Absorbing White

by Charlotte E Hart

  A very well dressed young man instantly approaches from behind the bar and smiles.

  “Can I help you, ma’am?” I almost roll my eyes, but refrain.

  “Yes, please. I need to find Roxanne. Do you know where she is?”

  “She’s in the suites, ma’am. Just go straight along the bar and take the first door on your left. She’s waiting for you, said for you to just go on through.”

  “Okay, thanks.” She’s waiting for me, is she? Fantastic. Maybe she’s going to give me another round of ‘I haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about’.

  When I eventually find the door, I’m met with a very large, bouncer-like man who I’m sure I recognise from somewhere. It’s only when he opens his mouth that I remember him clearly.

  “What’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Gage? I think you’ve asked me that before, and I believe he said my name wasn’t for you to hear,” I say firmly. I don’t know who I’m trying to kid about this in control thing, but the man pissed me off the last time I saw him at that sex auction we went to. He could do with learning some bloody manners.

  “He isn’t here this time. What’s your name?” That just pisses me off even more. He knows damn well what my name is, arrogant arsehole. Where is the man’s respect for a dominant’s wishes? Even I know you don’t mess around with that sort of stuff.

  “I tell you what, why don’t I slap that stupid smirk off your face and then give him a call. I’m sure he’d love to hear you say that again.” I don’t know where that came from, but my hand has found my hip, so can only assume feisty Beth is irritated. My inner slut has also just joined in on the fun, because the thought of Alex knocking three shades of shit out of this mountain is making my knees wobble a bit in excitement again. Ridiculous, I know, but I’m beginning to get used to this odd feeling associated with violence.

  “Woman, I don’t know what you think you’re-” Yes, go on then. Why has he stopped? I’m quite ready for a battle of venom. It’ll get me in the mood for whatever I’ve got to deal with when I actually find the two of them. Why the hell is he suddenly bowing? Have I done enough of an Alex sneer to make him go all submissive on me? Wow, go me.

  “Thank you. Now open the bloody door, will you?” I say in my sternest voice. I could get used to this shit.

  A hand reaches around my hip and pushes the handle down to swing the door open in front of me. It’s not anybody’s hand; it’s his hand, and I know that because I’d recognise it anywhere. The creases in it instantly remind me of his grip, his strength, his continued hold over me regardless of my current predicament. It doesn’t help that his aftershave is now assaulting me and slamming me with visions of an intoxicating nature. Combine that with the trembling that’s already occurring because of the violence association and, oh god, I’m in trouble. Alex. Where the hell did he come from? My body freezes. I’m so not ready for this. Every single in control thought has just left me, and I can’t even turn my body to face him. I don’t know what to do, what to say. Every available part of the English language appears to have abandoned me in this moment, as has feisty Beth. Fuck. I just stare at his hand, which is now palm up, as if inviting me to go forward through the doorway and saying ‘after you’. Arsehole. How does he still manage to appear superior, even when he’s been a twat?

  “Are you going in, Elizabeth?” he asks in his velvety tone as his teeth graze the back of my neck.

  Oh my god!

  It’s taking all my effort just to stay upright, let alone try to deal with a seductive Alex. I can’t deal with a nice Alex. I’ve been getting myself revved up for arsehole Alex, and him delivering warm lips and inviting teeth is doing me no favours at all.

  “Is she switched on, Alexander? Maybe her batteries are exhausted. We should perhaps purchase a new one, or maybe two.” Oh, and he’s here, too. Great. I am so not fucking prepared. Christ, I just needed a few more minutes to get ready. I was on my way, in control, sort of, and now they’ve come over here and surprised me. Why have they done that? My other hand finds its way to my hip, too. “Oh, look, it is switched on. A delay, maybe, in the circuitry. It will need thorough examination. I should get my tools.”

  “Pascal,” Alex growls sternly behind me, which increases the trembling no end. And no, Pascal, you will not be using any tools on me. Unfortunately, I can’t stop the slight smile that’s now gracing my lips in amusement. “If you’re not going in, Elizabeth, we need to, so you will either wait here or follow Pascal.”

  What? I thought he was here for me. What the hell is going on now? My body swings around to find them both standing there like cocky bastards, looking every bit as delicious as they have absolutely no right to, given their past behaviour. Pascal is now in a pristine, white suit, and Alex is still in black, entirely in black. My feet wobble immediately in response to his utter manly perfection.

  “Why are you both smiling? This is not funny, and you are both fucking arseholes.”

  Well, that’s one way to feel in control, I suppose – go straight in for the kill. Although, I’m not entirely sure this is the right place for it. Alex immediately glowers in disgust at me and grabs my throat. My hands scrabble around to find purchase, but as usual, it’s no use and I end up being forced to the floor by his feet. It’s the firmest display of dominance I think I’ve ever seen from him. It simply isn’t an option to stay on my feet, and it isn’t a question of sexual desire, more an order to be followed simply because that’s where he wants me.

  “Stay there,” he demands. Clearly he isn’t best pleased with my remark. Well, screw him. How dare he come over here and try this shit on? I will stay in control. My feet begin to move to get me back up again when Pascal drops to his knees in front of me.

  “This is true, my rose, and we will atone. However, in this moment, please, be quiet and let him do as he must,” he whispers in the most sincere voice I’ve ever heard from him, liquid green pools gazing straight at me, almost pleadingly. My eyes shoot up to Alex’s to find him staring blankly at me, those icy blues turning darker by the second as I gaze into them and wonder what the hell is going on. There’s a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth before he runs a finger over my lips, then simply walks past us through the door and leaves us both kneeling there.

  “What’s happening? Where is he going? I thought you’d come for me. I’m… I don’t know what I am. Confused maybe? Again. And why are you on the bloody floor?” That’s damn scary to me. The only time I’ve seen Pascal on the floor is when Alex was about to beat the hell out of him. Why would he be down here with me now? I don’t like it. Something’s afoot. My eyes narrow when no response is given, as if I didn’t have enough things to try and work out on my own, for God’s sake. “Speak, Pascal!” He actually flinches a little. Go me. I still haven’t got a response, though.

  He slowly gets up and offers me a hand, so continuing with my snake eyes, I grab hold of it and try to dust my dress off on the way.

  “You still look astonishing, my dear. He was quite distracted by you. As am I,” he says, smooth bastard. He clearly looks completely ravishing himself, but I’m not telling him that regardless of his compliment.

  “What’s going-”

  “You will have to watch. He will show you, but, Elizabeth, do not speak, move or do anything to undermine him. The result will not be pleasant for you.” Umm, how about another screw you?

  “What the hell? He deserves my venom. Undermine him? I was about to slap the shit out of him, and you. I thought I was supposed to take control. You told me to do that, and now you’re telling me not to? For God’s sake, Pascal. You see this, this is what I don’t understa-”

  I’m rapidly cut off by warm lips meeting mine, and no matter how much I want to push him away, I can’t stop myself melting into them. My treacherous knees begin buckling beneath me as he grasps me tighter and pushes his thigh in between my legs. Everything I remember from the last time comes rushing back to me in milliseconds – his hands are in different pl
aces, his lips warmer, his hold seemingly more ferocious somehow. Our tongues swirl until I feel myself relax into him and push back, asking for more from him. What the hell am I doing?

  He abruptly stops and takes a step back, leaving me reaching for him again, just as it happened last time we were on our own.

  “Exquisite, still, and quite fuckable in your fury, my Rose.” I pant in response, unable to think of anything but that ridiculous need to do it again, soon. Get a grip, Beth. He reaches forward and runs a finger across my chest. “Perfect skin, ripe for marking. Are you wet, my rose? Hmm? Dripping?”

  And now I’m gaping, too, here? Really? My eyes quickly narrow, as I take a small step away. I’m so not in control of this. He chuckles and closes the gap again. “Do you remember my office, when you conjured the image of submission so precisely?”

  “What?” I can hardly remember five seconds ago after that assault.

  “When Alexander brought you to me, to teach me a lesson. You claimed to be submissive by your actions, yes?” Arsehole. How did he know that? I thought my performance was quite good, to be honest. “He asked you to behave in that manner so he could prove a point to me. He did. He needs to achieve the same reaction from you again, only more fiercely so. It is real this time, my rose, and you must obey.”

  Right…. I have no idea what he’s talking about at all, but he does suddenly look really serious, and I can do that submissive thing. I may not be entirely comfortable with it, but yes, I can pretend, play the game if I have to. Although, that being placed firmly on the floor thing is actually incredibly nice, and quite freeing, as long as Alex is the one who’s doing it, that is. My eyes flick to green ones again, eyes that are now smirking a little, maybe he could, too. I roll my eyes at myself and dust my dress down again. It seems we have some sort of charade to get on with. I’m still not sure why I’m bothering, but it appears to be important to some degree.

  “Why should I do anything for either of you?”

  “It’s your duty to him,” Pascal says simply, with no other explanation. My lip curls with the thought of ‘my duty’. What’s his duty to me? Where’s the love? I suck in a breath and stare at him for a few more moments, trying to convey my lack of comfort with this situation. If he understands, he doesn’t show it. He just stands there looking thoroughly fuckable and smirking back at me. Fuckable? Christ, I need to get a hold of this ridiculous trembling thing.

  “When this is done, I’m having it out, with both of you,” I snap in irritation.

  “Yes, indeed you will. Out, in, on, over, up,” he says, hand twirling around in that way he does as my eyes widen. “Tied, bound, strapped, held in place, ratcheted.” Ratcheted? What the hell does that mean? He clearly seems to enjoy the prospect, whatever it is, while I still stand here, staring at him because he’s now licking his lips. “Whipped, broken, bruised, used, abused, anything you’d like eventually, my love. However, it all has the same finale: both of us at his feet, repeatedly,” he says, as if it’s all mapped out and I’m the only one who was ever in the dark about it, the only one questioning the end goal.

  “What?” I can hardly find the words. I’m not even sure what words I’m trying to find anymore.

  “He will have you on your knees, begging for hours for just one moment of release. He has shown you nothing but pleasantries, and if you want him, you may as well begin to see him for who he is.”

  He offers me his hand and nods his head toward the door, where Gage is still bowing. Hand holding, really? I’m not sure I’ve ever considered Pascal a hand holder – an arm wrapper rounder maybe, arm linker, definitely, but hand holder?

  “I’m not sure I want to take your hand,” I mumble. Not only am I now concerned about what I’m about to witness, but the thought of this all becoming intimate is confusing me again, too. Why, I don’t know. “He told me to stay there.” He looks at his hand, then the floor with a frown before gazing back at me.

  “I’m insulted. Do you realise what a rare occurrence this is, my rose? You’ll take my tongue but not my fingers?” I’ve already had his fingers, which my immediate thigh clenching only highlights. He laughs. Bastard. “I was referring to guidance, Elizabeth, comfort even. You are quite immoral, and once this small interlude is concluded, we shall find out how much so, yes?”

  Guidance, yes, I need that, I suppose. It’s either that or I walk myself straight out of here, and I can’t do that because Roxanne is in there, somewhere. So I look down at his hand again and slip mine into it as he smiles genuinely at me, links our fingers and takes a step forward.

  “Pascal, who are we going to see?” I ask as we wander slowly past a selection of rooms, all with windows big enough to see into. I sneak a look into one to see a man dressed in a nappy and a large woman in some sort of nurse’s uniform. “What the hell is-”

  “It doesn’t concern you. It is his kink, his fetish. Do you understand the significance of the world you are in, the honesty it takes to admit what you are? I think this is a problem we must address. He has not shown you nearly enough, has he? Hmm? It is the reason why you are struggling with your veracity. Why do you think he has not done so? I can only assume he is being selfish, which is quite unlike him. You must explain that, in your own inimitable way, my dear. I fear this is worrisome and could exacerbate our issues. Have you held a whip yet? Has he allowed it, or is he being-” I cut him off, rather extraordinarily.

  “You’re rambling, Pascal. Why? Are you nervous of something?” I know he is because his palms are damp. I’ve never seen him anything other than fully composed or utterly furious, and even in fury, he seems composed somehow. His eyes flick across to mine, and then back on the corridor in front of us. “Who are we going to see?”

  “My wife,” he says evenly. My feet trip over themselves as I stumble to a stop.

  “You’re married?” I exclaim. It comes out something like a strangled cat spluttering for air in utter astonishment.

  “Mmhmm, and collared,” he replies, still walking as if this is no big deal, completely regal again and knocking his cane on the floor as he goes. “You understand what this means, collaring?” My feet launch forward again to catch up.

  “Well, yes, sort of. Alex explained about a ceremony he’d witnessed, and my choker is his collar.” His brows shoot up as he abruptly spins round on me and halts us both, so of course, I stumble backwards a bit like a fool and wobble on my heels.

  “He collared you, and you accepted it?” he asks in amazement, watching me trying to regain my balance.

  “It’s not my collar. It’s his,” I reply as I rub at my ankle and straighten myself up. “It represents one around his throat. Well, it did, and I assume it still does, if you know what I mean.” Did that even make sense to him?

  “This situation becomes ever more perplexing,” he says as he narrows his eyes and then spins and begins walking again. “Why did you not tell me this? Why did he not? And where is it? You should be wearing it.”

  “It’s in my bag.”

  “Put it on, now.”

  “Why?” He frowns back at me, and it’s slightly scary to be honest. “Okay…” I glance down at my bracelet and then at the diamonds in the bag, and I know, for the time being at least, it is the right thing. They both need me at the moment, and although I don’t really know why, I can’t stop the need to help them. We’ll deal with the rest later. “It’s Roxanne we’re talking about, I assume?” I ask as I fumble with the catch. He hands me his cane, takes the choker from me and clips it around my neck.

  “Mmm,” he replies as he starts on his course once more, leaving me to catch up, still holding his cane.

  “Are you going to explain any further, because I think-”

  “He will show you,” he says as he reaches across and runs a finger over my choker. “This is very you, very him – elegant, graceful, yet thoroughly complex in design. It is just as he would choose. ”

  Right, we’re clearly not having any other conversation on this matter. I guess
I’m just going to have to do as I’m told and hope I get a clue about what’s going on when we get in there, wherever there is.

  Another set of doors later and we’re in a large space that’s full of people. These are not normal club goers. We have hit the land of debauchery. Several latex suits, masks, whips and chains later, we arrive in front of another window with an audience gathered around it. Uncertainty creeps up my spine as Pascal lets go of my hand and nods at me. I have no idea what the bloody hell that means, but I can only assume it’s time for me to perform my submissive duties. But wait… Do I have to be submissive to Pascal, too? What do I do if Pascal gives an order? Do I listen or just do as Alex says? Oh, fucking hell. More preparation was needed. Why do they always keep me unprepared for this stuff? I don’t know what to do. My legs freeze a little as we get closer to the window. Pascal turns slightly and looks me over in interest, one brow raised, as if he’s asking what the matter is. I’m about to speak when I notice all the other people have turned to look at us. Some are clapping. It seems they’ve been waiting for us. I’m positive now is not a good time to question anything and show how completely incompetent I am. Words have obviously failed me anyhow, so I lift my chin a little higher and stride forward again in the hope that I can get close enough to his ear that I can whisper.

  Three women drop to the floor in front of Pascal, hotly pursued by two men. I have no idea what that means either so reach my lips towards his ear.

  “Do I have to do what you tell me, too.” He places a hand in the small of my back to push me towards a door at the side of the window.

  “Only him,” he says simply as he reaches for the handle. “Head up and eyes on him, my rose. Unless he tells you otherwise, that is. Are you prepared?” Not a bloody hope, but his sentence makes me smile a little nonetheless. He takes a deep breath and opens the door wide, then slaps my arse ferociously. My feet scoot me into the room in the most inelegant fashion possible at the intensity of it. If he was hoping for stupid person who doesn’t know what she’s doing, he’s managed it. I quickly scowl over at him and try to regain some composure as I find a spot on the wooden floor. There isn’t any movement from the two people standing in front of us, no acknowledgement whatsoever that we’ve even entered the room. I just stand here, flicking my eyes to Pascal to see what it is that I should be doing, still holding his damn cane.