She sat back. Could things be any more perfect?
“Do you need more time to think about it?”
“I’m afraid you’ve caught me completely unaware.”
“Yeah.” He picked up a pencil and snapped it in two. “Sometimes the unexpected happens.”
“Like you and Karyn.” Quietly, she added, “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t respond.
“May I ask, Sir, where is Master Nathaniel?”
“He’ll be leaving the country soon, and, well, now that I’m back, he doesn’t need to be here.”
She gnawed on her lower lip. How long until she saw him again? Damn him. He’d said he wanted to dominate her; she’d submitted, then he’d left her? What the hell was wrong with him? She’d been right all along to avoid emotional entanglements. They caused nothing but heartache.
She straightened her back. She’d respond to Master Nathaniel’s desertion like she did everything else, by taking charge of her life. “I’ll accept the management position,” she said.
He nodded. “Initially it won’t be a big raise, but we’ll work on a performance program so that you can earn bonuses. As you take on more responsibility, including projections and budgeting, you’ll see larger increases.”
“That’s fair.”
“If you have extra hours available, I’d like you to spend some time with Master AJ and help Willow get someone hired to replace you. We’ll need you as a professional sub until we get everyone in place. It’s a lot of extra work in the short-term.”
“I’ll do it,” she said.
“We have our regular management meetings on Thursday. I’d like to have one tomorrow, also, so everyone is up to speed. Is it possible for you to come in early, say two o’clock?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“One more thing, I tore up your warning. Your behavior has been impeccable. We’ll consider what happened with Master Richard to have been a momentary lapse. I’m sure you won’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t, Sir. And, ah, what about the retraining?”
“Not necessary.”
They both stood. He offered his hand, and she shook it.
As she exited the room, she glanced back at him. He was sitting in his chair, and his shoulders were uncustomarily slumped. She resisted the impulse to join him in his misery. She had enough of her own.
Willow met her in the foyer. “Big changes,” Willow said. “Guess we’ll both have a bigger role in running the place.”
“How long have you known?”
“Just an hour or so. Master Marcus got back late last night; he and Master Nathaniel spent several hours in the office. Then they went to the bar. I heard Master AJ joined them, and they all stayed past closing time. Jaron drove them all home. To tell you the truth”—she glanced again toward the offices—“Master Marcus and Master Nathaniel both looked as if they were feeling sorry for themselves.”
“Both of them?”
“I hoped you’d dish about Master Nathaniel. I know he took you home the other night.”
“It was all part of my retraining,” she fibbed. She liked Willow, but this was too fresh and too personal.
Willow flipped her hair back. “Uh-huh.”
“Really.”
“Really.”
“Really,” Alani said.
“I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow. Then you can tell me.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Honey, a man doesn’t take a woman home, then stay late after work one night to get drunk with his buddies unless something happened. Well, maybe some men would, but Master Nathaniel?” She shook her head. Her long earrings jingled.
A man and a woman entered the front door.
Willow went from a skeptical frown to a beaming welcoming smile in less than two seconds.
While Willow checked in the dom and her sub, Alani looked at her booking schedule. She wrinkled her nose when she saw Master Richard on the list. Figured.
“I almost forgot. Master Nathaniel left this for you,” Willow said, handing Alani a large manila envelope.
“Thanks.” At least he’d thought of her.
“Open it,” Willow whispered.
“Not on your life.” Envelope in hand, she headed for the dressing room. After opening her locker, she sat on a wooden bench, tore open the envelope, and shook out the contents.
Prints from the pictures he’d taken that night at his house fell into her lap.
There were several of her ass, all red and swollen.
The final picture was of her blindfolded, tied up in his playroom. He’d moved aside her hair to expose the collar. Since her eyes had been covered, she didn’t remember him taking the close-up. Her mouth was slightly parted, and her head was slightly back, showing off her neck with the leather fastened around it.
A note fluttered to the floor. She picked it up.
My collar looks good on you. Admit it.
All or nothing.
Her hand shook. She turned the paper over, but he’d written nothing else.
She leaned forward.
The room seemed to spin. Tears stung her eyes.
Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.
Why did he have to ruin something so wonderful? Who the hell did he think he was, issuing ultimatums? She’d told him she wasn’t a submissive. And he should know she hated being backed into a corner.
She shoved the pictures and note back into the envelope and tossed the packet into her locker. She grabbed a thong from her extra set of clothes. If Master Nathaniel wasn’t going to be at the club, she wasn’t going to be exposing her pussy. Angrier, more frustrated than ever, she slammed the locker door shut.
Resolved to put the man and his outrageous demands behind her, she slipped on the thong, straightened her skirt, tucked in her camisole, and straightened one of the straps on her garter belt. She had an appointment with Master Richard, and she wouldn’t disappoint him.
She made it as far as the long vanity of sinks.
She dampened a paper towel and wiped her forehead. Her makeup would be wrecked, but what the hell?
How could she work now that Master Nathaniel had fired that shot?
He was leaving the country soon, and God help her, she wanted to see him. But could she be a permanent submissive?
He’d behaved calculatingly. He’d left her alone to think about him, about them, about what they’d shared. He’d known she hated being left alone, so that’s what he’d do. Give her room, give her space, and let her fill it with memories.
Kukae. She tossed the paper towel into the trash. Refusing meant she’d never feel his belt, kneel in his kitchen, or crawl in front of him. It meant he wouldn’t rub salve in her welts, cool her heated pussy, or cradle her in his arms while she slept.
A woman, clearly a sub, walked into the dressing room. She wore a pink leather collar with a cheesy metal heart affixed to a D ring. She smiled politely at Alani. The woman had a serene air about her that Alani envied.
How long had it been since she’d looked like that?
She flashed back to the last picture in the set that Master Nathaniel had sent her.
Alani had looked that content when he’d beaten her.
Since then, she’d been aggravated, agitated, and anxious. She’d barely slept, and every fantasy had been of him.
Before walking away, the woman straightened her hair and touched the metal heart again.
Alani told herself she wasn’t jealous that the woman had the courage to commit.
Willow entered the dressing room. “You okay? Do you need me to get someone else to cover? Your client is waiting.”
Alani exhaled. Showtime. She had to pull it together. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
Willow frowned. “Are you sure?”
How the heck was she so perceptive? Or was Alani just transparent? “Do you know when Master Nathaniel leaves the country?”
Willow worried her lower lip.
“What?” Alani demanded.
�
�I…”
“Spill it.”
“He said I can’t give you any information.”
“What?” She felt as if she’d been smacked.
“He said if you asked about him, I was supposed to tell you that you know his phone number.”
“He pisses me off.”
Willow smiled, looking more than happy. “He said the same thing about you.”
“I could strangle him.”
“I think he was hoping you’d feel that way.” She took Alani’s hand. “I didn’t tell you this, but he’s in town at least through tomorrow. But I know he wants to hear from you.”
She wasn’t sure she could let him go, knowing she might not see him for weeks or months, if at all.
“Anyway, I said too much, and Master Marcus will write me up if he knows I breathed a word to you. You know how he hates gossip.”
“I promise to keep your secret. Thank you.”
Willow gave Alani’s hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. “Master Richard is in the bar. It’s your lucky night.”
Alani grimaced.
Willow laughed and moved away.
Alani straightened her shoulders and went to greet Master Richard.
The dom was weak-wristed as usual, but she got into the scene. By pretending she was with Master Nathaniel, she gave Master Richard what he wanted, if the hundred-dollar tip was anything to judge by.
Several weeks ago, the scene with the second dom would have satisfied her. He’d asked her to dress in a maid’s outfit. He’d walked into the private room, taken the requisite feather duster from her, and paddled her hard for failing to live up to his expectations.
The pain had caught her off guard. The man was clearly adept at spanking. And since he’d asked for nothing more, she recognized him as a sadist. The masochist in her should have responded, but she was sexually unaroused, despite him blistering her bottom.
In that moment, she understood something important. It wasn’t all about masochism. The mental exploitation of submission really did matter to her. Clarity struck her. That’s why she’d been bored and restless at work. She needed the exquisite combination of submission and masochism to make a scene connect for her.
The recognition shifted something inside her, made her understand how much Master Nathaniel meant to her.
Mindful of the recent write-up and her role at the club, she forced away her personal thoughts and focused on playing her role, kicking, moaning, and begging for mercy from her temporary dom. Beneath her stomach, she felt his erection grow.
Finally, a couple of long minutes later, the beating was over. Her pussy was still dry.
“You took that well, sub,” he said. “You’ve pleased me.”
He helped her to her feet.
She stood there, a bit wobbly. “That was quite the experience, Sir.”
“I’d like to see you outside of the club,” he said.
If she’d have met him a month ago, she might have agreed. “I’m afraid I’m attached.”
He rose. “If anything changes, please call me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “I will.”
She went back to the dressing room to clean up.
Both scenes had been good. The second dom had been heavy-handed enough for her tastes. But she was completely unmoved. She thought of the satisfaction she’d received from kneeling for Master Nathaniel, waiting on his pleasure.
Somehow she made it through the night.
She wondered what it would be like to drive home from the club to his place instead of her empty apartment.
For the first time ever she recognized how lonely her life was.
She wanted someone to come home to.
But at what cost?
She flipped on a light and sat down at the kitchen table. She moved aside her notebook computer and took out the pictures once again.
He was right. The collar did look good.
And he was right about other things too. Maybe it was time she learned she could count on someone other than herself. She might not be a traditional sub, but being Master Nathaniel’s sub was different. He was different. They could create something unique. If she were brave enough.
It was late, nearly midnight, but she grabbed her phone and dialed his number before she could chicken out.
Chapter Thirteen
Fucking finally.
Nathaniel answered on the first ring.
He’d been waiting for three days for her phone call. Stubborn woman. Stubborn sub. “My house,” he said her without any other greeting. “Twenty minutes. You remember where I live and how to get here?”
“Yes, and Sir—”
“You’ll be punished if you’re late.” He hung up. Just in case, he texted his address. At this time of the night, she could make it from her place in ten minutes, fifteen at the most. He’d been more than generous with the extra five minutes for her to prevaricate.
This was her final test.
If she showed up, she was his. She’d wear his collar proudly.
If not, he’d move on.
He went into his bedroom and opened the nightstand drawer and pulled out the box with her collar in it.
He’d had it custom-made for her.
The red leather was soft and supple, something she could wear every day without it chafing her skin. It had three D rings affixed so he could leash, bind, or tether her as he saw fit.
He’d even had a tag engraved, saying PROPERTY OF MASTER NATHANIEL STRATTON. Before he attached that to the front ring, he wanted her permission. If she refused, he’d hang it from one of her nipples.
He turned on the front porch light, and he left the back door open just a crack in invitation.
He waited impatiently in the kitchen.
The first ten minutes dragged.
The next five were interminable.
He paced. Twice he picked up the collar and the tag from the counter before placing both on top of the refrigerator.
He’d thought this through.
No woman had ever responded to him like she did. No woman had ever cracked his veneer. He wanted her here when he got back from the Middle East. He wanted to redden her rear for infractions, either real or imagined.
He’d never been much of a sadist, but the idea of satisfying her energized him. Turning her on turned him on.
She insisted she wasn’t a sub, but he knew better. A woman without those tendencies did not respond the way she did to his natural dominance. A militant woman would twist his balls for ordering her to her knees. Not only did Alani kneel, but she’d licked his balls. Yeah, she was a submissive. And it seemed she was finally ready to admit it.
Two minutes later, she pulled into his driveway.
He drummed his fingers on the side of his thigh and expelled a breath.
Until this moment, he’d had no idea how much he’d doubted if she’d show, and how much it mattered to him that she did.
Damn it all to hell. He was in love with the wench.
Totally. Completely. For the first time in his life in love.
He hadn’t anticipated that the feeling would tear him up, making it feel as if his insides had been run through a meat grinder.
She mattered.
They mattered.
She sat outside for at least a minute, pushing the limits of the time he’d allowed. He wondered if she was still waging an internal battle or if she were hoping to be punished.
An internal battle, he decided.
The silence between them had been punishment enough.
To be spanked, she had to behave, and she would know that.
He folded his arms across his chest and spread his legs. Waiting. Waiting. She’d have no idea that he was torn up inside.
Yesterday, he’d notified AJ and Marcus that he intended to have Alani. Both men had been supportive. AJ volunteered to organize a bachelor party—any excuse for alcohol and women. Marcus had extended his good wishes and several pieces of advice: pay intimate attention to all the n
uances of the relationship, keep it real, keep it honest. Nathaniel appreciated his friend’s words, especially since Marcus waded through his own pain to offer the wisdom.
Nathaniel had offered to buy Marcus a drink. Marcus had refused, saying he’d talk about Karyn eventually, but not anytime soon.
They’d been friends too long to respect his request for privacy.
He and AJ had kept Marcus after the club closed and forced the ugly truth out of him. Despite the fact she wore a collar and a tattoo, Karyn had found someone new. Unknown to Marcus, she wasn’t happy when he’d surprised her with the trip, so she’d purchased a ticket for her other lover. When he’d seen the two playing in the pool together, he’d confronted her. She’d explained she was in love with them both and tearfully pleaded with Marcus to accept Louis as a third in their relationship.
He’d refused, and Karyn had chosen the more mild-mannered man.
“Never let Alani hide,” Marcus had said before killing the last drop of his fourth beer.
“Trade ’em all in on a new server,” AJ had added sagely.
“A new server?” Marcus had asked.
“Computers are way less complicated than women,” AJ had replied.
Nathaniel had decided to take Marcus’s advice.
He heard Alani’s car door close.
According to his clock, she had fifty seconds remaining.
A few seconds later, she knocked lightly on the door. She didn’t wait for an invitation before pushing it open.
His cock hardened when she crawled across the threshold.
She was impossibly beautiful with her long hair flowing around her shoulders. Her compact body was strong, made for his dominance.
God, he wanted to be inside her tight cunt. He wanted to hear her call him Master.
She cleverly used one of her feet to close the door, and then she continued into the room. When she reached the middle of the floor, she knelt up.
She spread her legs wide, and he saw she wore no underwear. Her short skirt barely covered her cheeks. She wore a lacy camisole beneath a short jacket, and he noticed the color of her garter belt matched her new leather collar.
She placed her hands on her thighs and cast her gaze at the tile floor.
He silently regarded her, appreciated her.
In the Zone Page 18