Goddess: A Femme Domme Erotica Novel

by R. J. Castille

  I distracted myself from the impending doom by scurrying around my apartment and doing my chores that I had neglected the day before. It was soothing to clean and I often used it as a coping mechanism for my chaotic mind in the midst of an anxiety attack. It diffused the energy somehow, allowing for me to slow my mind down to a crawl and focus. Eventually, I would be under control and ready to face the world again.

  My apartment was spotless. I hadn’t missed a corner of any room. And yet it was only early afternoon. I took a quick shower, brushed my teeth, swallowed a tiny pill and resolved myself to become captive to my couch and stare mindlessly at the television immersed in reality shows or an old 80’s flick that always seems to play on Sundays. I clicked on the old tube TV. Another upgrade I swore I would make to my life someday. It buzzed to life and flickered slightly as the picture came up. I found a somewhat interesting show to watch and lounged back against the plush cushions.

  I watched old movies for the rest of the afternoon and late into the evening. My shades were drawn so I did not notice the darkness overtaking the sun as sunset chased it into its night time home.

  Reluctantly, I turned off the television and made my way into my bedroom and readied myself for bed. It would be a long night I was sure. My mind already racing with thoughts of doom.

  I had no television in my bedroom so I picked up my cell phone, intending on reading a few chapters of an e-book I had downloaded recently. When I turned touched the screen and I saw another message from Matthew. I had been so busy worrying about tomorrow, I had forgotten to message him back. I immediately hit reply and began to construct my apology for not texting him back earlier.

  * * *

  My Pet,

  I was consumed all day. I hope you understand, but I was quite upset last night and it lasted into today. I will contact you again soon.

  Signing Off,

  Goddess

  * * *

  That made me feel like I should at least reply to Master Jason as well, giving the same excuse, except twisting it around to make it seem as though I was feeling under the weather. I would hate to let on that something had knocked me off my guard last night and I was having difficulty recovering.

  His message was much shorter and to the point. I thanked him for inviting me, I was very touched by how he gave me credit to his creation. It made me feel like all that time we spent speaking of those things, he was actually listening, and in this world, that was a rare occurrence. I will tell him another time why I left so suddenly, I would rather it be in person. It was hard to explain via text. I thanked him again for the invitation and signed with my usual salutation. There, now I did not feel guilty for ignoring his message entirely.

  As I lay there in the dark, trying to fall asleep, my thoughts were a whirlwind that kept me from finding peace. My chest felt tight as the deep seeded fear I felt consumed me. I was glad that Mr. Roth had court in the morning and I would not likely see him until they broke for lunch, when he would inevitably be in the office until they reconvened. That would at least give me time to establish some composure prior to his arrival.

  When I finally was able to find some sleep, I was plagued by fitful dreams. Visions of Mr. Roth chastising me in front of my co- workers and subordinate staff for being a deviant and participating in questionable activities on my own time. Somehow that made my work suffer in his mind. Everyone would know my secret and I would be unable to hide behind the mask that kept me safe from anyone in my kingdom. This terrified me. My confidence had shifted and I was beginning to think irrational thoughts. I repeated to myself numerous times that he could not have known who I really was. The darkness of the Red Velvet Room had surely made clear identification impossible.

  This idea gave me a little comfort. In a world where people were looked down upon for doing anything out of the ordinary, it was never a good idea to let anyone know what I did on my off time. I kept that life separate from my reality for good reason, to escape judgement. I felt that this time, I may not survive another round with him.

  -17-

  When the alarm sounded the next morning, I was already half awake. I had not slept that well and still contemplated calling in sick. That would be frowned upon as it was often viewed that when someone called in on a Monday or a Friday, it was only to elongate the weekend. In this case, I was legitimately out of it, but knew I must push forward.

  Begrudgingly, I prepared myself for work and made my way out the door. I fought the usual traffic all the way to my office and finally slid into my office at just after 8:00. I was a few minutes late, but luckily, Mr. Roth was not in to let me have it. The foyer into the Executive Offices was empty, save Ms. Salas, who sat posted at her normal spot. She smiled at me as I entered the room.

  “Good Morning, Ms. King,” she chimed.

  “Good Morning, Ms. Salas,” I returned, “did Mr. Roth retrieve the files I left with you this morning?” I had hoped that he had already come and gone.

  “Yes, he has them and has already headed down to the courthouse,” she gave me the good news, still smiling genuinely at me. I was instantly relieved to hear this. That meant I would have several hours without his presence to wrap my head around seeing him again, this time as Leila King, Executive Assistant and not as Goddess.

  “Thank you very much, Ms. Salas,” I felt more relaxed and made my way into my office. I turned on my computer and put away my personal belongings as I waited for it to boot up. Secretly hoping something would keep Mr. Roth from coming back at lunch. My thoughts were halted promptly when I opened my email and the first message was from Gordon.

  I opened the email carefully, as if it were going to bite me when I did so, releasing venom into my veins. The window popped up and I read the contents of his message. He was simply informing me that, much to my dismay, he would indeed be coming in at the lunch recess to touch bases with me. He may need my assistance with some of the documents that he will receive from the Defense Attorney in his case and asked that I be ready to handle them with haste. Nothing serious, the same old, same old. I was relieved.

  My morning was filled with busy work. I checked and returned several emails from clients who were inquiring after the status of their case. Each message was involving a different matter so I occasionally had to retrieve the file from my large lateral file on the other side of my office. Upon answering their messages, I immediately replaced the files.

  It occurred to me that it was nearing 12:00, which meant court would recess for lunch and would be scheduled to return to the court house by 2:00 PM. To me, that meant I would soon face Mr. Roth. I felt my chest tightening and I focused on my breathing to avoid having a full-blown panic attack. Fortunately, I had completed a significant number of medial tasks that would hopefully squash his desire to lay into me.

  The minutes ticked by as I continued to fill my time with every day duties. When Gordon Roth finally emerged through the door into our suite, I was quite satisfied with my progress this morning. I doubted he would be, he rarely ever was, but at least I could say I had completed them. It was strange to me, but he actually had a smile on his face. Mr. Roth rarely smiled. Not only was it abnormal, it softened his otherwise hard demeanor.

  “Good Morning, Ms. Salas,” he greeted Debra with a smile. She nodded back to him and returned his greeting as he passed her desk on his way into her office. I supposed he just expected me to follow him as he said nothing in my direction. Then again, he did not look toward me, perhaps he had not seen me standing in the doorway to my office. That was a good thing, it made me feel like I was not an immediate target. He disappeared into his office and I slowly crossed the foyer to his door.

  Steno pad and pen in hand, I was prepared for whatever orders he would start barking at me the second I walked in.

  Rather than spew a stream of orders and obligations my way, he stood staring out the window to the busy streets below us. The people and car scurried about like ants on a common mission. He remained there for quite some time until I cl
eared my throat, intentionally breaking his concentration. I had great concern for how this meeting would pan out, but wanted to get it over with. Quick and somewhat painless. At least I hoped that it would be so.

  “Ah, Ms. King, there you are,” instead of his usual tone of disdain, his voice sounded positive, cheerful even. “Court went very well this morning,” he began. That explained everything. I was sure his jovial mood was because of the fact that he was successful in court, however, I could not recall a time when he came back in such a mood. It must have gone really well. He was on top of his game.

  “Very good Mr. Roth,” I resolved myself to say as little as possible. I was trying to gauge his temperament. “Perhaps the case will be an easy victory for you after all,” I remember him agonizing over this particular case. He seemed quite concerned with his ability to do well against one of the best Defense Attorneys in the city, Jason Slater. I had kept to myself that I knew Mr. Slater quite intimately, but knew that Jason was a bull dog and would not go away quietly.

  “Perhaps,” he mused, still glancing out the window. “It’s such a beautiful day outside, it is too bad that we are stuck working inside.” He seemed far away, distant. For now, that was a good thing. In time I was sure he would return to his old, chastising self, but I would definitely take this welcomed change, especially in light of the weekend’s events.

  “Do you still wish to meet?” I was a little confused, but chose not to ask anything further, it was difficult enough to keep myself composed.

  “Yes indeed,” he almost sang. He turned toward me walked toward his desk. We took our usual places. He on his side of the desk, me opposite, seated in the high-back, leather chairs. I was perched on the edge of the seat, pen hovering above the paper of my steno pad, ready to write. “Oh, you won’t need to take any notes I think, this will be light.”

  Were my ears deceiving me? It was hard to believe that he had just told me I did not need to take notes? I was now thoroughly confused indeed. I was beginning to think I had gotten away with Saturday’s accidental confrontation without recognition. I wore the mask, of course, but was it that good of a disguise? The entire situation had me uneasy, but I was stuck in between worlds now, and had no idea what to expect next.

  “I need to inform you that this case may go on a little longer than I expected. I will most likely be out of the office for several days on this one. We just got started and I have a lot of ground to cover. I cannot let that bastard, Jason Slater get the best of me,” he finished his last statement as though he were spitting his name out. I had a feeling that was a temporary thing for him. Most of the time, Mr. Roth spoke very highly of Mr. Slater. His record of wins in court was phenomenal and Mr. Roth had his work cut out for him, and he knew it.

  I was grateful for that, Jason Slater was taking the brunt of Gordon’s wrath. Perhaps that’s why he was being so lenient with me. Or maybe he sees right through you and he is just stringing you along acting falsely positive. The negative part of my brain just did not rest. I forced that thought from my mind and secretly thanked Master Jason, A.K.A. Jason Slater, Attorney at Law, for distracting an otherwise impossible to work for employer.

  Gordon Roth continued to fill me in on the details of the case. He even unexpectedly invited me to come observe. He insisted I needed to see how Mr. Slater worked, how he wove his web of defense. Another set of eyes and ears may catch a weakness that he had not noticed. This surprised me as I was never invited to come observe the court activities, especially not a trial.

  Mr. Roth rambled on for several moments about this before he changed the subject. He instructed me to pull another case file and begin preparing it for trial. The jury selection process for that trial would begin immediately following this one. Another case where Jason Slater would defend the self-proclaimed innocent man. His mood remained constant and I was impressed that I had actually made it through that wild ride Saturday night without Mr. Roth recognizing me. When I realized that he had not, it made me feel much better, but I was still on guard. You never knew what to expect next from Gordon Roth.

  When Mr. Roth left the office to return to court, I sighed out loud. Relieved that he had not mentioned anything about the Red Velvet Room, my actions that night, or anything about the whole situation, I was safe to believe that I was in the clear. For that I was very thankful.

  -18-

  Despite the fact that I had slid under the radar, I avoided the Red Velvet Room for several weeks. I carried on, engaging in small, intimate sessions with my pet to pass the time. At least I knew I was safe with him. I was concerned about returning, only to find Mr. Roth had infiltrated my world and taken it over, forcing me off of my proverbial pedestal. I doubted Master Jason would allow that to happen, but one could never be too careful.

  Matthew performed dutifully without complaint. He did not pry further into my actions that night, and I was thankful. I did not look forward to having to explain what had transpired to anyone, although I knew I owed Master Jason one at the very least. I carried on, just going through the motions, avoiding the place I should have felt safe and secure, but now just represented another hurdle in my chaotic life.

  Weeks went by before I was finally to the point where I felt comfortable that Mr. Roth had indeed not known that Goddess was me, and I was she. I prayed that I would never be placed in that situation again, but somehow, I knew that prayer would go unanswered.

  Out of nowhere, late one Thursday afternoon, I received a text message from Mistress Liliana. It surprised me because I did not remember giving her my cell phone number. I rarely gave that number to anyone in that world, only the most trusted souls. When I read the message, I was not upset with her for contacting me, as she informed me it was Master Jason who had given her my number.

  “Dearest Goddess,” the message was respectful, as it should be, “I am sorry if I have overstepped my boundaries, but Master Jason has given me your number to implore you to return to your throne. I wanted to invite you out this Saturday evening as we are hosting the “races,” a winking emoji followed this statement. “We would all greatly appreciate to be graced with your presence, Jason and I especially. Please consider it Goddess as you are missed dearly,” she had not overstepped, and I was happy to receive the message.

  I had avoided visiting the Red Velvet Room, but since I felt I could safely say I had escaped discovery, I may return to the scene of the crime. Even if it was just to make my mentor and his protégé happy.

  I had often heard of fetishists who enjoyed dressing their slaves up like ponies and prancing them around for the viewing pleasure of everyone. Having never witnessing it myself, I was intrigued and decided I should make at least a cameo. Out of respect for my mentor and of course to satisfy my own curiosity. It was a few days away, so I had time to mentally prepare myself. I was still on edge about participating in my fantasy world but missed it dearly.

  Hitting the reply button, I briefly accepted her invitation. I asked her to inform Master Jason that I would attend the races and would be overjoyed to resume my place in his world. I acknowledged again that they both deserved an explanation for my sudden departure months ago, and I would grace them with this when I had arrived. I thanked her for the invitation and hit the send button.

  In order to prepare my pet, I messaged him next. I informed him that I would require his presence on Saturday evening to attend another event at the Red Velvet Room. He was to pick me up from my apartment at the same time as before. I instructed him to dress the same as he had the first time, except this time, once we entered the great hall, he was to immediately disrobe and be at my side but three paces behind me. As was appropriate for someone of his ranking, at least in that place. I sent the message and went back to my work. When I heard the chime of an incoming message from my phone, I knew what it would say, but glanced quickly at it anyway.

  “Yes, my Goddess,” he would be there. Ready and willing to do my bidding of course.

  The rest of my days crept by at a snail�
��s pace. That happened a lot when I was anticipating something. I hated that, but I kept busy with my mundane tasks. Mr. Roth had been quite easy on me the last several weeks, but I had started to sense some tension in him and decided to try to keep his mood from escalating. Unsure of his sudden change of temperament, slowly returning to his old, monstrous self, I continued to keep things light and always anticipated his needs so he never had to ask for anything. I knew that would work, and it did, at least for a while.

  It was a struggle to contain myself as the weekend closed in. I was glad Mistress Liliana had contacted me and nearly begged me to return to the Red Velvet Room. I felt I had been away for far too long and I was looking forward to seeing Master Jason again. Especially since I had heard that Mr. Roth had failed to get one over on him after all in court, he in fact had his ass handed to him. Lawyers were always competing against each other behind the scenes. Most of the time, it was not about their client necessarily, it was about beating that opposing counsel who always seemed to get the better of you. Gordon Roth and Jason Slater were always going to battle and Mr. Roth usually lost. I secretly found this amusing and it made me smile inwardly each time I was informed he had beaten the great Gordon Roth. Again.

  This only served to deepen Mr. Roth’s vengefulness and late on Friday afternoon, I saw it coming. He had his fill of being tolerable apparently and was out for blood. He called me into his office and, once again, laid into me. When it was finally over and I left his office, I was ready to run screaming from the high-rise into the streets of Downtown Los Angeles. Instead of going sheepishly back into my office and crying behind the closed door, I decided I would take my leave now. It was barely 4:00 PM, but I was willing to take that chance. If he fired me, he fired me. I felt I had finally had my fill.