Raising Lucy

by Becca Jameson

  Raising Lucy

  Surrender, Book One

  Becca Jameson

  Copyright © 2020 by Becca Jameson

  Cover Artist: Scott Carpenter

  Editor: Christa Soule

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. And resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Acknowledgments

  About the Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Also by Becca Jameson

  About the Author

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  Becca’s Newsletter Sign-up

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank all my beta readers who encouraged me along the way and kept this book moving every time I had my doubts. You know who you are and how much you mean to me. I couldn’t have written this book, much less this series, without all of you! Susan, Paris, Lea, Rose, Melanie—you guys rock!

  * * *

  Christa—there are no words. Love you bunches. I won’t cry. I promise.

  About the Book

  Roman

  I’m demanding. I’m strict. I get what I want.

  And I want Lucy Neill.

  She is mine.

  She is my girl.

  My little.

  My life.

  My world.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  * * *

  Lucy

  I lost my job.

  I have no idea what I'm going to do next.

  I should not be spending Friday night at a club.

  I can’t help myself.

  The club calls to me.

  The owner calls to me.

  I crave the forbidden.

  I never realized how much I needed a daddy.

  Chapter 1

  Master Roman

  * * *

  “It’s done.”

  I spin my desk chair around to find Julius, the manager of my club and the only man I would trust with the task I’ve assigned him. He drops a thick file on my desk. “You’re sure?” I lift a brow, my heart pounding. If I pull this off…

  Julius narrows his gaze. “Roman, you insult me.”

  I blow out a breath and open the file. Her picture is on top. I run my hands over the page, caressing it. Julius Martens is one of my oldest friends. He’s also one of only two people who do not call me Master Roman or Sir. The other is our mutual friend Claudia Renault. Everyone else in my life refers to me by my preferred title.

  “You think she’ll be here tonight?” I ask, not lifting my gaze from her photo.

  “I can’t guarantee that, but if she doesn’t show, we’ll move to plan B or even plan C. This will work.”

  I nod.

  Julius leaves me alone in my enormous office on the second story of my Seattle fetish club, Surrender.

  I close my eyes, willing my heart to slow down. This reaction is so unlike me. I don’t want any of my employees to see me nervous. I have a reputation in Seattle as one of the most severe Doms. I’ve earned that reputation intentionally. It’s not just a reputation. It’s my life. I’m demanding. I’m strict. I get what I want.

  And I want Lucy Neill.

  She is mine.

  She is my girl.

  My life.

  My world.

  She just doesn’t know it yet.

  Chapter 2

  Lucy

  * * *

  I know it’s a horrible idea for me to be out at a club tonight, but as I enter Surrender, I shake off my problems and force them to the back of my mind. They will still be there in the morning. Tonight, I need to escape. Tonight, I need to forget. Tonight may be the last time I’m able to do so for God knows how long.

  Five hours ago, I was fired. Fired.

  I have never been fired from a job in my life. I’ve been working as a receptionist for a small accounting firm, Martin and Sons, for two years. I’m a fantastic employee. No one has once complained about my work. I still can’t believe they’ve terminated me on the spot without notice. The owner rambled on about outsourcing my position or some shit. I tuned him out after realizing I was being let go.

  I don’t even know what has possessed me to think a night at Surrender is a good idea. I should be at home scouring LinkedIn for a job, but instead, I’m hiding from my problems like a coward.

  Nope. I shake off the unease. I’m enjoying a night for myself. I deserve it.

  The member in front of me signs in and walks through the second set of doors to enter the main club.

  Cindy, the bubbly woman who runs the front desk, smiles at me and hands me the sign-in sheet. “Hey, Lucy.”

  I force a smile in return as I sign my name, a ball of anxiety growing in my stomach as I remind myself this is the last time I’ll be entering Surrender.

  Cindy spins around to pull a stack of papers off the printer and then sets them neatly on the corner of the desk. Something about their formality catches my eye. “What’s this?”

  Cindy sighs. “Applications. Any chance you’re looking for a job? Master Roman is hiring an assistant.”

  I stop dead, blinking at Cindy. “Are you serious?”

  For a moment, I think I’m imagining this conversation. I’m distraught. The only reason I’ve left my small apartment is to take my mind off my problems. I didn’t make much as a receptionist, and my paycheck barely covered my expenses as it was. I don’t have any savings. I’m basically screwed.

  Cindy giggles, her voice drawing me back. “Of course. Fill out the application if you’re interested.” She leans her elbows on the counter so that her face is closer to mine. “I’ll warn you, I’ve heard he’s demanding. His assistants don’t usually last long. This is the fourth time this year he’s asked me to take applications.”

  My mouth goes dry as my gaze lowers to the form. “I got fired this afternoon,” I murmur, as if she wants to hear my problems.

  Cindy winces. “Damn. That sucks. Then maybe you’re in luck.” She shrugs as she shoves off the counter. No one else i
s currently in the reception area that separates the inside of the club from the street.

  Could my luck really take this kind of turn? I find it hard to believe the universe has seen fit to shine down on me today.

  Master Roman is the owner of Surrender. I’ve only seen him a handful of times. I’ve never spoken to him. He’s elusive. Most of the time, his brow is furrowed, and he looks rather frustrated any time he walks through the club.

  What I’m sure of is that I’m not the only one who stops breathing when he walks by. He’s formidable. First of all, he’s tall. Six two I would guess. And huge. The man works out. He’s about forty with thick brown hair I’d kill to run my hands through. His eyes are an intense deep brown. If he looked directly at me, I would probably melt. His skin is tanned. And his hands… Every time I see them, I want them on my body. Who wouldn’t?

  The man always wears a suit. At least every time I’ve seen him. Perfectly starched shirt, tie, slacks, dress shoes. He oozes authority. He oozes dominance. He oozes confidence.

  That’s Master Roman. That’s the man who is looking for a new assistant. I’m crazy for even considering it. But I am.

  My hands shake as I take the top application and turn to sit in a chair in the reception area. One thing is for sure. There is no way I’m going to miss the opportunity. The inside of the club can wait. My entire night is looking up. Even if I don’t get an interview, at least I will have tonight to pretend the future holds some possibilities.

  Chapter 3

  Master Roman

  * * *

  She’s here. She’s in my club. And she’s filling out the application. As I watch her on one of the many security cameras in my office, I silently fist pump. It’s not like me. I never show emotion. Of course, no one is watching.

  I have seen her a total of four times before tonight, though I’ve known from the first moment I set eyes on her that she was mine.

  I’ve spent the past month planning, plotting, figuring out how to make her mine. It’s been a lengthy, coordinated effort, but tonight I’m hoping all the pieces fall into place.

  I need to remain calm. I’m still sitting at my desk, trying to control my nerves, tapping my lips with two fingers as I stare at the monitor. To the casual observer I know I look the same as usual, but inside, I’m losing my mind. This has to work. There are no other options.

  The first time I saw Lucy, she was wearing jeans and a pink sweater. Both articles of clothing were worn and neither fit her properly, which led me to believe she had purchased them at a thrift store. I later verified my belief.

  Tonight. Damn. Just damn. That dress. My. God. My cock is stiff already, and I haven’t even stepped into her presence. I’m hard from looking at her in the monitor. When she takes the clipboard and lowers herself onto the chair across from the receptionist, I come out of my seat to watch her closer.

  She tucks her skirt under her bottom, but her thighs are bare, and the skirt isn’t very long. It’s long enough to be modest. It’s street appropriate. But on Lucy, it’s… Fuck me.

  I can’t know her skin tone from the monitor, but I don’t need to. I’ve been close to her enough times to know her skin is several shades lighter than mine and silky smooth. Flawless.

  My heart is pounding as I watch her squirm in the chair as she fills out the application. The way she squeezes her legs together and crosses her dainty feet at the ankles. The way her long, curly, dark ponytail falls over her shoulder, the tips of her hair dangling down to her thigh.

  She is precious.

  Though I have visualized so many scenarios with her over the last month, tonight she is going to take my breath away. I can’t wait to get closer to her. I will force myself to remain aloof and pretend I don’t notice her, but it will be hard. I will be hard.

  She’s so young tonight. Not in years. In style.

  Perfection.

  My girl is small. No, she’s not just small. She’s petite. She stands at about five feet and is proportionately tiny throughout. Most people would have to do a double take to confirm she’s even an adult. I’ve seen her identification though. She’s twenty-two. Tonight…with that loose ponytail in her hair and that dress… Jesus, she looks young. I swallow, wondering if she is also wearing minimal makeup like every other time I’ve seen her.

  Her glorious thick curls hang down her back when she tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. So far, I’ve only seen her with all of that hair gathered in a haphazard ponytail at the nape of her neck, or on one occasion, she’d gathered just the top layers and clipped them in that same spot.

  Lucy has no experience with BDSM. It’s obvious. I wonder what spurred her to get a temporary pass to visit my club. She has, nevertheless, come every Friday night for the past four weeks, which means she only has two guest passes left. I’ve been racing against the clock to figure out how to make her mine.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, tapping my thigh with my fingers. It’s out of character for me to be this distressed over a girl. It’s never happened in all my forty years.

  I have spent a great number of those years searching and hoping for the perfect submissive. Someone I can own. Someone who will be willing to enter into a fulltime relationship that suits my tastes. And my tastes are specific.

  I believe in my heart that Lucy fulfills all my standards, even though it will take some time to convince her and train her. She has no idea how her life is about to change, but I know she will not regret my decisions.

  Yes, I definitely have broken every rule I expect my employees to uphold. I never even hesitated. The first night Lucy came to my club, I watched her for two hours. Some of that time I was on the floor literally following her around as nonchalantly as possible. Some of that time I spent in my office watching her every move on my monitors.

  She is timid and unsure. She is also intrigued and frequently aroused and flustered. I have watched her fidget from one foot to the other, squeeze her legs together, hug her small breasts tight against her chest, and even bite her nails—a habit I will break her of as soon as possible.

  I have paid close attention to exactly how much time she watches each scene and how she reacts physically.

  My dick is hard now and has been hard for four weeks as my suspicions and hopes were confirmed. She magnetically finds herself watching the strongest Doms. Demanding ones with serious expressions and humble subs. She has been mesmerized by submissives on their knees with their faces tipped down. She once watched an age play scene where a woman dressed as a young girl gave a blow job.

  Lucy’s face was completely flushed by the end, and her legs were crossed, making it easier for her to clench them together. When she fled the room and made her way to the bathroom, I almost went after her.

  I knew it was too soon, but it bothered me that she might masturbate in the bathroom in my club. I don’t want her to touch herself without my permission. I want to own her orgasms. All of them.

  Luckily, I exercised restraint. In addition, she returned from the women’s room minutes later, somewhat composed but in no way relieved. I know girls well enough to tell if they have recently come. Lucy did not have the moxie to orgasm in my club.

  That provided me with the smallest relief. I exhaled and let my eyes close long enough to release my grip on the edge of my desk before resuming my obsessive monitor scanning.

  Another night, Lucy spent almost an hour watching a Dom specifically play with his babygirl. She had on a frilly nightie and was sucking a pacifier. She didn’t speak, and at one point she began to cry and then had a bratty tantrum.

  My girl cringed and turned away.

  I smiled and took notes.

  My obsession is not innocent. I have crossed the line when it comes to Lucy.

  After she left that first night, I pulled her paperwork and memorized everything there was to know about her. I know she’s single. She has worked for an accounting firm for two years. She doesn’t have a driver’s license. Instead she has a state ID. I know wher
e she grew up, where she went to high school, and every place she has worked since then.

  I also know I went way overboard when I hired two men to follow her everywhere she went. I did it for two reasons. One, her safety. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her after I finally found her. And two, I needed to know who she spent time with, if she had a boyfriend, what kind of hours she kept.

  I took it even further when I had someone break into her apartment while she was at work. I needed information. I got it. Nothing was stolen. No harm done.

  The response from my PI’s was mind boggling and made me extremely happy. It would seem she has no friends, only leaves her small, rundown apartment to go to work and the store, and never goes out at night. I can’t imagine why a girl like her is so cut off from the world, but my investigator dug deep and has assured me she has never once been in trouble with the law and doesn’t appear to be hiding or running from anyone.

  I suddenly sit up straighter as Lucy returns the application to Cindy. She is smiling. Excited. She rubs her hands together.