Becoming His, Learning to Breathe: Part Two - The Collective - Season 1, Episode 8

by Ellie Masters

  But…

  A glance back at her laptop found her moving on autopilot. To the couch. She curled her legs beneath her as she lowered to take a seat. Her hands opened the screen. Her fingers tapped on the keys. Her mind told her to get in bed, but her body had other plans. She needed more.

  Darkness whispered in her mind, and forbidden desires sought the light. She followed the whispers and uncovered fantasies until the first rays of dawn filtered through the slats of her blinds.

  Ultraviolet

  The next day brought with it the monotony of the dead. One suicide was tragically confirmed. A hospice patient who never should have made it to the coroners was respectfully re-directed to a funeral home. A tragic case of sudden infant death syndrome confirmed her belief that public health education on safe sleep continued to be ineffective.

  While Bruce cleaned the exam room, Sally sat at her desk, compiled her notes, and completed all the necessary paperwork. The busywork whittled away the day, and soon Bruce was at her elbow.

  “Do you need anything else?” he asked. “I’m ready to clock out.”

  “Headed to the mountains?”

  It was Friday, and like her best friend, George, Bruce was an avid skier.

  “Yeah, looking forward to it. Angie’s got the kids enrolled in ski school,” he said with a grin. “I’ll actually be able to enjoy the powder.”

  George would be up in the mountains, too, but while Bruce would be on the groomed slopes of one of the Tahoe ski resorts with his wife and two kids, George and his Newfoundland, Tank, would be running in the backcountry. George had designs on training Tank to work search and rescue, and the dog was taking well to his training. In another six months, Tank would be a certified avalanche rescue dog working the slopes, and George would have unlimited access to the ski resorts.

  “Oh, that sounds lovely,” she said, noticing how Bruce didn’t ask about her weekend plans.

  After five years of working so closely together, he knew her routine well. A couple of chick flicks, popcorn, and wine completed the extent of her weekend plans. All he had to do was suffer through the recounting of whatever tear-jerker she’d watched come Monday morning.

  “Yeah, we’re headed up tonight.” His eyes beamed with his excitement. “Angie wants to get an early start on the slopes.”

  “Have fun.”

  Bruce turned on his heels and headed for the door.

  She called out, suddenly. “Hey, did you get any results back from the crime lab?” Her mailbox remained frustratingly empty.

  He shook his head. “Nah, and I just checked. Want me to bug them about it?”

  “No, they don’t like when we rush them.” But really? How long did it take to run a sample through their analyzer? If anything deserved a rush investigation, this murder topped the list.

  “Good night, Doc,” he said.

  “Good night. Say hello to Angie for me please.”

  Bruce’s wife was a wonderful woman who truly embraced her role as wife and mother. Never having been graced with children in her marriage with Thomas, Sally sometimes felt she’d missed an opportunity. However, she was also grateful not to be left raising children without a father.

  After Bruce had left, she completed the last of her paperwork, signing off death certificates and annotating causes of death. One last look in her email folder.

  Finally!

  Clicking open the message, she scanned the report, until she found the results.

  “Condensed milk?”

  Why the hell would anyone pour condensed milk inside a body? The back of her neck prickled and the fine hairs on her arms lifted. Had her killer left a calling card? She shivered as she picked up the phone. Time to give Mac another call.

  Only, like last time, he didn’t pick up. She dialed Logan Reid’s number, frustration building, as it, too, went to voice mail. She hated bothering him and left an urgent message for him to return her call.

  It wasn’t time yet to call in the FBI, but this body raised an alarm. Tomorrow, she’d have Bruce run a search, looking to see if any bodies in the last year had similar findings. Wait. It would have to wait until Monday. Bruce would be out of town, and she didn’t know what her weekend plans might be.

  Glancing at the clock, the minute hand pegged the top of the hour. It was six PM. Her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello.” Derek’s refined voice oozed out of the phone, melting her from the inside out.

  “Derek!”

  “How has your day been?”

  “Creepy weird.” But with his call, suddenly much better. “How about you?”

  “I’ve been busy planning.”

  “Oh.” She closed out all her active windows. Scribbling on a sticky note, she wrote condensed milk search on the florescent pink pad and pressed it to the screen of her computer.

  “Did you have a chance to look at the websites?”

  Her heart slammed against the cage of her chest. “I did…”

  “Good,” he said. “I look forward to hearing your thoughts.”

  “Well—”

  “Not now,” he said. “This is a conversation we’ll have face-to-face. And Sally?”

  She clutched her chest and pressed her thighs together trying to soothe the murderous ache between her legs. He did that. His voice. The soft sigh of his breaths. The calmness in his tone. All of it affected her on a carnal level.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you free this weekend?”

  For him, she would always be free. He’d asked if obeying him gave her pleasure. She didn’t have an answer to that yet, but being with him gave her pleasure. All the rest of it? She was beyond interested in pursuing more of what lurked in those pictures but had no idea how to get from where they were now to any of…that.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Good. I’m a bit tied up in the city right now, but I’d like to send a car for you in the morning.”

  Her voice shook as adrenaline raced through her veins and electricity shot through her nerves.

  “Um…okay.”

  “Sally…” The deep register of his tone speared her heart.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t be afraid.”

  “I’m not—”

  “We’re going to talk about what you’ve read, but I’d like to do more. I’d like for you to try some of it. I’m hoping you’re ready, but I’ll never pressure you. I’ll need your answer before we begin. Red or Green?”

  And there it was…his demand. The one he’d left her to make when he’d put her inside that town car and had Dan drive her away. Her hands shook, and her pulse jackhammered in her throat, but there was only ever one answer. Would only ever be one.

  Clearing her throat, she replied with a shaky voice. “Green.”

  The pause on the other end of the phone left her spinning, but Derek filled in the vacuum of sound. “Music to my ears. Did you visit all the websites?”

  From the Journey of the Submissive she knew better than to lie. Not that she ever would with Derek. Trust formed the foundation of what they were creating. He’d been upfront and honest about that. He demanded she give him the truth, and in returned vowed to always give his.

  “I looked at everything but Dominant Desires.” Her voice hitched. Speaking truthfully about her fears came with difficulty. “That one scared me.”

  “Ah, okay,” he said. “And after reading the others, your answer is still green?”

  She shook her head and then realized he couldn’t see it. This time her voice didn’t shake nearly as much, but a thread of uncertainty remained. “Yes. It’s still green.”

  “And you understand more of what this might turn into between us?”

  “I do.” Her fingers ached from her strangled grip on the phone.

  He breathed out a long, slow breath. “Okay. Thank you for bestowing your trust in me.” Without allowing her time for a response, he continued. “Dan will be arriving at your house at seven tomorrow morning. You need to
pack a personal bag. Whatever you would take overnight make sure it’s in there. Don’t get too involved in packing clothes. I’ll provide whatever you need. I’m talking about packing any medications or special items.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Sally?”

  “Yes?”

  “Open Dominant Desires and read it tonight. I need you to know what drives me.”

  Holy hellfire, her panties soaked through with that command. It hadn’t been a chastisement, but he clearly expected her to complete the full assignment. Again, the strictness of his attention did things to her insides.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good girl, now there’s one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t ever doubt me. I’ll catch you. As you become mine, you’ll never fall. Do you understand what that means?”

  She hesitated a moment, scared to tell the truth, but that was the thing which bound them, or would bind them. “I’m beginning to. I’m learning, and I’m a little scared.”

  “It’s okay to be frightened. That’s normal, but if you’re ever scared of me … If I ever put you in that position, you must use your safe word. None of this works without communication.”

  Now that she did understand. “I’d like to talk with you about that word before we begin.”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I need a middle ground. Something where we can slow things down, without stopping altogether. I’d like to add Yellow.”

  “We’ll discuss that once we’re back together. I have reasons for not using yellow, but I’m willing to discuss it before I make a final decision.”

  Before he made a decision—not we—his use of pronoun couldn’t have been more clear. She wouldn’t be the decision maker. That aligned with what the woman in Journey of the Submissive described. If she was going to walk this path and explore it with Derek, she needed to trust him. She needed to grant him the authority to make decisions for her.

  “Okay,” she said. As long as he was willing to hear her side, she could give him that power.

  “Get going, love. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Derek?”

  “Yes?”

  “What are we doing this weekend?”

  “We’ll start with talking; then I have a surprise.”

  She smiled. Derek’s last surprise had been over the top.

  “Are you taking me out on your yacht again?”

  That had been a lot of fun, and she wouldn’t mind revisiting that hot tub again.

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise if you knew about it.” His soft chuckle made her smile even wider.

  “Well, then, I’ll be looking forward to whatever it is.”

  The other line on her phone rang.

  “I have to go,” she said. “Work call.”

  “Okay, until tomorrow.”

  “Good night, Derek.” She clicked off the call with Derek and picked up the other line. “Sally Levenson,” she answered.

  “Hey, Sally, it’s Reid. Sorry to call so late, but Roni said it was urgent.” Reid seemed rushed, or perhaps distracted.

  “Hey, thanks for calling. It’s been a day.” She breathed out a deep sigh.

  “Don’t I know it. Whatcha got for me?” A rustling sounded in the background. Probably Reid looking for something to scribble notes on.

  “I’ve got a weird one for you,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, but Mac’s not answering his cell. This one pushes weirdness to the nth degree.”

  “It’ll be hard for you to top the cloves, Doc.”

  Yes, the junkie from earlier in the week had cloves in her mouth when she died. That case had almost snuck by her. The poor woman had been brought in billed as an accidental overdose, but there were a few oddities which raised her suspicions. After a secondary exam, Sally had ruled the case a homicide. She’d called Mac and Reid about that body, too.

  “You’d think. But you’d be wrong,” she said with a sigh. “This guy was stabbed in the gut. That’s what killed him. But the freak who did it... poured condensed milk into the wound.”

  “Condensed milk?”

  His questioning tone told her he didn’t believe her.

  “Are you sure?” he inquired. “Like the perp opened the wound and dumped milk into his stomach?”

  “I didn’t believe it myself. And at first, I thought it was just poured over the wound. But no. This whack job stabbed the victim,” she explained, “opened the wound, and funneled it into the body. I’ve never...I mean never, seen something like this. It’s beyond freaky. It’s Hannibal Lecter insane.”

  No wonder Reid didn’t believe her. Saying it out loud made her question the findings, too, except she had hard forensic evidence to back up her findings.

  “First we have a body with cloves shoved down the throat, and now this?” He paused on the other end, then continued, his words measured and cautious. “Do you think we could have a serial killer on our hands?”

  That had been her first thought as well, and come Monday, she would put Bruce to task researching that very question. Serial killers tended to have specific patterns to their kills, seldom deviating from their rituals.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I’m scared. Serial killers are methodical. Practiced. They have rituals. There’s nothing really similar between that addict and this guy. The girl was strangled, then stabbed. This guy took a knife to the gut. It could be? But it’s not typical.”

  “Remind me again, the cloves were placed in her throat post mortem correct?”

  “No,” she corrected. “She was alive. She breathed them in sometime before death. This guy was most definitely dead...or dying. It’s a little different from the girl.”

  “So, other than both victims having some sort of food placed in the body right before they died, or as they were dying, we don’t have any other connection.” An excellent investigator, Reid often repeated pertinent facts to make sure he had them straight.

  Before she could confirm, he continued. “I gotta tell you, Doc, that is one hell of a coincidence. I don’t like this. When do you think you’ll have your report ready?”

  “I’ll finish it up tonight and shoot it to you and Mac. I agree, it’s weird. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Call me if you need me. I might not answer right away. I’ve got plans this weekend, but if you need me, just shoot me a message.”

  “I appreciate the heads up,” he said. “Plans, eh? Wouldn’t happen to be with Derek from the cafe?” Reid was taunting her, digging for information.

  For all she knew, he’d already had his team run a background check on Derek. That he didn’t persuade her not to see Derek, told her Derek had passed muster. That actually gave her a little peace of mind, but she wasn’t letting Reid tease her, not when she’d seen how he’d been ogling that waitress at Del Mar’s diner.

  “Ha! Don’t be prying into my life. Not unless you want me asking you about that waitress you had your eyes on.”

  “Touché,” he countered. “Have a good evening, Doc. Enjoy your weekend.”

  “You, too, Reid,” she said. “Good night.”

  Reid disconnected the call, leaving her to contemplate the clove buds. Ally Winters had had a sad ending to what looked like a troubled life.

  Now, she had condensed milk in another body. It truly was Hannibal Lecter creepy.

  Bff

  Perusing Dominant Desires kept Sally up most of the night. Similar to the Journey of the Submissive, it journaled one man’s path from exploration to domination and navigated the intricacies and pitfalls of sadism. The blog moved him on a journey toward embracing the lifestyle of a master.

  Living quite the alternative life, the man, self-titled Master D, kept two male slaves and several submissive women. A poly-arrangement, it was described in intricate detail. Master D occupied the topmost position, and each submissive under his control filled different roles, feeding their desires while satisfying his needs. The two men under Master D were collared slave
s, the Beta and Omega, while the women remained submissive partners.

  A distinction separated submissive and slave, piquing Sally’s interest. What would drive someone to give up all control to another?

  She brought out her notebook and scratched down a question for Derek.

  The images on Master D’s blog had her covering her mouth and leaning toward the screen with both shock and awe. Unfamiliar with sadism, the crops and paddles, floggers and whips, blindfolds and gags, along with the other implements, kept her on the edge of her seat, both horrified and strangely aroused.

  Her best friend, George, was gay. She didn’t have issues with the male-on-male sexual images. The faceless pictures of Master D with his Beta, and the Beta topping the Omega, expressed a depth of expression and trust she couldn’t comprehend. The images of the men in cages, bodies contorted in agony, and mouths open with feral screams, made her uncomfortable and wary. She penned another question for Derek to answer.

  Why had Derek requested she look at this blog? He said he would never share her, and that was a hard limit for her. Why send her Master D’s poly blog? Many of those images fell well outside her comfort zone, and from her previous research, belonged firmly on her hard limits list. Besides the gallery of images, Master D posted often about the psychology behind the lifestyle, or his version, explaining the needs driving him to control others, and how sadism enhanced his sexual needs.

  Odd how completing a list of hard and soft limits hadn’t been one of Derek’s tasks. If he wanted to bring her into the lifestyle, wasn’t that kind of a prerequisite?

  As she delved deeper into Dominant Desires, the voice of Master D tunneled further into her mind, describing his needs with a granularity of purpose, and expression of power and control. What fascinated her was how his fulfillment didn’t come from sexual gratification alone, but rather from the trust bestowed upon him by his family.

  She stayed up late into the night, learning about Master D and making inferences about Derek. Not once did she believe Master D was Derek. The voice on the blog was distinctly different from what she knew of Derek. What she did come away with was more of an understanding of how dominants differed from submissives. Powerful needs drove them, different from what pulled at her, but no less significant.