by Sam Crescent
“That’s good. Take another bite.”
Harry continued to feed her bite-size chunks of fruit and toast until her tummy suddenly stopped rumbling and she held her hand up for him to stop. She was amazed by how patient he was. From looking at his face, Ruby couldn’t decipher what he was thinking or feeling. Nothing about his presence gave anything away, but she could see, feel he would never hurt her. With Master, she’d memorised certain movements and sounds that let her know beforehand his type of mood—whether he wanted to lash out and hurt, or bring torture, or just plain taunt her. With Harry she didn’t know anything about him except for the unmistakable air of kindness, the times he was a little too posh, and his soft sarcasm last night in the upstairs hallway.
Once she was finished eating, she sipped the foul-tasting coffee—tiny sips to appease him. Harry tapped her knee and moved to the other end of the table. Ruby admired him more for not expecting anything from her.
For giving her time and personal space.
“Ruby, thank you for eating breakfast. You gave me great pleasure in feeding you.” He picked up his own coffee.
She frowned. “I don’t understand. You want me to eat? To put on weight?”
There was more going on with him than Ruby was comfortable with. She couldn’t get her head around the contrast between the two men.
“You’ve never been thanked by your Master before, have you?”
What could she say? Master was a first-class prick—not that she’d ever say it to his face.
“Let’s just say he was bigger on the punishments and verbal abuse than he ever was on being nice.” Without thinking, she took a huge gulp of coffee, the taste hitting her throat, making her heave. Turning away from him as best she could, she spat the liquid back into her cup.
She expected some sort of anger.
“You don’t like the coffee?” He sipped his with a raised eyebrow.
One day, she’d shave that thing off if he wasn’t careful.
“It’s disgusting. Tastes like horse shit, not that I know what horse shit tastes like.”
“No need to be vulgar. It’s Italian blend.”
Unable to raise just one eyebrow herself, Ruby raised both of hers.
“You’re right. There is no need to be vulgar and I apologise. I’m more of an instant-coffee person.”
Fucking think before you speak. Don’t say shit like that.
“I’ll remember for next time on the coffee detail,” he said. “So you’ve never been complimented?”
Ruby shook her head.
“Right. Seeing as you asked me to show you how a Master should behave and actually teach you the ways in a proper relationship, I’ll begin now. My belief and teaching is to treat my submissive with the utmost respect and let her know when she’s doing something that pleases me. You pleased me by eating, and I thanked you for it.”
Everything he’d said so far had made sense. She waited for him to continue.
“I’ve been thinking. You really struggle with me being close, and I thought of a good way to show you the building of trust within a Dom and submissive partnership.”
Ruby was intrigued and leaned further on the table to listen. Before her time with Master, she’d been interested in learning more about BDSM.
“You’ve clearly had a bad time, and I think using a safe word now, outside of the bedroom, will show you that no matter what, I would never ever hurt you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“As soon as a safe word is decided and agreed upon, you’ll use it from here on. What I’m proposing is if I ever scare you or make you uncomfortable in a way you don’t like, you’ll say a safe word. For instance, ‘butter’. If you say the word ‘butter’ when you’re not comfortable with me or are frightened, I’ll stop and change. This will show you how being a submissive is empowering to the mind and body, that you have control over what I say or do. That it is a partnership,” Harry said.
Ruby nibbled her lip. Before, Master had ignored her safe word and continued regardless of the rules. She looked down at her knotted fingers—interlocked, as though trying to protect themselves from an enemy they didn’t deserve. For too long Master had been the voice inside her head, and if she didn’t break free soon, she’d be forever in his grasp.
Holding a hand out across the table, she shook Harry’s.
“Deal.”
“And the safe word?” he asked.
Ruby smiled. “Let’s stick with butter.”
Her heart jolted as he smiled back, nodding in agreement.
He truly was a handsome man.
* * * *
Ruby had decided on the spur of the moment to throw caution to the wind and shop in Manchester, not another nearby town as Harry had suggested. She’d have to face Master at some point, and although she didn’t relish it today, with Harry by her side she had more confidence. Besides, Master rarely went into the city. He ordered what he needed online or sent one of his employees out for purchases.
They’d been shopping for hours, Ruby wearing a pair of Harry’s black wellingtons that were too big and a coat that drowned her. He’d soon remedied that, buying her a pair of boots that fitted and a thick red jacket to die for. A scarf and gloves too. She thought her feet were going to fall off from all the walking and changing of clothes. What was wrong with seeing a shirt or trousers in the colour you liked, trying one set on and then leaving with the same style in a variety of different colours? According to Harry…everything. Every shirt, pair of trousers, skirt, dress, all types of shoes and lingerie needed to be tried on.
And not only that, he wanted to check for himself that they fitted perfectly.
The lingerie, though…he allowed her to pick that herself without showing him. The perfect gentleman. He chose some clothes and waited for her to try them on. The saleswomen were falling over their feet giving him everything he wanted and vying for his attention. There was clearly power with money and good looks. Harry was sexy after all—even she couldn’t deny the appeal and attraction.
Throughout the day, her body came alive whenever he was near, shocking considering what she’d been through, but part of her was still a young, red-blooded woman.
“You need stilettos with that dress, Ruby.” He turned to the young assistant. “Stacey, honey. I say—the red pair over there. Could you fetch them?”
“You’re aware you barely know me and you’re buying a shitload of clothes for me.” She rested her hand on her hip. The tight, silky dress felt wonderful, clinging to every curve and joint, but she turned in the mirror and wondered why women dressed like it all the time. Shirts and trousers for everyday wear and comfort and she was set.
“It gives me pleasure to spend money on you.” He leant back on the large sofa dominating the changing area.
“Yeah, for all you know I could be feeding you a load of rubbish and taking you for a ride for your money.”
“If that’s the case, for all you know I could be the gardener or the house sitter.”
Touché.
The set-up between them was bizarre to say the least, but for some reason Ruby was drawn to him unlike any other man.
The woman handed her the heels and Ruby put them on.
“Leave us,” Harry told the assistant.
Ruby turned back to look in the mirror. Harry stood directly behind her. She let out a gasp, shocked for the first time in years to not be afraid at all. She’d spent the better part of three hours with him trying on clothes and watching him laugh and was comfortable in his presence. While waiting for clothes in different sizes, they’d started to talk about their hobbies. Ruby had given nothing away about her private name and previous address but had talked about what she liked and what she didn’t.
Harry said he enjoyed long walks through the country when he got the time, swimming, and listening to classical music in his office while getting a rub from a very famous local masseuse. He read murder mysteries and thrillers in his spare time, which wasn’t a lot, and
collected different wines. Not a fan of television, he loved the theatre, opera and going to the movies.
He was a Dominant through and through, and if she looked closely she could see it with her own eyes. His demand for attention with his softly spoken words made women and men comply. He had many years of experience, and he used it to his advantage. Always calm and ready.
She, however, had told him pretty much nothing. The long walks were the same. It seemed very surreal when he’d asked her what she liked. For so long she’d schooled herself to like nothing, to wish for nothing, and now she was having to find who she was again.
What did she like to read, listen to, or talk about? There were simple things she could tell him, like stuff she enjoyed eating and the walking, but all the other hobbies and somewhat mundane things were lost to her.
Every time she realised how much the bastard from her previous life had affected her, the more upset she became.
“You look ravishing,” Harry whispered right behind her, her back touching his front, his presence not enough to crowd but enough for her to know he was there.
“Th-thank you.” Ruby wished she could tell him something, anything about herself that he would find interesting. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, looking away from his eyes in the mirror.
He touched her shoulder, and instead of pulling away she spun and rested her head on his chest, seeking the comfort and safety of his touch.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked, stroking her hair.
Tears fell, wetting his shirt—she couldn’t contain them. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I was someone with hobbies and passions, and now I feel like a dead shell.” Ruby couldn’t even sob now. Tears continued to fall as though crying was a passing thought.
How many times had she lain in bed or on the floor and the tears had simply seeped? Too many to count and too morbid to even think of counting.
Harry lifted her chin with a finger, tilting her head so she gazed at him.
“You should never be sorry. The monster who did this to you should be sorry. You’ll find yourself again, Ruby, and I’ll help you every step of the way.”
She smiled and wound her hands around his neck, cuddling against his body. He held her, too, hands at her hips.
For so long in this terrifying world she’d been alone, expecting to brave it alone. It was nice to have a lifeline and possibly a friend to hold on to. It was strange, but for many years Ruby had pictured a man like Harry—gentle and kind, a man she could fall for. Like, fall in love with, in a big way. She spent so many hours stuck in a library, seeing either older men or stuffy, spotty teenagers with attitude. Hunting for or even believing in Mr Right had been off the agenda for some time. What would it be like to love a man like Harry? She wasn’t averse to his touch—she welcomed it, which was another shock.
“You’re a strong woman, Ruby, and one day you’ll see and prove to me exactly how strong you are, and in doing so, you’ll get your life back.”
His words were a promise, and she reacted by snuggling more closely, inhaling his scent that was becoming addictive to her.
She switched her thoughts to what he had said, the gift he had given her, more precious than the clothes and shoes—butter, her safe word…and she knew in her heart and mind she’d never use it with him.
Harry was a different type of man. He was a keeper.
* * * *
“I’ve not had fish and chips in years.” Harry stood at her back in the crowded fish and chips bar.
Harry had suggested they go for a walk to some fancy French restaurant. Ruby hated French food—snails, frogs…yuk—so walking past this busy chip shop had been a welcoming distraction.
“So you’ll enjoy them,” she said. “A true British staple—a bag of fish ‘n’ chips.”
He snorted.
She burst out laughing. “Stop being so damn posh and embrace your common side.”
His hands circled her waist, and he nuzzled her neck, making her giggle again. The touches and rapport between them were so natural, Ruby couldn’t stop smiling, and it was nice to finally relax and lean on his shoulders.
They waited in line, silent, and Ruby got the chance to look around her, part of her keeping an eye out for Master. She would always be on alert in case he showed, though she just wanted to enjoy being with Harry.
She spotted a couple ahead of them in the queue—the woman turned towards her man. She smiled at something he was saying, and he tilted his head and kissed her.
Ruby gasped. Her toes curled within her boots, her nipples hardened and cream gathered in her panties. The affection they had towards each other was affecting her body. It had been so long since the flood of warmth had happened involuntarily between her legs that she blushed, her face hot and prickly.
“What’s the matter?” Harry asked.
Ruby showed him the couple as discreetly as she could.
“What about them?” Harry did his trick of only raising one eyebrow.
“They look so lovely together. I wonder what it would be like to be kissed with affection, love, and to have someone care enough to make sure you liked it?” Her sigh was filled with longing.
“You mean like this?”
He took her chin and tilted her head back. Before she could stop or analyse anything, his lips covered hers. Ruby closed her eyes and embraced his touch, the feelings he inspired in her. His lips pressed, firm but lovely, and he ran his tongue along her lip seam, coaxing her to open to him. She couldn’t refuse and parted her lips to better receive him. His tongue glided inside and melded with her own.
It wasn’t an act, wasn’t just a casual kiss, and the heat bloomed within her. Ruby gave everything over to him, letting him take control and meeting him halfway, other people in the queue be damned.
This is what it’s like to be kissed? I never want this to end…
“Love birds, what’s your order?”
A tap on her arm jerked her back to the present. The couple behind them were urging them forward. The queue in front had dispersed.
“What can I get you?” the woman behind the counter asked.
Ruby looked at her dumbfounded. Harry had just kissed her. On the lips. And she had liked it. His hands still circled her waist. Her hands shook as she ran her fingers through her hair. Lips tingling, she licked them, hoping to taste him.
Could she allow their relationship to go further? Could she let him teach her then walk away? Or was she better off staying at Harry’s to lick her wounds then moving on alone, far away from Master?
“Well, lady, what’s it going to be?”
The question in her mind was two-edged. On the one hand the lady was asking for her order, but in her mind she was asking herself the very same question but for an entirely different reason.
What was it going to be?
Ruby gazed up at Harry, and he smiled down at her, running a thumb over her lips.
“Your choice,” he said. “I’d like you to choose what we eat.”
She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, one that had burgeoned from yet another gift from him.
The chance to have her own voice.
“Two fish and chips, please. Salt and vinegar as well,” she replied, and in her heart and mind she answered her own question.
No matter how scary or new this thing was with Harry, she was going to see it through to the fullest and fight the demons of her past.
Master, for all intents and purposes, could go and fuck himself.
Chapter Five
Master slammed down the telephone, paced his living room and fumed. His heart rate soared to dangerous levels, making it difficult to breathe without his chest hurting. If Margaret was here he would have taken his ire out on her—a few lashes with a stout walking cane would have done the trick—but a night had passed with still no sign of her. Where was she? Why hadn’t she returned? He thought he’d conditioned her enough so she would have slunk back with her tail between her legs before now. And why had the damn sn
ow fallen so fast when he’d searched for her last night, as though the fates were against him? It had obliterated her footsteps in no time, leaving him at a loss as to where to go once he reached the end of his quiet street.
He grimaced. She’d so pay for this disobedience.
He’d ordered a specialised piece of equipment last week and it had yet to arrive, hence the phone call to the supplier. The rude male shop assistant told him he could collect it if his need was so urgent, his words full of sarcasm, giving Master the impression the chap wasn’t particularly fussed at his threat to take his business elsewhere after a refund. The snow had prevented any vans going out, surely Master understood that.
Master bristled, clamping his jaw tight. It didn’t matter to the shop assistant whether his need was urgent. The delivery should have been with him days ago, snow or not—a delivery that would have stopped Margaret running out on him.
“Damn it!” he muttered, walking to the window and looking out.
His front garden appeared nothing more than an expanse of untouched white, the road, too. No cars had driven down the street today, and it seemed people in the homes opposite hadn’t ventured out, their snow-covered lawns free of gouges from footprints. He didn’t blame them, he hadn’t had any intention of going out himself today if it weren’t for that blasted delivery and his need to have his purchase in place for when Margaret returned.
Would the contraption even fit in his Land Rover? He thought about the size of it once erected, what it had looked like when he’d browsed online, and suspected it must come in pieces. He’d have to build it himself, and this time last week he’d relished the prospect of seeing Margaret held in place by it, unable to leave the room unless he unlocked the straps and allowed her some freedom. Today, he revelled in thinking of her locked up and never being free, never knowing any other place but the room he’d planned to use for her incarceration times. And it was all her fault. If she hadn’t run, he’d have only locked her up as a treat, a few hours here and there, but when she came back…