Awakening (17 page)

Grabbing her purse and keys, she hurried out the door. She walked the distance to Evan’s apartment to give herself time to compose her nerves. The last few days had been confusing for her on many levels. The chess had been fun while still being a challenge. She’d learnt the rules and some basic strategy, but she really disliked operating in the dark. She liked to know exactly what she was doing at any given time.

The journal was the hardest. She wasn’t a writer. She was a reader. She didn’t like sitting down to document her moments of weakness and insecurity. It forced her to replay a situation she already didn’t like. The fact that she strongly suspected Evan was going to read it only made it worse. He’d instructed her to bring it with her and it currently burned a hole in her tote bag. Its weight seemed double that of the small, leather-bound book.

That she was naked underneath her dress was the most titillating. She’d had countless fantasies over the last few days of exactly what he would do to her. Even now, the image of him touching her or stroking her skin had her moistening. She shoved those thoughts away, though. Evan had told her no sex. No sense in getting all hot and bothered with no relief in sight. That depressing thought carried her up the steps to Evan’s apartment.

Evan watched as Claire came down the street. She was dressed in a simple dress and he was guessing from the tell-tale jiggle of her breasts she was bare underneath as he’d directed her. His body very much liked that idea. His brain not so much, but he had plans for her today. Today was about breaking down her inhibitions while building up her image of herself. She had no idea how truly sensual she was. That she walked around with the notion that she was inadequate boggled his mind and made him want to find her parents and give them both a good kick in the ass.

He took a deep breath and willed his body into compliance before turning away from the window. A check of his preparations assured him everything was at the ready. The only thing missing was Claire. Before that thought even completed, she knocked on his door, setting his heart racing.
Fuck!
Where was his calm? Where was his composure? Why did this woman turn him upside down? Even in the early days with Marianne, he’d never been this nervous. He did not like this. No one bit.

With a deep breath, he willed his heart to slow down – not happening – and went to open the door. She barely filled the doorframe but she loomed large in front of him. His personal torment in the flesh. Every single time, he couldn’t decide whether to send her away or drag her into his arms. He did neither; instead, he simply moved aside and waved her in.

‘How are you, Claire?’ She had a pensive air about her. They’d need to discuss that first.

‘I’m fine.’ She set her purse down on the counter and turned to face him, only to be distracted by the chess board set up on his small dinette. ‘We’re playing chess?’ She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Does this mean I get to finally find out why you are making me learn this game?’

He chuckled at her imperious look. ‘Yes, you do. But, first, I’d like to know why you seem so –’ he searched for the word ‘– reflective –’ he quirked his head to the side and studied her ‘– thoughtful. Like you have something on your mind.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re very perceptive.’

‘I have to be in order to be a good dom.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Well –’ He waved her into a chair and she sat obediently while he leant against the counter. ‘During scenes, there can be times where a sub is gagged or, for one reason or another, not fully present …’

‘You mean subspace?’ she interjected.

‘Yes, there’s that, but I also mean times where the sub might be distracted or just not fully aware of themselves for a number of reasons – stress, distraction, etc. It’s my job to pay attention. To see the signs that indicate to me exactly where the sub is at and, if necessary, end the scene.’

‘Ah.’ She picked at the fabric of her skirt.

‘For instance …’ He stepped over, took her hand, and set it on the table before resuming his lean. ‘You pick at things when you’re uncomfortable. Your clothes, your hair. That sort of thing.’ Her eyes went wide at that revelation. ‘So why don’t you tell me why you are so uncomfortable right now.’

For several very long moments, she just stared hard at him. The emotions crossing her face were fluid and mercurial. He didn’t even try to define them, he simply waited. Eventually, she dropped her gaze and murmured, ‘I really don’t want you to read my journal.’

‘Why is that?’

‘It seems too childish and whining.’

‘Elaborate, please.’

She huffed an exasperated noise and gave him a peevish look, to which he said, ‘I’m not a mind-reader, Claire. Perceptive isn’t telepathic.’

She laughed at that and her smile warmed his chest, causing a flare of anger that he ruthlessly shut down. Shaking her head ruefully, she said, ‘OK. OK. Look, I did what you asked, but when I reread it, it seems like I am making a big deal out of nothing or whining instead of getting to the heart of the matter. But, also, it makes me feel weak and I don’t want you to see me that way.’ Her voice was barely above a whisper by the end and he felt his heart turn over at her vulnerability.

He came over to the table and took the chair catty-cornered to hers. Taking her hand, he said, ‘Claire, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You are doing exactly what I wanted you to do … Getting perspective. If you can reread what you wrote and see that there are times where you are reacting emotionally rather than rationally to the situation, then you have the opportunity to grow and rewrite your reactions the next time.’

She squeezed his hand, and he returned the gentle pressure rather than doing what he wanted, which was to pull her into his lap and cuddle her; to wipe away that small frown of embarrassment that marred her expression while encouraging the pale pink flush that was spreading over her skin.

‘As for me seeing you as weak, you are simply going to have to accept that if you feel that way, it’s because
you
feel you are weak, and has nothing to do with me. I see you as a very strong and capable woman who allows herself to be plagued by doubt. The purpose of the journal is for you to see yourself objectively and for us to discuss the situations that happened and look at ways you can improve in the moment the next time. You, Claire –’ he tapped her gently on the nose ‘– are your own worst enemy.’

Tears had formed in her eyes and were spilling down her cheeks. He reached out and collected them on a finger before rubbing them lightly over her soft lips. A mental groan rang through his brain as the unwanted image of his dick sliding through those lips, lubricated by her tears, sprang to mind, but he pulled himself back and said, ‘What did I tell you about tears, little one?’

‘They are for things you can’t change,’ came the watery reply.

‘Can you change this?’ His voice was soft.

‘Yes,’ she whispered.

‘Dry your eyes, little one.’ He released her hand and stood. ‘Time for you to put your chess skills to work.’

‘Huh?’

‘I’ve been thinking on what you need, Claire. And, as I said, one of the things you allow yourself to be is plagued by doubt, but you don’t take the time to both challenge and test yourself or to acquire skills for you to feel armed and ready to face the world and that, little one, is about to change.’

At her incredulous look, he laughed out loud. ‘What, you thought dominance was all kinky sex?’

The flush of her skin deepened to an almost cherry red. His grin deepened.

‘Claire, the books often focus on the sex. It’s arousing and sexual domination is awesome, but as a dom, and specifically as
your
dom, I am also responsible for helping you to attack the areas of vulnerability you allow to fester and undermine you.’

He moved around to sit across from her and indicated the board. ‘Chess is a game of strategy with a long and illustrious history. To excel at chess is to learn how to think two and three steps ahead of your opponents. To see and read the battlefield and to be able to evaluate options, make determinations, then execute them. It is a game of skill and intellect, and one that is unparalleled throughout history. You, Claire, are going to have to beat me at chess. For each game you lose you get a punishment of my determination.’

Her eyes flared wide and she gasped, ‘Like what?’

With a mischievous grin, he said in a deliberately offhand tone, ‘Oh, I don’t know, but I can be very, very creative.’

As he watched her squirm in her seat even as the pulse in her neck jumped, Evan’s cock swelled. Inwardly, he groaned. He was going to have to be very careful.

‘Checkmate.’ Evan’s voice dripped over Claire like honey and sent a shiver down her spine.

Of course, she’d lost. She was a novice and Evan, while no grand champion, was at least a competent player. He’d given her a bit of instruction as they went along. Before she placed each piece she was required to discuss her thinking, and sometimes he’d ask a question or two, but he never coached her. In the end, he’d still beaten her soundly, however.

‘How many moves did I beat you in?’ She’d been required to keep track.

‘Ten.’

‘Very well, come with me.’

He stood and walked toward the door at the far end of the living room. Obediently, she followed only to halt just inside the door when she realised she was in his bedroom. A large, king-sized bed took up the majority of the room. A small door, for what was most likely a closet, was in the far corner and he’d built one of those modular open wardrobes along one wall that housed his clothing. He was meticulously neat and the unit looked like it could be featured in an advertisement for one of the closet organising businesses. All of the clothes were separated by colour and type and the hangers matched. Claire experienced a pang of clothes envy looking at his set-up. Her closet was not nearly as neat. The bed was covered in a dark, midnight blue coverlet over crisp white sheets and there were just two pillows on the bed. He clearly didn’t waste time on extraneous niceties. But these things were not what had her halting.

No, it was the two freestanding, full-length mirrors next to the bed. One alongside it and the other at the foot. The bed was flanked on either side by sleek, wooden bed tables. The possibilities in front of her made her womb clench hard and her breath dissolved in her lungs.

‘Come here, Claire.’ Evan stood next to the bed directly in front of one of the mirrors and indicated for her to join him.

She moved almost as if in a trance, not sure what to expect, and doing her best to calm her heart, which was currently running the Kentucky Derby in her ribcage. As she neared him, he took her hand and brought her to stand directly in front of him. He turned her by the shoulders, so she faced the mirror. He loomed large behind her; at once a comfort and an intensely disturbing sexual presence.

This was a scene she’d fantasised about many times. Evan placing her in front of the mirror and slowly undressing her before making love to her. Sadly, sex wasn’t on the table for them, though clearly something was about to happen. Evan’s hands lingered on her shoulders, massaging gently, his thumbs rubbing gently along her shoulder. Heat radiated from his body, warming her back, and she fought to remain still when she wanted badly to sink back into him.

‘Open your eyes, Claire.’ Startled despite his soft tone, she met his gaze in the mirror. She hadn’t even realised she’d closed them. ‘Undress for me, little one.’

‘I can’t.’ The words were out before she even realised she’d spoken.

Evan’s gaze was resolute as he said, ‘Do you remember your safeword?’

‘Yes.’

‘What is it?’

‘Red.’

‘Good. And when you are feeling extremely uncertain and close to the edge?’

‘Yellow.’

‘You have only one choice tonight, Claire. You can do as I say, no questions asked until after, when we can and will discuss everything. Or you can use your safeword at any time to end the session. Understood?’

‘Yes.’ She began to tremble at the knowledge that she was placing herself at Evan’s mercy. Sure, she had the ultimate power in this situation. She could end it with a word, but would she be able to do this?

‘Claire!’ Evan’s voice whipped out and her eyes snapped to his. ‘Pay attention, little one.’ she flushed but nodded. ‘We discussed the rules of our sessions, did we not?’

‘Yes.’

‘Have you broken any of those rules?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which?’

‘Questioning your instructions during a session instead of complying and waiting until after.’

‘That’s right. Why do I require you to wait until after if you are capable of continuing?’

‘Because you will push me to my limits, and what I consider my limits might not always be what you consider my limits.’

‘Exactly. If, for some reason, I take you somewhere you cannot bear, what is your recourse?’

‘My safeword.’

‘Are you ready to use your safeword?’

‘No.’

‘No, what?’ His voice was like iron. Evan was gone, Sir had come in. But she didn’t know Sir yet and that set her to trembling again.

‘No, sir.’ Her voice shook on the word and the connotation that went with it.

He ran his hands gently down her arms, raising goosebumps and setting her skin tingling, before gently squeezing her hands and then dropping them by her sides. He stepped away from her and sat on the edge of the bed where he could see her but she could still see herself in the mirror.

‘Undress for me, Claire. Remove each item one at a time. Fold it neatly and leave it on the end of the bed.’

Paralysed with embarrassment, Claire simply stood looking at herself in the mirror. She knew what was under these clothes and it wasn’t a thin model type. No airbrushed, perfect skin on her. No, she was a grown, almost middle-aged woman with all the flaws that went with that.

Evan said nothing, simply sat and waited, but the look of disappointment creeping into his features was enough to set her to fumbling with the hem of her dress. Her movements were jerky and she almost ripped the hem before yanking the garment over her head and holding it in front of her like a shield. She was so flat-chested, she really didn’t want to stand here bare before him. It was one thing when you were all caught up in the moment. Kissing and pressed to one another. But there would be no hiding her diminutive stature from him this way.