Never A Choice (The Choices Trilogy (Book 1))

by Palmer, Dee

  The kitchen is busy with the final orders of the evening and Joe tries to tempt me eat a little of the special, a venison meatball spaghetti, which I’m sure is delicious but would be way too rich given my limited intake of food recently. I do agree to a small bowl of the tomato and basil soup which I carefully hold in my hands as I tuck my legs under me on the sofa. I knew I was hungry but I didn’t think I would be able to actually keep anything down. The soup, however is sweet and the basil tastes so fresh I finish the whole bowl. I suddenly feel so tired and I lay down on the sofa. I don’t know where it comes from but I am soon heaving with such sadness my shoulders are shaking uncontrollably, and my tears a free falling, drenching my face. I thought I was coping, I knew I wasn’t but I can’t believe this pain, it hurts so fucking much. I can’t believe I miss him so much and I’m so fucking angry, how could he believe those pictures without question? How could he believe her, believe I didn’t love him, how could he look through me like I was nothing? Because to him, you are nothing, you’re a fucking idiot! I then hear some lyrics float from the kitchen below about ‘sharing all my secrets and all my fears but the hardest part not having you to hold’ and it feels like my heart has been ripped from my chest because ‘I can’t bear to let him go.’ This crippling pain is me not bearing it and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to survive Daniel Stone.

  I don’t know how long I release my sadness in to the sofa cushions but my eyes are now dry, they are empty at least when I hear my bag vibrate. My body feels unbelievably heavy and with herculean effort I push myself up and retrieve my bag. Rummaging to the bottom, I notice it is the phone Mags gave me that is vibrating. I just hadn’t got round to sending it back. I’m amazed it’s still kept its charged. Expecting the call centre ID to be flashing I almost drop the phone when I recognise Daniels number flash across the screen. My heart that had been bleeding on the floor now leaps to my throat and I stare at the phone for ages. I shouldn’t answer it but it just keeps ringing. Why is he calling me on this phone? I guess I could ask him? I press the button and tentatively hold the phone to my ear like it might explode.

  “Daniel?” My voice is barely a whisper. Silence. “Daniel, why are you calling me?” The line is quiet but I can hear his gentle breathing.

  “Lola?” His voice is smooth; my senses are instantly on high alert. I wait a moment the silence palpable.

  “Sir.”

  “Lola, Good evening.” His voice is smooth and commanding.

  “Sir? I . . . I” I stutter.

  “I said Good evening Lola.” His dominant tone very clear and I shiver.

  “Good evening Sir.” I acquiesce.

  “Good girl.” His deep sigh is sensual and captivating. I know Sir is Daniel but I don’t know what he wants. What I do know is that my body is programmed to obey him and it starts to tingle with anticipation. “Now . . . how have you been? I think it might be worth mentioning now about my view regarding lies, Lola. They won’t be tolerated and you will be punished.”

  “I should be punished.”

  “Really? Why would you say that? Have you been bad?” His tone is serious his voice is dark.

  “I must have been very bad Sir.” My voice is shaky. “I don’t think anyone could suffer pain like this who hadn’t done something so terrible to deserve every bit of it. So yes I think I must have been bad and maybe in a previous life too; maybe I was Genghis Khans mother.”

  His laugh rumbles through the phone and the light sound makes me smile. All this pain and I still glean some much needed warmth from his voice.

  “I am going to help you Lola.” He states as a matter of fact.

  “Sir,” I sigh at this futile conversation. “That is kind but I don’t see how that’s possible.”

  “Did I ask you what you thought?” He is dismissive of my reservation. “I want you to get changed into one of my gifts to you and in ten minutes there will be a taxi waiting to bring you to me.” I gasp

  “Da-” I don’t get to finish his name.

  “-LOLA!” He shouts down the phone making me jump.

  “Sir I can’t see you, I can’t come to you, I’m sorry I just can’t.” My panic evident in my rushed objection.

  “You can and will.” He growls his demands. “Lola you will come to me and I will make the pain disappear, I will make your pain disappear. Now you can do as I say and you will be brought to my flat, not my apartment or I will come and get you. Do you understand Lola?” Oh fuck, I can’t let him come here but at the same time I do want him to take my pain away, I really want the pain to go away. I am so scared. I can’t help a small sob reach my mouth. “Lola I won’t let anything happen to you that you don’t want to happen.” His voice is pure sin but he adds in a softer serious tone, “You will be safe and everything that is important to you will be safe.” He is adamant, his voice is reassuring but then I worry that I just think it is reassuring because I need it to be. “Don’t over think this . . . ten minutes.” He hangs up.

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  My head is spinning what the fuck! I can’t risk him coming here, that is just a no; but if I’m to get a taxi, then that means no driver to tie back to Daniel. Also not going to his apartment and the fact that he won’t answer his name is all good, I think. I don’t really know what to think but as it stands at this moment I am Lola and Lola is taking a taxi somewhere to meet Sir. If I wasn’t so scared shitless I would be hugely turned on by the dominance of his request and this clandestine rendezvous. I run into my bedroom and dive on the boxes in the corner. It is pretty easy to differentiate which garments came from Sir and which came from Daniel and I quickly identify a black and emerald green corset and matching silk panties, with black seemed silk stockings. I slip my black suede knee high fitted boots and pull a simple grey jersey dress over the top. I don’t own a Mac type coat or any smart long coat for that matter so I push my arms through the sleeves of my army green Parker, not quite the image I was hoping for but it’s bloody freezing out there now.

  I hear the horn of the taxi and my heart ratchets up in speed. I put my keys in my bag and make my way outside. I keep telling myself I don’t have a choice because I can’t risk him turning up here. At the same time I am curious to know what he wants from me, or how he plans to help me. I can’t sit still in the taxi.

  “Do you know where you’re taking me?” I ask the driver.

  “Yes Miss.” He smiles but says nothing more.

  “Do you mind me asking who paid for the booking?”

  “You can ask Miss but I can’t tell you, it was a cash booking. All up front so I’m afraid there is no way of knowing, same goes for your return trip.” He hands me his card. “Just call me when you need picking up, I’ll be outside anyway, but I can pull up right by the door if I know you’re on your way.”

  I take his card, “Oh,Ok, thanks.” I feel stupid being so paranoid, but then I have pretty good reason to be and now I can’t help thinking this is such a stupid thing to be doing, what if . . . Oh God. “Look.” I address the driver, “Umm I think I’ve changed my mind. Can you take me back?”

  “Ah sorry love, my instructions are to take you to the destination and escort you into the building, if there was any change in the plan, I was to wait at the destination for the other party to join you to bring you back here. So I guess I can take you back but . . .”

  “No.” I sigh. “No it’s fine, I thought for a moment that this was my choice.” I mumble. I feel my phone buzz with a text.

  ENTRY CODE: Z78423P FLOOR 18 FLAT 181

  My mouth is suddenly dry. The driver turns a corner to a complex of buildings I recognise and pulls up outside Pauls apartment block. I am really confused now. Paul was discharged yesterday but I know he is staying at his parents’ house in Notting Hill for a while; also his flat is on the fourteenth floor so I know I’m not going there. The driver walks around my side but I have already opened the door and got out of the car. He walks beside me until we reach the side entrance with the entr
y keypad. I press the numbers and say goodbye but he waits until I am fully inside and the door has clicked locked. I wave and he finally turns to leave. I wonder if he is expecting me to change my mind and walk back out and as he leans against his car still looking at me I realise that’s exactly what he is expecting me to do. Or at least what he has been warned I might do. I wave again and turn toward the bank of lifts. My hands are a little shaky and as the lift ascends it is not just the sudden weightlessness that is making me feel nauseous.

  I stand outside flat number 181 my body is trembling and I pull my head tight to one side to stretch my neck and release some of the tension with a loud crack. I let out a large puff of air and I think this must feel like a combination of stage fright and entering a boxing ring for the first time. Although he has already done the TKO on me so I am thinking the former analogy is more appropriate. I take a quick peek down beneath my dress and catch my costume, definitely stage fright. I lightly knock on the door and moments later it opens. Oh he takes my breath away. He stands to one side with his arm high on the door; he is wearing the same black suit trousers that he wore in the lecture earlier this evening; and nothing else.

  I NOTICE HIS feet first, they are bare but his ripped body soon draws my eyes up his stunning frame. His is taking deep breaths, his chest rises slowly and his muscles flex and ripple with the small movement. His lightly tanned skin is stretched smooth and taught across his firm, flat abdomen. The tension sizzles between us and I can feel the instant heat burn deep inside me but it pales significantly when I’m scorched by the glare of his darkly dangerous blue black eyes. ‘Wow ‘I think to myself then gasp when I realise the word did, in fact, escape my shocked mouth. I snap my lips together and feel a flash of heat spread across my face. His face is impassive although there is the slightest flick in the corner of his mouth, it could be the beginning of a smile but equally it could be the start of a snarl. Only his eyes would give that away and at the moment they are revealing nothing except a dark desire. I would be shocked if my eyes were any different.

  “Lola.” His deep voice is raspy and he pushes the door a little further to allow me to pass under his arm and into the flat. I walk on legs that I hope are not visibly shaking although they feel like jelly; passing close to his naked torso I feel a palpable current race between our bodies. I wonder if it’s only me that feels it and as I try and suppress a moan at being this near to perfection I can see his jaw tick and know he is struggling with something; I just don’t know what that is. His cologne is different, rich and musky and on him it smells like sin. My skin is alive with instant prickles and my heart is beating with the speed of hunted prey about to be devoured by something wild. I suddenly remember Mags telling me I was a natural submissive, what seems like a life time ago, and outside of everything Daniel and I have been through I am here, as Lola the submissive. It’s the only reason I can be here, because tonight I am Lola and he is . . .

  “Sir.” I turn to face him, the corridor is narrow. We are not too close but tonight, his size and general aura of power and dominance, I find intimidating. I lower my head and refrain from meeting his eyes and I get a sensual tingle all over when he steps to me and lightly lifts my chin with his finger forcing me to meet his eyes.

  “Good girl.” He is right about one thing. I am not thinking about the pain in my chest; I am now only thinking about the burning need for release rising between my legs. He passes me and tells me to follow him. I would’ve anyway but with his demanding tone I am now beginning to understand tonight is different from any of our other encounters we have shared; very different. I stand in the living area, it is an open space with three large white leather sofas and a small coffee table. The far wall is completely covered with a built in ultra-glossy black storage unit that has some shelving for personal items, there are none; and a sleek sliding door that hides a small bar. The floor is polished white marble, there is no colour in this room; it is cold and impersonal and very different from Paul’s apartment four floors below. He has fixed himself a drink and is walking back toward me, my mouth is dry and I lick my lips for moisture.

  “Mmmm Lola.” His voice is deep, “I want you to take your coat off.” He sits slowly on the edge of the sofa that has no arm rest and is more like a rounded off seat. His legs are wide and he leans forward with the ice in his glass clinking the sides as he swirls the golden liquid around. I can feel his scorching gaze on me but I won’t meet his eyes, not tonight. I take off my coat, there is nothing seductive about a parker and I am glad to be rid of it; I am burning up and not from the temperature in the flat.

  “Take off your dress.” I inhale a quick sharp breath, but almost instantly pull the hem of the stretchy grey material and lift it over my head. He has his hand out and I pass the dress to him. I wish I could see his face as I stand there in the sexiest lingerie I own, corset, stockings and stiletto boots; but I do hear him inhale deeply. I hear him move and step my way, he is right in front of me and he places his large hand on my chest, palm flat just above and between my breasts. His touch scorches me like a branding iron and my breath hitches. “Your pain is here?” He is forcing words through his clenched jaw. His tone is deep and angry.

  “Yes.” I whisper. He waits, because I am distracted by his touch, I forgot but then quickly add “Sir, Yes Sir.” I exhale. I have to remember to breathe.

  “Tell me about the pain Lola?”

  “Da-”

  “ADDRESS ME LIKE THAT AGAIN, SEE WHAT HAPPENS!” His voice booms so close to my face his sweet minty breath rushes my face but the volume makes me jump back and I stumble. He grabs my arm to prevent my fall and growls in anger. “The pain, Lola, tell me about the fucking pain.” His voice is calm but no less demanding.

  “I, I . . .” My voice is quiet, tentative but that is mostly because I don’t know how to say this. It is so raw and although with anyone else it is just as easy to lie I know I won’t have that luxury with him. “I never knew there could be pain like this, Sir.” My voice starts to break and I suck in a steadying breath. This isn’t a cry and a cuddle session, so I need to not cry. “Mostly I am numb but sometimes, sometimes I just can’t stand it, Sir.”

  “This pain consumes you?” It is a statement and a question.

  “Yes Sir.” I can feel the tension in my own jaw as he forces this excruciating admission from deep inside.

  “This pain you can’t handle?” He pushes, relentless, oblivious.

  “No Sir.” I swallow the sudden sob but he notices.

  “Then I will give you pain that you can handle. Do you understand Lola?”

  “No Sir.”

  “The pain I can give you, will be a pain you can handle, a pain you can focus on to get the release you need.” His deep breath exhales across my sensitive skin.

  “You are going to hurt me?” My voice is quiet as I try to understand the implication of what he is suggesting when he all too quickly replies softly.

  “You hurt me.” But then he adds louder more forcefully. “Yes I am going to hurt you, but no more than you can take and no more than you need.”

  “You think I need this pain, more pain?” I am struggling with this concept.

  “No, I know you need this pain and I know you need the pleasure too.” His voice sounds so wicked my core clenches and I squeeze my legs at the thought of this pleasure.

  “Will I need a safe word?” I can’t believe I am asking this question, Daniel, I trusted I could say stop but this feels different. The trust is there but there is also a darkness.

  “Oh, you know Lola, I think you might.” His voice is seductive but he speaks with a clenched jaw and repeats, “I think you might.” I get a chill across my skin that makes me tremble and it is then I realise that this is just as much for him as it is for me. I need to focus on a different kind of pain and so does he. “So what is your safe word Lola?” My mind has gone blank, not only can I not think of a suitable safe word I can’t think of any words. It feels like ages before I manage to speak as
my mind tries hopelessly to think of something that isn’t ; No, Don’t or Ow!

  “I’m sorry I don’t know, I can’t think of anything.” I still have my head lowered but if he could see my eyes he’d see my vacant expression.

  “A colour perhaps, Red is a standard.” He offers as a suggestion, it helps.

  “Blue!” I fire at him abruptly. “Blue is my safe word.” Blue is not an angry colour, it doesn’t bleed or break. It is calm, safe, cold.

  “Good, let us begin.” He puts his drink on the coffee table, takes my trembling hand and leads me in to the bedroom.

  “I like what you’ve done with the place.” His warning glare silences any further comments. It’s only because I’m nervous, a little out of my comfort zone, a little out of any of my zones. I’m not in Kansas anymore.

  This room is very different, the walls have a dark silver silk wall covering and the carpet is a thick dark grey. The windows are covered with a rich deep red velvet curtain but it’s the furniture that is the most surprising. The bed is easily a super super king and has four posts that reach up from the corners but don’t join each other. There is no comforter or blanket although there are several black pillows and the sheet is also a dark silver silk similar to the walls. It is the padded bench with cuffs and chains at the end of the bed that has my heart racing. So do the ropes and ties on each of the four posts of the bed. There is also a rather ominous looking black briefcase next to the bench and a small whimper leaves my throat followed by a louder swallow. Unexpectedly, I receive a small hand squeeze in return and the gesture is enough to settle me.