A Lesson in Blackmail: Black Mountain Academy / a Club Alias Novel

by Robichaux, KD

  I’m so relieved and at the same time overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions I’ve just been on that I snort then giggle. “Just as long as you put me in your contacts as something other than that.”

  He lifts a brow, letting go of my face, but keeps me tight to him with the arm around my back, and he reaches into his pocket. With a few swipes and touches, he asks, “Number?” and I give it to him. A couple taps later, he turns the phone around to face me with a smirk. In place of a name, there’s the word MINE in all caps surrounded by two little mouse emojis. “Incognito enough?” he prompts.

  “That’ll do,” I say through my smile.

  He turns the phone back to him and works his thumb across the screen, and a second later, I hear my ringtone coming from my purse by the front door. “And now you have mine.” He kisses me once more then gently lets me go, taking hold of my hand and tugging me over to the bags on the kitchen counter.

  “What… in the world?” I murmur, my eyes going wide.

  “Well, I picked up on the fact that you’re not the best at multiple choice,” he says with a wink, “so I thought, why choose? And I got us a little bit of everything.” He gestures to all the bags like he’s a game show model, and a smile spreads across my face. “I think after we get to know each other a little better, I won’t even need to ask. I’ll just feed you something I know you’ll like. Sound good?”

  And it’s like my dream man has been dropped from the heavens and into my kitchen. I nod, choked up a little. “Sounds perfect. Thank you.”

  “Uuumm… your kitchen table’s a little small, baby. Want to do this picnic style in the living room while we watch another episode?” When my mouth opens and closes like a fish a couple times, he chuckles. “Scratch that.” He clears his throat and deepens his voice with a lifted brow, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “We’re going to eat this picnic style in the living room while we watch another episode. Please grab us some utensils, little mouse.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I reply, and circle around the bar to the drawer that holds my set of forks and knives. “Are there napkins in the bags?”

  “I’m pretty sure there’s enough napkins in all these bags for you to have a lifetime supply. We’ll never have to buy napkins ever again,” he tells me, and I like the way it sounds as if he means we’ll be living together at some point.

  When I reach the living room, he’s pulled my coffee table out into the center of the room and is setting out a buffet’s worth of food. Two pizzas with different toppings, three sandwiches sliced in half, two salads with a selection of dressings, and four different flavors of cookies. He pulls out two bottles of water, showing me the label as I sit on the floor at one end of the coffee table.

  “Spring water, not purified,” he explains, when my brow furrows, and I grin.

  “Someone took Zac Efron’s lesson to heart,” I reply, reminded of the episode we watched this morning about the different kinds of water, and how purified bottled water is actually really bad for you.

  “Learning occurred,” he confirms, and he lowers his towering frame until he’s sitting cross-legged and facing the TV. “Dig in, beautiful.”

  My face heats at the compliment, and I reach for one of the salads, asking him to pass me the ranch dressing. We eat and watch the next episode, and I can’t help but take in how natural this feels, eating and watching TV, topless no less, with Nate on a Saturday afternoon. As exciting and new as it is, it also seems like we’ve done this a million times.

  “Let me try,” he states and leans in my direction, opening his mouth while his hands are full of pizza. I get a bite on my fork with a little bit of everything in the salad and feed it to him, and I beam when he hums with pleasure. “Now that’s a damn good salad.”

  I nod, smiling shyly as I look down into my plastic bowl.

  “Here, try this.”

  I look up to see the pizza in front of my face, and my eyes meet his as I lean forward and take a bite. “Mmm,” I moan and nod while I chew. After I swallow, I lick my lips. “That’s really good. What toppings are on that?”

  “Ground beef, red onions, and green bell peppers,” he replies, watching my lips.

  I smile again, saying softly, “Please put that on my list of food choices.”

  “Done, little mouse.” He says it so nonchalantly that it settles all the anxiety that was still lingering after I thought he wasn’t coming back.

  When we’re done, we work side by side to clean up the mess, even though I offered to do it while he relaxed. He just gave me a stern look that shut me up, and everything was back to the way it was before we ate in a matter of minutes.

  I go sit down on the couch in the living room, and he disappears down my hallway, coming back a moment later with a scowl on his face. I sit up straight in alarm he looks so serious. “What’s the matter?”

  He crosses his arms over his chest and lowers his eyebrows, and I shrink back into the couch at the look, having no idea what would cause him to look at me that way.

  “There’s no laundry in the dryer,” he states, and his tone makes me swallow.

  “I-I… well, you were taking so long, and I clean when I get worrie—”

  He cuts me off, “I told you I would fold everything once it was done. No matter the circumstances, I feel like… I feel like there should be some type of punishment for you disobeying me.”

  I bite my lip, taking in the emotions warring in his eyes. This is all new to him. This is a part of a Dominant’s life I’ve never seen before, the path they’ve taken to become the trained and professional Doms I’ve only met at Club Alias. I don’t know any of their backstories. I don’t know what led to them being the flawless and perfect leaders they are now. It’s like… it’s like Nathaniel is a baby Dom, finding his way, finding his voice, finding his strength and getting used to this new skin.

  I think of the book I love, the one by Red Phoenix, and how it followed the heroine in her training to become the perfect submissive. And at one point, they had to scene with the Doms in training, who were in a separate class. It reminds me that Doms don’t just… materialize as perfect beings. They have to be taught just as I had to learn how to be a proper sub.

  It makes me realize that if we truly want to make this work, he’s going to need someone to teach him, and that someone can’t be me.

  I nod, sitting up straight and placing my hands in my lap. “Yes, Mr. Black,” I finally say, and he reaches behind him and rubs the back of his neck.

  “Um… so, uh… come here.” He crosses his arms once more, and I stand and walk over to him, wondering what he’ll do. He doesn’t look like he even knows it himself. When I’m directly in front of him, he looks down at me, and we stand there looking into each other’s eyes for long moments, the tension growing thick.

  Finally, he shakes his head. “We really need to figure this out, little mouse,” he murmurs.

  I nod slowly, hiding the relief I feel that he’s mature enough that he wants to take this seriously, that he doesn’t just take this as some role-playing game to liven up his sex life. “I know someone,” I tell him softly.

  His eyebrows perk. “Who is it?”

  “My therapist, Dr. Walker. He um…” I trail off, knowing I signed a non-disclosure agreement and am not supposed to say anything to anyone I wouldn’t be willing to sponsor and vouch for.

  “He what, little mouse?” he prompts, and when he sees I’m battling my next words to say, he closes the tiny space between us. “You can trust me, Evelyn. I swear on my life. I want to learn. I want to be good at this, to become the perfect Dom for you. To understand what I am inside.”

  I melt against him at the plea in his eyes, and I nod. “Dr. Walker is one of the owners of Club Alias. There’s a process to become a member, but once you are, once you’ve been vetted, then there are classes, private lessons, and therapy sessions you can continue after his initial assessment that can teach you everything you need to know.”

  The rel
ief on his face makes me whimper, and I can’t stop myself from reaching up and pushing his dark hair out of his eyes before cupping his cheek. All the worry I had before about him refusing to talk to Doc disappears, and for the first time, I feel like this really might work between us.

  He clears his throat and looks at me sternly once again. “Set me up the earliest appointment Dr. Walker has available. Um… any day after 3:30 p.m. works. Actually, any time works. I’ll just get a doctor’s note. The sooner the better,” he says, and I pull my lips between my teeth to keep from giggling at the fact that my Dom is a high school senior.

  Of all the men in the BDSM community, some of them the best in the entire world right here in my hometown, I had to have an undeniable connection with an untrained eighteen-year-old.

  “I’ll set that up now,” I reply, but when I go to turn around and get my phone, he catches my wrist and hauls me to him.

  “Just know the only reason I’m not punishing you right now is because I feel like what you went through while I was gone was punishment enough. But once I learn more about being a proper Dominant, you won’t get away with such disobedience so easily,” he promises, and I melt against him.

  “Yes, Mr. Black,” I breathe. And he leans down and kisses me soundly before spinning me around and swatting me on my ass, sending me in the direction of my purse.

  It’s all I can do not to giggle like a schoolgirl.

  Chapter 15

  Nate

  Evie sent her therapist a text requesting an appointment as soon as possible, and once she told him it wasn’t any type of emergency for her mental health, he set us up for Tuesday at 4:00 p.m. I’d have to miss swim practice, but I knew it would be worth it. This is something I need to do, not only to learn for myself but to prove to Evie how serious I am about all of it, about us.

  I spent the night again that night, assuring her my parents wouldn’t be worried, because I told them I was spending the weekend at Alistor’s house. We didn’t have sex again, because I’d worn the poor little thing out, but that didn’t stop me from eating her until she came. I was good and thoroughly obsessed with Evelyn’s pussy.

  Seeing as I spent the last two days in the same clothes, on Sunday I got to enjoy watching Evie blush for two hours as I walked around buck-ass naked while my stuff was being washed and dried. I have no shame, and it was amusing seeing her squirm and try not to stare.

  We had a long discussion about how things would go after our weekend together. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone about us, reiterated the fact that I wouldn’t tell anyone anything about her secret, and was sworn to secrecy about Club Alias. If the place was so important to Evie, then I would make it important to me, so she had nothing to worry about there.

  She wondered aloud what it would be like during study hall, now that I know what she looks like naked. I told her that wasn’t so much to worry about, more being the fact that we’d had butt sex. She’d choked on her sip of coffee. But on a more serious note, I told her if we truly wanted to keep us under wraps then I’d have to continue treating her the way I always had in front of everyone. Yet I made it perfectly clear that it would all be an act so not to let her anxiety talk her into it being anything besides that.

  In reality though, I have no idea how that will go. Taunting her, intimidating her now that I know the most vulnerable parts of her, that she knows the deepest and darkest parts of me… it just doesn’t feel right. So we’d just have to take all that one day at a time.

  Now, it’s Monday morning. Six hours until study hall and T-minus thirty-two hours until our appointment with Dr. Walker. Every time I glance at my watch, I have to do the math quickly for both countdowns before I can focus back on my schoolwork.

  It’s driving me mad knowing Evelyn is just right down the hall in the library. After sleeping with her in my arms for two nights straight, I could barely fall asleep last night, my California king-sized bed feeling way too big when I’d been curled around my little mouse in her queen. When I got up this morning, I made sure to use the cologne she mentioned she likes. I would’ve put a little more effort into looking good for her, but seeing as we’re a uniformed school and I already make sure I look my very best every day, all I could really do this morning is wear my new white polo shirt instead of one of my older ones.

  When I came downstairs after getting ready for school, I skidded to a stop next to my mom and pulled her in for a hug, something I realized I hadn’t done in a while when she looked at me with a surprised but happy smile on her face. I told her she looked pretty today and that she did an excellent job on dinner last night, practicing verbally praising so I could get used to doing it for Evie. Mom had flustered and swatted at me playfully, telling me to hurry before I was late for school—as if I had ever been late for anything in my life.

  I spent hours on the internet last night looking up everything BDSM. There was a whole world of information, and it was easy to get overwhelmed trying to take in everything at once, so I chose one thing to focus on in a guide I found about becoming a worthy Dom, and I gave myself an assignment. Anytime something good stands out to me, I won’t keep my thoughts on the inside. I will verbally give praise. Basically, a sub lives for praise, so I need to train myself to speak up when something makes me happy.

  So far, I’ve complimented my mom, two teachers, told Mr. Garland the janitor that he was doing an excellent job on the floors, and Trevor that his hair looked good today, to which he called me gay, but whatever. Love is love.

  Three hours until study hall. Twenty-nine until our appointment.

  Two hours until study hall. Twenty-eight until our appointment.

  An hour and thirty-two minutes until study hall. Twenty-seven hours and thirty-two minutes until our appointment.

  And hour and fourteen minutes until study hall. Twenty-seven hours and fourteen minutes until our appointment.

  And on and on it continues, the closer I get to study hall, the more frequently I’m checking my watch and doing the math, obsessing, compulsively counting down, and I pray it won’t be like this every day from now until the end of the schoolyear, because I can barely concentrate in class when all I hear and see inside my mine is a clock ticking down the minutes.

  Finally, the bell rings, and I jump up from my desk so quickly I almost knock the chair over. Books in bag, pencil behind ear, chair pushed in. I take off out of the classroom and down the hall to the library, arriving just in time for the door to burst open as the previous study hour class floods out. I can’t get through them, feeling like I’m swimming upriver, so I stand back against the wall until they’re all through, and then I shove through the door, my eyes immediately seeking her out.

  There she is, inside the circular circulation desk, and I don’t know if it always looked this way, if it’s the lighting, or if I just see her a little differently, clearly now, but she looks like a fucking angel.

  Evie’s in her standard uniform of a primly button-up white blouse and slacks, but for the first time ever, her hair is pulled up out of her beautiful face in a curly bun on top of her head. She’s wearing her glasses again for the first time since Friday at school, but the fact that her hair is up tells me she did it just for me, after I told her I loved it that way.

  I don’t know how long I stand there just staring at her, but soon the door opens up behind me, and Trevor playfully shoves my back, so I take a step forward and out of the way. “You coming, creeper?” he asks when he gets a few steps in front of me, and I roll my eyes at him, following him over to our table. I set out my notebook, two pencils, and slide the third pencil from behind my ear, aligning it with the others, and then hang my backpack on my chair.

  Before I slide out my chair and take a seat, I clear my throat. “Gonna go fuck with the nerd,” I tell him like I always do, and he waves me off, paying me no mind. I stroll up to the desk without making a sound, so when she turns around, I’m standing so close to her, only the three feet of wood between us, that she genuinely start
les and takes a step back, her hand going to her chest. The book in her other hand drops to the floor, and she looks down at it, her glasses slipping down her nose a little. I smirk when she looks back up at me with a little frown on her perfect lips, and I lean down on the desk when she bends to pick it up.

  “Nice hair, Ms. Richards,” I say, not bothering to keep my voice low, since I’d said the same thing to Trevor this morning, and she jerks her head up from her squatted position, her hand feeling around blindly for the book.

  “Th-Thank you, Mr. Black.” She swallows. “Nathaniel,” she corrects, and my smirk grows into a wide smile, because it dawns on me she’s always done that—and now I know it was always her submissive showing through.

  “A little to the right,” I tell her, and at her confused look, I point downward twice. “Your book.”

  “Huh? Oh.” She finally looks back down and snatches up the book before standing abruptly. “Will you be needing help with anything, Nathaniel?” she asks quietly, pushing her glasses back up and looking around with just her eyes as if trying to see if we’re being watched.

  “I’ll let you know… Ms. Richards.” I grin, winking at her, and I see her relax oh-so-subtly before she nods and gets back to what she was doing.

  I go back to my table, pull my chair out, and relax into my seat, feeling a peace come over me now that I’m in her presence. All the anxiousness I’ve felt all day counting down the hours then minutes until I got to see her again dissipates, and so I flip open my notebook and finish the work I wasn’t able to concentrate on in my last two classes.

  Halfway through the study hour, I look up to see Evie isn’t behind the circulation desk, and I glance around to see where she’s gone. Trevor is distracted, working on something with one of our classmates, and no one else is paying me any attention, so I stand and go in search of my little library mouse. I walk down the center aisle between bookcases, not seeing her anywhere on the first floor, so I take the wooden staircase to the second, measuring my steps so it looks like I’m just perusing the shelves. It’s not out of character for me, seeing how I love to read, so if anyone were to look up through the balcony, they wouldn’t think twice about it.