Just like he had known a handful of months ago that he was going to follow a man who craved only death into a dark hole and only one of them was going to come out alive. At this moment, he saw the truth.

In every terrifying moment of his life, she had been there. He had sensed her presence waiting, just beyond that next challenge, knowing he was following a path he didn't always understand but knew he must walk. Her voice, her touch, had been there. Calling him. For the hope of her, the dream of her, he had come to this moment.

Starting in undercover work and then becoming a homicide detective, he had worked as a cop for twenty years. He'd been at it long enough to have paid the price of his reputation, his soul immersed in situations so deep and darkly violent there was no way to stay untainted by them. They had been locked inside, and somewhere along the way his heart had become a dungeon, a place he no longer knew how to open to invite in the full gift of a woman's love. Or offer the same from himself.

But he didn't have to figure out how to open up that dungeon, because she had already found a way in. She stood with his darkness and violence, unafraid, the light of her soul a flashlight that could guide him through that labyrinth and keep him from losing his way. All the fears he had, of never having a complete relationship with a woman because he could not offer all he was to her, the light and the dark, dissolved in her arms.

She was wrong. He did know why his heart was submissive to her. And just like that seven-year-old child, and the forty-three year old cop, the soul of the man stood before her and knew what he was going to do, despite being more afraid than he'd ever been before.

"Mistress?"

"Yes, Mackenzie."

"I'm... very, very thirsty."

He closed his eyes as her arms wound around his shoulders, her cheek and hair touching his skin. Her breath left her in a long, soft expulsion, and he wished he could hold her.

He was terrified of his vulnerability to her, but she was right about that part. He would just have to be afraid, and give everything to her anyway, because she'd left him no choice.

She was his Mistress.

Chapter 12.

Violet removed the stool, unbuckled the manacles. As he moved forward, she thought he was falling, and lunged forward to catch him, but he caught her hands, shook his head slightly, and continued to his knees. When he was there, his hand lightly at her hip to balance himself, he curled down, and pressed his lips against the side of her foot, just above her arch.

She laid her hand on his head, tears running down her face. Mac lifted his head, saw them. He straightened, still on his knees so his eyes were just below her face, and caught each on his thumb, wiping them away for her, pressing them to his lips like a gift.

Gradually, she became aware of the silence around them. A quick sweep of her attention around the room showed that the play with Leila and Collin had stopped. At some point, Lisbeth had joined them with David. Each person was still, watching the exchange with the solemn formality afforded to a religious rite. In this case, a sub's complete acceptance of his Mistress's sexual dominance over him.

Mac got to his feet. When his arms went around her, she stepped into his embrace, holding him, feeling the tension in his shaky muscles as he fought to stay on his feet.

"We're going to bed now," she said.

When they reached the bedroom, a room done in a soft blue with a gauze-draped canopy bed and a balcony looking out over the water, she pressed him to a sitting position on the bed.

"You've served me well," she told Mac. "Now I'm going to tend to you. Stay here."

Overwhelmed, his body weak with an exhaustion unlike any he'd ever experienced, he watched her move around the bathroom like a pleasant dream. Testing the water in the Jacuzzi tub, setting out towels, soaps, shampoo.

When she was ready, she came to him. He opened his knees at her approach and she stepped between them as he'd hoped she would. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he clasped her around her waist and hips, feeling her breast pressed against his jaw, her buttock beneath the palm of his hand. She laid a kiss on the top of his head. "Come get into the tub, baby," she murmured. "I want to bathe you."

He managed to walk, but his muscles had never felt so liquid. "I feel like I could just ooze across the floor to the bathroom," he said with a short chuckle.

"I don't doubt it." She looped a companionable arm around his waist, guided his hand to her shoulder. "You will lean on me if you need to," she ordered.

She tensed slightly when she delivered the order. Mac recognized it for what it was. She was braced for his usual smart-ass attempt at a denial, cloaked in charm. Instead, he put a finger to her chin, guided her face so she looked up at him.

"I did," he said simply.

She raised her hand to his, cupped it. "So you did."

They made it into the bathroom, and he followed her guidance to step into the Jacuzzi and lower himself where the jets could massage his back and leg muscles. He groaned in sheer bliss.

He discovered she meant what she said, that she wanted to bathe him. Burying her fingers deep in his curls, she shampooed his hair, ran slippery hands over his slick shoulders and back. She washed his genitals, even made him lift up and turn, eased her fingers into him and washed there, soothing him with a soft murmur when he tensed.

"I got a little rough. I'm sorry, Mac."

"My Mistress never owes me an apology for getting pleasure from her slave. I should be doing all this for you."

She chuckled. "And how selfless of you to offer to wash my pussy and ass."

He grinned at her over his shoulder. "Don't forget about the breasts. That would be the worst chore of all."

She flicked soap suds at him. "Behave. Let me finish this. I probably need to do a very gentle enema on you or you're going to hurt like hell tomorrow. Tyler left one up here that has a balm in it to help. "

He shifted, uncomfortably. "I've never...I can do that."

She leaned over, putting her chin on the point of his shoulder, touching her lips to his ear. He pressed his temple to her head, so she spoke into his throat.

"You belong to me, Mackenzie. I want to wash it all away, every woman's touch from you, inside and out."

And she did. He submitted to all of it, every caress and probe of her fingers, every kiss brushed over his skin, every request to turn and bend, stand or sit, until finally she was done, and he had never felt so clean and cozened in his life. She bade him lie back in a tub of clean hot water, dissolved mineral salts in it for muscle pampering, and left the jets running on a low hum as she put away everything. Mac just watched her move around the bathroom, feeling as if he could do that for eternity, never needing to move again, as long as she stayed near enough to smell her scent, see her face.

At some point, he drifted off, for the next thing that came into his awareness was her touch, moving slowly up and down his arm, her fingers following the line of his muscles, wandering over his bicep to his shoulder, down the pectoral, the nipple, then back to the inside of his elbow, as she explored her possession. He felt the difference in her touch. He was hers now in truth, and she seemed content to take this quiet moment to touch him purely for her own pleasure. Almost as content as he was to have her do so.

He opened his eyes, saw she was kneeling on a folded towel next to the tub. The bathroom was illuminated only by candlelight now, pillar candles in artful groupings in the corner shelves of the room.

"Come join me...Mistress?" He ran a hand up her side, trailed it along the soft skin of her upper arm so his touch brushed the side of her breast. At her pointed look into the water, he lifted a shoulder. "My cock may not be ready for you yet, Mistress, but I can bring you pleasure in other ways." He lifted lashes wet with the steam of the room to show her the truth of his words in his eyes. "I'm yours to command."

Her gaze softened, a charming combination of desire and need that made him want to nip on her tender mouth. She stood up, untied her robe, let it fall. She pushed the swimsuit to the floor as well, leaving just her standing before him.

It was the first time he'd seen her completely nude, and the simplicity of the gift she offered, the shrugging of shoulders, the falling of the cloth to the floor around her small feet, brought tears to his eyes again, embarrassing him. But he blinked them back, didn't look away, looked while she stood patiently, giving him time to view every inch of her. The tight calves and smooth thighs, the swell of her hips. She kept her pussy cut close, just a fine line of down covering it. He wanted to run his knuckles over it and so he reached out of the tub, a lone arm more than long enough to reach his desire, but he stopped, just shy of making contact.

"May I touch you, Mistress?" he asked, in a voice husky with emotion.

"The way you're looking at me, if you don't, I may scream."

He touched his knuckles to her soft mound. Stroked it in the direction of her silky fur and found it as glossy and soft as a cat's pelt. He passed a thumb over her clit and she shuddered, though he kept his touch light, easy, just learning her shape. From her solemn look and the smile playing on her lips, he understood this was the gift he had earned. He had let go for her, and now he could have anything.

Everything about her was so small, and yet there was that resilience to her that he had sensed from the beginning. A resilience as tough as he was, maybe tougher. There was no arguing it, not after tonight. He outmatched her physically, but her emotional core could blast his own into shards. Had blasted it to shards.

He moved his touch up, splaying his palm out over her belly, his smallest finger and thumb grazing the opposing hip bones.

"Do you have any children?"

"No." Her voice was soft, like feathers falling on his face.

"Have you...do you want them?"

It was an intimate question, and when she did not immediately answer, his expression changed. "My apologies, Mistress. I was out of line to ask-"

"No," she covered his hand with her own. "Mackenzie, you can ask me anything." She knelt, so they were eye to eye. "There's room for any thought, any question, any desire. And the answer is yes, I want them." She touched his lips. "And when I'm sure I've found the man who wants me as much as I want him, I want marriage first." Her lips curved. "That's the old-fashioned way, you know. Marriage first, baby second."

"Mmmm. I knew you were an old-fashioned girl, from the first moment you shoved that crop against my balls." He grinned, reached up, curled his finger around a loose lock of hair, tugged until she came down and met his lips. He closed her in the circle of his arms and slid her into the water with him, nestling her body in between his thighs, her hip pressed to his genitals, her breasts on his chest. When the kiss broke, she fitted her head beneath his chin. She laid her hand over his heart and he watched her lashes fan her cheek as she closed her eyes and made a sound of pleasure.

"I would be content to stay this way forever."

"Thank God."

She laughed, a quiet sound that was just an extension of the caress she was making on his flesh with the idle movement of her fingers over the curve of his pectoral. "I have to admit, that was amazing. The way that oil worked. It pleased me tremendously." She tilted her face up to him. "You pleased me tremendously."

"I'm glad. I just hope..." He hesitated, ran his touch down her spine, made her shiver. "I'd like to ask that you never use it on me again."

"Why?" Her tone was neutral, giving him nothing of her thoughts, but her hand continued its movement, reassuring. Encouraging him to speak and share his mind with her.

"It's... I want to serve you because it gives you pleasure for me to do your bidding. Not because I'm a mindless beast."

She nodded. "All right. I won't."

"Just like that?" He could not keep the surprise from his voice. "But when I asked you to stop before..."

"Just that simple. You want me to know that your obedience comes from a total willingness to obey my desires. Because every part of you consciously craves to do so. That's why you asked, and so that makes the oil unnecessary, and unwelcome."

She reached down in the water, found his cock and closed her hand on it, stroking. He thought a miracle would be required to get him erect again tonight, but perhaps contact with her flesh was a miracle, for from the moment he had laid her down on his body he had started to become more stiff, just having her so close. At her grip, the blood pumped into it hard and fast, leaving his head so quickly he felt a bit dizzy. It stunned him that she was able to command his body to rise to her touch, despite it having done so countless times already in the same few hours.

"I want you to come for me again, Mackenzie."

"I don't know if I can, Mistress."

But if anyone can get me to do it, it would be you.

"We're going to go slow. Very, very slow." Her fingers teased him, lines up and down, a faint stroke beneath the head, a squeeze of her fingers that told him she knew exactly what she was doing. She shifted up, so her knee was on the bottom of the tub, her thigh pressed against the round curve of his testicles. It lifted her breasts to his mouth.

"Suck them," she commanded softly. "But put your hands on the rim of the tub on either side of you. You can only touch me with your mouth."

His lips closed over the nipple of the left breast, and he made a sound of pure hunger in the back of his throat. She tasted wet and hot, and he thought he could even taste the flavor of the blood pumping through those delicate blue veins just beneath her skin. He wanted to curl his hands around her breasts, squeeze them, distend them, feel their weight and shape change beneath his kneading, but he obeyed, suckling her urgently, lapping his tongue over the stiff tip, watching her lips part on soft croons of pleasure. Her hands gripped his shoulders, dug in as his cock kept rising, hard and long beneath the water, until it lay along her knee, straight up along the line of her thigh, pointing at what it wanted.

"Do the other one," she whispered.

He switched, making sure he took his time getting there, licking the deep crease between them caused by her forward gravity position. He nuzzled the crescent swell, the undercurve, knowing the sensitive nature of a woman's body, of this woman's body. He knew it because he felt her every minute response as if it was broadcast in his mind, a clear picture of what she desired. He fastened on the other nipple and made a greedy sucking noise, goading her with the sounds of his hunger toward where he hoped to God they were going. He had never wanted to be inside a woman's cunt more.

She hummed, sighed, made small noises in the back of her throat that became more urgent as he used the cleverness of his mouth to bring her nipples to painful turgid arousal. She shifted, taking her breasts from his mouth to reach over, flip open the elegant hinged top of a carved wooden box on top of the commode. Condoms. Tyler had thought of everything for his guests.

Like a water sprite caressing him, her hand found him again beneath the water. He fisted his hands on the rim of the tub, wanting so badly to touch her he felt like he had to crack the tile beneath his grip to balance the desire.

It was a different type of hunger. Two hours ago, it would have had a bright, needy edge. Now it was a deep-inside, gut-aching need, something that involved his heart as much as his loins.

As her fingers rolled the condom down on his cock, she followed right behind, her pussy sliding down his length, a tight, wet sheath so incredibly welcome that his hips surged up to impale her, unbalancing her with the force of his penetration. She caught onto his shoulders and cried out as the uncontrolled descent lodged him deep inside her small, tight glove.

"You okay?" He froze, torn between anxiety and a raging desire to keep thrusting, bounce her on his loins until the craving in his belly eased, though he suspected with Violet it would never ease.

"You're a lot to take at once," she gasped. "Give me a second."

"All the time you need." Though his arms were trembling, his thighs quivering with restrained power as she shifted, making some adjustments, torturing him. Teasing him. She rose up, sliding up his length, then lowered herself again, stroking him. "Stay still," she murmured. "This is too good to rush. You're too good to rush. I want to fuck you."

"I'm not going anywhere, sugar."

She smiled, kissed his mouth, held her lips there as her body rose and fell.

"Touch you," he muttered. "Let me touch you."

"Yes. God, yes."

His hands skimmed her arms, down the line of her ribs, his thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts before he settled at her waist, then lower, gripping her hips, taking her into a line of strong, deep strokes that could please them both, drive them both.

The balance of power shifted. It took a moment before it registered, that she'd stopped using the strength of her own muscles and was just hanging on. She had let him take the reins, to drive them both to the edge.

"You feel so good."

Inane words, no poetry, but it was all he could manage with need tearing at his insides. No woman had ever felt so good, and somehow he knew that no woman's pussy would ever feel as good, as right as Violet's. It was terrifying, the realization that he'd suddenly found everything that could mean home, without knowing how long he'd be welcome there.