I march after him, fully prepared to tell him a thing or two. Only as I enter the room, I see he’s packing. He’s taken out a small suitcase and is busy filling it with my things. Of his choice. What the—?
“We will be going on a little trip,” Ashford announces without bothering to face me. “We won’t be returning after the New Year.”
So why such a small bag if we’ll be traveling for three weeks? It occurs to me there are much bigger questions to be asked, but I know Ash. I’ve known him for years. The trip will be first class, wherever it is, and at least a little fun. So yeah, I am used to jet setting at a moment’s notice, which would be a problem if I actually had a life. He wouldn’t just assume I have no plans for Christmas if I had family, which I don’t, or even a place to go for the holidays. Besides, I do have plans for the New Year as it turns out. So what if it is just to go to the local hot spots with some acquaintances from work? The point is—I have plans.
“You should’ve asked. I have plans,” I announce proudly, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. Oh, well, that can’t be helped.
I might as well have stayed mute. Ash just continues rifling through my things, picking mostly white or light-colored items. He says he thinks light colors complement the richness of my skin. And I could just kick myself for remembering that at the moment when I am supposed to be putting Ash in his place. Since he doesn’t answer me, I don’t speak again as he pulls out a couple of winter outfits. Not enough for three weeks. I know from experience, though, that outfits have a habit of arriving in my room whenever we travel. They are usually laid out on my bed whenever I return to my rooms with the unspoken command to wear them.
Since coming to work for Ash there isn’t a single aspect of my life that isn’t in some way controlled by him. While it makes it very easy on me not to have to worry about things like rent, bills, or even clothes, I am too aware this can’t last. He’s a man in his prime. Sooner or later he will want a relationship, and that can’t be me. I work for him—it will never work out. Nor do I ever want to become one of the wives that come in and out the offices to visit their attorney husbands, only to have him turn around and bang some young hot receptionist,or ugh, paralegal. I worked my way through college; as an orphan I have no one to depend on but me. While it is nice to let go, I have to remember tomorrow I could be out there all alone again.
“I’m not going,” I screw up the courage to say. There is no conviction in my voice. Last-minute trips are fun, barring the work. Last Christmas we went to Paris. Last-minute thing three days before. Paris was beautiful all lit up. There were designer Christmas trees everywhere, perfectly placed Christmas lights. God, I wish I could mean what I’m saying. I just don’t want to let go. Why? My mind knows it’s the right thing, but every fiber of my being wants to stay. Even knowing about his...predilections.
Same as before, it’s like I never spoke. Ash doesn’t even pause. He finishes packing, straightens his tall frame, and fishes something out of the inner pocket of his suit. Without a word he he circles behind me, draping a delicate-looking gold chain around my neck. The necklace is shocking enough, but then he pulls the chain snugly against my skin and secures it with a distinctive click. My hands fly to the back of my neck, finding a miniature padlock. There is a length of chain dangling down my back. I can feel it. Not as delicate as I first though. Not exactly heavy, but definitely there.
So many thoughts come rushing at me all at once. I want to demand what Ash thinks he is doing, but I already know. Like I said, I know him so well. And on some level I knew this would eventually happen. Maybe I had been pushing him; after all, I know about the camera outside my door. No other way he could know every single time I try to bring a date home, even if it has only been a handful of times in the last four years. In all that time I have seen enough to know exactly what Ash thinks he is doing. And I am going to let him..
My heart races, elation flooding every cell of my body. I can’t speak; I can’t find the right words to say.
“Come,” Ash commands, not like you would an animal—more like a caress with words. “Our flight awaits.”
Chapter Four
Five days. I’ve placed stringent guidelines on myself, vowing not to bring Gelisa or myself to orgasm until she voices her complete and total surrender to me. I have until Christmas morning to secure that vow. It’s ridiculous because Gelisa already belongs to me. Over the last four years she has been gradually allowing my control over almost every aspect of her life. I have given her every opportunity to leave if that is her wish. I even arranged for another firm to try to steal her. One that is a subsidiary to mine, but she didn’t know that. They offered her a package slightly more than what she is making working for me—except for the apartment, of course—where she’d be in charge of all their paralegals. She hadn’t taken it. But then, I knew she wouldn’t.
Looking at her sulking in her seat, I have the first flickerings of doubt. Not that I won’t obtain that which I crave. Gelisa is mine. She knows she is mine. Only her stubborn refusal to voice it stands between us. No matter how hard my cock throbs whenever she is near, no matter how much my palm itches to spank that lush ass every time she dares to talk back to me, I haven’t taken her because I need not just her permission, but her longing clearly expressed to me.
Right now she’s giving me the silent treatment. It has to be killing her; Gelisa loves to inform me of her every opinion. Honestly, I love hearing them, but it is best she not challenge me currently. I’m in no mood to test my own resolve, and watching her coming home with Allen Biggs has made me realize I have waited far too long. It still chafes that she thought to welcome such an unworthy creature into her bed. Yes, I am aware she knew I would never allow it, but she’d tried. So I too stay silent on the short plane ride and the subsequent long drive to a deluxe cabin I have in the Canadian wilderness.
I do enjoy her reaction as soon as she steps in out of the snow. Like any child, her eyes grow round as she takes in all the decorations, especially the seven-foot fir tree, dressed with delicate crystal ornaments that reflect the multicolored lights so the room is a prism of soft colors. There are bows everywhere, with wide red ribbons in the middle—even mistletoe strategically placed all around the rather large cabin. I hired someone to come make everything ready a week ago. I was only waiting for the place to be completely done to my specifications before bringing her here. For the next week it will be only the two of us, cut off from the world. I want it to be a Christmas she’ll always remember. I allow myself a small grin; she hasn’t noticed all the packages under the tree yet, all hers.
“This way.” I tug on her chain before her gaze can settle on all the presents. Let them be a surprise. We won’t be coming back downstairs until Christmas Eve, unless she gives in early. One thing I can count on is Gelisa not giving in easily.
Anxious to begin her instruction, I lead her upstairs to what will her hers until she either agrees to be mine or requests to walk away. All I need for Christmas is Gelisa’s gift of submission. Stepping inside what is essentially a dungeon, I lock the door behind us, slipping the key inside my pocket. I’m very careful to make sure she sees what I did. She needs to know this is no game.
“Strip,” I order, letting the chain drop heavily from my hand so that it lightly taps against her back. I then lean back against the door and cross my arms.
I expect her to argue, to rage out at my audaciousness, or at least roll her eyes and spout off some sarcastic retort. To my surprise, she does none of those things. Instead, she fingers the chain I’d placed around her neck, looking around at the various equipment, her gaze lingering on the day bed set up near the back before returning to me. I notice her lips twitch as she takes in the breeding chair. Interesting. I can’t tell what she’s thinking—have no idea what she feels beyond the expected nervousness. There is something more there, but I can’t identify it. This unnerves me; I’ve made it my business to know everything there is to know about her.
&
nbsp; “I will never call you Master.” The words are softly spoken, but it is the truest thing she’s said thus far tonight. So she has noticed my various attempts to inform her of my lifestyle without coming right out and saying it. Apparently she’s done some research. Smart girl.
“I don’t expect you to,” I inform her. “My name is Ashford—you may call me Ash.” She already does. I like it. No one beyond a select group of friends I’ve known for years calls me Ash. I would be worried by the surety in her tone if she hasn’t begun to disrobe as instructed.
“I won’t be a slave.” The heavy wool coat drops to the floor with a light thud, a puff of snow rising in a cloud around it. The fuzzy hat and quickly followed.
“You are not a slave,” I confirm. “Nor will you ever be.”
“I won’t eat from a doggie bowl or sleep at your feet.” The sweater comes up and over her head, joining the growing pile of clothing on the thick carpet.
“You are not pet material.” I smile, impressed at the thoroughness of her research. I’m inordinately proud. “So no, there will be no bowls or cages, though there will be collars.” There are already collars—some under the tree, some in my luggage. I don’t even attempt to fight my grin. I’m downright giddy.
Off comes the T-shirt before she bends down to remove her boots. “The rest,” she huffs as she wiggles out of her jeans, “we can figure out.”
Indeed.
Standing in her underwear, she faces me head on, her head high. White lace. Damn, but she looks darling in virginal white, especially given the naughtiness of her bra and panties. They hug her dark skin, giving glimpses of her womanly secrets. Such an enticing mixture of sultriness and modesty. And surprise, surprise—there is a belly ring dangling from her softly rounded belly. I had no idea she had one. But then, I’ve never seen her without clothing. I want to growl, snarl before I fall on her like an animal, ravishing her utterly. Instead I stand still, afraid to move lest I do exactly that. My hands are clenched into fist under the folds of my arms.
“I said strip,” I state simply. “All of it. Every last stitch. You may leave the belly ring.”
Fortitude—I must find some. I’ve come too far to let it all slip away by losing myself.
“Are we clear?” Gelisa demands right back at me, all the vim and vigor I know so well clearly evident in her stance, in her eyes.
“Crystal.” I smile, looking pointedly at the cubic zirconia swaying from the belly jewelry. I make myself a promise to replace it with diamonds. She deserves nothing less.
For a moment, she doesn’t move. She looks at me as if she’s trying to figure something out. I hold my breath, afraid she will suddenly change her mind. One long second stretches into two, but I don’t speak. This has to be her choice.
“Fine,” she grouses, taking off the final barriers. “But if I say stop—”
“I’ll stop,” I assure her. “Even if you don’t mean it.” I have to leave. If I don’t, I’m going to shag her ruthlessly right here and now. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow your instruction begins.”
Chapter Five
On some level, I have always known this would happen. I have really known it for a while despite trying to convince myself otherwise. Ash has been grooming me, shaping me to be the woman he wants me to be. All this time I’ve allowed it, knowing where it would eventually end up. I think I’ve been more frightened by my own reaction to the hurricane that is Ashford in my life. He’s easily swept me up into the essence of him, making me want to be a part of him. And I know he will take care of me, just far more completely than is considered normal.
Now that moment is here, and truthfully I’m terrified. Yet, I’m excited and oh, so turned on I can barely stand it. The desire pumping through my veins is causing my pussy to flood so much I have to keep my legs pressed tightly together. I don’t want him to see the wetness pooled there. God, the intensity of that bright gray eyes burns!
“The bathroom is in the corner. It has everything you need.” He turns and unlocks the door, leaving me standing there. “Oh”—turning, his eyes drift over me from head to toe—”don’t masturbate. I will know, and you will be punished.”
Then he is gone, leaving me with nothing but aching desire.
I don’t know how long I lie on the small but comfy daybed, staring up at the ceiling, but sleep eventually does come. Deep, dreamless sleep.
I’m awakened by the door unlocking. I don’t move as Ash makes his way into the room carrying a laden tray. I don’t need to see it to know it is food; the smells reach my nose long before my eyes can zero in on the mound of eggs, bacon, and croissants. I’m salivating by the time he places the food, silverware, and a tall glass of orange juice on the little table next to the bed.
“Eat well, Gelisa-sweet. You’re going to need your strength.”
Purely as a reflex, my eyes go to the various equipment around the room. St. Andrews Cross, breeding bench, gyno table, stocks—even a section of wall that has been padded with shackle locks lining the sides of the padding. There are shelves lining the walls with various devices—plugs, clamps, dildos, vibrators, wands. A plethora of floggers, paddles, and crops hang from hooks. I see no canes or whips, thank God. I don’t know if I could handle those. I also don’t see any cages.
Letting out the breath I’ve been holding, I attack the food before me, suddenly very hungry. Ash doesn’t say a word, just stands there watching. Only when I am done do I realize this is really about to happen. Without a word, he calmly reaches for the golden leash around my neck and tugs. How could a subtle pull on my neck feel so comforting? That comfort, however, quickly disappears as he leads me down the hall into a much larger room. A bedroom consumed by a gigantic bed. We walk right past it. Ash doesn’t even glance in its direction. Instead he takes me into an equally large bathroom, where there is a bath ready.
“Get in,” he instructs after unfastening the chain and removing it.
Oddly, I miss it as soon as it’s gone. Since the first time I saw a flogger casually lying in open sight on his sofa I’ve been curious. Curious enough to scour the websites, books, blogs—anything I could find on alternative lifestyles. I’m not walking into this blind. But allowing him to give me a bath is weird. I would feel like a child, only the way he moves the sponge on my skin is the most sensual thing I’ve ever felt. There isn’t an inch he doesn’t cleanse. Yet he takes it no further, ordering me up after he’s finished, toweling me off before rubbing lotion soothingly into my skin.
Instead of putting the chain back on me when he finishes, he clasps what I know to be a collar around my neck. It is thick, stretching my neck to the limit. There is an O-ring on the front, where he attaches a leash.
“I told you I wouldn’t be a pet,” I grind out between my teeth. I was very clear on what I would and would not accept. However, I find I’m not at all as upset about the collar and leash as I should be.
“And you are not, nor are you a slave,” Ash answers calmly. “You will, however, be trained.”
I keep quiet after that, allowing him to guide me back to the room I spent the night in. It should be harder to just go along with whatever he has planned. But then, I decided a long time ago to place my trust in Ash; like the first time he let himself into my apartment. That was a major breach of privacy, but when I saw him, all frantic because I was sick, I was glad he had a key. Glad he’d come to check on me. I even loved it a little that he came to check on me.
So I follow his lead, straight to the St. Andrew’s Cross.
“If at any time you want to stop, just say Rudolph, and it all ends.” Ash turns me to face him, those silver orbs boring into me.
Rudolph? Really? I can’t help it—that is funny, it being the Christmas season and all. Before I knew it, giggles bubble from my mouth. I clamp my hand over them, but it’s too late. Ash’s dead-eye stare dries the laughter quickly, though. After the last echo of sound leaves the air, he begins to wrap the leash around his fist, over and over, pulling me toward him until
we are almost touching.
“If whatever I’m doing gets to be too much, you will say what?” God, that tone! His voice is quiet, yet it has more impact than if he’d yelled. The deep pitch coupled with the crisp accent causes me to shudder.
“Rudolph,” I reply in little more than a whisper. There is just something about the way he speaks that makes me want to obey.
“Good girl.”
My pussy spasms at those two little words. Yep, I’m definitely one of those submissive women I studied so much about. I’ve known that, of course—I just didn’t want to admit it. Now I’m stripped of all the trappings we all hide behind; there is no one here but me and him, and I con’t have anything, not even clothes, to hide behind. All this time, Ash has been grooming me, and I soaked up those lessons like a sponge. All I have to do is take that final step.
I don’t complain when he faces me toward the cross. I won’t be able to see what’s going on behind me. I’m guessing it’s in part to gauge my trust. In order to soothe my fractured nerves, I take deep, cleansing breaths as he fastens my wrist to nylon cuffs. He won’t hurt me, not seriously. Still, it is so hard not to be nervous as he does the same to my ankles. His touch is quick, proficient, but impersonal. I know it’s just my imagination, but the binds feel like extensions of him, like it is his hands holding me captive. Crazy, I know.
Once I’m secure, his touch is gone. I take comfort in the cuffs, tugging on them a little to feel the rough fabric against my skin. My mind is running in so many different directions all at once. What is he going to do? Which of the things I saw hanging on hooks will he use? Will he use—SMACK!!!
“Shit!” Fire. His bare palm smacking against the dead center of my ass cheek brings me to my toes. Heat pools in the epicenter of the pain, quickly melting under the skin, spreading all over my body. God, I think I might be liquefying on the inside.
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