by Sosie Frost
The door was closed.
Anthony took my hand before we entered.
“We’re going to get serious now,” he warned.
My throat closed. I thought we were pretty serious before.
“We don’t have time to discuss the required etiquette, so I’ll expect you to observe. Be polite, but there are no mistakes tonight. You’re learning.” He lifted my hand to his lips. His kiss came with instructions. “You will be dining with my friends, and they have expectations for their submissives. Don’t speak unless someone speaks to you. When you do speak, be respectful. Remember to use Sir and Ma’am.”
“Even to people who aren’t you?”
That smirk. Dark and twisted. His hand brushed over my cheek. I warmed, but he bumped my chin up, forcing me to lose myself in his eyes.
Dark, hypnotic eyes.
“Morgan…” My name even amused him. It rolled over his lips like a caress. “You are innocent.”
“Is that a problem?”
“For me.” His stare bound me to his will. “I’ll have to be very careful with you. That sort of innocence…intrigues me.”
“Why?”
“Because I keep thinking about where to fit you into Duchess’s hierarchy.” Anthony chuckled. Mischievous? Maybe I should have been worried. He tugged my hand, pulling me closer. “You, little one, will address everyone as Sir or Ma’am.
“Everyone?”
“Even the slaves.”
Slaves?
“But…they’re…”
“Oh no, Morgan.” His voice rippled, a growl of expectation. “You’re far too naïve, too innocent for this place. Even the subs will see it. It’s a natural order, and you…you are on the very bottom. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
“I…don’t know.”
“Be honest. The thought excites you.”
My body coiled with heat, rippling from my head to my toes and back again.
And he watched. Eagerly. Gauging my reactions.
Well, maybe he could explain it. I had no idea what was happening to me. Somehow, I’d had gone from meeting friends for laughs in a fetish club to becoming a sub to other submissives.
It was wrong and dirty and absolutely degrading.
And all I wanted was to sink into Anthony’s arms and melt.
“Okay…I’ll use titles.” I nibbled on my lip. “But what will you call me, sir?”
“You’re in over your head, little girl. And because of that, I’ll have to teach you everything. How to act. What to expect. I’ll train you to behave…just like a little pet.”
I liquefied. Trembled. Went light-headed.
“Does that please you, pet?” he asked.
I wanted him so badly I couldn’t breathe. I stared at him, sweating and chilled and amazed at how eagerly my body responded to such a simple word.
My words mumbled as he seized me, pressing his lips into mine. “Yes, sir...”
I groaned despite the public setting. He led the kiss, exploring me with a tenderness that felt wrong for how casually he mentioned slaves and submission. I shook beneath him, but he didn’t take me into his arms. The quick brush of passion was all he’d offer me.
He grabbed my wrists, forcing both of my hands to my sides.
Pinned.
Trapped.
Melting.
“We’re going inside now, pet.” He punctuated his words with a second and third kiss. “You must be hungry.”
Thoughtful and cruel. Except I was burning alive. If I grabbed a piece of sushi, my hands would sear the damn fish.
Anthony offered his arm and led me inside. The soft lighting framed the ornate fans hanging on the walls, and hundreds of rose petals created a bed on the mahogany table. Ten people awaited our arrival, eager to begin dinner.
But the sushi wasn’t being served on platters or plates.
A woman lay on the table.
Naked.
5
I took one step into the dinner party.
It was one step over my head.
Simone lazily approached, nursing a flute of champagne. Her slinky kimono expertly matched Anthony’s tie. She entwined my free arm in hers, effectively pinning me between her and Anthony.
“Morgan, darling.” Her words iced my spine. “So glad you could join us for dinner.”
Did…did they know dinner would be served on a naked girl?
Well, of course they knew.
But did they care?
Vibrant sushi, every color of the rainbow, covered the woman’s exposed skin. She lay perfectly still and balanced dozens of pieces over her body. Only her breathing shifted the delicate pieces of art arranged over her breasts, her navel…
Lower.
This was...not what I’d expected.
Anthony and Simone exchanged greetings over my head. I ignored them, my eyes fixated on the naked girl—covered in so much fish the chef must have massacred the cast of two Disney movies to create the dinner.
I heard of sushi bars before, but none of my friends ever mentioned this sort of extra treat coming with their meals. Maybe it was a perk of the Japanese restaurant, like a fortune cookie in a Chinese place?
Except naked.
And touching the food.
I tore my eyes away from the table. The other guests thought nothing of the girl. Occasionally, someone would cast a wayward glance at her—admiring a curve or commenting on the blood red piece of fish placed over her heart.
Anthony’s arm flexed. It took a genuine nudge before I dared to look up at him.
“I didn’t want to give away the surprise, pet,” he said.
This wasn’t a surprise. This was a shock. Straight up, hand over mouth, someone-grab-my-smelling-salts shock. I didn’t know how to answer.
“She must not like sushi.” Simone tisked her tongue. “We could get her a Happy Meal instead.”
“If she likes.” Anthony ignored her. I wished I could.
Oh, hell. I took a deep breath. This wasn’t so bad. I’d attended my share of wild frat parties. The freshmen girls in Doney Hall showed just as much skin. At least sushi, champagne, and formal dress were classier than the wet t-shirt contests held in the quad or strip twister during Rush.
Besides, my head still spun from Anthony’s kiss. He’d taken a chance on me. I wouldn’t punk out on the first date.
“This is a rather exclusive dining experience.” Anthony let me edge closer to him and away from Simone’s wicked smirk. “Not many restaurants cater to this particular request, but the chef has obliged us with a private event for a few years now.”
I swallowed. “You do this a lot?”
“Yes.”
“Eat off of women?”
Simone’s nails trailed over my arm. “Just think of her as a fancy plate.”
She greeted an older man who also shook Anthony’s hand. The man had at least thirty years on me, but he remained relatively good-looking despite balding. Still, his confidence rivaled Anthony’s. Apparently, it was a very distinct personality trait encompassing a commanding, forceful stance, raised chin, and composed speech.
The man studied me, a penetrating stare from head to toe. I’d been checked out by construction workers with more tact.
“Anthony,” he said. “I’m glad you and your…friend could make it.”
“Thomas, I’d like you to meet Morgan.” Anthony introduced us properly, like a gentleman. “Morgan, this is Thomas. He’s our host for the evening.”
Okay. These parties had hosts. That made sense. It also made the naked girl his idea.
Apparently, he wasn’t a murder-mystery-dinner type.
“Nice to meet you.” I took the leap. “Sir.”
Anthony’s lips twitched. As much of a smile as I’d get. Still, I seized the desperately needed boost.
“She’s a pretty thing.” Thomas admired me a little closer. “New? I’d remember someone so…exotic from the club.”
I knew the code. Exotic meant black. That was why I
got a couple extra stares from those at the table. Like my inexperience didn’t isolate me enough.
“She’s a stray.” Simone drifted too close. “Wandered in out of the cold. Anthony was kind enough to attempt a rescue.”
Okay. I’d missed something. Anthony, Thomas, and Simone all laughed at their little inside joke. But the new nickname made sense. Pet. Stray must have meant I was new. And the rescue? Anthony was showing me the ropes.
I resisted the urge to hide behind him. Simone’s words stung worse than admitting I was curious about their scene. Compared to a lost puppy? It was degrading. Apt, but humiliating.
And yet, I didn’t argue. Not with Simone. She’d probably hit me with a rolled-up newspaper for that breech of etiquette.
Anthony tugged my hand, leading me closer to girl on the table. She was completely naked. Not even a pair of panties to cover parts of her I’d never expected to see.
“This is Shannon. Thomas’s slave.” Anthony spoke the word slowly, emphasizing the meaning. I understood enough, and my imagination worked overtime plotting out what I didn’t.
Shannon belonged to Thomas. She acted as a sexual slave for him, willing to lie on a table and be admired and ignored by strangers.
I wasn’t sure where to look. Most of her was indecent. I settled on her face. Her glance to Anthony was a composed acknowledgement. She didn’t meet his gaze, but she offered him as much respect as she could without tumbling from the table and bowing on the floor.
Was that what Anthony expected? Did he want his women so submissive they’d wrap themselves over his feet? He probably liked women kneeling. It was an easy way to serve a man.
I’d need knee pads and a drink, and I didn’t know which to order first.
“Say hello, pet,” he instructed.
“Hello, Shannon.”
Anthony’s grip tightened. Shoot. I’d made a mistake.
“Ma’am.” I added quickly. “Shannon, ma’am.”
Every respect she reserved for him fizzled away when her eyes met mine. Without thinking, I averted my gaze first. That was probably a mistake. Her eyebrow twitched, and she made a face. Crinkled her nose.
Seriously? She was naked, covered in fish, and bound to a table until her master finished his dinner. Did she really dismiss me like I was a half-chewed piece of bubble gum ruining her favorite heels?
“Ma’am?” Simone floated back to my side. I braced for impact. “Now that’s interesting.”
“Easy, love,” Anthony warned.
Love? The word stuck thorns in my mind.
“Is this how we’re playing with her?” She grinned. “A total bottom?”
“Be gentle.”
Simone pouted. “That’s no fun.”
“Then at least be nice.”
“That’s even worse.”
Her hand brushed along my shoulder, alternating between gentle fingertips and the press of her nails. Of all nights to wear a sleeveless dress.
I wished she hadn’t made me so dizzy. Simone smiled, beautiful and hard and gentle and disapproving. This woman radiated six different emotions in every breath.
Her fingers trailed to my elbow. I watched them draw down, catching a glimpse of her skin through the V in her kimono. Despite the grand slit, her breasts remained hidden, though her swells rivaled Shannon’s show.
I regretted my dress with its simple angles and high neckline. What once seemed sensible now felt like a waste. But I’d need a bucket and a half of Simone’s confidence to pull off her dress.
Wrong choice of words.
To wear a dress like hers.
I was not imagining taking that kimono off.
Or, at least, I didn’t mean to…
I wished her fingers hadn’t caressed my arm like I was her date. I did not mean to shiver.
I jerked away, bumping into Anthony. He noticed. The embarrassment burned, and Simone’s laugh was cruel. She knew exactly what she’d done to me.
And so did Anthony.
“Must you?” He sighed. “She’s new at this.”
“Fresh meat.”
“Not for you to bite.”
Her eyebrow arched, proud. “How about a lick?”
“Behave.”
She pouted a quick frown. Even the scowl looked beautiful. No. Elegant. Her dress, by every definition, was inappropriate, but she wore it with enough poise to make others feel guilty for imagining what hid under the slits. And the colors complimented Anthony’s accents perfectly.
Strange. She tugged on the heartstrings—and drawstrings—of every man in the room, but she’d coordinated her dress with Anthony.
What was that supposed to mean?
“Come now.” Thomas clapped his hands. “Everyone, sit. Sit. I’m starving, and my darling here looks good enough to eat.”
The room chuckled. Oh, this community loved their puns.
Anthony guided me to one of the fancy leather chairs positioned around Shannon. I sat, and he was quick to push in my seat.
He gave me a smile. “I might be a fiend, but I’m also a gentleman.”
Simone claimed the seat beside me with an exaggerated sigh. “Isn’t he dreamy?”
She meant to embarrass me. It worked, but I wasn’t about to surrender. I accepted her offered champagne and nodded. “Yes, he is, ma’am. Very dreamy.”
“I like this one, Anthony.” Her words sharpened, a viper’s tease. “Can we keep her?”
He played right into her hand. “We’ll see. You might scare her off.”
“I’d love to try.”
Thomas called to Anthony from a liquor cart. “Gin and tonic?”
“Of course,” he said.
“You know that doesn’t go with sushi.”
Simone rolled her eyes. “By now his taste buds are so deadened he couldn’t tell a difference.”
Anthony’s hand grazed my thigh. “I know what I like.”
He squeezed. My throat closed too late to prevent a faint whimper from escaping.
Simone must have heard. She gave a light, conquering laugh.
Thomas prepared the drink and handed it off. He winked at me. “Comfortable, my dear?”
I couldn’t tell if it was the champagne, the undercurrent of sex, or my proximity to Anthony that rattled me. My voice didn’t make it above a whisper.
“Yes, sir.”
Anthony rubbed my knee. I’d have giggled like a school girl if I wasn’t panting like a bitch in heat.
Could this evening get any more confusing?
Sirs and good girls and the talk of submission blinded me. But Anthony was pleased. I’d answered Thomas correctly. He liked that, and the touch was a reward. A way to let me know I was doing well.
I did it right.
Suddenly, his approval was all I needed.
“...The Rivets need a better running game. Can’t depend solely on Carson’s arm now that Owens is retired.”
And Anthony was talking football with the table. What little sports I’d ever learned came from following the high school football team with our marching band. Not exactly a sexy image while a naked woman lay before me.
I stared at my plate. If I traced the patterns in the china, I could ignore the gentle swell of her shapely hip. But the others didn’t mind. A woman was naked, her pride hidden under small palm leaves protecting our dinner. But, to them…
It was like she wasn’t there.
Like she wasn’t trembling and cold and balancing an orange piece of fish over an erect nipple.
How could Anthony discuss football trades and season averages and not comment on Shannon’s diligent presentation? Wasn’t she worth their attention? She offered everything she could and every part of her body, and they couldn’t spare a moment to acknowledge her effort.
This type of submission meant something else entirely.
It wasn’t a cute sir and waiting to be kissed.
Anthony was right. Things got serious. Fast.
Shannon didn’t just submit to sex. She submitted h
er body to things that had no right to be sexual. She belonged to Thomas, and if he wanted to show her off dressed in an evening gown or naked serving snack cakes, that was his decision.
Simone sipped from her champagne. She pointed, the tips of her nails a meticulously painted swirl of colors and Japanese characters. She’d gone all out for this event. I glanced across the table where she gestured. The blonde man was grinning with one dimple. An unfortunate scar marred half of his face, but his smile distracted from the old injury. He was cute. Simone must have thought so too.
“That’s Reed Bennett.” She purred over his name.
I recognized him but it took a moment before I remembered the newspaper articles. “He’s the billionaire?”
“Cute as a button, though we still have him on training wheels. He’s learning the ropes.”
“He doesn’t look like a sub.”
“Unfortunate, right? The things I’d do to him…” She smirked. “No. He’s a dom. That’s his submissive, Genevieve, sitting to his right. Genn and Reed are usually quite entertaining.”
They also looked like they were in love. Genn blinked at Reed through thick, brunette lashes, smiling as he did. She’d earned his wink.
Lucky girl.
Simone continued our private introductions. “Next to them are Robert and Beth.”
And older couple. Not quite boomers, but definitely older than I’d imagined people enjoying this lifestyle.
“And Mariah and Nate.” Simone caught Mariah’s gaze. They shared a naughty smile, but Simone’s piercing stare ended the game. Mariah bowed her head, blonde curls falling over her face. Nate, a man of Anthony’s age, though fairer and leaner, scolded his sub and gave her a pinch.
Right on her nipple.
A thrill of shock pierced through me.
“Sorry, Daddy…” Mariah whispered.
Daddy?
A waitress entered the room and busied herself by setting a bowl of cloudy soup before us. She moved slowly, her eyes darting to Shannon after she’d served each person.
At least I wasn’t the only one unaccustomed to this type of dinner.
“I’m so bad with names.” I apologized to Simone. Her eyebrow rose. “Ma’am.”