Eternally Yours: Bliss Series, Book Six

by Hall, Deanndra

  “What?”

  “She signed a release for you to see her records. He wants to go over them with you so you know what she’s been through and what she needs.”

  Oh, god, no. This isn’t happening. It just can’t. “I can’t do this, Brian. I simply can’t.”

  “I think you already are.”

  Fuck it all. I think he’s right.

  * * *

  It’s hard to breathe. I can’t speak. All I can do is stare.

  The pictures are incomprehensible. She was beaten to within an inch of her life. Her jaw had to be reworked, and every one of her ribs was broken. Both eyes blacked. Three teeth knocked out. A concussion. A broken arm. Kidney bruised. Liver lacerated. How she lived through it all, nobody knows.

  Then I see the other pictures, smiling and happy. And the little girl with her is all smiles, her big blue eyes squinted from the upturn of her lips and her hair glistening in the sun. They were happy. And free.

  “You need to commit this one to memory and if you see him, call the police immediately. Name’s Connor Bacchus.” He’s not a bad-looking man, but there’s a big scar up one cheek, and his hair is shaggy and generally unkempt. He has a chronically unhappy look about him in the picture of the three of them together. He looks even unhappier in his mugshot. I take that as a good thing. Asshole.

  “Any other problems with him?”

  “Yeah. He’s robbed several convenience stores at gunpoint, and he beat up his mother. He’s just an all-around piece of shit.” Ted takes the picture back from me. There’s no way I could forget the face in that mugshot. It’s pure evil.

  “Where is she? The little girl?”

  “Carly. With Rayanna’s sister, Reagan. She and her husband live near Portland. So far, he never showed up there before he was arrested, but they’re always on guard. You should be too. And now the part I’ve been dreading.”

  Oh, god, if he’s dreading it, I probably should run. I’m a little afraid when I ask, “What’s that?”

  “She’s outstayed her days at the women’s shelter and she needs somewhere to go. And there’s no funding to put her up in an apartment or a residential motel. So, Lucien, would you be willing to take her into your home?”

  I knew it. I knew this was coming. I could feel it and I was just sure it was going to hit, but I didn’t think it would be this soon. “Ted, my apartment is small. I really don’t have room.”

  “She’s your submissive. She should be in the bed with you anyway.”

  My mind is spinning wildly. “Is she going to be comfortable with that? She barely knows me.”

  “She’s going to feel safer there than in another room, I do know that.”

  “And this D/s relationship―what is that supposed to look like?”

  “That’s something the two of you will have to figure out as you go along.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” All I can do is sit here, stunned. I’ve got a submissive moving in with me. Holy shit. “When do you want this to take place?”

  “Her next session is Friday.” Seriously? That’s what I’ve got to work with? That means I’ve got to make room for her by then. “I was hoping we could have it at your place so she could look around and get comfortable.”

  It’s a fight to hold back the sigh of surrender I want to send roaring from my throat. It appears to me that the backing into a corner of Lucien Pelletier is complete. “I do think that’s probably a good idea. Okay. I suppose I should get busy getting ready for her.” I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. I’ve clearly lost my mind.

  “Sounds good. I’ve got your address, so I’ll bring her and her things Friday morning at nine. Thanks, Lucien. I think this will be good for her.”

  What about me? What’s good for me? I can tell you this. I’ve got tonight and tomorrow night here at the club, and I intend to make the most of it.

  I see Ted out and then I turn and scan the room. A pair of eyes meets mine and I head straight for her. “Master Lucien. Are you available for play?”

  “I sure am! Name’s Sabrina. What have you got in mind?”

  “Mostly ripping that fishnet catsuit off you and fucking you senseless, if you’re interested in that.”

  “I am.”

  “But first, the crop and flogger. Sound good?”

  “It does. Which performance area?”

  “Let me go ask Dungeon Master Brian and see what’s up. Be right back.” I almost run to the bar. “Performance areas available?”

  “You sure you want to do that?” he asks me, his eyes wide.

  “Fuck you. I absolutely do. I should be able to have a little fun before I descend into hell,” I announce.

  “You shouldn’t look at it like that,” he scolds.

  “You should shut the fuck up and answer my question.”

  “Lucien―”

  “Brian. Performance area. Tick-tock, time’s a-wastin’ and I ain’t gettin’ no younger.”

  He shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Two. Take it.”

  “Got it. Sabrina’s with me.”

  In five minutes she’s naked and trembling as I flog her back over and over, her hands, wrists, and waist bound to the whipping bench. Occasionally I pinch her clit and watch her squirm. After ten minutes of flogging her back and using the crop on her ass, I unzip my leathers and unceremoniously bury my cock in her. I won’t lie, it feels good. Very, very good. She’s not getting off, and I don’t care. All I care about right now is fucking somebody I don’t have to see the next morning. I pull out just in time to dump a quart of cum right on her ass, and I have to admit, it looks pretty there. “Oh, Jesus,” I hear her whisper.

  It takes me less than two minutes to get her unbuckled and up on her feet. “Aftercare. Let’s go.” Grabbing her by the arm, I lead her to the back and into one of the private rooms. We lie there, her wrapped in my arms, and we don’t talk. I don’t want to talk to her. I don’t want to know anything about her. All I really wanted to do was fuck her, and this part is obligatory, so I’ll do it and be done.

  When I’ve seen her off, I don’t even talk to Brian. I just climb in my car and take off. My thoughts twist and turn all the way to the apartment, and when I go in and close the door behind me, they won’t shut off, so I grab a laundry basket and start working.

  In thirty minutes I have half the closet emptied and start on the dresser. That’s not really hard because I have an entire chest empty, so I consolidate things in drawers and put some of the stuff I took out of the closet in drawers in the chest. Something drifts through my mind as I work.

  When Carly comes back to her, where will they go? I certainly don’t have room for a child here. But will that even happen? Seems doubtful to me. Between trying to straighten herself out and some crazy man out there, I can’t imagine mother and child could ever be reunited. So it would seem to me that, regardless how long she’s with me, I won’t have to worry about a child.

  I finally give up and go to bed. I’m so upset that I doubt I can sleep, but I try anyway. All I do is lie there, tossing and turning or staring up at the ceiling. In less than two days, I’m going to have a woman in my home, one I barely know, one who has needs I can’t even fathom. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but I do know that whatever happens, I’ll give it my best shot.

  She is a survivor. I’ve promised to help her. My best shot is the very least she deserves.

  Chapter Two

  I worked today. After visiting three properties, I found a fourth that looks promising for a manufacturing plant that wants to relocate from Arkansas. It’s about two thousand square feet more than they said they’d need, and the grounds look almost park-like, complete with a lake that has a fountain right in the middle and picnic tables around it. It’s a superior property, and I know Brian will be pleased with the price I negotiated. If this company doesn’t want it, somebody else is sure to jump on it.

  On the way from the gym to the club, I grab a chicken salad and a bottle of wate
r. I’ve gained five pounds since I moved here, but it’s all lean muscle mass. I go to the gym at least four days a week, but I have a feeling that’s going to stop when she moves in tomorrow.

  The club is always busy on Thursday night, but tonight it seems even more so. The first person I see when I walk through the door is Sabrina, and she makes a beeline for me. “Master Lucien! Didn’t know if you’d be here or not.”

  “Well, here I am! How are you, submissive?”

  “I’m quite well, thank you. By the way, I have a friend here tonight, Tatiana, and we were wondering if you’d scene with us.”

  Well, if I’ve gotta go out, I might as well go out in style. “Both of you together?” I ask, my fingers mentally crossed.

  “Yes, sir.” Before she finishes answering, up walks this long-legged, dark-haired beauty with a smile that lights up the room. And I know what I want.

  Trying to look nonchalant, I just nod. “I’m thinking maybe not out in the public space. Perhaps only in a private room?”

  She smiles. “That would be fine. Tatiana, do you think so?”

  That dark hair sways as she nods and looks me up and down. “Yes. That would be wonderful.” She steps up to me and presses a hand into the middle of my chest. “You’re a very sexy man. I would love to serve you however you’d like.”

  “I’d like that very much. Hang on.” A quick run to the bar and Brian tells me that the third room on the right has a California king in it. Perfect. One submissive on each arm, we wander down the hallway, into the room, and close the door.

  It takes less than a minute to get everybody undressed, and then the two of them fight over who’s going to suck me first. Honest to god. That’s never happened before, and I’m loving it. I break the fight by having Sabrina lie on the bed, head hanging off the side, and face fuck her while Tatiana straddles her chest. I spend my time stroking into a warm, wet throat while I kiss Tatiana and play with her tits. God, this is so good. Every man should do this at least once. Before the night’s over, we’re all over the bed, all three of us, and there’s nothing more glorious than watching two women fuck each other. It’s one of those things dreams are made of.

  We wear each other out. All three of us are splayed out on the bed, damn near passed out, when I realize it’s eleven o’clock and I really need to get home and get to bed. Tomorrow will be a long, crazy day, and I need some sleep. We spend another fifteen minutes cuddling, kissing, laughing, and whispering, before we finally get dressed and make our way out of the room. “See you soon, Master Lucien!” Sabrina calls back to me as she heads out the door, and Tatiana turns to wave and grin.

  “Bye, ladies,” I call back to them, but I know the truth. They won’t see me soon. They probably won’t see me for at least six weeks. But I don’t have the heart to tell them that.

  * * *

  Everything’s picked up and straightened up. I check the bathroom one more time―nope, looks good. The refrigerator’s been cleaned out and the trash taken out, so there’s no funky smell in the kitchen. Laundry’s all picked up and in the hamper, and I just folded a load of fresh towels and put them away. A couple of minutes is all it takes to light a few scented candles, and I’m a nervous wreck and pacing by the time the doorbell rings at three minutes after nine.

  There stands Ted and with him, Rayanna. She’s got a pan of something with aluminum foil over the top and a great big duffel bag hanging by a strap over one shoulder. “Come on in, please,” I say and step aside, so Ted sweeps a hand inward and Rayanna enters the apartment. Her eyes go wide, but I can’t figure out what the problem is. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, it’s so nice. And it’s so big!” she whispers. My apartment? It’s tiny. Where the hell has she been?

  I reach for the pan. “Um, thanks. Here, let me take that. What is it?”

  “Please open it, sir. I hope you like them.”

  When I pull back the foil, I’m shocked. What greets my gaze are possibly the most perfect brownies I’ve ever seen in my life. They’re beautiful, all dark and moist and drizzled with what looks like white chocolate. “God, Rayanna, these are gorgeous.”

  “I hope you like them, sir. I worked hard to make them.” She’s beaming, and I’m glad something so simple can make her so happy. “Oh, and I brought you this.” When she hands me a manila envelope, I can’t imagine what’s in it. Inside is a picture she colored from one of the books. It’s a butterfly, and she did some incredible shading, plus her color choices were spot-on.

  “This is beautiful. I’ll put it right here so I can see it all the time,” I say and press it to the front of the refrigerator, securing it there with a magnetic bottle opener. “There. How nice! You did a great job on it.”

  Her head drops, her eyes downcast. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Shall we sit down?” Ted asks. “We’ve got a lot to go over.”

  And we do. I have some paperwork I have to fill out, and she has to sign off on it, stating that she came here of her own free will and was neither coerced or forced. My part of the agreement is for food, lodging, and transportation to necessary appointments, like to Ted’s office, plus to make sure her medical needs are taken care of, as well as dental. Not paying for them, mind you, but making sure she gets the care.

  Then we go straight into one of her psychotherapy sessions, and we talk about what it will be like for her to live here and the problems we might encounter. Of course, it’s all hypothetical because we have no idea how it’s going to go. It appears journaling is one of the things he’s been having her do, and she’s to continue doing it. I’m supposed to be careful not to take up all her time so she has time to journal, which I wouldn’t anyway. At ten before ten, Ted announces that he has to go.

  “I’ve got to get to work too. Will you be okay here alone?” I ask Rayanna.

  “I’m sure I will, sir. What is it that you do?”

  And I get an idea. “How ‘bout you come along and I’ll show you? I’ll help you put away all your stuff later. Would you like that?”

  “Yes, sir. Very much.”

  Ted smiles and pats me on the back. “I think you guys are going to do just fine. Let me know if I can help in any way.”

  I reach for his hand and shake it. “Will do. Thanks very much.”

  “You’re very welcome. Rayanna, let Lucien help you, and good luck to you. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “Yes, sir, Dr. Lawrence. See you Monday.” It seems almost like she’s afraid for him to leave, and it crosses my mind that she’s probably terrified of being here alone with me. She barely knows me. When she turns to me, she’s trembling. “Master Lucien, I―”

  “Rayanna, it’s lunchtime. Do you want to eat? I’ve got some stuff in the refrigerator and I can pull some lunch together.”

  She gives me a curious look, her head tipped to one side. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be doing, sir? Serving you?”

  “I didn’t bring you here to be my servant. We’re partnering in this little endeavor. Come over here and sit down for a second and let me tell you my philosophy on the Dominant/submissive relationship, okay?”

  Her head drops again and I can hear her mumble, “Yes, sir.” She most likely thinks this is going to be the moment when I drop the bomb and tell her how everything’s going to be. And she’s got a big surprise coming.

  “I don’t think you realize what I’m expecting of you, so let’s talk about that.” She nods and never looks up. “I want you to feel free to move around the house, to eat what you want from the refrigerator and cabinets, to wear what you want to wear. I want you to pick up after yourself, but I don’t expect you to pick up after me. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, dishes, garbage? We’ll work that out, but I don’t expect you to do everything. Do you know how to drive?”

  “No, sir.”

  “We’ll work on that.”

  Her head snaps up and her eyes are fixed on mine. “Really?”

  “Of course. While you’re here, my job is to make sure you can be inde
pendent.”

  “I’m not supposed to be independent. I’m a slave.”

  “Is that really what you want?”

  She shrugs and drops her head again. “That’s all I know.”

  “We’re going to fix that. I do need to know what you want to do about sleeping arrangements. I only have the one bedroom. You can have the bed if you want and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  Her head comes up again and the alarm I see in her eyes makes me afraid. “You don’t want to sleep with me?”

  “I only want to sleep with you if that’s what you want.”

  “I want to meet your needs, Master Lucien. That’s part of my job.”

  “I’m not a job. I’m your Dominant.”

  “But me letting you have sex with me is part of my job,” she reiterates.

  “No. Us having sex together is something we need to move toward, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be doing it to you. It means I’ll be doing it with you. I need you to trust me, and that’s not going to happen if I’m raping you every night. Which I would never do, by the way.”

  She’s shaking her head slowly, her eyes shifting around the room. “I don’t understand. I really don’t. I thought I was supposed to come here and be your slave, and let you have sex with me, and take care of all your work at home and all that stuff. What am I supposed to do? I can’t just … Master Lucien, don’t you like me?”

  “Yes! I like you very much or you wouldn’t be here. Look, let’s do this. Let’s eat lunch. Then I’m going to take you with me to my brother’s house because that’s where our office is. His wife is there, and you should meet her. And at some point, you’ll meet my friends and their wives, and we’ll have dinner with them and go to their houses.”

  “I don’t have clothes for all that.”

  “Then we’ll get you clothes. For right now, let’s eat some lunch, okay?”