Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 3: His Submissive (4 page)

His lips curved ever so slightly. “Of course.”

“I don’t know what a cane or caning is, so take it out.”

“Try it first.”

“No. No more trying. I need to do this now or not do it at all. That’s what I need you to understand. We have to come up with an agreement I can sign tonight, or there is no agreement.”

“Signing before you’re ready—”

“I am ready.”

He stared at me far too long for my comfort before he said, “I want you, Rebecca, but once I have you, I plan to push you. I can’t do that if I’m afraid you’ll crumble.”

“You think I can’t handle this. You think I can’t handle you.”

“I’m not sure you think you can handle this.”

I pushed to my feet and he stood up as well. “I’m out,” I stated. “You’re right. I can’t do this—but not for the reasons you imply. I like to control my life, and I don’t do well when I can’t.” I laughed without humor. “That sounds ridiculous, when I’m negotiating a contract to be a submissive.”

“It’s not ridiculous. A choice to hand over control under agreed-upon terms is not only control itself, but the freedom to let go and escape reality when you otherwise wouldn’t.”

“Then you have to see that lessons and uncertainty are the opposite to me. It’s affecting my job and my sleep. It’s making me crazy.”

He stepped around the chair and pulled me close. “If you want to sign, we will, but on one condition.”

“And that would be?” I held my breath, waiting for the answer.

“One last lesson. The ultimate lesson. When it’s over, if you want to sign, we’ll sign.”

This was a test. “When?”

“Tonight. I’ll pick you up at nine.”

Lunchtime . . .

H
e tried to get me to talk about my nightmares but I quickly withdrew and asked to go home. Reluctantly, he agreed. Maybe that was my test for him. I need to know he won’t push me when I don’t want to be pushed, and he seemed to understand this was one of those times. I can’t talk to him about personal things and still make him about pleasure and escape. I’m not big on sharing my personal feelings anyway, and my mother, and the things I learned from her before her death, are as personal as it gets. I’m already struggling with my feelings for him, which give him even more power over me than any contract ever will.

He’d taken me home as I’d requested so I could try to sleep a few hours before work. I was remarkably exhausted and I’d fallen asleep almost immediately.

Even so, I was forced to stop by the coffee shop before work for a caffeine boost. Inside I found Ricco Alvarez waiting for a drink, looking aristocratic and debonair in a fitted suit. Oddly, he was in deep conversation with Mary, whom Ralph had said Ricco didn’t care for. What is it about the coffee bar that was inviting meetings these days?

I ordered my drink and joined them. “Ah, Bella,” Ricco purred. “Just the lady I wanted to see. Your customer dropped by my gallery and purchased several pieces. We need to do the paperwork for your commission.”

My eyes went wide. “You’re kidding.” I was elated. When I’d taken the woman to his private showing, she’d been embarrassingly hesitant to buy. “That’s such good news.”

“Congratulations to you both,” Mary said tightly. “I’ll let you two talk.” She glanced at Ricco. “I’ll bring the painting over tonight.” She slipped away toward the door.

I frowned, wondering what that was about as Ricco accepted his coffee from Ava, saying something to her in Spanish before turning back to me. “Shall we go share the good news with your boss?”

I smiled. “Yes. Let’s share it.”

An hour later, Ricco had gone and Mark appeared in my doorway, electrifying the air as he always did. “That painting you found in Seattle—the guy sold it to me for a steal. We’re going to make a fortune at auction.”

I was stunned. Even now, I can’t believe the sale came through. My commission is going to be . . . I can’t even write down what I estimate it will be. Instinctively, I knew Mark would use my excitement for control. He plays the control card with everyone in the gallery. “That’s fantastic news,” I said, managing to sound cool and calm. “I can’t wait to find out how well it sells.”

His lips twitched. “Seems like today is your lucky day, Ms. Mason. Feel free to continue that trend. It’s good for the gallery, and so, it seems, are you.” He left in a whiff of spicy male wonderfulness, leaving me basking in his rare compliment.

I smiled. He was right. I’d just closed two huge sales; today was my lucky day. I just hope the night is, as well.

Sunday, March 20, 2011

After the night . . .

I
wore a dress he’d sent to me by courier. Turquoise. Figure-hugging, with a zipper down the front. Expensive. My shoes were black pumps. My thigh-highs, thong, and bra were black, with sexy sheer lace. My nerves were jumping around when my doorbell rang, and I drew in a few deep breaths before I opened the door. And when I did, oh, my, he just plain stole my breath. He was scrumptious in every way.

His eyes traveled down my body, caressing it with an intimate, slow inspection, and just like that, I was wet and wanting and we hadn’t even left my apartment. “Hi,” I said when his gaze returned to mine, sounding like some silly infatuated schoolgirl. Feeling like one, too.

His eyes danced with amusement before he pulled me close, kissed me thoroughly, and then caressed a hand over my backside. “Hi,” he replied.

When he set me free, I wobbled, and he grabbed me and held me there a moment, just staring down at me. “I’ve been thinking about tonight all day.” His voice was rough, almost harsh with feeling.

I wet my lips and his gaze followed, sending liquid warmth to my belly and then lower. “Me, too.” Just then I wondered what we were doing and where we were going. Wondered if I could pass this final test, and did I really want to? Last night, in that moment in his arms, his hard body cradling mine, the answer had come easily. Yes. I did.

“Tonight I am ‘Master’ to you.”

“Yes.” His brow lifted and I added, “Yes, Master.”

Once he helped me into the sleek, silky black jacket he’d bought me, and we were in his fancy car, we rode in silence, the small space thick with sexual tension and anticipation. Our destination turned out to be a gated property in a ritzy part of San Francisco called Cow Hollow. Here the standard small houses disappear and become monstrous architectural wonders.

I knew the area but had never been there. I was basically poor growing up, with a single mom who worked in hotel sales. She did all right for us, but we weren’t putting caviar on the table like the Cow Hollow crowd.

We pulled to the front of a massive concrete stairwell where men in suits, security I discovered, seemed to be waiting on us to arrive, but they didn’t open our doors.

“There are rules inside that we need to cover,” my Master told me, turning to face me.

“I’m listening,” I said, butterflies going wild in my stomach.

“You walk behind or beside me, never in front. You speak to no one unless I tell you that you may speak. You don’t even make eye contact with anyone unless I say you do.”

My lips parted in shock. “What is this place?” I whispered.

“A private club that we will frequent should we ink our agreement. That makes how you behave tonight critical. You are a reflection on me here.”

I nodded, uncomfortable and nervous.

“There are two sections to the club,” he explained. “A public play area and private rooms for intimate play. We will be going straight to my private quarters.” He studied me a moment. “Any questions?”

“No.”

“No, what?” he demanded, his tone sharp, his eyes hot.

“No, Master,” I replied, and I was surprised at the thrill that shot through me.

He opened his door and got out of the car. One of the security men immediately opened mine. My Master appeared and offered me his hand and I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. With my hand in his, we started up the stairs toward a set of double red doors. Two men in suits waited for us at the top, but I didn’t look at them.

When we entered the house, I stepped onto an expensive Oriental rug and immediately felt as if I was in the movie
Gone with the Wind,
the room was so elegant. An extravagant chandelier hung overhead and a winding, red-carpeted stairway twisted and turned toward an upper level.

My Master motioned me toward the staircase but he didn’t touch me. We made it halfway up when a striking man in a dark suit headed down toward us.

“Head down,” my Master ordered a moment before we paused for him to greet the newcomer.

“And who is this?” the man asked.

“My lovely new prospect,” my Master replied.

“Indeed. May I admire her?”

My Master touched my back. “Look at him,” he ordered.

Admire me? I fought the urge to back away and somehow I lifted my gaze to stare into the man’s eyes, my heart thundering wildly in my chest.

Raw male interest flashed in his stare. “Innocence personified,” he murmured, cutting his attention to my Master. “Will you be taking her to the main floor?”

“No. I’ll be keeping her to myself.”

Relief washed over me. The man glanced back down at me. “A pity.” He gave me a small bow. “I hope to see you again soon.” He stepped around us and I let out a breath.

“Come,” my Master said, urging me up the stairs and leading me to another pair of red double doors.

We stepped inside a small sitting room with high-backed chairs. A separate door led to someplace, I didn’t know where. My adrenaline was cranking up so hard and fast that the soft sound of him locking the doors behind made me jump.

He stepped behind me. “Untie your coat.”

I did as he ordered, and I heard the quiet whisper of the cloth as he disposed of it. My Master stepped in front of me, and looking into his eyes, seeing the possessiveness in them, shook me to the core. I could barely swallow, let alone think.

“This,” he said softly, “is the only room in my private quarters where you are allowed to wear clothing. Undress, Rebecca.”

I drew a slow breath, nervous to undress without knowing what was behind the other door, but I knew that if I was going to do this, to let him be my Master, I had to trust him. I unzipped the dress and let it fall to the ground.

“All of it,” he ordered.

I stripped off my panties and bra.

“All of it,” he repeated.

I kicked off my shoes and then peeled away my hose. When I finished, his gaze swept over my body, his expression fiercely primal. I craved his touch and hungered for him to undress. He gave me neither of these things. Instead, he hit a button on a remote I didn’t realize he’d been holding and the mystery door slid open. He stepped aside and motioned me forward. “Stop just inside the room.”

Anticipation burned inside me as I walked toward the door and tentatively entered. Beneath my bare toes, a thick, luxurious burgundy carpet absorbed my steps. Candles flickered, creating a sweet vanilla scent in the huge circular room. There were two more doors, one on each side of the room, and a wide archway directly across from me. A large chaise longue sat by one door. A small pedestal sat by another. Drapes were positioned at several places on the walls and I wondered what they covered.

But what really caught my eye was the archway that I couldn’t see beyond. My Master stepped behind me, leaning in close but not touching me. “Go through the archway, Rebecca.”

For some reason, I knew whatever was beyond that arch would change me in some way. I knew that no one would ever use the word “innocent” when talking about me again. A part of me hesitated, holding on to that innocence. Ignorance can be bliss, the truth painful. My mother had taught me that all too well. But not knowing the truth, the facts—I don’t want that ever again.

With that thought, I walked steadily forward. I wanted knowledge. I wanted to know whatever there was to know. I didn’t want to be naive and blind anymore about anything if I could help it.

I walked up three stairs to the main level. Curtains covered every wall around a circular room that was empty but for a pedestal in the middle that held some sort of steel archway shaped like the one I’d just passed through.

“Stand in the center of it,” my Master ordered.

I moved forward without hesitation. I’d come that far and I wanted to complete what I’d started. Once I stopped under the archway, he stepped in front of me. “On your knees.”

I did as he commanded.

“Hands behind your back and lace your fingers,” he ordered next. ”Don’t move them or I’ll bind them.”

Again, I did what he ordered, the position thrusting my breasts high in the air. His hot stare swept over them, puckering my already sensitive nipples, and I could almost taste his hunger, his desire. He enjoyed me bowing down to him. I know this as I write, as surely as I knew it in that room. He enjoyed the control it gave him. The power. And I was aroused by those things in him, wet and slick between my thighs.

“I can choose to let others watch us in this room,” he informed me.

My heart jackhammered and I opened my mouth to object when he added, “But tonight we just observe. You observe and discover all that you don’t know.” He hit a button on the remote he held, and the curtain behind him began to lift to reveal a gigantic video screen.

My Master moved to stand behind me, allowing me to see the image of a man chained to an archway like the one around me, two women on their knees before him, licking him and teasing him. “He’s being punished, Rebecca,” my Master explained. “The female on the left is his Master.”

Punished? The man seemed to be enjoying himself, his expression stark with desire, his hips thrusting forward. I was certain he was about to come. Abruptly, though, the two women pulled away from him and began kissing each other, leaving him wanting for completion.

“Each time he nears release, they stop,” my Master explained. “It’s a far worse punishment than flogging or whipping.”

The channel changed and a new scene appeared. A woman stood on a pedestal on top of a stage, tied to another archway with what must have been twenty-five people surrounding her. A man dressed in leather used a whip on her back and she bucked against each blow. I could see pain etched in her face. I watched the whip come down on her and I gasped with the impact I imagined she felt. I couldn’t watch it again. I needed to get out of there. That woman needed out of there.

I dropped my hands and started to get up. My Master wrapped his arms around me and pulled my back to his chest, burying his face in my hair. “Stay. I need you to stay.”

He needed me. Those words were probably the only ones that could have penetrated my need to escape. As they seeped into my mind, my body relaxed against his. But my mind was uneasy—fearful, even. “Is that what you want to do to me?”

“I told you I wouldn’t ever punish you in public, and I won’t. This is about seeing everything that goes on here, so you aren’t shocked later.”

“Somehow I think I will still end up shocked later.”

He didn’t deny that I was right. Instead, he stood up and walked around to squat in front of me, his finger sliding under my chin. “We decide what we do. We make our rules. And you always, and I mean always, have your safe word. Say it now, Rebecca.”

Looking into his eyes, I felt myself coming back to him, calming fully. “Red,” I whispered.

“Red,” he repeated. “You know it. I know it. I’ll listen when you use it. I’ll stop whatever I’m doing, no matter where we are. The control is ultimately yours.” He hit the remote on those words and the curtain closed, but not before I saw the woman grimace with another blow that set me on edge again.

I hugged myself, suddenly aware of my nakedness. “She was being beaten.”

“When I spanked you, were you aroused, Rebecca?”

“I didn’t expect to be.”

“But you were.”

I squeezed my eyes shut without answering.

“Answer, Rebecca,” he ordered, his voice hard, sharp.

“Yes.”

“Look at me.”

I forced my eyes open. “She is also aroused,” he insisted. “Her Master isn’t taking her anywhere that she doesn’t want to go. It’s his job to know her like no one else does, like I want to know you. And showing you these things tonight helps us both know what you want and where your limits are, in a way that just reading a contract didn’t allow. Unless you’ve decided you want me to take you home.”

He wanted to know my limits. Once again, he’d said the right thing at the right moment. “No. I want to stay. I want to continue. What next?” I swallowed hard. “Master.”

His eyes flashed with approval. “You will stand up, and I will tie you to the archway so you know what being in the center of this room, the showcase of the scene, and at my mercy, is like.”

I was okay with his mercy. Maybe he hadn’t earned that, but it was an instinctive feeling I had with him or I wouldn’t have been there at all. I pushed to my feet. He stood before me, staring down at me for eternal seconds before he ordered, “Raise your right arm to your side.” I did as commanded and he bound my wrist to the archway with some sort of rubbery cuff that didn’t bite into my skin, then repeated the action with the other arm.

He stepped back, as if he was the audience that might be behind the curtain. I knew what he was doing; forcing me to feel what being on display would be like. With my arms wide, my body naked, his eyes hot as they caressed every inch of me, I have never felt so exposed in my life, but neither have I ever been so aroused.

Time ticked by eternally, and finally, he began to undress. I was spellbound by his male beauty, his long, lean, athletic body. His cock was thick and hard for me. He wanted me. He was turned on by my being tied up like this. My gaze tracked his path as he moved to my right and I watched him open a cabinet with rows of whips, chains, and various toys inside, and my heart raced. He ran his fingers over one item, then the next, and I knew he meant to taunt me, to build anticipation and make me wonder what he intended to do to me.

His selections turned out to be a flogger with long leather tassels and a flat leather crop. I let out a hot breath of relief. I didn’t know what a crop would be like, but I knew what a flogging felt like, and I’d enjoyed it. Familiar territory in unfamiliar surroundings was welcome.

With his toys in hand, he approached me, all sleek muscle, with a predatory gleam in his eyes, before he stepped behind me. His cock pressed beneath my backside, his breath whispered on my neck.

“You were relieved I picked the flogger.”

“Yes.”

His hand came down on my backside and I jumped at the surprise, the erotic contact. “Yes what?” he demanded.