Submission (9 page)

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

“I’m not.”

“Boundaries and rules.” Athena
exhaled then shook her head. “Okay, you didn’t invent sex, but you invented the
rule book for it.”

“It’s just smart to have
boundaries.”

“Then why are you reading those
groveling emails as if they hold the secret of turning shit into gold?” Athena
leaned closer, her eyes gleaming. “Are you going to break one of your own
rules, Mr. Cool?”

That was when Rex knew he had to
do it.

“Just one.” He took the mouse and
clicked through the inventory page for the boutique. He selected an item, then
wrote a note. “Order her one of these, send her this and book her in for
Friday.” He straightened and made to leave the office. “If she has the nerve to
accept, I’ll make sure she never comes around again.”

“How are you going to do that?”
Athena asked with a smile.

Rex grinned from the doorway.
“I’ll give her exactly what she says she wants.”

“You’re bringing her here again?”

“No. I’ll handle this off-site.”

“But the rules…”

“Fuck the rules, Athena.” Rex left
the office and headed to the gym, Athena’s surprised laughter making him smile.

Or maybe it was the prospect of
seeing Joanna again, exactly the way he wanted to see her, that filled his week
with promise.

***

“Package for you today,” Joanna’s
superintendent said on Thursday when she was emptying her mailbox. Joanna spun
to face her. That woman was leaning in the doorway, waving a box. “I signed for
it for you.” Her expectation was obvious.

“Thanks!” Joanna ignored that
curiosity and took the box with a smile. Her smile faltered and her heart leapt
when she saw that it had no return address.

Could it be another invitation?

“Has no return address,” the super
noted, following Joanna into the building.

“My sister’s handwriting, though,”
Joanna lied. “She’s probably thinking she’ll surprise me.” She rolled her eyes
as if that was unlikely and the super laughed. “Thanks again.” She clutched the
parcel and tried to not look like she was running to her apartment.

She ripped it open in the foyer,
her back against the door.

It was an invitation, another one
with the top of a peacock feather tucked into the parcel. Saturday night. There
was a card with writing on it.

4 x 12 yards wide
ribbon

Joanna stared at the writing, then
across the room. She was supposed to bring her own bonds. Go shopping for them.
She leaned back against the door, her knees unsteady.

There was something else in the
box, also wrapped in turquoise tissue paper. She crouched down in the foyer,
put the box on the floor and tore away the paper.

It was hood, a dark purple satin
hood. She turned it in her hands, her pulse leaping that she held a fetish
garment. It was designed to enclose someone’s head, leaving the face exposed
from the middle of the nose to the chin.

A hood and blindfold in one. There
was a crisscross of black elastic down the back, so it could easily be put on
and removed.

Just looking at it made her sex
throb. The hood would close around the neck below that hole and she could
imagine how secure it would feel, how the elastic would pull it snug. There was
fur inside it, luxurious soft fur that would cover the eyes.

Her eyes.

Joanna crouched there, staring at
the hood with mingled awe and excitement. Her panties were wet. Her heart was
pounding. It was too easy to imagine the Master smoothing this over her skull,
constraining and containing her.

For his own pleasure.

The phone rang twice before she
moved to answer it. She scooped it up, the hood still in her hand. “Hello?”

“Put it on,” the Master said, his
voice as low and commanding as she recalled. How did he know she was home? How
did he know what she was doing? Joanna’s lips parted and she couldn’t make a
single sound. “Put it on, then pick up the phone again.”

Joanna swallowed. She put down the
receiver and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She lifted the hood and
slid it over her head. It encased her head perfectly, closing over her eyes
like a luxurious cocoon, fitting as snugly as she’d imagined. The fur was
smooth against her eyelids, the feel of the satin surrounding her head making
her dizzy. She fumbled on the table, trying to find the receiver, then picked
it up and held it to her ear.

“Yes, Master,” she said, as
submissive as she’d ever been.

He chuckled, obviously noticing
the meekness in her tone. “Do you like it?”

Joanna swallowed. “Yes, Master.”

“Wear to bed, with nothing else,”
he instructed and she thrilled at the prospect. “Touch yourself, but don’t
finish. I forbid you to come. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And the ribbon must match,” he
added. “It should be at least two inches wide.”

Joanna’s mouth opened. She had a
heartbeat to imagine herself carrying this hood into a store to check the match
of the color, to feel her blood rushing at the prospect.

Then the line clicked and he was
gone.

She heard the dial tone, listened
to it for a minute, imagining herself trussed in purple satin.

Gift-wrapped for the Master.

There were footsteps in the hall,
Louise returning, so Joanna hung up the phone and peeled off the hood. She
gathered everything up and raced to her room in the nick of time, kicking the
door shut behind her. She was stuffing everything into her closet, her heart
pounding, when Louise shouted hello.

She caught a glimpse of herself in
the mirror, flushed and agitated as she never was.

“You getting sick?” her roommate
asked, dumping groceries on the counter. “You look like you’re getting a
fever.”

Joanna was certainly on fire
– but she told herself that getting the story would see her cured.

***

It seemed to take forever for
Friday to arrive. Joanna went to bed naked Thursday night, wearing the hood
just as instructed, and felt both wicked and excited. She didn’t think she
slept a wink. She was terrified that Louise would look in on her – even
though she never did – and demand an explanation.

Joanna found the ribbon in the
first shop she tried on her lunch on Friday. It was three inch wide satin in a
purple that perfectly matched the hood.

She surreptitiously checked.

“A lot of ribbon,” the clerk said
with a smile as she measured out the lengths. The pile of purple satin on the
cutting table made Joanna’s mouth go dry. The clerk was an older woman,
silver-haired and efficient. She was obviously trying to make conversation.
“What’s it for?”

Joanna hesitated, not wanting to
tell the truth, not able to think of a plausible lie. “I’m not sure,” she said,
forcing a smile. “My roommate asked me to pick it up for her.” She shrugged and
caught a glimpse of a poster showing kids dressed up for Halloween. “I think
it’s for her Halloween costume, but she always wants to surprise everyone.”

“Well, there’s enough here for her
to be a purple satin mummy,” the woman said cheerfully. She snipped the last
length from the roll and began rolling it up in her hands. “Wouldn’t that be a
sight?”

Joanna couldn’t summon a coherent
word to her lips. Was that what he was going to do to her? Bind her completely
in satin ribbon? And then what?

Eat her?

Take her from behind?

Give her to Rafael?

Or share her with the Countess?

Joanna had to grip the edge of the
counter, she felt so lightheaded.

As she walked back to the office,
her hood and her ribbon in her purse, she looked at all the people hustling
past. How many of them knew first-hand about the Plume? How many of them had
been aroused with peacock feathers? How many of them were naked beneath their
raincoats?

She stopped on a corner, waiting
for the light to change and noticed the extremely high heels of the woman
standing beside her. She wore sheer stockings and a raincoat that just brushed
her knees. Joanna noticed the dark scarf at her throat.

Their gazes met.

The woman smiled - was that a
knowing smile? - then the light changed and she marched away, hips swinging, as
Joanna looked after her.

Just how many members did the
Plume have?

And how many of them had been
trained by the Master?

***

By Friday night, Joanna was in a
state. She was so agitated and restless that she couldn’t even write a complete
sentence on her laptop.

She tried. Repeatedly. Her article
on the Plume was going nowhere fast, her quick career advancement at the paper
wasn’t happening, but all she could think of was the firm grip of the Master’s
hands on her, the low magic of his voice.

The night ahead.

“Twitchy,” Louise said, pausing on
her way out the door for a date. “You need more of a social life, Joanna. Stop
working so much and get laid once in a while. It’s not good for you to work all
the time.”

“Good idea. I’ll think about it.”

“You could come tonight, you
know.” Louise stopped, holding the door open with one foot.

“I’ve got to finish this article.”

Louise shook her head and rolled
her eyes. “Do you listen to anything I say to you?” she said, but she was
smiling and her tone was affectionate. “Next Friday, I’m going to fix you up.”

“Great. Thanks,” Joanna said,
wanting nothing other than to see Louise leave.

She did.

Joanna went straight to the shower
to begin her preparations. She’d gone back to the salon to have herself made
sleek again, wanting to ensure that the Master had her precisely the way he
wanted her to be. Her flesh was tingling, although this time it might have been
as much from anticipation as from the body wash and its mysterious ingredients.

She’d chosen a pink lipstick, one
that matched the purple better. She decided it suited her as she smoothed it
over her lips and massaged it into her tingling nipples.

She dressed as before, her hands
shaking as she slid the stockings over her thighs. The heels didn’t seem quite
as high as the last time. She could walk across the room now, without
stumbling, and even swing her hips. She recalled the way he’d lifted her almost
off the ground with one arm and had to close her eyes against her desire.

She put on the raincoat, knotted
the belt tightly around her waist, wrapped the scarf around her neck and
shivered as the satin ends touched her bare breasts. She took a small purse
this time, a black satin evening purse that held the coils of ribbon, the hood
and her black domino mask. She dropped the apartment keys in her purse just as
she heard a car stop at the curb outside the building.

The black limo.

Rafael.

Her heart skipped at the thought
of another encounter with the Countess and she strode to the door.

***

It was Rafael again, of course,
his smile as mischievous as ever, his sunglasses as dark as midnight. He opened
the car door for her with a flourish. This time, Joanna didn’t stumble, but
slipped into the car’s dark interior with a certain grace.

She realized before Rafael shut
the door that she was alone.

She glanced back but he was gone,
getting back into the driver’s seat, shutting the door. The glass barrier
between them was open.

“Where is the Countess?” Joanna
asked.

“You’re not supposed to ask questions,”
Rafael said. “Unless you want me to punish you first.”

She sat back, perplexed, and
watched Rafael watch her in the mirror.

“Reveal yourself,” he commanded.

Joanna looked at his reflection in
surprise.

“Because you were naughty, show
me.” He arched a brow. “Or I’ll tell.”

Joanna swallowed. She remembered
the Master’s voice.
Ankles together, always.
She put her ankles together tightly.
Knees apart.
She parted her knees, then opened her raincoat.
Lips
parted.
She leaned back against the seat,
letting her lips soften, as if in invitation. Just doing so made her feel bold.

Rafael smiled and she knew he
could see her wet sex. Did he know it was throbbing and thick?

He drove easily, neither fast nor
slow, flicking glances at her in the mirror. The rain drummed on the roof of
the car as they passed people hurrying down the lit streets. Joanna felt
curiously serene, as well as excited. She found that sense of tranquility
sliding through her again, that strange submissive anticipation. A mix of
excitement and inevitability.

What happened this evening wasn’t
up to her.

The situation was out of her
control.

She was the Master’s possession,
to use as he pleased.

Her throat tightened and her
clitoris pulsed.

Rafael turned a corner. “There’s
an envelope in the side pocket,” he said. “Get it and shut your coat.”

Joanna saw the flash of lights as
he pulled into the drop-off area of a large luxury hotel. She closed her coat
just before a doorman stepped toward the car. She reached into the side pocket
and grabbed the envelope.

It contained a smaller envelope.

A magnetic room key.

With a number written on the
envelope.

The doorman opened the door with a
smile, and Joanna smiled back as she accepted his assistance. Beyond the
sheltered entry, the rain was pouring down and she could smell wet pavement.
She walked to the doors, letting another liveried doorman sweep one open for
her, and strolled into the lobby.

Like a call girl.

Well, she had been called.

Summoned by the Master.

It was the finest and most
expensive hotel in the city. Joanna had interviewed celebrities here, in the
lobby bar – usually ones launching cookbooks - but she’d never stayed in
the hotel. The lobby was spotless and luxurious, all deep velvet chairs,
shining brass and sparkling chandeliers. Her heels clicked on the polished
marble floors and she heard the laughter carrying from the bar.