Page 12 of Trapped In Wonderland

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Raul whispers.

“Me, too.” I look him in the eye and add, “But we’re not doing this if you don’t want to. We’ll find another way to earn the time.”

“What does it matter? You got caught.”

I give him a brief smile. “Or did I?”

His eyebrow rises in understanding. “Do what you need to do. I’ll play the game. You trusted me earlier. I’ll trust you now, Kate.”

My heart lodges in my throat when he uses my real name. “Thank you, Raul.”

“Are we playing or what, Mistress Kat?” Fox’s AI voice breaks into our hushed conversation.

“Fox would want a show,” I caution Raul.

“Then give him a show. Strap me to the cross. I can take whatever you throw at me.”

“Choose a safe word.”

He looks into my eyes, then says, “Esmeralda.” Emerald in Spanish. “Like your eyes,” he adds before taking my hand and lightly squeezing it. “Game face on, Mistress Kat.”

Still unsure what to do, I step back into what I think is a dominatrix stance with my booted legs in a V. Then I inhale deeply.

You’ve got this, Kate.

“Will you accept me as your mistress, Toro?” I demand.

Raul’s face is now a mask of disdain, which is what Fox expects he would feel in this predicament. He gives me a curt nod.

I snap the crop against the leather of my boot, creating a loud crack amplified by the acoustic of the cave-like space. It’s louder than I expect, and even Raul flinches.

Even though my heart beats a mile a minute, I lower my voice to a sultry but commanding tone when I say, “Use your words, Toro.”

Fake it till you make it.

“Yes, I accept you as my mistress.” He complies in a clipped tone, despite standing tall, gloriously naked, and full of defiance.

“Very good,” I approve. “Then let’s begin. Come.” I lead him to the cross and instruct, “Step on.”

I secure one of his wrists to the leather buckle on one of the top limbs of the X. Then I move around him, trailing my fingers over his six-pack, right oblique, and around to the breadth of his exposed tattooed back. As long as I’m doing this, I may as well make it look good. But I wasn’t expecting the feel of ridges over what’s supposed to be smooth skin. Flattening my hand over his massive trapezoid, the impression of raised skin becomes clearer. Raul’s muscles stiffen at my touch.

Are these scars?

It’s not surprising for a soldier who has served his country and allies in hostile territories to have battle scars, but the crisscross lines across his upper back seem extensive. My breath catches in my chest at the realization of what those scars could be.

“Raul?” I ask, my voice a mere wisp against his ear.

Instinct guiding me to the realization of the pain those scars would’ve caused him.

“Get on with it,” Raul hisses at me, breaking me out of my trance.

Realizing I broke protocol and character, I quickly snap out of it and strap his other wrist.

“Careful, Toro. You remember who’s in charge, right?” I caution in a sweet voice. When he doesn’t answer, I flick the crop around to his chest and bring the tip to his cheek, using it to turn his head. “Do you?” I reiterate the question.

“Yes. You are, Mistress,” he answers.

“Good boy,” I coo in his ear, my lips brush the lobe. It may be my imagination, but I swear a shiver runs up his spine.

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