ReclaimedSurrender (9 page)

“You got it.”

Rene hung up, but before he went to get things prepared for
his wife’s arrival he dialed Alex’s work number. “Yes, Michael Kavanagh please.
Tell him Rene Tanner would like to speak to him.”

* * * * *

“So what’s your thing?”

“I like to, um…” Alexis couldn’t believe their conversation
had come to this. Never in her wildest imagination did she think she’d be
talking about her particular sexual habits with Ken, the manager of The Store
Of O, but here she was. “Submit.”

He stared right at her and smiled. “I gathered that.”

Plopping down on the stool he’d pointed to, she covertly
eyed him. What was it about him that made him easy to speak with? Two minutes
into her list of intimate questions about the products he carried and she’d
felt right at home. Maybe it was because he talked about things in a
matter-of-fact and knowledgeable way like Rene. No, that wasn’t it. He had an
aura about him she was responding to on some level…like she did with Rene.

Yet, he was so
unlike
Rene it wasn’t funny.

She took in his appearance. Gee, for a bald guy who wore
four-inch black platform boots, skinny jeans that barely made it to his hips
and sported a nose ring, two eyebrow piercings and a collar tattoo wrapped
around his neck that said
sex or death
, he was very manly. Manly? She
critically eyed him. No, maybe purposeful, she couldn’t be sure.

“Is your Master training you?”

Jerking up straight, she nearly fell off the stool. Catching
herself, she looked around. Thankfully the only other patrons in the store were
too busy checking out the ball-gags to have heard. “He’s not my Master. He’s my
husband.”

“He can be both. Is he training you?” He leaned forward with
his elbows on the counter and waited for her answer.

She swallowed. “N-no.”

“Ah.” He quickly stood.

“Ah, what?”

“You’re not sure. There must be problems.”

Alexis’ cheeks flooded with heat and she prayed she’d be
able to change the suddenly uncomfortable subject. “Hasn’t your assistant found
the order yet? Surely your stock room can’t be that big? It’s been,” she
glanced at her watch, “fifteen minutes.”

It was as if she hadn’t even spoken. “You know, sometimes
these relationships don’t work out.”

“Ours did, I mean does.” He stared at her with one of those
pierced brows hiked and she felt compelled to explain. “We just needed to take
a break for a bit. We had a breather and now he’s um, trying to get things back
on track.”

“Just him?”

She thought about that. It wasn’t just him, was it? Deep
down if she were being truthful with herself, she wanted things back to normal
between them too. Their normal, not this new normal that had somehow evolved
the moment she said “I do”. “No. I want things the way they were too.”

“What caused the funk, do you think?” She shook her head and
he clarified. “When did things start to slide between you?”

Freaking hell, would the stupid order ever be found? “Should
I go see if—”

“Usually these things happen between a Dom and his sub when
there’s a power shift that comes up through regular life. Or usually the sub
has trouble balancing the lifestyle with the outside world.” He spoke as if she
hadn’t totally ignored his question and leaned on the counter again, twirling
his pen with his fingers. “Did you get a promotion or have a kid by any
chance?”

Alexis blinked. Now the manager of the sex shop was going
pseudo-psychologist on her?

“I only ask because it’s common for a submissive who’s
powerful in her everyday work life. You are. Right?”

Alexis nodded.

“To get overwhelmed and forget about that all-important
power exchange that works for her relationship in the bedroom. You know, normal
vanilla by day and BDSM by night.” He stood and waved a hand. “Don’t worry. If
that’s what the problem is, it will work itself out. Trust your Dom.”

“Normal by day and BDSM by night?” She didn’t mean to repeat
his phrasing, but it was weird and liberating to hear someone else, a stranger,
say the words she’d been secretly turning over in her mind for months. “You
make it sound so…”

“Normal?” He grinned. “It is. There aren’t any rules, you
know. It’s whatever works for those involved.”

“What about when an important trust has been broken?”

“You rebuild until it’s stronger than it was before.”

Alexis wasn’t sure about that. “Is that even possible?”

“Of course, if all parties are agreeable and open to the
challenge. This holds true for any kind of relationship. Gay, straight, BDSM.
It’s just trickier with a Dom-sub relationship though, because there’s only one
person ultimately responsible.”

Alexis didn’t like where this was going. “I’m not sure I’d
agree with that.”

“Ah,” he drew out and tapped the pen in a series of steady
beats against the counter until he abruptly tossed it and it landed next to the
cash register. “I can see your Dom has his hands full with you.”

His direct stare made her blush so she was happy when, after
a too-long-for-her pause, he continued. “In a real D-s relationship a
submissive belongs to her Dom. He is the one expected to have all the answers
and as such, he is the only one responsible for a break in a relationship. It
wouldn’t matter whether his submissive went out and slept with his enemy.
Because, at the end of the day, it isn’t the betrayal that cuts him deep, it’s
his own failure at not having been able to prevent the situation in the first
place.”

Alexis gulped. She was sure
my business partner kissed me
was written all over her face.

“Now, where a deep trust is perceived to be broken? I can
only imagine that this would devastate a fully committed Dom because that would
mean his honor comes into question.”

She didn’t want to think about this too deeply. She was
afraid she might find a whole pile of truth if she did. Instead she asked, “Are
you speaking from experience?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation on his part when he said,
“Shit happens. Even the best Dom is fallible and can make a mistake. Sometimes
it’s beyond his control. You ever heard of Dom space?” She shook her head.
“Yeah, I know subs don’t like to think about this, but it happens. It’s
virtually the same thing as sub, but flipped. A Dom can get juiced in a scene
and reach another plateau outside himself, like a sub, only it’s potentially
dangerous because there’s no one in control. When this happens a trust or a
series of them can be broken without intent.”

Without intent
.
The blood drained from her
face and she instantly recalled the expression on Rene’s face that night, as he
stood on the stairs. No wonder she couldn’t put a name to what she’d seen there
before. Never in all the years she’d known him had the even-tempered Rene ever
been shocked, and that night? She now knew he’d been reeling. Not because he’d
done something purposely dishonorable, but because he’d been accused of doing
something dishonorable from the one person in the world who should have known better.

“What’s the matter? You look like you’re unwell.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” she lied. She had a sinking feeling that
maybe Rene had set her up. Ken was hitting too many hot truth buttons for her
liking. But then, Rene wasn’t a man to have someone else fix his problems for
him. “I think you’re right about the D-s relationship being tricky. You’ve
certainly given me a lot to think about.” And a whole pile of things to stress
over. Rene. Michael. Damn. Was she partly to blame for Michael’s behavior? Had
she put herself in a position to be kissed by trusting him too much and Rene
not enough?

If Rene found out would he blame himself? Why hadn’t she
told him the minute she’d walked through the door Sunday night?
Because you
didn’t want to make things worse
.

Ken scooped up his pen and winked at her. “I’m sure it will
all work out for you.”

Alexis nodded and didn’t say anything to that when his
assistant finally showed up. The young woman had two boxes under one arm and
stopped behind him. She was careful not to interrupt and seemed very content to
hang back as she waited for Ken to acknowledge her. As Alexis watched, all he
did was slip his arm behind his back and find the woman’s hand for a squeeze.
By the bright smile on her face, anyone who didn’t know better would have
thought she’d been given a million bucks.

“I will give you a word of advice that might come in handy.”

Alexis stood and made her way to the cash register. “Great.”

“You might want to accept him as your Master. You’d be
surprised how far this kind of ultimate acceptance can go to rebuild a
committed and loving relationship.”

Alexis swallowed. “I’ll, ah, remember that. Thanks.”

She took the paper-wrapped packages, surprised at the weight
of the smallest one, and wasted no time getting out of there. She wasn’t sure
whether it was Ken’s matter-of-fact honesty or the ticking clock that made her
hurry to return home. In an attempt to calm herself she concentrated on what
Ken had said. Not the part about Rene, she didn’t want to think about any of
that just yet. She needed to think about some of Ken’s other insight as far as
the dual lifestyle went. When she did, she had to agree that it was as if she
were two different people. The Alexis who worked like a fiend and was the
consummate problem solver, and the other Alexis. The true Alexis. The happy and
well-satisfied woman who simply enjoyed carrying out Rene’s wishes and commands
for no other reason than doing so did it for her. With a sinking heart it
occurred to her that Ken’s extremely valid insights were right on point. Had
trying to balance that fundamental need with the escalating needs the outside
world put on her screwed things up for them and emboldened her to challenge
Rene’s honor the way she’d done that night?

By the time she pulled into their driveway she was ready to
leave the outside world behind and give Rene all he’d asked of her. At least
for the week to see if they could repair the damage that had been done. One way
or another she was sure to find answers even if they weren’t the ones she wanted
to face. Because she feared she might discover she was the one at fault.

Rene let Alexis stand in front of him with the two packages
in hand. He remained distant, choosing to sit on the edge of his desk, flipping
through a sports magazine as if she hadn’t already addressed him twice. He was
determined to wait her out and deflate some of the nervous energy she’d brought
home with her. This was to be expected, but he wanted her to tamp it down a
notch or two before he began.

After three quiet minutes she got restless. Out of the
corner of his eye he noticed her shifting from one stocking foot to the other.
Until she’d finally worked up the courage to ask, “Don’t you want to see them?”

He let another minute pass and then put down the magazine and
looked at her. He wanted her fully focused and able to recognize what he wanted
to do, so she could respond accordingly. He wouldn’t force her to submit to
him. If she did, she did so willingly and because she wanted to, not because of
the exercise. He wanted this to be clear. Especially now that she’d disobeyed
him. He still couldn’t believe it. There were only two other times in their
relationship that he’d been forced to use corrective action. It was a matter of
pride with him. The more she needed to be punished, the more he’d have to admit
that he was failing her.

He was proud of the fact his discipline training in the
beginning of their relationship had worked so well and kept that count down,
but now that he was faced with having to take her to task, he felt like shit
because he realized he’d waited too long to deal with all this. Thank Christ
he’d taken the initiative and reached out. The few hours he’d spent with Ken
had helped to put the situation into perspective. The guy was better than their
inept couple’s counselor as he’d pinpointed the problems and even offered
viable solutions to deal with them.

“Put the packages on the credenza.” When she’d done as he
instructed and turned back, he said, “It’s almost lunchtime. You took longer
than I expected. Explain why.”

Her gaze lowered as did her voice. “Ken had trouble finding
your order.”

He was glad she eyed the floor because she wouldn’t be able
to see his monumental disappointment. “Did you have trouble finding anything on
the list?”

“No.”

“I see.” He stood and clasped his hands behind his back.
“Get me your cell phone.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer her, only stared until she rushed out of
the room to do as she was told. When she returned and handed it to him he
didn’t say a word. He pressed a few buttons and scrolled down her caller ID
list.

Finding what he was after, he turned the lighted screen
toward her and demanded. “What is this?”

Her face flushed deep crimson. “That’s Michael’s—”

“I know whose number it is. What does it stand for?”

“It was silly, we—”

“Alexis.”

“My man Michael— Oh!”

She barely caught the phone when he tossed it to her.
“Remove it.” She looked from him to the phone and back up at him again, shaking
her head. “You don’t know how, do you?”

“No.”

At least he’d been right about one thing. “Give it to me and
I’ll do it.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I’m sorry. When I saw it I was going
to ask him to change it, but I…”

Rene handed it back to her after he’d deleted the MMM… and
replaced it with Kavanagh, all lowercase letters. He didn’t say any more to her
about it. There would be plenty of time for talk once he’d established some
control.

“Tell me. Are you mine? Yes or no?”

She didn’t look up, only nodded.

“Alexis, look at me.” When she did he continued. His voice
was quiet and he made sure it was also inviting. “I want you to say the words,
but only if you mean them. Forget the exercise. This is me and you. No one
else. I’m sensitive to the situation, so I want to make certain in this moment
and every moment after this one that you have given yourself freely into my
care. For now, I want you to trust me. I want you to tell me that you are mine
to do as I wish. If you no longer feel you can do this, I’ll understand.”

Her lips parted and she searched his face. Her beautiful
eyes uncertain and wary. That familiar expression reminded him of every
struggle he’d overcome with her in their past. She was always cautious. Always
careful. He loved that about her because when she did commit he knew it was
with all her heart.

“Yes, I am yours to do with as you want.”

He let out a relieved breath and began the next step. “Put
the phone down on the credenza and collect the smaller parcel. Hand it to me.”

She did as instructed and seemed glad that they were moving
on when she commented, “It’s got some weight to it.”

“Yes, it does.” He put the flat, square box on the desk
behind him. “Now collect the bigger package and open it.”

He knew she was dying to see what was in it. Her hands shook
as she tore at the paper and eased one end of the box apart to peek inside. She
frowned as she pulled a mass of clear bubble wrap out, trying to get a good
look at the contents. When she did, her hand stilled and she looked up at him.

“Restraints?”

He didn’t blink or nod. He just calmly stood there while he
let her absorb the nature of the items in the box. He could tell part of her
was turned-on, while another part of her was frightened as hell. They’d talked
about getting something more stable than silken cord before they’d had
problems. She was probably wondering if this was a good time to be introducing
new items into the mix.

“Unpack them.”

“I would have thought handcuffs would be more your style.”

“Handcuffs are for amateurs. Unpack them.”

Kneeling, she tipped the box so that the contents slid out
onto the floor. Without a word she set about slowly unwrapping each leather
cuff. Tearing away the packing material as she undid and then rewound the
length of rawhide straps. Each of which sported a loop on the end of it, much
like a leash handle.

“Do you like them?”

Even he couldn’t deny the expert craftsmanship. He’d had
these specially made for her. The black and tan leather was lined with quilted
silk that boasted a delicate tobacco flower pattern he knew she loved. It would
feel soft to the touch and wouldn’t chafe that exquisite skin of hers.

“They’re beautiful.”

She cleaned up all the debris and stuffed it back into the
box before she drew her delicate fingers over the double buckles. When she
paused to examine the cutwork metal filigree more closely, he said, “They’re
sterling silver.”

“I love them.”

“I love the thought of restraining you with them.”

He noticed she’d almost made the mistake of looking up at
him. Almost. Now she was ready to be good? Ready to behave and follow rules?
Damn, why couldn’t she have found her way back to center before she’d broken
his command by going into the office?

“I want you to pay attention, Alexis. I have another list of
things for you to do. Are you listening?”

She nodded.

“I want you to take these restraints upstairs and place them
neatly rolled on each corner of my bed. Then I want you to take the clothes
I’ve laid out for you on our chair into the bathroom. I want you to wash up and
change into that outfit. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I also want you to remove all your makeup and put your hair
into a high ponytail. A tight one with no loose strands.” She licked her lips,
but he wouldn’t let her nervousness sway him. He had to go through with this no
matter how difficult it would be for both of them. “I want you to make a choice
now between right and left.”

Although her head was still bowed he could see that she
frowned as she answered, “R-right.”

“Good. After you have your ponytail tied I want you to go to
my bed and attach the restraints to each bedpost. They’re long enough to be
secured below the underside of the mattress. You can do a slipknot through the
cuffs around the posts. The buckles will fit through the handles on the end of
each tether. When they’re secure, I want you to bring them up on the bed and
position them the same way you do the cord. Only, make sure that each buckle is
undone and ready for use. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He walked around behind her. “After the restraints are
perfectly placed on my bed, I want you to go to my nightstand drawer. I want
you to open it and pick up the item I placed in there for you. I want you to
hold it against your chest. I want you to do this for one full minute. You’ll
use the digital clock as a gauge. When you’ve done this I want you to place the
item on my chair and sink to your knees. I want you to rest your cheek against
the seat of my chair and close your eyes to better contemplate. Then I want you
stay that way until you can return to me here and tell me why you think you
deserve to be punished. I want to know that
you
know why I am going to
punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He came around in front her. “Look at me.” She did and he
almost groaned. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glassy. Clearly she was
uncomfortable. He hated that for her. That’s why his voice softened and he
offered her another chance. Maybe if she was smart and took it, he wouldn’t
have to be so thorough. “About your punishment. Think of every possibility.
Even ones that may not have been discussed today in this room.”

“I will.”

Alexis’ stomach did flip-flops the whole way up to the
bedroom. There were only two times Rene had ever spanked her for punishment.
Both were deserved, yet it didn’t change the fact that it was humiliating and
painful. It was nothing like the sessions where he incorporated spank play. Those
times were fun and a huge turn-on. He always used his hand and she was, most
times, bent over his knee or propped on pillows on the bed. Nothing at all like
the two times he’d meted out corporal punishment when he deemed she needed to
be pulled back from a line she’d knowingly crossed. Those two times took place
on “their chair”. It was a huge, overstuffed piece of furniture with a rolled
back that was perfect for absorbing her cries, tears and the pressure of her
arms as she’d squeezed herself and burrowed up against it for support.

Both those times Rene had chosen the instrument he’d
punished her with, a leather strap. Oh he’d shown her the nasty-looking wooden
paddle, and the intimidating black crop he owned as well, but she’d always
figured he did it to heighten her anxiety because he never wound up using them
on her. Today, however, it was different. He’d made her choose. Right or left,
he’d asked. She prayed she picked the nightstand drawer that had the strap in
it. The thought of the paddle or, worse, the crop made her shiver, which turned
into a quake when she stepped through the bedroom door and took in the state of
the room.

Their chair was positioned away from the alcove it usually
sat in and had been dragged closer to the center of the room. One of his shirts
was neatly folded on it and on top of it was a pair of her undies. This was to
be her outfit. Opposite “their chair” was “his chair”. It was an ancient
run-of-the-mill ladder-backed dining chair, which creaked whenever he moved on
it. Sitting center stage as it was now? It looked like an austere throne. She
tried to control her breathing, which was suddenly light and thin, and turned
to the bed. That’s when she nearly tripped. The bed had been stripped of
everything except the fitted sheet. Even the pillows were gone.

She put down each rolled restraint as he’d instructed and
set about doing everything he wanted her to do just as he’d said. By the time
she’d gathered up the shirt and undies and went into the bathroom to wash,
dress and put up her hair, she was focused. When she was done she came out and
fastened each restraint to the bed, positioning them just the way he liked.
They looked bold stretched across the beige Egyptian cotton sheets. Bold and
powerful.

It seemed as if she arrived at the right-hand drawer too
soon. Was she ready to face the item he’d be putting to her backside? She went
through her mental list and realized it didn’t matter whether she was ready. It
was time. She’d completed everything he’d asked her to do. Just as he’d asked.
With a deep breath and an accompanying wince, she eased the drawer opened as if
whatever was in there was going to jump out at her. It didn’t. Instead, the
shiny black crop lay horizontally in the otherwise empty drawer, looking smart
and tidy. Screw that, it looked efficient.

Not good.

Almost gingerly she picked it up and turned it over in her
hand. It wasn’t terribly weighty, but when she took it in one hand and smacked
it into the palm of her other, she nearly dropped it. It hurt the bejesus out
of her. It also left a stripe-like welt on her skin. Quickly, before she could
change her mind, she hugged it up against her chest and waited for the digital
clock to tick over.

After it did, she watched a full minute pass and then went
to his chair. Just as he’d instructed she placed the crop across it and dropped
to her knees. She had to half-kneel, half-lean over so she could press her
cheek on the surface of the seat. When she’d managed the position, she closed
her eyes and concentrated on why she thought she was being punished. Rene had
given her a good clue when he’s said that maybe they hadn’t even discussed it
today. He never set her up to fail, so she was fairly confident he was ready to
deal with her for her part in the fight they’d had that night. After all, she
had greatly overstepped certain boundaries. Taking the bull by the horns, or
more correctly the crop to her ass, Rene would be able to move them forward so
they could put the whole thing behind them.

She was so convinced with her decision that twenty minutes
later she went down to the study and stood before him. Only this time she was
in her bare feet, wearing one of his dress shirts that covered her to mid-thigh
and had on a tiny pair of red-lace panties underneath. She didn’t give her scantily
clad form a second thought as she told him, “I know why I’m to be punished.”