by LK Shaw
At this, I had to interrupt, because I didn’t understand how submission equated to power. “I’m confused. If I’m submitting to someone, how in the hell does that make me powerful? When I think submission, I think weakness.” Except I hadn’t felt weak at all last night.
“Ever hear of power exchange?”
I nodded. “Mistress Jasmine mentioned it, but didn’t explain what it was.”
“There’s a dynamic between a Dom and his, or her, sub called a power exchange. It isn’t always about sex. It’s about that emotional connection. You trust your Dom to give you what you need: sexually, emotionally, or spiritually. You give her the power. Hence, power exchange. However, if there comes a time where you can’t take what your Dom is giving you, you use a safe word and whatever is happening stops.”
He waited while I processed what he was telling me. I guess it made sense, sort of. I still didn’t understand how I could be submissive. I mean, I got the sexual concept. Being told how to pleasure Mistress Jasmine hadn’t been a hardship. Apparently, I liked a bossy woman. What I didn’t understand was the emotional and spiritual aspect. Maybe it was one of those things you needed to put into practice to understand.
“Okay, I get the safe word. If I’m with Jasmine and she does something I don’t like, I can say a word, and she has to stop what she’s doing?”
“Yes. This is where the trust comes in. Jasmine is going to push you past where you’re comfortable. I know this for a fact. You have to trust her to catch you when you fall. Domination and submission are extremely cathartic. They both allow you to purge your emotions without fear of judgment. Keeping your emotions bottled up inside you isn’t healthy, Miles.”
I ignored Connor’s pointed stare.
“What about you, Connor? From what I witnessed last night, you’re clearly a Dominant. How does it feel to be able to tell Bridget what to do and she has to listen to you?”
As though I’d said something hilarious, Connor burst out laughing again. I was getting a little irritated at him laughing at my expense.
“Have you not met my fiancée? Do you really think I tell Bridget what to do under normal circumstances? And that she would actually listen to me if I did? She’d rip my balls off.” His expression changed from jovial to serious in the blink of an eye. “I’m only sharing this because you need to be educated to make an informed decision if this thing with Jasmine is truly something you want to pursue. Otherwise, what goes on in Bridget’s and my sex life is none of your damn business.”
I nodded my understanding.
“I grew up in an abusive home. My stepfather physically abused me to the point that I have severe scarring on my body. When I discovered that causing pain during sex turned me on, I thought I was just like him. That I was an abuser. I suppressed my needs, my emotions. I kept a part of myself hidden from Bridget, because I was ashamed of who I was. Of the things I enjoyed. I never felt whole. Her total submission to my needs changed me. It also changed her.
“By her accepting the pain, it makes our pleasure greater. I could purge the negative thoughts about being an abuser, because Bridget’s pleasure is intensified, and even sweeter, because of the opposing pain. She trusts me not to cause her harm. If things are too much, I trust her to use her safe word.”
My mind was in awe of what he described. I had no idea the kinds of secrets Connor had been keeping from me.
“So, you enjoy causing pain? And Bridget enjoys, um, taking it? I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I’m just trying to wrap my head around what you’re describing.”
“She enjoys the pleasure that overrides the pain. She accepts the pain, because causing it is what I need. I also know that she needs to submit. She needs to give up control sometimes. You’ve met Bridget. She’s a sassy, spitfire who doesn’t take shit from anyone. But she spent years grieving over giving up Alex for adoption. She didn’t want to give her heart to anyone. Emotionally, she felt out of control. By submitting to the different Doms at Eden, it was a way for her to release all the pent up grief and emotion she had buried inside.”
Again, Connor gave me that look. The one I’d been pointedly ignoring for months now.
I sighed in resignation. “So, you think that submission will cure me of whatever ails me? Is that what you’re saying?”
“I think that submitting to Jasmine,” he emphasized her name, “will help free you of your burdens so you can rediscover how strong you really are. You’re my best friend, Miles. I’m not going to beat around the bush with you. Right now, you’re letting your guilt over what happened with Malcolm control you. That is making you weak. Being able to free those emotions through your submission will allow you to just feel. No thoughts are needed beyond pleasing your mistress. Once you let go of everything, you can finally start to heal.”
Chapter 11
Josie
There were benefits to being good with computers. Although I was no longer in contact with my family, that didn’t mean I hadn’t kept tabs on them. It gave me a sick sense of satisfaction knowing that I was spying on my father and he had no idea. After my father kicked me out of the house, I’d hacked into his security system and was able to see first-hand how my sister lived.
Even at the age of twenty-three, she’d never left my parent’s house, although that was something I was working on. She’d become a complete shut-in. Her agoraphobia was crippling. I’d learned afterward the day I’d come across what was happening was not the first time either. She had been given as a “gift” to my father’s business associate on more than that occasion. It was my father’s way of showing his appreciation for investments in his corruption. I threw up when I’d read the note on the counter next to the wine bottle that long ago day. It killed me that I hadn’t realized what was happening sooner.
There was another benefit of being a computer hacker… I had a record of my father’s illegal business dealings. He was into drugs, money laundering, even guns. He had no idea the evidence I had been gathering over the last seven years. He still was arrogant enough to believe that because he’d made the body and murder weapon disappear, I was indebted to him. That I somehow “owed” him.
Time was quickly ticking by as to when he was going to cash in the “favor”. To be honest, I was surprised it hadn’t happened yet. Which was why I was doing everything I could to make sure that Casey stayed safe until I could proceed with my plan. Now, I had leverage. One of these days I was going to figure out a way to make him pay for what he’d done without revealing my own sins. I wasn’t sure how that was going to happen, but I kept my eyes peeled for an opening. I’d been carefully planning vengeance for Casey for years. No one knew, not even Connor. He’d worry I was taking too many risks. For Casey, though, the risks were worth it.
Once a week I logged into my computer and checked up on dear old dad. The first thing I did was check the security feed on the cameras to make sure I was still online. I would go back through the recorded video and make sure that Casey was as well as could be. During the first six months of me monitoring the house, I cried until my tears ran dry seeing her trudge through the house like a zombie.
She never changed out of her pajamas. Her hair lay listless on her head, its shine long gone. In fact, from all appearances, she never even combed her hair. She wore no makeup. The light had all but left her eyes. Not once in all these years had I seen her smile. If my heart hadn’t broken the day I found her, it would have broken every time I sat and watched her. Like a voyeur. Now, it was a muted ache.
Today was no different than any other day for the last seven years. Everything checked out on that end. I tapped a few keys and located my hidden folders. Once they popped up, I clicked on an icon. My eyes scanned the screen and stopped. No fucking way. I ran an encryption code and waited. I hoped my eyes were deceiving me. Because if what I’d just read was true, I was going to puke. A few keystrokes later had bile rising to my throat.
Encrypted emails had been exchanged between my father and someone with th
e code name Korol', which translated to “King” from Russian. Talk about a self-inflated ego for god’s sake. In the emails they talk of an exchange involving pricey merchandise. The amount of money discussed blew my mind. There was also talk of an auction. As I continued reading various correspondences, I realized the “merchandise” in question was women. More like girls, really. Sweet mother of God. What had my father done? Rage clouded my vision at the thought of what was happening to those girls. Bile churned in my stomach. Those poor girls. They were all Casey’s age. And they were being sold off like cattle. So far, there weren’t any dates of this auction, but based on the exchanges, it would be happening soon. I had to stop it.
I was so livid that I didn’t even think of the consequences of my actions as I picked up my phone. I dialed a number by rote.
“Charles Santiago.”
Automatically, my mind traveled back to happier times at the sound of my father’s voice. I hadn’t heard his voice since I was twenty. It was surreal to hear it and still recognize it. Even after all this time. But then, I remembered exactly why I was calling, and I couldn’t help this disdain that colored my voice.
“Hello, Dad.” The word came out on a sneer.
“Josephine, I thought I gave you explicit instructions never to call again. You are no longer a member of this family.”
“What kind of monster are you? How did I never see it all those years?”
My father yawned on the other end of the line, unconcerned with my questions.
“You’re boring me Josephine. You have thirty more seconds. I suggest you take advantage of my generosity.”
“Your generosity?” I sputtered in disbelief at his words. “Does your generosity now consist of selling women into sexual slavery?”
Silence greeted my pronouncement. A kernel of satisfaction stirred inside that I had struck my father dumb.
“Explain yourself.”
A bark of laughter escaped, the noise almost maniacal. “All these years you’ve had no idea that I’ve been watching you, have you? Of course not. No one would dare spy on the great and powerful Charles Santiago. No one, but me. Never would I be indebted to you. I would rather die.”
“That can be arranged,” he snapped.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No threats. Just fact. Don’t think you can toy with me. You have no idea who you’re dealing with, Josephine.”
“I know exactly who I’m dealing with. Drug dealer, extortionist, gun smuggler, and now sex trafficker. I promise you’re not going to get away with this. This was the final straw, Dad. I refuse to sit by and let other women, girls, be hurt like you allowed Casey to be hurt. I’ll find some way to stop you. I promise.”
Before he could reply, I disconnected the call. My vision clouded with anger. I let out a pained whoosh of breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding when I unclenched my fist. Crescent marks dotted my palm where my nails had dug in. White skin pinkened as blood flow began again. Emotions churned inside me. Rage, pain, hopelessness, and fear all fought for control like a maelstrom. The line in the sand had just been drawn. After this revelation, I needed to figure out how to be the first one to cross it.
Chapter 12
Miles
After I left Connor’s office Sunday, I went home and did some research. I hopped online and found pages after pages of articles on Domination and submission. Most were educational, others a touch bizarre. I discovered, and joined, an online fetish community and read different posts on the forum. I wanted to understand this new role I was considering undertaking. I learned about hard limits and soft limits. I learned there was so much more to BDSM than just two, or more, people having kinky sex.
After hours of reading, I realized that these feelings of giving over control to a Domme only resonated inside me when I thought of Jasmine. The emotional connection between a Dom and his or her sub was almost poetic. It was the only way I could describe it. And that poetry read like a sonnet. It was fluid and flowed effortlessly. That was how I’d felt with Jasmine. Every touch, every smell, every taste settled deep inside me, gripping my soul as though they would never let go.
I couldn’t pin down why her though. We’d only met a few days ago, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. In fact, thoughts of her began to pop up at the most unexpected of times. When blood-filled visions came to me, I would force them away with thoughts of Jasmine. She became my guide out of the darkness. It only made her that much more special to me. A woman whose face I’d never even seen. It was crazy. The thing was, I didn’t care. I wanted to take this leap. I needed to. For my own sanity. She soothed the nightmares.
Connor was out of the office today, so I went to the next best person. I stood in front of Bryce’s door and knocked.
“Enter.”
He looked up from his computer when I opened the door and gave me a smile that had me cursing myself for coming here. It was as though he could see right through me and knew exactly why I was here. I counted Bryce as a good friend, but he pushed everyone’s buttons and more than once I wanted to smack the smug smile off his face. This was one of those times.
“What can I do for you, sweet Miles?”
“You’re a dick, you know that, right?”
He threw his head back in laughter. “You know, you’re not the first person to say that to me. Anyway, take a load off. Now, how can I help you?”
“I want to see Jasmine again. I assume you can make that happen.”
He nodded his assent. “Of course. But, are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“I spent the last three days learning everything I needed to know to make an informed decision. Who knows how this will play out, but hey, I’ll willing to take a gamble.”
For once, an intense and serious expression crossed Bryce’s face. He always maintained his professionalism at work, but it was also done with a slight flare and a little extra spark. This though, this was a look I don’t recall ever seeing before. It actually had me nervous.
“You do realize this isn’t a game, right? Being a Domme isn’t something that Jasmine just plays at. It’s not just a role she takes on. It’s who she is. It’s an integral part of her. It would be like asking her to change her hair or eye color. It’s impossible. I care about Jasmine. I don’t want her hurt because you’re doing this on a whim.”
“This isn’t a whim for me, Bryce. Everyone in this office knows that what happened a few months ago changed me. You all pussyfoot around and walk on eggshells around me. I see it. But the second I met Jasmine, everything in my head quieted, if only for a short period of time. The chaos in my head is tamed, and it’s all because of her. So, if she’ll have me, I’m hers.”
We stared at each other, and I prayed he saw how serious I was taking this. I hated feeling out of control. Connor was right in saying I was weak. If trusting Jasmine was the key to letting go of this guilt that consumed me, then it was a chance I planned on taking.
“I’ll talk to her. Let her know that you’re ready and willing. She’s in charge. She can tie you up and do dirty, dirty things to you. Got it. She’ll be supremely happy to hear this.”
“Yep, a real dick.”
Bryce sent me another self-satisfied grin and gave a mocking seated bow. Now that it was mostly settled I headed toward the door.
“Meet me outside Eden at 9:00 Saturday. Don’t be late. Oh, and you can leave the mask at home this time.”
I flipped him the bird and jerked his office door closed, effectively shutting out his mocking laughter. My spirit felt lighter the rest of the day knowing that soon, I’d get to see Jasmine again.
Chapter 13
Josie
I pushed aside all thoughts of my father until I had a clearer head. I was still processing the horror I’d discovered yesterday. Instead, I brought my focus back to Miles. Throughout the week, I cast surreptitious glances at him. He was still going through the motions of day-to-day life, but I sensed a tiny fissure in the façade. On Wednesday, Bryc
e called me into his office. I’d expected to get an update on the Bullman case. Instead, he sat behind his desk with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Someone came to see me this morning.”
“Okay. Good for you. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It was lover-boy.”
That definitely got my attention. “And?” I hated that I sounded like an excited kid on Christmas morning.
“We had a lovely conversation about you. Or about Jasmine, rather.”
I screeched in frustration, which only caused Bryce to chuckle. “I swear to God, Bryce Ezekiel Harris, if you don’t tell me what you guys talked about, I will Photoshop a picture of you on your knees wearing a collar and leash and post it on every fetish and gay dating website in existence.”
“Jesus, woman, are you sure you’re not a sadist? I was just yanking your chain.” He flinched at the word ‘chain’. “He wants to see you at Eden again. He says he understands the rules and knows you’re the one in charge. He says he’s yours to command. Well, he didn’t use those exact words. I’m paraphrasing. Either way, he’s coming back to Eden on Saturday.”
I couldn’t help but squeal in excitement before reeling it back in.
“Thank you, Bryce. And I’m sorry I threatened you with such drastic measures.”
“No worries, buttercup. I forgive you. I’d probably do the same if I were in your shoes. But, in all seriousness. Be careful, Josie. Especially when you break it to him who you really are. You could destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for. I don’t want to see you hurt.”
I walked over and stepped into his arms. Even after all these years, I was still not fully used to people caring for me this much. My father had disowned me after he’d had to “clean up” my mess. His words. I’d come home for Christmas the following year, because my mother, for once in her miserable existence, insisted. It was probably the one time my broken down mother ever stood up to my father, at least after the first time he hit her. That was the only reason I’d met Connor. Suddenly, I was transported back to that first meeting.