Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series)

by Lund, S. E.

  I smile and then we eat. I haven't really eaten with him very often – never in such a formal way and despite everything we've been through, I barely know him.

  I didn’t realize how hungry I am and eat with relish, having eaten mostly peanut butter, beans and rice since the red rain fell. Roast venison and root vegetables from the garden are so much better.

  I don't say anything while we eat, nor does he. I wait to see what he wants. Finally, he turns to me, chewing thoughtfully, his brow creased.

  "So, Eve," he says. "Tell me how you're feeling."

  I put my knife and fork down and pick up my glass of wine.

  "My Lord, I was just wondering, are you expecting me to be your servant as well as your submissive? Is this just limited to sex or is it more?"

  He adjusts his position and considers what I've asked. "Do you mean, will I expect you to wait on me? Pour my wine, wash my hair, dress me?"

  I nod. "I didn't see anything specific in the Contract, but the wording was pretty general and so I wondered…"

  He raises his eyebrows.

  "Oh, sorry. My Lord…" I say, emphasizing the title. I heave a sigh. This is harder than I imagined.

  "Would you like to wait on me? Wash me when we have a bath, serve me when we eat, dress me? I could amend the contract if so. I have servants who take care of most of my needs and you're meant for more than that so I personally don't expect it."

  "No," I say, then add, "my Lord, I'm not particularly interested in being your stand-in manservant. I might like to wash you and your hair when we have a bath together. I might like to help you dress and, well, definitely help you undress…"

  He smiles at that. "I'll amend the contract to read, The slave shall assist with aspects of the Master's bodily care when appropriate to the situation."

  I nod and smile. "Very good, my Lord."

  He pours me more wine and I take a sip. He returns to his food and I watch him eat for a moment. He looks so at home in this sumptuous setting, dressed in a white shirt open at the collar and black tunic like he wore at Soren's party. I could see him with lace at his cuffs and neck. Against his pale skin and dark hair, lace would be very attractive.

  "Why did you want to be a priest? You're so handsome. I can't imagine the girls of Carcassonne were happy to see you take up the cross."

  He glances at me and picks up his glass of wine, but says nothing. Finally, he puts his glass down and waits, staring straight ahead.

  I inhale sharply when I realize I haven't used the proper form of address.

  "Crap," I say. "I'm sorry, my LORD." Exasperation fills me. "Can't I just say it once and have that count for the entire meal?"

  He turns a jaundiced eye towards me. "That's not how submission or slavery work, Eve. Each time you address me, you must use the appropriate title. It shows respect. Deference. It reinforces our power difference. That's the whole point of this. I have power over you – the power you freely chose to give me so that I could possess you and control you, absolve you of any responsibility for your own desire. If you talk to me the way you did before we entered into this relationship, we might as well just be an ordinary couple and that's not going to work. Not at this time, at least. Soren expects you to be my slave."

  "It's just that I don't know if I can remember to use the proper title all the time," I say. "My Lord."

  "It would be easier if you start out with My Lord rather than using it at the end of a sentence. For example, you might say, 'My Lord, I was wondering if you're planning to fuck me senseless tonight?' That way, you won't forget to use the title. Concentrate…" He smiles wickedly at me, his eyes hooded. I can't help but smile back, heat rising in my cheeks, the thought of him fucking me senseless tonight sending a stab of lust through my body, making my breath hitch.

  I take a big sip of wine.

  "My Lord, after you've said something like that, how can you expect me to concentrate? But I'll try."

  "Do or do not. There is no try, Eve."

  I roll my eyes and grin to myself.

  "As to what I said about fucking you senseless tonight," he adds, "you can expect to be fucked senseless every night at least once. And every morning at least once. You don't have to wonder or ask. Expect it. When is your next period due?"

  My body can't help but respond to what he's said and for a moment, I'm a bit flustered. When was my last period?

  "I'm on depo provera so I only have a period three or four times a year. I'm due in a couple of weeks."

  Michel finishes his meal and the servant comes to clear our plates. Michel stands and turns to me. He holds out his hand and I take it, rising to stand beside him.

  "You don't have to worry about pregnancy, so I'd prefer if you went off your medication. It's not good for you and increases your risk of blood clots."

  "But I don't like having my period every month," I say. "My Lord," I add.

  "Why?"

  "I have a lot of pain and discomfort."

  He nods as if he understands. "During your period, of course, I'll expect less if you're uncomfortable, but remember that an orgasm cures many ills."

  I don't like the idea of going back to monthly periods. "I don’t know, my Lord."

  "Eve," he says. "Trust me. This is for the best."

  I sigh. "Anything else?"

  "I have very healthy appetites and will expect you to be ready and willing to fuck when I am. You're young and are capable of frequent multiple orgasms."

  I nod but say nothing, my heart beating faster at the thought of all that sex.

  "Now, I feel like a walk around the grounds for some air." He motions to a servant standing at the side of the room. "Bring Miss Hayden's white sweater and her sandals from her room." The servant immediately bows and leaves us.

  Michel takes my arm in his and leads me out of the dining room and into the main foyer, which is grand, the centerpiece a huge chandelier lighting the area that has been fitted with real candles.

  The servant returns and Michel helps me slip on my sweater and sandals. I feel a bit exposed with this thin shift that's so transparent, but the servants are very good at not looking at my body. I expect Michel's given them orders. This must be the way things were run back when he was a human. His father was a Viscount.

  "Soon, we have to be more careful," Michel says as we leave the house and start walking around the grounds. There are lanterns on the path spaced out every twenty feet or so, but still, it's dark. "The vampires will start coming out at night. I'm safe, my grounds are likely safe, at least for a while. They know who and what I am, but at some point, Blackstone may consider attacking me because I'm with Soren."

  "Are you?" I say. "My Lord? Are you really with him? I thought you were just there to watch and wait for the right time to destroy him."

  "I have to appear to be with him, just as you have to appear to be completely under my control. He has to believe we are both his creatures. The average Blackstone operative has to think I am with Soren. Only our own people who have infiltrated Blackstone know what my plans are so I have to be able to defend myself. Once human authorities recognize the threat Soren poses, they'll come after me as well. I hope we can deal with Soren before it comes to that."

  "What's the plan?" I wait, but then remember. "My Lord, forgive me."

  He says nothing, just keeps his hand clasped over mine, which is resting on his forearm as we walk.

  "You have to give up your need to know. I know. That has to be enough for you. You have to stop asking and just let things happen. Take your cues from me. Let me lead. All you have to do is obey. I'll take care of everything else. Trust me, Eve."

  I say nothing for a moment. "My Lord," I say finally. "Trust is the hardest thing for me."

  "I know. You have no reason to trust me, considering. All I can do is ask that for once, you do. Wholly and completely."

  I look at him as we walk – at his pale skin, his dark hair that hangs below his collar, a bit wild. His blue eyes, so intelligent and determined.
I want to trust. I'm craving it. I want to feel completely relaxed for once in my life. Not on guard.

  I just don't know if that will ever be possible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "The way of love is not a subtle argument."

  Rumi

  We arrive back at the front entrance and enter the building through open double doors. He stops and drops my hand, speaking with a servant for a moment. Then he comes back to me and takes my hand, leading me into another room where sits a huge grand piano.

  "Play for me, Eve."

  I take my seat on the bench. Michel sits beside me and leans against me, his arm touching mine. He smiles, and it's so soft and affectionate, it makes my throat a bit choky. At times, he seems so formal and commanding, and at others he seems so open and tender.

  "My Lord, what would you like me to play?"

  He sorts through sheet music on the stand and selects one.

  "Chopin, the Ballade of course."

  I play the piece as best I can, and when I finish, he leans closer to me, pressing against my arm and shoulder when he does. He turns slightly and nestles his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling to smell my perfume.

  "I think that's enough piano for now," he whispers, his mouth at my ear, his hair tickling my cheek. "Your scent intoxicates me."

  He pulls back, looking in my eyes and I can see his desire on his face, in his half-lidded eyes, his parted lips. He's breathing a bit faster now.

  "Come," he says and takes my hand again. "Our bath should be ready now."

  Upstairs in the bathroom off of his bedroom is a huge tub, ornate, with gilded faucets. Servants pour pitchers of steaming water into the tub and leave, heads bowed, when we enter. Once we're alone, Michel turns to me.

  "Undress, Eve."

  I comply immediately, taking off my sweater and sandals, and then my shift, lifting it over my head and draping it over a chair against the wall. I stand naked before him, his gaze moving over my body.

  "Now, since you expressed an interest, you may undress me."

  I smile and step closer, then start to remove his clothes. I feel his eyes on me while I do, and my cheeks heat under his scrutiny. I start at his jacket, removing it and hanging it over the back of the chair. Then I remove his belt and roll it up, place it on the marble counter. Next, I unbutton his white shirt and pull it out of his trousers, taking care to hang it on the doorknob. I unbutton his pants and slide the zipper down. I can see his erection outlined in the fabric and it sends a wave of desire through me. I drop his pants and he steps out of them for me. He's left with his socks and boxer briefs. I kneel and roll down one sock, and he lifts his foot so I can remove it. I repeat this with his other sock.

  Finally, I stand and examine his boxer briefs. His erection is trapped by them and looks so thick, I can't wait to feel it inside of me. I slip the briefs down over his erection and it springs out, the head wet. I kneel down and he lifts one foot and then the other so I can remove them. My face is level with his groin and I can't help but admire him, his lovely cock, his shapely hip crests, his belly, the dark trail of hair leading from his navel to his pubis.

  I stand up and now we're facing each other, naked. He just stares at me for a moment, then he reaches out to stroke my cheek with the back of his fingers, and I know he's reading me, judging my level of arousal. He's pleased to find me already wet and swollen just from undressing him.

  He motions to the bath and helps me in, then follows me, sitting across from me, the water rising to cover us, a thin sheen of bubbles on the water's surface. The scent of sandalwood fills my nose. He just sits there, watching me and I feel a bit hesitant under his intense gaze, not knowing what he expects from me.

  We sit like this for a while, just soaking, the water quite warm, a fine steam rising off the surface in the cool air. Finally, he sits up and takes a bar of soap in his hands and starts to work up a lather.

  "Stand, Eve. I want to wash you."

  I pull myself up and stand between his bent knees. He washes me, starting at my calves and then up my legs, his hands soaping my hips, slipping behind me, pulling me closer to him. He leans in and kisses me, just below my navel.

  "I'm going to shave you."

  I raise my eyebrows at that. He soaps my pubic hair, his fingers slipping between my thighs and my labia. I gasp and close my eyes when his fingers touch my inner lips.

  "Spread your legs a bit more," he says, his voice thick. I comply and he runs his soapy fingers between them to find my clit. "Already nice and hard," he says when he feels it.

  Then, he reaches onto the counter beside the tub and removes a cloth bag of some design. Inside is one of those old shaving blades and I frown, expecting one of those disposable razors I'm used to.

  "You know how to use that on my, you know," I say, doubtful. Then I remember. "My Lord," I add.

  "Eve, you have to remember I've been shaving for centuries with one of these." He smiles up at me. "I know my way around a razor blade. And, despite being a former priest, a woman's pussy."

  "Why do you want to shave me?"

  He examines the blade but says nothing.

  "I'm sorry. My Lord, could you explain to me the appeal of a shaved … pussy?" I say, feeling shy using that word. "The hair is there for a reason."

  "The hair is there for base animal instincts. We're beyond that now. Sex is no longer just about rutting and reproduction. It's about bonding and connection. Besides, men are visual, Eve. Men like to see everything. The form of your pussy itself is erotic. To see you bare without pubic hair is immediately arousing. It makes me want to lick you."

  He moves closer and begins to scrape the blade over my pubic area, starting from one side and moving to the center. He wipes the soapy hair onto a towel hanging on a rack. He repeats this many times, slowly removing all the hair from my pubic mound.

  "This next part is more tricky," he says. "Kneel down and rinse off. We have to move to the bed for the rest."

  I do as he commands, following him out of the tub. He pulls on a terrycloth robe and then leads me naked to his bed, which is a huge canopy bed that looks like it belongs somewhere in a French mansion. He spreads a large towel out on the cover and motions to it.

  "Sit on the edge with the towel beneath you. Spread your legs wide."

  I do, leaning back on my hands while he pulls up a chair and sits facing me. He's brought a bucket of water, a shaving brush and a bar of soap as well as another towel.

  "Now, please sit still. Don't move or I might cut you, especially when I'm close to your inner lips."

  "Yes, my Lord," I say, my voice wavering. This is making me even more aroused, if possible. I note that his voice is also a bit breathy. He finds this erotic. I can see his erection jutting up from beneath the corner of his robe, which has fallen open when he sits between my thighs.

  He works up a lather with the shaving brush and then applies it to my labia and inner thighs and I can't help but giggle a bit. He smiles at that and then his face becomes solemn again as if he's focusing.

  I don't have a lot of hair but there is some. Then, he uses one hand to pull my skin taut and runs the blade over my outer labia, lower down, inside between my thighs using short strokes. He washes the blade off in the bucket each time, moving closer and closer to my inner labia. He spreads them, shaving to get the hairs that grow next to them.

  "There," he says and takes a wet washcloth, wiping the whole area off of any soap residue. I glance down between my legs and I'm completely bald now and he tilts his head this way and that as he examines me as if looking for any stray hair. He finds a few and removes them, admiring his work like an artist. "Perfect."

  He looks up at me and my cheeks are hot, and I feel a bit shy to have him looking in my eyes.

  "Now, I can see everything, Eve. It's beautiful – like an exotic flower with pink petals." He spreads my inner lips and runs a finger down from my clit to the entrance to my body. "With the hair removed, you'll be even more sensitive to touch
. Like this," he says and leans closer, running his tongue all over me, before slipping it between my inner labia to stroke my clitoris and then lower.

  When he's done, he looks up into my eyes and smiles. "No hair in my teeth."

  "That's one advantage," I say, my voice shaking from my arousal. "My Lord."

  "Now," he says and sits up. "Stand up, turn around and bend over. Lean against the bed. I have to do the rest."

  I frown. "What do you mean?"

  "Your ass, Eve. I have to shave there as well."

  "No," I say and hold my hands up. "Sorry. That’s where I draw the line."

  "Eve," he says, closing his eyes. "This is part of the agreement."

  I suddenly feel very naked and very self-conscious. With one hand, I cover my breasts and with the other, my very naked pubic area. I shake my head.

  "I…" I say, my voice breaking. "I just can't."

  He puts the blade down and motions to me, waving his hand, his expression all business.

  I shake my head and turn away.

  "Come," he says and takes my arm. He pulls me into his embrace, his face tilted up, his chin on my arm covering my breasts. "Let me do this, Eve," he says, his voice soft. "Just take a leap of faith that I know what I'm doing. Trust me."

  "Do you have any idea how I feel?"

  "I know exactly how you feel, Eve. I just have to touch you to know. That’s precisely why I'm doing this. I have to push you just a bit."

  I shake my head, unable to speak.

  "I'm not giving up," he says softly.

  "I'm afraid…"

  "Eve, do you think I want to hurt you?"

  I sigh. I don't think so but if he wants that…

  "Answer me. Do you really think I would ever do anything to purposely hurt you?"

  "That hurts," I say, referring to anal sex. "You want to do it. Therefore I assume you want to hurt me."

  "It doesn't have to hurt. I said I won't do it."

  "You only do that so you can hurt someone. That's what he did…"

  "Eve," Michel says and I can hear the exasperation in his voice. "I'm not him. You're no longer a little ten-year-old girl. I assure you it won't hurt. Nothing I do will hurt you except when I brand you, spank you and bite you. Nothing else. I only want to give you pleasure. Don't you understand that? Only pleasure."