Seven Days - The Beginning (Jess & Liam's Story, #1)

by Fanny Lee Savage

I nod again, it’s actually starting to make more sense. I’m joining a team of people who like sex and like to do weird shit to each other for kicks. The money coming to me in shares and sponsors is to make sure I look the part of what members want when they come in. It’s all so shaded in gray, my poor moral compass is spinning.

  “First, how do you feel about women?”

  “They are fine,” I say, confused. “I’m a woman—we aren’t so bad.”

  “I mean when it comes to sex,” Madam clarifies for me. “Are you open to women?”

  I open my mouth but hesitate. Am I open to women? Would it be easier to submit to a woman? No. I think I’d be hung up on the fact she is female.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” Madam says. “Men only. What about, anal?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Disappointing, but also a no—for now.” She scribbles on her papers. “But you’re not opposed to performing oral sex?”

  Jeez. “No.”

  “Are you opposed to having oral sex performed on you?”

  I glance away and see the curling iron woman smirking behind me. “I’ve never been on the receiving end,” I mumble and try to combat the heat in my cheeks.

  Madam looks at me like I’ve just grown a tail, but nods and checks something off on her list.

  “While in our playroom, you are free to leave at any time. You may use your safeword at any time and all acts or play scenes cease immediately.” Madam holds up a bracelet. It's a thin metal band with a small charm and a red stone in the center. “This is your call button. I’ve just started enforcing these. If, for some reason your Dom of the evening does not understand, hear, or remember your safe word, press this button. It will sound an alarm, and the security team will intervene. This is a fail-safe, and only to be used in extreme emergencies.”

  I glance back at the hairdresser, my nerves starting to churn in my stomach. What am I doing? Safe words, fail-safe alarms? Is the money worth this?

  Yes. As is my life.

  “The bracelets are more for insurance purposes,” Madam says, reading my face. “But, I want to ensure all my girls; they are safe here and will never be taken past their limits.”

  I nod.

  “Now safeword. The standard club word is Red. But, my Four Dom’s like personal codes. Give me the first word that comes to mind.”

  “Peaches.”

  Madam laughs and writes this down. “Your personal safeword is Peaches. If, at any time, you feel uncomfortable, you use your safeword. Remember it. No Dom will stop unless you use it.”

  “Why do I need a word?” I ask.

  “Your Dom will provide the details and make sure you understand before you begin,” Madam says. “Now, Jess. I want you to know, while you are receiving shares of this business, a monetary value, you are here of your own accord. To experience and learn from this world and may leave at any time, forfeiting your shares, from that date forward.”

  The fact she is having to reiterate I’m free to go and not being paid to submit to sex is freaking me out more than if she was ordering me to my knees. It may be, in fact because I am here of my own accord. No one persuaded me, not really. I was curious, I came, I saw, I’m here and I need the money my gold crotch will provide.

  Jeez. It’s a rainbow spectrum of shadiness.

  “One last thing,” Madam says. “If, for any reason, you feel incompatible with your appointed Dom, you have the right to end the training.”

  “You mean give the money back and lose my chance?” No way.

  “I mean, end the training and the Dom will be removed from any lists involving you in the future. The money that is paid is for training purposes only. What you spend on equipment and supplies your Dom has requested does not need to be returned.”

  From what Madam has said so far, I seem to hold quite a bit of power. I can deny a man if I don’t like him. I can end any acts I don’t like with a single word, or get up and leave if I choose. Lastly, if someone is scaring me and not listening, guard dogs will come running. So far, it seems this environment which seemed downright nuts a few hours ago, has more safety measures and rules than any place I’ve ever been in.

  My biggest problem is the unknown. I’m not sure what kind of guy I’m going to get to train me. What if he’s ugly—yeah I’m that petty—or smarmy, or we just clash? I don’t have time to find anyone else. I’ll have to deal with what I get.

  “My Dom’s will be arriving soon,” Madam says. “I have a few rules we go by, I’m sure I’ve voiced but want to make sure you understand. We establish hard limits; this is something you will discuss with your Dom. There is no bloodletting, burning, cutting, waxing, knives, or cutting devices of any kind. Chains are for holding bindings only. Lashings, caning, whipping or any form of punishment, or pleasure, will cut the skin or leave any lasting mark. Any public scenes have to be cleared by me, especially if play involves what some would consider upsetting. Do you understand?”

  Oh dear God. What have I gotten myself into?

  Madam points to where I am to sign my sanity away. I do. Put my name down in black ink on white paper, and revoke any and all signs of intelligence. “Welcome to Madam Jolie’s Playhouse, Ms. Caughlin. We are pleased to have you aboard.”

  The woman with the red hair, the one I forgot was in the room with us, takes my hand and guides me from the room. We walk right behind Madam and I’m led to the small curtain behind the stage. I try to peek around the red fabric to see who all is out there, but Redhead holds me in place.

  “When you go in the dollhouse, do exactly as told,” Redhead says. “There is a speaker on the box wall and you will be given instructions. If you can follow orders, you’ll be picked by one of the top Dom’s. They are all here tonight.”

  I nod, wary of her advice considering what she just told me. From the other side of the curtain, I hear the low rumble of voices and soft music. It is impossible to know how many people are out there. It could be twenty, it could be a hundred. There is a hushed quiet whispering around, an air of excitement. Women in various stages of undress move around me, all laughing and whispering.

  Cara, the jealous queen, places a pale-faced woman with dark eyes next to me. I glance over and she immediately looks to her feet. She must be another lamb being led to slaughter.

  A loud voice crackles over a speaker and tells everyone on the other side of the curtain to quiet down. Immediately the crowd goes silent.

  “The new dolls of Madam Jolie’s Playroom will be presented soon,” the voice says. “Tonight, only our top Dom’s will be participating. Please step forward.”

  It’s almost time.

  “You scared?” I whisper to the woman next to me.

  The dark eyes find mine and she nods.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Kind of self-therapy,” she tells me. “Why are you here?”

  Therapy? What kind of whack job comes here for help? “For the money and to learn how to have kinky sex.”

  Dark Eyes nods and giggles. “Yeah, that too.”

  Somehow, her answer makes me feel better.

  Redhead brings another woman up. She’s older, maybe in her forties and carries more weight around her middle. She wears the same red lingerie as Dark Eyes next to me though I’m dressed in all white. Perfect. Madam is really going for the purest look here. I’m handed a white blindfold, the kind someone would wear to bed and the ladies next to me are given the same thing, except theirs are red.

  I place it over my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. I hate blindfolds. It’s the one thing that freaks me out, not being able to see what’s coming. Someone grips my elbow and I jerk away, but I hear a soothing female voice telling me to step forward and then stand still. A loud click comes from behind me and all sound leaves like I’m sucked in a vacuum. I swallow down the panic scraping inside my head and chant over and over, ‘fifty-thousand, minus thirty percent’. That is why I’m here. This is what I’m doing. As stupid and as terrifying as it is, it will be wort
h it in the end and I’ll learn all kinds of new things to carry with me in life. Like how to follow orders and have incredible sex. That will help in my new job. Not the sex part, but the orders. Mr. Firth said I need to follow instructions, learn his way. This place will help.

  I repeat this in between reminding myself of the monetary value when a voice suddenly cracks over the speaker.

  “Turn around.” The voice is gruff and hard, distinctly male.

  Do as instructed and I’ll get a top guy. I turn, slowly because I can’t see anything, and focus and making sure to keep my balance. My palms sweat and I wipe them on my ass as I turn.

  “Face the front.” I spin again, not sure if I’m facing the front, but guesstimate I am by how much I move my feet. “Lift the teddy.”

  I hesitate. This guy wants to check me out, look at my body and see if it’s something he wants to play with. The thought makes my stomach twist. All I can think of is the woman with the extra weight and how humiliated she must feel. I’m young and feel like a piece of meat on the butcher's block.

  I shake my head.

  I’m left alone for a bit, standing in the darkness of my mind, my own little-hollowed world in my box and blindfold. I’m getting used to it, but my nerves are getting the better of me and my toes start to squirm.

  Another male voice cracks over the speaker. It’s softer, gentler. “Miss, will you please remove your mask?”

  The fact he gave me the respect of acknowledging me as a person makes me pause. The fact he asked, rather than ordered, makes me listen. I slip the mask off and blink in the stark white of the light. I glance around, I’m in a white box, with a glass front. I turn slightly and see, the back wall with the door cut out, shows a garish almost cartoon picture of a living room. It takes a second for it all to sink in. Dollhouse, playroom, glass front and tall box. I’m on display like a fucking doll. My stomach knots and I start to turn to get out, but the voice comes over the speaker again.

  “Are you claustrophobic?”

  I still and turn back to the glass. The bright lights shining from outside my little cubby, blind me to who is in front of me. All I can see is a tall black silhouette, framed in sodium light. “No,” I tell the voice. “I don’t like being treated as a plaything.”

  I hear muffled voices and someone opens the door behind me. Redhead appears and an outburst of applause breaks the quiet. I have the distinct feeling I may have messed up my chance, but so be it. I’m not a fucking doll.

  “Come,” Redhead says and pulls me out of the booth. “You are going to meet your Dom.”

  I blink, surprised and let her pull me into the hallway Madam led me through earlier. We stop outside a door towards the end of the hall and she hands me another white mask. “Put this on, stand in the center of the room, and when he comes in, do exactly as instructed.”

  I nod and move to the center of the room, sliding the blindfold back on. I would think we’d have some kind of formal introduction considering he’s supposed to be teaching me how to submit my person, but still not taking my virginity. Madam's questions come to mind. What have I gotten myself into? Really, I’ve had no time to even think this through, I was ambushed, reminded my life is fragile and—

  The door opens, and a gust of cold air blows over my skin. I freeze, all my steel bravery from earlier slowly sliding to the floor. What if it’s the guy with the gruff voice? What if he’s a jerk and I can’t handle what he wants to do?

  “Miss—” I practically melt into the floor with relief. It’s the guy with the smooth voice. “Jess, is that what you’d like me to call you? Jess?”

  “My friends call me Jess,” I say. “Since I have a feeling we’re going to be friends then yeah, call me Jess.”

  He doesn’t laugh and my cheeks burn. The door shuts quietly, and I hear his feet over the floor and he stops in front of me. I can see a little down my nose, and see he wears brown loafers.

  “Can I take the mask off?” I ask.

  “No,” the smooth voice says. It reminds me of something—like a warm fire. “The mask is part of your training. It builds trust.”

  “How can I trust you if I can’t see you?”

  “My voice,” he says. “My tone. How I speak. I am told I don’t have much time with you so your training will be hard and I’ll require you almost twenty-four hours a day.”

  I refrain from making a porno joke because I don’t think he likes my sense of humor. “So I’m to keep this mask on all the time?”

  “Until I say you can remove it yes.” I hear his shoes scuff on the wood floor and feel the heat coming from him as he stands close. “The mask will open your other senses—taste, smell, hearing, and touch. I hope it will speed up your training. I usually have at least two months, if not more, to go through the training Madam requires.”

  Two months? Shit. I have six days. I start to move, but he makes a sound in his throat and I still. Honestly, I don’t know why I do, it may have been the deep baritone underlined with distinct disapproval.

  “We are going to lay some ground rules Jess,” he says. “This way you understand what is expected of you and I know what you expect from me.”

  I nod, letting him know I am okay with this.

  “First off, my name is Sir, this is how you will address me here. Say it.”

  “Sir.”

  “Good,” Sir says and I smile at his warm approval. “When it is time for training, you will enter our private playroom, strip down to nothing but white silk panties—” he stops. “You may wear a bra as well if you’re more comfortable.”

  He sounds unsure, “Aren’t you supposed to be dominating me?”

  He remains quiet.

  “You know, like bossing me around and spanking me?”

  I hear him laugh, it’s quiet, but it makes my belly tingle and I smile.

  “I want you comfortable. Once you are in the proper attire, put on the blindfold. You will stand in the center of the room, head down, and hands behind your back.”

  I hesitate. “Okay.”

  A sharp smack, like a shoe hitting the floor and it makes me jump. My heart leaps into my throat and I cringe back. “Incorrect.”

  “Sir,” I stammer, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Are you afraid of loud noises?” Sir asks. “You jumped.”

  “It was unexpected.”

  “Do you not like surprises or loud noises, Jess?”

  I start to shake my head, but worry he may stomp his foot again. “No, Sir.”

  “Is this from your past abuse?”

  I suck in air, unable to speak. How dare Madam share that with a complete stranger? How dare he even ask?

  “You are upset I have asked.”

  I nod, if he doesn’t give me the respect I deserve then he doesn’t get it.

  He sighs and I hear scraping sounds across the floor. I reach up to pull the mask off, but his hand grips my wrist. “Jess. In order for this to work, we need rules and an open understanding of one another. I’m trying to identify your limits. I scared you when I hit the floor. I don’t want to frighten you. Since you are unable to see me, I need a way to quickly tell you that you are breaking one of my rules.”

  “How about a no.”

  “That won’t work. I will say incorrect,” Sir says. “I ask about the past abuse because I need to know your triggers. If loud noises are one, this is something I need to know. If you don’t like sudden changes, I need to know. I am not here to damage your psyche. I am here to help you explore it and teach you to relinquish control to another.”

  “I don’t know you,” I remind him.

  “We have six days to get to know each other.”

  I laugh because this is utterly insane. “Well, let's get going.”

  He remains quiet and I’m sure I’ve broken some rule.

  “Sir.”

  I can almost hear him smile. He goes over a few things, the stuff Madam went over with me and we both say my personal safeword three times in a row. He seems concerned over this,
wanting to make sure I remember it. Then he asks what I’ll be up for. I say no to everything. Whipping, caning—whatever that is, I had shut my laptop down before I delved too deep—and tell him I’ll work on having my hands tied and the crop thing I saw earlier. He is back to standing in front of me after we agreed I was to put my hands behind my back and intertwine my fingers. I keep fiddling with my mask and he keeps telling me ‘incorrect,’ so this is the best solution we can come up with.

  “Has anyone ever given you an orgasm, Jess?” Sir asks.

  “That is a very personal question,” I say. “Sir.”

  “You are standing in front of me blindfolded and wearing no underwear,” Sir says. “We are bound to get personal.”

  I roll my eyes under the mask. “No, Sir,”

  He is quiet a moment and I can imagine this guy is wondering how this is possible in this day and age. “Would you like me to?”

  I take a deep breath and I have a feeling I’ll be taking a lot of breaths with all the things we are talking about doing. “I don’t know you,” I say again. “I haven’t even seen your face.”

  “You are holding your hands behind your back, alone in a room with me,” Sir says, but his voice is quiet and calm. “You haven’t tried to move, or leave or opposed when I grabbed your wrist. You are not scared of me. Just nervous.”

  Am I scared of him? No. I have all my safety nets and my Peaches. I’m not tied up, my blindfold can be removed, and he’s done nothing but try to make sure I’m comfortable. Besides he’s paying for sex toys and for my cooperation and lack of experience.

  “Would seeing my face make you more comfortable?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He remains quiet. “I’ll make a deal with you Jess. If you allow me two days, on day three, you can remove the mask.”

  “Two days?” I ask. “Does tonight count as one?”

  He waits a heartbeat. “Yes.”

  “Why is the mask so important to you?”

  “It builds trust.”

  “You keep talking about trust, but we just met,” I say. “I need to get to know you.”

  “What do you want to know, Jess?”

  “I don’t know.” I squirm a bit. “You seem to know things about me, tell me something about you. Something personal.”