I played Mary once in a church Christmas play. All I had to do was hold a plastic baby doll wrapped in muslin and stare at it like it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Three or four lines were all I had, but everyone came up afterward and told me my performance gave them chills.
Guess people need to get out of Whispering Hills more often.
When I rise, I brush my skirt and pull it straight around my waist. Dane seems to look at me as if he’s got x-ray vision that goes clear through to my soul.
“As much as I would love for you to take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours, I don’t want to rush this. It wouldn’t be right, and I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing my impatience ruined your training.”
That’s a relief.
“So you’ll give me another chance?” I clasp my hands together in prayer formation though I’m quite certain God has no intentions of stopping whatever he’s doing right now to ensure Dane will still keep me as his submissive-in-training.
“Let’s see how the rest of the week goes.” He sets his empty glass on the bar and slinks toward me, never releasing me from his stony gaze. “Grab your bag, Angel, we’re getting out of here for a bit.”
I don’t ask questions. I don’t think a submissive would do that. I simply scamper out of his double doors and duck into my office to grab my purse. He waits as I do it, and when I return, we walk side by side to the elevator.
After a few steps, I slow my pace, stepping behind him.
“What are you doing?” He stops short. I nearly pummel into his backside until the rough carpet catches my heels.
“I thought since you’re the dominant one that I should be walking behind you?”
His mouth curls halfway and he reaches for my hand, pulling me next to him once more. “When we’re out together, whether it’s for work or recreation, you’re to be at my right hand. You belong next to me unless I indicate otherwise.”
“Oh.”
He leans into my ear once we approach the elevator. “There are three places in which you will be expected to submit to me unconditionally: my office, my bedroom, and the Crystal Swan.”
“What’s the Crystal Swan?”
“That’s where I’m taking you right now.”
When we reach the main floor, Dane places his hand on the small of my back and escorts me through the swinging doors to the city sidewalk. I take long strides, matching his and elongating my posture.
Queen of England. Okay. I can do that.
We stop a block away, outside the bar in which we met on that fateful Tuesday last week. I don’t take him to be a sentimental man, but I’m not sure why else he’d bring me here.
Dane pulls the door open and ushers me into the cozy space, only the second he brushes past me, he hooks my elbow with his hand and pulls me toward a black lacquered door in the back. I’m not sure how I didn’t notice it before. There’s a clear glass knocker below a peep hole but no other indication that this door leads to some rabbit hole.
He lifts the glass and knocks it back into the wood in a distinct, five-knock pattern. Seconds later, the door pulls open.
“Master Townsend, good to see you.” A man in a tux pulls the door wide. “Ah, I see you’re bringing a guest this afternoon. Shall we find a suite for you and your swan?”
“She’s not a swan, and we won’t be staying long.” His fingers press possessively deep into my flesh though I don’t think he means to hurt me.
It takes a bit for my eyes to adjust when something bright in the center of the room sends a sharp sting to my gaze. The floors are black and white marble, reminding me of a game of chess, and a glass swan sculpture rests on a large table in the center of a circular foyer. It’s lit from below and above with a soft, incandescent glow that shows off the facets and rainbow glimmers in the angles of the sculpted creature. It’s not glass it’s crystal.
Of course.
“I’ll be showing her around, and then we’ll finish in the gallery,” Dane says to the greeter.
“Enjoy.” The man holds up a white-gloved hand and points down a long corridor.
This place isn’t visible from the street, and I’m willing to bet money it’s not in any phone book or directory. My palms moisten, and I pray he doesn’t try to take my hand. He can never know how intimidating this place is.
Exotic lounge music pipes down hidden speakers, growing louder as we reach a large room at the end of a hall. Men’s laughter echoes off the high ceilings.
“Hi, Master Dane.” A woman slinks by in pure white lingerie wearing an eye mask with white feathers splaying out from the sides. Her head is held low as she addresses him. Lengthy white feathers drip down her backside, dragging on the floor while she walks in five inch, Swarovski-crystal-encrusted stilettos.
“Lauren,” he says, giving her a nod. He still holds onto me though I’m a half step behind him, and when we enter the room with the music and the men and the laughter, I finally see why.
All eyes fall on me the second we stand in the doorway. Dane’s hand slips to my waist, hooking me and pulling me against him. I breathe him in like he’s the oxygen I need to survive this warped little world I’ve just set foot in.
“This room is for open play,” he says. “The Swans in white are submissives and the Swans in black are the Dominatrices.”
A svelte woman in a shiny leather bustier with a matching g-string and a whip flashes me a red-lipped smile. I don’t see her eyes because they’re covered in a black-feathered mask. She, too, wears a floor-grazing tail.
“Well, well, well.” The drunken slur of a man’s voice originates from behind us. We turn to see an older patron with a greasy forehead and a tumbler of gin and tonic staring at me with a stupid grin on his crooked mouth. “Are we initiating today or what’s the deal with this one? Is she a free for all or what?”
Dane’s open palm presses into my hip followed by the dig of his fingertips.
“She’s with me, Donny. Move along.” The low growl of his words elicits an eyebrow raise from the drunkard.
Donny pushes between us, and for a second I’m sure he’s going to cop a feel on his way through, but to my relief he doesn’t. He’s just smashed.
“Did he touch you?” Dane’s lips reach my ears, his voice throaty.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Good.” He releases me and straightens his collar before smoothing his hand down his front breast pocket. “This is a classy establishment, I can assure you of that, but there are some who were grandfathered in and given lifetime memberships. And some of them refuse to adhere to the policies.”
“It’s okay.” I want him to take my hand. Being protected and watched over, like I matter to someone, is a foreign sensation that creeps over and under my skin, simmering and settling like an old friend I never knew I missed. Dane wouldn’t want me reading into it, though, and I’m sure it’s all part of the package, so I force that warmth away like it was never there.
We leave the playroom and turn down another dimly lit hall, stopping before a set of black double doors. Dane swipes a card from his pocket and the lock on the door clicks.
“What’s this?”
Glass shelves line the walls, filled with what I can only assume are sexual toys and oddities. It’s set up like a store, though I’ve yet to see a price tag anywhere. A top-lit glass case displays a myriad of chokers with fabrics ranging from satins and velvets to leathers and lace. Some have sharp metal spikes while others have crystals and gemstones dangling from them.
Dane abandons my side, whooshing across the room to a shelf of see-through phallic objects. Only when I step closer, do I see what he’s looking at. He grabs a clear one and inspects it, for what I’m not sure. He moves to the next shelf, pulling a white package with some c-shaped object off the shelf. It’s still brand new and wrapped in cellophane.
These things are all for me. Obviously. I try to swallow as my nerves get the best of me, but my mouth is cotton.
“You doing ok
ay?” he asks, his eyes scrunched as he scans the rest of the room.
“Of course.”
I stand idle as he crouches down to a glass case, his eyes running the length of the shelves until they hone in on a choker made with black velvet and a prism heart.
“I’ll take that one, Geoffrey,” he says to the attendant, whom I didn’t notice until now. A burly, clean-cut man steps out of the shadows and begins examining the items, making notes in a small ledger book.
“I’ll put these on your tab, Master Townsend,” Geoffrey says. Everything about him is discreet, and I can only imagine the secrets he knows. To anyone else, he’s a cashier in an underground sex toy shop, but his real job is much more important. He’s a keeper of secrets.
Geoffrey pulls out a large white bag, wraps the items in white tissue paper, and ties the bag shut with silky black ribbon. Discreet and elegant.
I’m in a strange land with its own set of cultures and traditions. I’m taking in every detail from the veins in the marble tile to the velvet patterns in the wallpaper. The pretty “swans” who strut around this place are faceless thanks to their masks, and most of the men stagger around like drunken lost souls filled with secrets and longing and deep-seeded needs.
I’d never imagine Dane in a place like this.
Dane takes the bag and juts his elbow out, nodding for me to take his arm. “We have one more stop before we go.”
He leads us back down the dark hall until we stop at the third door on the right. Dane knocks, and a moment later, a beautiful girl dressed in white pulls the door open. Velvet lined walls and a crystal chandelier draw us in. A three-fold mirror rests against the far wall, and a small changing curtain resides next to it.
“Welcome to the dressing room. Please, come in.” She addresses Dane, but her gaze holds the floor.
“We’re only here for measurements,” Dane says, nodding my way. I lift my gaze to the white swan. She reaches for my arm, ushering me to a platform in the middle of the room. A small measuring tape resides on a nearby table, and she whips it out and slips it around my bust.
“Arms up, lovely,” she says with a baby doll voice. “There we go.”
She measures my bust, waist, and hips, all in front of Dane. Her touch isn’t shy.
“What’s your shoe size, sweetie?” Her honeyed tone is more for his benefit than mine.
“Seven and a half,” I say.
She struts to the corner of the room where a small desk is illuminated by a fringed, Victorian lamp that gives off a warm, burgundy glow.
“I think I’ve got all I need,” she says. “Master Townsend, I’ll send these measurements to Elisabeth, and she’ll pull the items once you tell her what you’d like.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
Being the quick learner that I am, I take Dane’s arm and follow him out of the dressing room.
“Everyone knows you here.” I slap my hand across my mouth, realizing I’ve just spoken out of turn. My body flinches when his gaze snaps toward me.
Dane reaches for my hand, slowly pulling it off my mouth. He glances up and down the hall and then presses me against the wall by way of stepping into me.
“Bellamy.” He leans in, his mouth grazing my ear. The racing of my heart has nothing on my inability to catch my breath. I wait for him to speak, only I hear him pull in a breath and stop, backing off of me with no explanation as to what that just was.
I get the feeling I’m wearing his patience to the bone.
“Let’s get out of here.” He doesn’t stick his arm out this time, and I make sure I’m walking at least three strides behind him.
When we emerge among the living, the blinding afternoon light sears my eyes. I want to ask if he’s mad at me, but I can’t say a word. We walk in total silence back to Townsend Tower, and when we reach the end of our hallway, I refuse to let him walk away without at least telling me where I stand.
With my hand on the door to my office, I inhale, and say, “If I’m not right for you, tell me now.”
Only he doesn’t answer, and by the time I turn around, he’s gone and his door is shut. I’m not sure he heard me, and I’m not sure I have the courage to march into his office and ask that question one more time.
I plop down in my chair and rest my head in my hand before reaching for a pen. It’s the silver bullet pen I signed the consent form with. I spin it around as fast as I can like I’m playing spin the bottle.
Not that I’ve ever played spin the bottle.
I’m not sure what else there is for me to do until Dane tells me what’s going on.
Two hours pass before my desk phone rings. I clear my throat.
“Bellamy speaking.”
“Do you trust me?” The sound of Dane’s voice sends a pleasant electric current down the center of me that incinerates the bulk of my worries.
Am I already that conditioned to crave his attention?
I teeter a bit, not sure if I should tell him the truth and risk being kicked to the curb or tell him I wholeheartedly trust him.
“It’s okay if you don’t,” he says.
Is this a trick question?
“I don’t know you that well yet,” I say.
“Correct answer.” He ends the call, and within twenty seconds he’s standing in front of my desk. “You don’t trust me yet, Bellamy, and that’s normal. You shouldn’t trust me. That’s something we build over time. Together.”
He steps from the front of my desk to where I’m seated, pulling me up. We’re separated by a couple close inches, our scents mingling.
“What you did earlier,” he says, his jaw clenched. “At the Crystal Swan...”
“What did I do?”
“The fear, Bellamy. You thought I was going to hurt you when you spoke out of turn. You covered your mouth, and I saw it all in your eyes when you flinched. You can’t be afraid of me, or this will never work.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I hold my head up. “I’m afraid to disappoint you.”
“Fear is fear.” He lifts a hand to the side of my face. “I’m not a sadist, Bellamy. Fear and pain don’t mix with pleasure. Not for me. I’ll never degrade you, humiliate you, punish you publicly or painfully, and I’ll never abuse you.”
“I understand.”
“Why don’t we take a night to sleep on all this? I imagine it’s been a pretty intense day for you.”
My heart drops with a quick thud, and I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s in the process of changing his mind about me.
“Why is your face falling like that?” The corner of his mouth twists up, revealing a flash of a dimple I’d give anything to run my fingertips against. “You think I’m letting you go? You think I’m going to change my mind?”
I nod, my head falling. He lifts it up, forcing our gazes to meet.
“I’m taking things slow. This night, this extra time to think things over, it’s all for you.” I get lost in his stormy eyes for a split second and forget about the absurdity of this entire arrangement. “My goal is to keep you constantly turned on and thinking of me. There’s no greater feeling than being wanted, Bellamy. So if you want to know what I get out of this power exchange? If it’ll help put your mind at ease? There you have it. I get off on knowing a beautiful woman can’t stop thinking of me. It’s a power trip like you wouldn’t believe, and one I’m fully addicted to.”
“So it’s about power and sex?” My voice comes out meeker than I intended, my vocal chords strained.
Dane’s lips spread wide. “That’s exactly what it’s about. Sex is power, Bellamy.”
He’s exactly right.
Sex.
Is.
Power.
SEVEN
BELLAMY
“How was your first day of work, sweetie?” My mother asks as if she cares.
Summer and Kath buzz about the kitchen, doing final prep work for dinner as the younger kids start ushering in from the family room. Dad should be home soon.
“How’s your
boss?” Summer asks. “Do you like him? Or is it a her?”
I almost choke on my iced tea. “My boss is a man.”
“Okay, so tell us about him,” Summer pushes.
I crack a smile because it’s all I can do to relieve the intense pressure building inside me. I’ve got to frame his description in a way that doesn’t give away a thing, and for that, I need a bit more time.
Besides, I’m still trying to wrap my head around what I think of him.
“He’s just a regular boss.” My shoulder slinks up to my ear, and I shake my head. “You know, business suit. Doesn’t smile much. No nonsense.”
“I’ve never worked outside the home, so I wouldn’t know.” Mom juts her lips out and shrugs. If her eyebrows were lifted any higher, they’d fly off her face.
“I had a job once.” Summer glances off to the left. “Dairy farm. Dirty job. Stinky. But it was fun. Oh, and then I nannied for the farmer’s family. Two jobs. Same boss.”
Kath doesn’t speak; then again, she doesn’t speak much. She’s the calmest and quietest of the three of them. We don’t know much about her life before she met my father, just that she was married to some preacher who abused her. None of us know an ounce of the details, and none of us have the poor sense to go prying.
“Do you think you’ll like your new job then?” Summer hands me a stack of thin ceramic plates, and I make my way around the table with them.
“I think so. It’s still early, but it looks promising.” I set all but the last four plates, stopping momentarily to appreciate the buzzing that goes clear through to my fingertips.
What is that? Nerves? Excitement? Anticipation?
“What kinds of things will you be doing?” Mom asks.
My cheeks flush red out of nowhere. I’m not sure how Dane expects me to spend the afternoon in some sex lair and then go home like nothing happened. Scratch that. I’m not sure how I expected myself to be able to do that.
I drag in a slow, cleansing breath. “I don’t know yet. I’ll be assisting the CEO and probably doing a little bit of everything.”
Literally.
“Dad’s home!” One of my little brothers, True, comes ripping and snorting from down the hall, and the slam of the front door follows with my father’s footsteps growing close.
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