Restraint (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (8 page)

I don’t remove the paper since someone, with a lot of time on their hands
, I might add, wrapped the box perfectly so it invitingly hinges open. I lift the flap slowly waiting for Jack to jump from the box, or maybe a knife-wielding psycho.

A chess
board, I can deal with that. I sigh in relief and chance a glance at Zeitler. He’s staring at me and the package, curious to see what it is. I lift the board, only to startle like Jack-on-the-box knifed me.

“Shit,” slips past my l
ips. How the fuck can I show Zeitler this? I lick my lips as my mouth suddenly dries up. I stare, shell-shocked, at the black and white chess pieces.

Yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad, right? No fucking way. How sweet, my very own BDSM chess set. I notice the queen looks similar to
me, and the pawns are kneeling submissives. I don’t even want to contemplate the pony play going on with the Knights.

I grab the card from the box like the pieces have venomous fangs
. I drop the board back into the box, tuck the lid shut, and stow the box under my desk… and put my foot on it.

“Something wrong?”
Mr. Zeitler inquisitively asks.

“Oh, no, nothing’s wrong. It’s
just a beautiful, standard chess set,” I poorly lie. Zeitler looks at me crosswise, and I swear he whispers
fibber
underneath his breath.

My face flames
in embarrassment, skin blazing bright red. I clasp my hands around the note in a death grip, and rest my forearms on my blotter. Nope, I’m just a very good girl. I don’t have chess pieces engaged in hedonistic positions beneath my boot. I wouldn’t think of it.

“Aren’t you going to read the note?
” Zeitler tips his head at the note crinkled in my fist. “I love chess, maybe we could play sometime.” His voice is calming and his expression is ever so hopeful.

“Ah, I really don’t know how to play,”
I lie for the second time. It’s funny how when I’m embarrassed the lies flow from my tongue like water.

“It’d be a pleasure to teach you.” His
stormy eyes twinkle with mischief. I think the bastard knows I’m lying.

Fuck.

I open the envelope, yet again ignoring the logos. I pull out a single sheet of expensive, gray paper with words glowing from it.

My Kitty Kat,

I know how much you love games after hearing, “game on, bastard,” from those supple lips of yours. Let us add a new game to our repertoire. Place this chess set in your office. Don’t worry, Kitten, no need for rules, anything goes.

Meet me at Restraint tonight.
I look forward to your pleasure and pain.

~Forever your Boss
,
Master EZ

I slowly fold the
up the sheet of expensive paper and return it to its envelope. I hope my outside demeanor doesn’t show the chaos brewing within. Sweat trickles down my spine as I slide the note into my briefcase. I give Mr. Zeitler innocent eyes when I look up.

“Secret admirer?” His stormy eyes try to capture me with no success.

“Admirer…” I spread my hands out on my desk. “Stalker… same difference,” I say with a shrug. “Master,” I breathe. I smirk and give a light laugh as if I’m joking. Zeitler joins in with me as if he’s in on the joke, too... or maybe like I’m the brunt of the joke. I should feel insulted, but Zeitler has an incredible laugh, smoky and masculine, addictive. You could almost roll the sound around on your tongue and taste its smoky naughtiness.

“It’s
been a pleasure, Ms. Waters.” Zeitler smoothly rises from the chair, flowing like water. As he moves towards the door, he politely says, “Enjoy your weekend.”

As soon as Zeitler
exits my office, I grab all of my stuff and shove it into their bags. I have to get the out of here so I can think. I’m losing my freaking mind- insanity. Hauling my laptop and briefcase, I flee my office like a bat out of Hell, ignoring the fact that I have a hedonistic chess set that the night cleaners will undoubtedly find.

Halfway to the elevator
I stop. Before me is Zeitler hugging a stick thin, angular female wearing designer rags. His big palm rubs her back through her straight blonde hair. Her head rests on his shoulder making her around six-feet tall with heels.

As I approach
, I overhear their conversation. “Adelaide, what brings you by? I thought we weren’t meeting until Monday.” Hmm… Adelaide – how very blueblood.

“
Oh, Ezra, I just had to see you,” she pleads in a girly voice. “Mother and I have reservations for dinner and she wishes for you to join us.”

Zeitler scowls down at the woman that must be his fiancée. He looks vaguely disappointed. But I think thrown is a more accurate word. Adelaide surprised him somehow
. Judging by the taut set of his shoulders and the way his eyes are narrowed, it wasn’t a happy surprise.

Adelaide
smirks at me, as if this is a show put on just for me. I don’t know either of them. I’ve never see this woman in my life, and I’ve only spoken to my boss twice- and very briefly, I might add. I must be sensing something that isn’t there. Clearly, I’ve entered paranoid territory. My intuition isn’t just going wonky lately, it’s broken.

I enter the elevator and turn to press floor 17. My eyes meet Zeitler’s
furious gaze. He looks beyond pissed, body froze, face set in angry lines, nostrils flaring. I imagine steam coming from his ears. The elevator doors can’t close fast enough.

Zeitler doesn’t look like the man who comfortably sat in my office just moments ago. He’s almost unrecognizable with fury.

A word his fiancée said flashes in my mind, causing me to suck in a sharp gasp.

“Ezra Zei
tler,” breathes past my lips as my eyes widen in amazement. The doors shut just as my boss charges towards me like an enraged bull.

Chapter Seven

After Adelaide’s revelation that my boss’ name is Ezra Zeitler
, I’ve been determined to remove Restraint’s membership bracelet from my wrist… or as I like to call it,
Master Ez’s bitch stamp
. The diamond
EZ
keeps glaring at me from my wrist.

I don’t know if Master Ez and my
actual boss are one in the same, but I won’t allow anyone to own me without earning it. I haven’t spent the last decade schooling my emotions and distancing myself, only to be victimized again by someone with a god complex.

My idea was to remove the bracelet
, and when Master Ez earned his right to be my master, I’d allow him to put it back on me. I feel jipped that Master Ez hooked it on me and that was it. No ceremonial words- nothing. Just
don’t ever take this off
… Jipped! Isn’t it supposed to be special? Shouldn’t I have had a choice in the matter? I was under the impression that choosing your master was a big fucking deal. I feel like instead of having a romantic honeymoon where you connect to your partner on a deeper level, I had grungy sex in a bathroom stall in a dive bar… in the ass… and didn’t even get off. If I allow Master Ez to disrespect me like this, he’ll never respect me in the future.

Plus, why would I want
a master I don’t know? He’s playing cat and mouse with me. Isn’t this supposed to be a bond built on mutual trust? But Master Ez doesn’t want a bond, he just wants to get his jollies tormenting me, and then leave me like trash along the side of the road.

That was my idea… until I tried to remove the bracelet. Master Ez earned his right
to be my master by sheer genius. I can’t get the albatross off my wrist… No matter what I try. 

My emotions are all over the place: anger, awe, fury, terror, elation, lust, determination, revengeful, and now I’m just exhausted and in pain. Knowing that a man has the right to do whatever he wants with me just because this damned bracelet is on my wrist... I can’t wrap my mind around that level of power you can wield over another living soul
.

As a Switch, I love the thought of being owned, of belonging. But at the same time, I feel utter terror over the prospect of having no control over my life. I want my cake and I want to eat it, too. Playing around, dominating and being dominated sounds enticing… everyday life, no fucking way.

I stare in defeat at the mutilation that used to be the pink, healthy skin of my wrist.
You would be amazed at how your skin can dry out from things that are slippery. Lined up on my kitchen counter is an assortment of lubricants, listed alphabetically from aloe to Wet lubricant. And none of them worked. It’s proof positive that somehow he, who shall remain nameless, measured my wrist.

The damned bracelet slops u
p and down my arm teasing me,
Look how loose I am, bitch. Ha-ha, you can’t get me off. Nah… Na… Nah… Na.

Opposite from my hall o’ lube is
the sharp, cutting objects: wire snips to gardener shears, and several fine tooth saws, one of which has a diamond blade.

The chain isn’t very thick, just the usual for a charm bracelet.
I doubt my guess at platinum, maybe some titanium mixed in. I’d have to get out the periodic table to venture another guess. I’ve played Bob Villa at the hardware store, Paula Dean at the grocery store, and Jenna Jamison at the toyshop. I am beyond playing chemist.

I reach over to U in our
lineup and slather utter cream on my sore and tender arm. It looks rather pitiful, all red and blistered. I have four butterfly closures on my wrist from the slip of the snips and blades. When I came close to hitting a major artery I gave up. I leave my instruments of escape on the counter. Tomorrow is another day. I’ll try again.

***

I rouse from sleep by a palm on my mouth.

A few days ago I would have panicked. Tonight
I don’t struggle. If anyone could bypass the four deadbolts on my apartment door, it’s him. I recognize his familiar presence. It’s only been forty-eight hours since the last abduction.

The Boss is back.

“Good Kitty, relax and promise not to scream,” a velvet voice purrs. There is a hand on my mouth, how am I to answer? I tap him on the shoulder signaling my agreement.

I try to look at Master Ez
as he takes his hand away. It’s too dark in my room with my blackout drapes. I run my hand up his back, imprinting his lean build in my mind. He pushes back into my hand, as if enjoying and seeking more of my attention.

I realize I should be terrified, but with my pas
t it would take a group of gangbanging sadists to frighten me. This is just one man- not four. Master Ez radiates an aura of power that actually calms me. Yeah, who knew, Katya is fucked in the head.

“We’re going to put this on and be a good girl, aren’t we?”
Master Ez says in a coaxing tone, as if he expects me to disobey. Maybe he does know me.

I moisten my lips with my tongue before I speak, “y
... es?” It comes out sounding like as question.

“Good.” A sleep mask snaps onto my face blanking out any available light. The Boss wants me blind.
I swallow down the panic that threatens to overtake me. A lot of survivors have an issue with darkness. It reminds them of what they survived. But for me, my violation was on a gorgeous sunny day. The darkness feels safer somehow.

“Katya, if you take that off
, your punishment will be severe,” Master Ez threatens in a calm and calculated voice. “I won’t enjoy it, that’s how bad it will be. Do you understand me?” He sounds like he’s not messing around. I’m rendered speechless. He takes my non-response as affirmation and leaves the bed. I can’t see and my hearing increases. I think he turns my lamp on by the click to my left.

“How did you get in, Master Ez?”
breathlessly flows from my parted lips. “I have a lot of locks. How?” 

Inste
ad of verbally answering, a deep long-suffering sigh erupts from his chest. I’m sure if I could see, Master Ez would have an exasperated expression on his face.

“Ah, I forget. The Boss is
omnificent: he can do anything, and is everywhere.” It’s hard to be mocking with a mask on and a stalker in your room, but I manage to pull it off.

“I have another gift for you,
” he does mocking better than I do.

Master Ez
touches my wrist and I flinch back in pain. Blindly, I try to scramble off the bed and get away. If this were my room at my parents’ house, I could traverse it in the dark. Thirty years of knowing your surroundings will do that for you. But I’m at a severe disadvantage. I just moved here a few weeks ago, so I end up running into my dresser, banding my knee on a drawer pull. I sharply hiss as my perfume bottles rattle together- their tinkle and my hiss is the soundtrack for my assault.