by Trisha Wolfe
With obvious reluctance, she does as told, spinning around as I come up behind her. The open back of the dress frames her sides, leaving her back completely bare. I close in, pressing my palm between her shoulder blades and drag it all the way to where the backside just covers the top of her ass.
I suddenly regret announcing that I’ll be bringing her tonight. Rather, I’m more than tempted to feel the delicate material tear beneath my hands as I shred it from her body.
Still, the desire to see her reaction to The Firm outweighs my carnal instincts.
I press a kiss to the nape of her neck, and am rewarded with her shiver as I sweep my hand around her front and caress her through the silk dress. “Perfect. Let’s go.”
Tonight, Jefferson pulls my personal limo up to the front door as I exit. I rest my hand at the small of Alexis’s back, guiding her just ahead of me toward the sleek, stretched car. I insist she sit across from me rather than too near, because I know my hands will find their way beneath that dress, then there will be no stopping.
Tugging at the knot in my tie, I suppress the urge. “Are you nervous?”
Her legs are crossed, her back ramrod against the seat. She’s been alternating laying her hands in her lap and fidgeting with the straps of the dress. I smile when she settles her hands in her lap again.
“You know I am,” she says, her gaze meeting mine for the first time since we entered the car. “And I feel agitated without my phone.”
Though I’m truly indulging in her anxiousness by keeping her in the dark, there’s a niggle of unease at her admission. I sigh and bring out the phone in question. “Put your concern over your brother out of you mind. I assure you, if you’re needed, I’ll let you know.”
She looks down then, averting her gaze. “Thank you.”
I slip her phone back into my pocket. Although I’d have never advanced her if I felt she couldn’t be trusted, I provide the best services for my clients because I’m cautious. Having her phone in her possession will only distract her from feeling the intense anticipation of the unknown, and I can’t chance she’ll record anything. Besides, she has no messages. Her brother hasn’t contacted her in over six months.
I’m not sure informing her of exactly what his condition is will alleviate her worry, however. Last time I received an update, Jake Wilde had just been released from jail on his own recognizance after a stint in D.C. corrections for a simple possession charge. It’s a misdemeanor, but it’s his third one.
Which is curiously interesting, considering his sister is a paralegal who works with top-notch lawyers. You’d think she’d be his first call. There was some falling out between them years ago, which I had assumed was due to his blowing through his inheritance that was split between them after the death of their parents.
Later, there were deposits into his account from Alexis as her brother then blew right through her half of the insurance money.
But knowing what I know about the woman sitting across from me, I doubt that dissuaded her compassion for the junkie. Once her assets went dry, unable to send him any more money, he cut off communication with her.
I don’t know why I’m wondering about it now, other than the possibility that her brother could prove to be a distraction for her. A variable which may need further investigation on how to be remedied should that happen.
The limo pulls to a stop before the hotel, and Alexis appears less tense. I hide my smirk, letting her feel the relief of not being subjected to some tawdry sex club, as I suspect she assumed.
Jefferson opens the door for us and I exit first, offering her my hand. “You were expecting something different?”
As she accepts my hand to stand beside me, she nods. “I don’t know, but I wasn’t expecting this.”
The Skylark boasts eight floors in the heart of downtown Arlington. All sleek reflective glass and steel, the elegant building absorbs the city lights, casting the city’s shimmery reflection back at itself.
It was a risky investment at the time I acquired it and began the renovation—the biggest risk I’ve ever been persuaded to take—but the hotel is now the flagship of one of three Hotel Skylarks. The other two located in more prime locations, such as D.C. and New York City.
“I’m glad you’re impressed. Walk behind me at all times,” I instruct as I straighten my suit jacket and head toward the revolving door. Jefferson waits until we’ve entered the hotel before he parks, where he’ll wait to be notified.
The desk concierge nods to me as I stroll through the lobby, the scent of fresh gardenias in the air. I give him a curt nod to let him know I’m here on business, not a random inspection. The hard lines in his weathered face smooth some at this, and I head toward the bank of elevators.
Once we’re inside, Alexis settles against the wall of the steel car as I push a key in above the keypad. After I enter my four-digit code, the elevator begins its ascent to the penthouse.
“The top floor?”
My shoulders tense at her outburst. “Did I give you permission to ask a question?” I face her, my expression resolute. We haven’t had any official training, and I need her compliant. She’s the first sub I’ve ever taken on, and the partners will be studying us—studying me. Looking for a crack, a weakness to exploit.
As soon as I smoke out the offender, I’ll let him hang himself with his own noose—then make an example out of him. Until then, none of them can be given the impression that I’ve become weak.
Hostile takeovers happen with far less gain for the offerer, and as I have yet to be approached by one of the partners, I’m sure this is a hostile attempt to acquire control over The Firm. Which is far more profitable than acquiring majority shares of Lark and Gannet.
I doubt the weasel has weighed the risks, however. If any of the clients get a whiff of a takeover, they’ll enforce they’re out clause. It’s a safeguard I set up that ensures their privacy, as well as mine, in the event any threat of exposure is made. But before it comes to that, I prefer to handle this matter myself, instead of risking a forced shutdown.
My temples ache, the pressure creeping in. I hold Alexis’s gaze and she soon bows her head. I pull out the blindfold from my pocket. “Come here.”
As she moves closer, I turn her around and slip the black satin mask over her head. “This is for theatrics, showing you as being welcomed in. Purely decoration.” Her fingers trace the slits over her eyes that allow her to see.
“May I ask a question?”
The tension wrapping my muscles eases some. “Yes.”
“Do I need a password? And why the top floor?”
Two questions, but I don’t reprimand. Semantics. “No passwords required,” I say, facing the doors as the car approaches its stop. “This is an exclusive members only association. If you’re here, you’ve been invited. And no dark dungeons located in some secluded mansion basement. It’s not like the movies, so you can wipe away any preconceived notions and simply obey my orders.” I look at her. “That’s of utmost importance. Your objective is to please me tonight, and you’ll succeed only by following all orders without question.”
Her body trembles. I hook a finger under her chin and pull her gaze to mine. “Trust, Alexis. I won’t demand anything of you that I feel you’re not ready for.”
Her eyes keep mine through the openings of the blindfold, then I break our connection as the doors open. “Always walk behind me,” I remind her.
There is always a beginning and an end. To everything. But unlike history denotes, marking the moment of change, the impact, it’s the length of time between the two points that’s significant.
As I enter the penthouse, the comforting sense engulfing me, I’m reluctant to reach the end any time soon. It’s more than despising change; it’s reveling in my creation.
I built this floor with precise specs. With the initial play party in mind, majority of the room is an open floor plan with thick gray pillars running floor to ceiling. There are sections for different fetishes or theme
d play, sheer black curtains draped between sitting areas for voyeurs. The floor is lacquered gray cement. Rough but elegant, complimenting the red and dark gray walls.
The entire ceiling is covered with woven steel rafters. All the sleek, black-patent leather furniture hung from chains. Each section promotes its own theme: St. Andrew’s crosses in some, benches with restraints in others, Shibari in the next with adorning ropes streaming from the rafters.
I only get a few steps inside, the dimly lit room flickering with candlelight beckoning me home, before I turn to scrutinize Alexis. Her soft green eyes are wide behind the mask, her hands gripping the hem of her dress.
I face her and raise my eyebrows, prompting her. “Speak.”
“You said no dungeons…”
A smile twists my mouth. “Well, maybe not in the traditional sense. This is much more than a typical dungeon.” I offer her my arm. She only hesitates a moment before accepting the lifeline.
As I lead her around the penthouse, I’m greeted by the members. Men of station, of wealth, of great power. Being near D.C., the epicenter for the influential, makes The Firm a convenient place to funnel all the dirt through. And there are some dirty players here tonight. I shake hands with a congressman, noting the recognition in Alexis’s eyes.
This is where the danger for her comes in.
I’m bringing her into my world, where my protection—my possession of her—is most required. I hold her closer, staking my claim so there is no question who she belongs to.
I guide her through the scenes, allowing her to absorb each one and become accustomed. Though I know for most a first time experience is overwhelming. And I’m not positive I desire for her to become accustomed.
There was no shock for me. I am who I am. I simply designed my ideal sanctuary based on my own yearnings. And what I crave now is Alexis.
Witnessing the astonishment in her eyes, the way her breath catches when a flogger meets its target with a loud crack, is like experiencing it for the very first time myself. A treat I never truly felt. I’m enraptured by her hesitant but curious nature. The way she avoids everyone’s eyes, her hands clinging to my bicep.
“Come on,” I say, taking her away from the current scene and toward the only private section. “Time to introduce you to your subordinates.”
She’s aware of who these men are, her bosses—but she hasn’t been introduced to the real men. The four corners that make up The Firm.
Pulling back the curtain, I enter first, allowing Alexis to follow closely behind. This area is reserved for the partners and their subs, which Alexis is now considered.
“Alexis, you’re acquainted with Mike Gannet, Caleb Mason, and Price Wells.”
She keeps her head bowed, the way I coached her.
“It’s lovely to officially meet you, Alexis.” This from Gannet, who assesses me carefully. “I’m surprised you’ve brought her here this soon. Does that mean she’s ready?”
I feel Alexis stiffen beside me, her apprehension rolling through her to me. Not that I’m at all effected by their tactics, or worried she’s not ready. I know she’ll be as compliant and willing as the first day I laid eyes on her.
This is something entirely different for me; a connection I don’t normally feel. Ever.
And it’s intoxicating.
I grasp her wrist, bringing her before me. “It’s time for your induction.”
9
Fall on Me
Alexis
Fall.
Fall.
Fall.
The mantra inside my head is more than willing myself to let go—it’s a battle of trust.
Wearing a satin mask, I stand upon a platform in the middle of a secluded nook, eyes raking over me. Peeling back my layers as Chase pushes the straps of my dress down my shoulders.
I’m staring at a place across the room. My focal point. So I don’t look any of them in the eyes. The marred scratch on the wall draws me in, keeps me from panicking, if only just. And I’m reminded of the time my brother kept telling me to fall… Just let go and trust him. He’d catch me.
It was a game.
All I had to do was let myself fall and be caught.
The coarse friction of Chase’s hands graze my arms, my waist, along their descent to remove my dress. The chill in the air soothes the fire simmering along my skin, blanketing my naked body in false comfort.
I’m being bared to these men. Chase is asking too much…and yet he requires my trust.
Fall.
It’s not a question of whether he’ll catch me; I’ve already been caught. I can’t escape him. And I don’t want to escape him. But the game he’s initiating before these men will test more than a tenuous thread of trust between us.
I understand now that it’s not simply a matter of being broken. There are many levels of brokenness. To which my Master, my owner, means to inflict all.
“Raise your arms,” he says, his breath grazing my ear.
I lift them, and he snaps my wrists above my head. Then methodically circles a thin chain around them, banding my wrists together. I focus harder on the flawed spot of the wall as he secures my arms to a chain dangling from above.
I wish the blindfold prevented me from seeing. It’s a cruel joke; meant only to arouse others; a theatric, like Chase claimed. I’d rather not know…not see what’s coming.
The image of being flogged like the woman in the main room invades my mind. Or strapped to the giant X, nipple clamps fastened to the point of pain…but somehow, I realize that’s too simple, too mundane, for his tastes.
I’m proven right when I glimpse the entrance of three women. To say they’re beautiful would be an injustice. They’re stunning, breathtaking, torn right from the ethereal pages of a fantasy.
All have long waves draping their slim shoulders; two brunettes, one blonde. But all three wear only a thin, silver chain around their necks with a pendant. Otherwise, they’re as naked as I am. Heads bowed, they saunter toward the seated partners and take their places, kneeling before each one.
Is this the length of my humility? To be shown what is expected of me from these perfect women—from these submissives? I almost burst from the flood of relief, a nervous laugh held at the base of my throat as Chase’s hand surrounds my neck.
The cool brush of metal tickles my skin as he strings a delicate choker around my neck. “You’re to wear this at all times. It’s never to be removed. I’m the only one who can, and if I choose to, then you’re of no more service to me. I will release ownership over you.”
For some reason, the weight of the silver chain is more binding than the agreement where I literally signed away my life. Before I was brought here, before this…relationship between us became official, proof of my submission was required.
Understanding the law as I do, that printed agreement was more demeaning than anything I’ve experienced so far. Even now, standing before these lustful men, their beautiful women filling me with intimidation, having inked my name to prove my commitment to Chase felt more belittling.
I’ve secretly craved his attention for months. I desired his touch. I made a choice, sane and rational, to be with him—but my word is not enough. Seeing my life—the research done into my background—splashed across the binder was a cruel reminder, proof that my word is questionable. That I still harbor some deep-seated doubt that I’m inadequate.
And maybe I should thank him for that. Maybe I should’ve penned my signature in blood rather than ink. Giving him absolute control over everything. Because two days ago, I could never fathom myself here, now, being stripped bare before others in a secret penthouse.
In having my life scoured and my secrets revealed, Chase prepared me for this very moment. Once all your sins are categorically ordered and printed on letterhead for strangers to read, then standing before them chained and exposed becomes of little consequence.
Mercifully, I still retain privacy over my darkest secret. A background check doesn’t reveal all—and that
’s my one consolation.
My breath catches as Chase drops a kiss to the nape of my neck, the press of the clasp into my skin cementing his ownership. “Do you wish to please me?”
I squeeze my eyes closed. I utter the words silently before speaking them aloud. “Yes, Master.”
The feel of his secure grip, his body pressing against mine briefly, reveals his satisfaction at my response. “Begin.” His curt order prickles my skin. He promptly steps away, leaving me reeling.
My eyes blink open. I turn my head, my gaze following Chase as he moves toward the empty seat in the middle of the partners. The chain above rattles with my movements, my fear of the unknown quaking through my body.
As soon as he’s seated, all eyes on me, the three women advance.
There is no reluctance as they approach, no falter in their sexy gait. The blonde progresses onto the platform, her sure and sultry walk bringing her right before me. Our eyes meet, but there’s an absence of emotion in hers. No fear. No vacillation. Only the robotic duty of obedience.
How removed I am from that state? Does Chase already see me this way?
I glance at the pendant around her neck. A diamond encrusted bird, though I’m not sure what kind. It’s beautiful and elegant on her.
She brushes the back of her hand over my cheek, her soft fingers caressing and roving toward my lips.
“You’re not to touch her mouth.”
My gaze lands on Chase as he issues the order. Immediately, she removes her hand, dropping it instead to my hip.
“Her mouth belongs to me,” Chase clarifies, directing his attention to the other men, as if delivering a threat. Which in turn makes my stomach churn with nerves. I suddenly realize for the first time that I’m in danger of being touched—being fucked—by them.
My safe word is right at the front of my thoughts. If I use it against them, would it count? Would Chase stop them?
I take note of the tension brewing among them before his order is accepted, then they return their gazes to their submissives and nod. I don’t understand the dynamic—I can’t process if Chase has ultimate say over the partners, their subs…or if there’s some battle of wills at stake. I can’t reason this internally as I typically do, because the feel of hands caressing and roaming steals all thoughts away.