Page 14 of Beloved Sacrifice

She set her half-finished sandwich down with fingers that trembled.

“Is that how you greet a Dom?”

Weston’s whole body went cold. Dom—dominant. That was a word he knew all too well.

When he was fifteen Elroy had started “training” him on the BDSM lifestyle and how to master women. He’d escaped to college, desperately happy to avoid the weekly “training session” at the condo where his parents kept their submissive “Pet”—whom Weston had finally gotten to tell him her real name, Lynn. It was creepy and weird that he’d touched and been touched by his parents’ submissive, and even creepier that she’d given him gentle feedback about his spanking technique, while Elroy looked on.

Weston had headed directly to a counselor freshman year, who’d looked shocked by his sordid tale, and at first hadn’t believed him. But they’d talked, week after week, and Weston had come to a weird kind of peace about it. His counselor had gotten him articles about cultures where it was considered normal and appropriate for men to lose their virginity to a prostitute. He’d read up on the BDSM lifestyle and told himself that maybe Elroy really did think he was doing something good. The rumor among all the legacy kids was that once you were a grown up, but before you got called to the altar, you were supposed to go out and have tons of weird sex, so that you’d be ready for your trinity.

Rose turned wide, horrified eyes to him. Whatever she saw in his face made the color leach from her cheeks and lips.

“Rose,” Elroy snapped. “Unacceptable.”

She dropped her gaze and slid off the counter. She started to fall to her knees.

“You know better than that.” Elroy’s voice dripped with disgust.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.

Rose pulled her bathing suit cover up over her head, then untied her bikini top and slid it off. Weston jerked his gaze away from her. His ears were ringing.

Elroy walked out of the kitchen.

Rose made a small sound. Weston turned to look at her.

She was totally naked.

She was kneeling like a submissive.

Her fingers were laced together behind her neck, her elbows spread wide. “It shows off their breasts and makes them feel vulnerable,” Elroy had told Weston.

Weston dropped to his knees, his muscles twitchy with shock. Her eyes were wide and his heart clenched. “Rose, you…he…”

She looked toward the kitchen door, back the way Elroy had gone, and then she lowered her gaze like a good little submissive.

Weston pushed to his feet and stumbled back until he hit the counter.

Elroy returned, holding something. Weston swiveled away.

“Bend over the counter to accept your punishment.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose obey. She did exactly what Elroy said, rising smoothly from her position using only her legs. She turned and bent over the counter.

She was a submissive. She was…his dad’s submissive.

This was not happening. It had to be some sort of nightmare. Right?

Weston felt ill. She was sleeping with his dad, but kissing him?

He was a damned fool. Weston turned and walked to the kitchen doorway, the one opposite from where his father had come in. He paused there, shaking with a combination of emotions so intense he couldn’t name them all.

He heard the distinct sound of nylon rope sliding against itself.

“Be silent,” Elroy commanded Rose.

Whistle, crack.

Weston jumped in reaction to the sound, clenched his hands into fists, then slowly turned around. Rose had seemed scared. A black, ugly voice deep in his mind reminded him that her supposed fear was probably part of the scene. Pet had done that sometimes, pretended it hurt more than it really did.

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