Forced Submission (17 page)

Knowing when to retreat, Ellis nodded and shrugged. “I
understand. Perhaps on my next visit…” He let the sentence hang. The prince
didn’t respond and suddenly Ellis wanted to get the fuck out of this strange
place as soon as possible, with M and Z in tow. He wanted to get back to New
York and the privacy and safety of his home, away from prying eyes and
judgmental pricks who cloaked what was obviously a prostitute slavery ring in
holier-than-thou consensual harem bullshit.

Once he had Z in his clutches, he would teach the little
bitch all about pain, erotic or otherwise. M hadn’t known a thing about whips
and canes when he’d first claimed her, and look at her now. He glanced down at
his submissive girl, who was waiting patiently for her next bite of food.

He looked toward Zahara, but the little bitch looked away
when he tried to catch her eye. He would break her proud spirit soon enough. He
would teach her humility. She would learn her place, and quickly. He would make
M help him. He would have M beat the girl. He would force Z to bring M to
orgasm and vice versa. As he had taught M, he would teach Z that pleasure and
pain were intertwined, and to suffer for him was her only goal. His cock
throbbed in anticipation. He wanted the damn meal over so he could conclude
negotiations and get the hell out of this place.

Dinner finally ended, and the prince stood. “Ellis, would
you please join me in my study? I have something I need to discuss with you.
With your permission, M will again join the other women in the harem.”

Ellis stood. Finally. He would sign whatever papers were necessary,
seal the deal and get this show on the road. He glanced toward M with a nod.
She seemed to be doing fine on her own. He had trained her well. “Fine, fine,”
he agreed.

He followed the prince to a room that contained dark leather
furniture, brightly painted carved masks on the walls. There was a large desk
in the center of the room, and Ellis expected the prince to retreat behind it,
as he would have done in similar circumstances. Instead the prince sat on one
of two chairs set beside a huge window. On a small table between them there was
a decanter and two brandy snifters.

The prince lifted the decanter, removing the round crystal
stopper. “Cognac?” he inquired. Ellis nodded, waiting while the man poured them
each a few fingers, and then handed Ellis a glass. The prince leaned back in
his chair, frowning into his glass as he swirled the amber liquid. Ellis sipped
at his drink and waited, trying to keep the impatience from his face.

“It seems,” the prince said at last, looking up at Ellis,
“that we have something of a problem.”

“Oh?” Here it came—the price would suddenly have doubled.
What a shock.

“Yes.” The prince placed his brandy, which he hadn’t even
tasted, on the table. “It seems Zahara is not comfortable with the placement.
She has told me she is not ready to go with you.”

“Unless,” Ellis replied, unable to keep the sarcasm from his
tone.

“Pardon me?” The prince looked confused. What game was he
playing at?

“Come on, I get it. Unless I offer more money? Is that it?”

Understanding registered on the man’s face, but to Ellis’
surprise, he shook his head. “No, no. This isn’t about the money. After our
meeting this afternoon, Zahara came to me to explain she has had second
thoughts, and is not ready to go to America with you. I am very sorry. I’ve placed
over a dozen girls, and this has never happened before. I must apologize for
the inconvenience but—”

“
Inconvenience?
” Ellis blurted angrily. “I spent a
goddamn fortune chartering that jet and flying halfway around the world for this
girl, and I’m willing to drop quite a bit of cash for her, and now you say
she’s changed her
mind
? Are you fucking kidding me?”

The prince sat up straighter, lacing his hands in his lap,
his expression suddenly stern, though his voice, when he spoke, remained calm.
“I apologize again. The fault is mine. I will happily reimburse you for your
travel expenses.”

This couldn’t be happening. Ellis’ head began to throb as he
saw all his carefully laid plans being ripped to shreds. He wanted Z, damn it.
He had to have her. Or if not her, then one of the other girls. It didn’t
matter who. They were all young and beautiful. It wasn’t as if he really gave a
flying fuck about their preferences and tastes. He just wanted a girl, a girl
he could take back to the other side of the world.

He blew out a long breath, willing his face into an
expression of calm repose. In a careful voice, he said, “I understand. It’s a
woman’s prerogative to change her mind, right?”

The prince looked mildly confused, but then nodded. “Indeed.”

Ellis forced himself to smile. “No need to refund my travel
expenses, just select another girl for me. I trust your judgment. Pick the girl
you think would be happy with M and me. I’ll pay the same price. I’ll pay more,
if you want. I’ll pay double. As you say, money isn’t the issue.”

He waited expectantly for the telltale look of greed to
cross the man’s face, and his hand itched to extend itself and shake on the
deal. But, to his fury, the prince again shook his head. “I’m so sorry. There
is no one else ready at this time. I will have my yacht captain return you to
the mainland in the morning.”

“Wait. What?” Ellis couldn’t understand what was happening.
“There were at least six other women on your website who were
ready
, as
you call it. What about one of them?” He heard the anger in his voice and
clenched his teeth together to keep from shouting. What kind of scam was this
bastard trying to pull?

The prince sighed. “Forgive me. I can see my poor attempts
at diplomacy have failed. I will be frank. The women are not the issue.
You
are the issue.”

Ellis stared, dumbfounded.

“You see,” the prince continued, “I have learned to go on my
instincts, and my instincts tell me that you, sir, are not a good fit for my
girls. I understand things may be different in your country, and I apologize
again for the inconvenience, but I cannot in good conscience release one of my
girls into your care.”

Ellis stood, outraged indignation dwarfing the fact that the
prince’s instincts were actually pretty sound. “How
dare
you,” he raged.
“I’m as good a Master as you. Better in fact. Just ask M if you don’t believe
me.”

“All right,” the prince said calmly, startling Ellis. “Let’s
go ask her.”

He walked from the room and Ellis, not knowing what else to
do, followed. The prince led him down a long hall into an open, airy space
draped with silks and plump cushions. There were easily ten women there, half
of them naked, the others dressed in soft silks and gold jewelry. Ellis didn’t
see Zahara, but M sat among them, her pale skin and bald head making her stand
out. She was just popping a fat grape into her mouth as the men entered the
room, and as she looked in their direction, she started choke.

The woman Ellis recognized as Jira patted M’s bare back.
“Are you all right, dear one?” she said.

“Jira,” the prince said. “Please bring M and come with me.
We have some matters to discuss with the Americans.”

~*~

M felt a stab of fear pierce her gut as the four of them
walked down the long hall and through the lavishly furnished rooms of the palace
to a small room with leather furniture that had a decidedly masculine feel to
it.

She hadn’t wanted to leave the harem, she realized. Once
she’d managed to deflect conversation away from herself, she had quite enjoyed listening
to the easy banter of the lovely, gracious women who had surrounded her since
their arrival. True, even while relaxing in a hot, fragrant bath or lolling on
the soft cushions eating fruit and listening to the women talk about nothing in
particular, a part of her had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it
always did eventually.
With the pleasure always comes the pain
, Sir had
taught her over and over again.

Now as they marched through the house, M worried about what
was happening. Was she in trouble? She kept trying to see Sir’s face to gauge
his mood, but he was just out of her line of sight as he moved beside her, his
arm proprietarily around her bare shoulders.

Once they were all in the room, Prince Kamau closed the door
and waved his hand. “Please have a seat.” Sir sat on a chair and M sank to the
thick carpet by his feet. With uncharacteristic gentleness, Sir stroked her
cheek and then surprised her still more by leaning over and kissing the top of
her head.

Jira and the prince sat side-by-side on the sofa across from
them. The prince said something rapidly under his breath to Jira in a language
M didn’t understand. M glanced up at Sir but he was staring at the prince, a
thunderous expression on his face that made M inwardly quail. Again she
wondered with something approaching panic, what had she done wrong?

“M,” the prince said, his expression and tone kind, “I
believe in being honest and direct, especially in matters of this sort. Your
Master and I are at odds. I am sorry to tell you that Zahara will not be
returning with you to your country. Jira and I agree that our girls are not
suited for the lifestyle the two of you have chosen. I appreciate that there
are cultural difference between us that perhaps I do not understand. Your Master
assures me he is a loving partner and that you are happy and well cared for in
his home. He went further, suggesting I ask you to verify this claim.”

M sat stunned as she tried to absorb all the prince was
saying.

“Tell me,” Jira said suddenly, reaching across the space
that separated them and placing her hand gently on M’s shoulder. “Are you
happy, dear one? We have room here for you, if you would like to stay and visit
a little longer. I am sure your Master would understand.”

M waited for the prince’s sharp rebuke at Jira’s daring to
interrupt him, but none came. Then she processed what the woman was saying. A
part of her ached with sudden yearning at the woman’s offer, but she pushed the
mutinous feelings down.  She belonged to Sir. He was the Master of her
body and soul.

She felt Sir’s hand close on her shoulder, his fingers hard
as iron as they dug into the muscle. “Tell them, M. Are you happy with me?” She
heard the warning in his tone, though he was smiling down at her, that movie
star smile with the dimple that she realized she hadn’t seen in ages. Not
since…she couldn’t remember.

The fingers digging into her shoulder reminded her that Sir
had asked her a direct question, and she knew what he wanted to hear. “I came
to Sir seven months ago to learn true submission at the hands of a Master,” M
said, fixing her gaze just to the left of the couple on the sofa, somehow not
wanting to meet their eyes. “I came willingly and of course I can leave at any
time. Not that I want to. Sir is my Master, and he makes me very happy. He
takes care of all my needs and satisfies all my wants. I am truly the luckiest
girl in the world.”

“Remember what we talked about, dear one?” Jira said softly.

M nodded, wishing the woman would stay quiet, because now,
she knew, Sir would want to know what they had talked about. Jira had quizzed M
about the circumstances surrounding her time with Sir, and she’d seemed upset
when M couldn’t remember the details. M had found herself becoming distressed
as well, and had considered making something up, but had instead fallen back on
the script, which, she realized, she’d just parroted verbatim.

Jira murmured something in the foreign language to the
prince, who placed his hand on her knee and shook his head. Turning to Sir and
M, Prince Kamau said, “We have different ways, perhaps, than you do in America.
We will not presume to impose our ways on you, and hope you will offer the same
consideration.” Reaching for a small bell on the table near his arm, he shook
it. A moment later a young man M recognized as having carried their things in
from the boat appeared.

Turning to the young man, Prince Kamau said, “Please escort
our guests to their quarters. They will be leaving in the morning.”

The prince stood, and Jira stood as well, taking his arm.
Prince Kamau bowed formally in their direction. “Again, my apologies that
things did not work out as we planned. Now I will bid you goodnight.”

He walked out of the room with Jira at his side. M almost
imagined she could hear the soft plop of the other shoe falling, and she felt
her heart sinking like a stone.

Chapter 12

Kamau lay on his stomach, his eyes closed as he drifted in
the jasmine-scented steam from the hot bath waiting for him. Aware of his deep
agitation over having to confront the American, Jira had convinced him to strip
and lie on her massage table, where he knew she would take him apart, bone by
bone, muscle by muscle, ligament by ligament. Then, as he slid into peaceful
slumber, she would put him back together again, much more perfectly than when
she found him.

Humming softly, Jira soothed away every knot of tension that
had coiled inside him since the Americans’ arrival the day before. Kamau was
glad they were leaving in the morning. He’d have had them leave immediately,
except the yacht captain was attending a wedding that night on the mainland,
and though Kamau knew he would drop everything if the prince asked him, it was
the captain’s daughter who was getting married. Kamau could be patient for one
more night.

The fault lay with himself, he knew. He should have paid
attention to his misgivings when the man had first emailed. He should have
listened to his gut. Instead, because Zahara was so eager to see America, and
because she had been so excited by the idea of being placed in a home with a
sister submissive, Kamau had ignored his better instincts, a mistake he
wouldn’t make again.