The Abduction Agreement (Mistress May I Book 1)

by Krieger, D. F.

  Delilah guided me to a bed, and I did take enough time to muse over how large it was. King sized four poster, with a canopy—the stuff of princess dreams. A sleek black cat rested to one side, almost invisible on the quilt, and raised its head to mew a greeting.

  “Paige, this is Bastet. Bastet, Paige. You aren’t allergic to cats, are you? I never thought to ask,” Delilah said.

  “No, I’m fine.” I spared one last look at the creature before climbing on to the bed. I’d always been more of a dog person, but cats didn’t bother me in the slightest. This one certainly seemed social enough as it gaze up at its owner with adoring golden eyes.

  The sheets were a soft cotton that beckoned me, and black and gold swirls flourished across the quilt in a hypnotizing pattern. I crawled under them and sighed as sleepiness lapped at me. The kidnapping and admitting my past wore me out emotionally, and going to sleep sounded fantastic at this point.

  Delilah curled up next to me, an arm around my midriff. “Good night, little tigress,” she whispered.

  “Good night.”

  I fell asleep to the sound of a cat purring on one side of me, and the erotic goddess on the other.

  Chapter ten

  I didn’t know how long I slept, but I did know that when I woke up, I was alone. Sun streamed through despite the heavily curtained windows. I looked around for a clock, but couldn’t find one.

  As the fuzziness left my brain, I became aware of music playing. Violins filled the air, accompanied by a techno underlay. I’d never heard music like that before. It was beautiful, sensual, and completely full of life. It enticed me and I rose from the bed to seek its source. Somehow, I knew if I found the music, I’d find Delilah.

  The melody came from a room down the hall. I stopped in the doorway and the scene that met my eyes took a few minutes to process. Delilah stood in front of a mannequin, and her hands weaved in and out as she stitched a piece on to the clothing it modeled. Her cat sat at her feet, attention focused on what she was doing like an apt pupil.

  A few more mannequins lined the walls with clothing in various stages adorning them. I recognized a maid outfit similar to the one on display at the toy and play demo the first weekend I worked. Except, instead of being black and white, the uniform sported a soft pink and white color scheme. It was beautifully done, and part of me wished I could try it on. Without asking, though, I knew I couldn’t. Delilah’s letter on her table made it clear each piece was designed for one owner and wearer in mind. Somehow, it felt like if I tried the piece on, I’d be violating that sacred bond of ownership.

  It’s just clothes, a cynical part of my mind said. I shook my head, dismissing it. Yes, they were just clothes, but they were also the product of someone’s dreams. Those clothes were the creation of Delilah’s artistic vision and someone’s fantasy.

  “Good morning,” I said, hoping I wasn’t interrupting.

  She turned and beamed me a smile. “You’re up. I’m glad you are here. Could you grab the container of pins off the table over there?” She indicated the direction with a jut of her chin.

  I entered the room and padded across the wooden floor to the table, then picked up a container of pins and brought it to her. She flashed me a smile of thanks, then grabbed a couple of them and stuck some fabric in place.

  “I’ll come back for you in a bit,” she told the one-armed gray vest.

  “Is that going to be a tuxedo?” I asked, eyeing it with a small amount of doubt.

  “Yes, but not a modern one. This is for Master Heath. He’s having a masquerade in December, and wanted something rather Victorian for himself.” She smoothed a finger over the fabric in a fond gesture. “It’s going to look lovely on him.”

  “December is still quite a few months away,” I said. “Why did he order it so soon?”

  She walked past me and grabbed a sheet from the table where I’d found the container of pins. “He’s learned to get in early. As it comes closer to the various holidays, I can quite easily become overbooked. Halloween, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day are crazy, and these outfits take time to make. They’re not just manufactured costumes you can buy at a chain outlet.”

  “I saw your note on your display earlier this month,” I replied. “If it’s so busy, how do you keep up?”

  The corners of her mouth twitched. “I get a sub for the holidays.”

  I frowned, uncertain what she meant. “Wouldn’t that detract from your time working?”

  Delilah waved at me to follow her, and we exited the room as she spoke. “It helps me in two ways. First of all, the sub can perform minor tasks such as cutting lengths of material I’ve measured or running to the store for me. Secondly, at the end of the day, spending time with my service sub allows me to destress. If I don’t have a live in service sub, I tend to develop the habit of working through the night, nonstop until I drop. This produces shoddy work and isn’t exactly great for my health. By taking care of my sub, I’m remembering to take care of myself.”

  The whole thing made absolute sense, and I admired her for the routines she’d developed to cut off bad habits. Not anything like you and your desire to drown yourself in work or alcohol , my inner cynic commented.

  We went downstairs and to a kitchen. It wasn’t exactly elaborate, but it was a far cry bigger and better than the tiny kitchen/living room combo in the guest house. My kitchen in my old apartment certainly didn’t compare either.

  “I have a few papers on the table I’d like you to look over and fill out,” Delilah said as she rummaged in the fridge.

  “More yellow and red factors?” I asked with a sarcasm-laced voice.

  She paused and looked at me over her shoulder. Delilah the Mistress was staring at me now, not Delilah the tailor. “We’ll be dealing with that issue later,” she said, her tone seductive and smooth. “For now, I’d like you to just tell me if you prefer orange juice, milk, or water while you read those papers and fill them out.”

  I hesitated as I met her gaze and silence filled the room. “Juice,” I finally responded, then sat down and began reading the papers.

  To my surprise, they were nothing more than a list of questions asking things like whether I had any food allergies, if there were certain foods I loved and certain ones I loathed. What my favorite perfume was. What my clothing size was.

  “Why do you need to know all of this?” There was no judgement in the words, only curiosity.

  “Shopping,” she said. “You came here in nothing but pajamas. Some of that is for shopping, and some of it is for my personal knowledge. I want to get to know you.”

  “Why not just ask, then?”

  She set a glass of orange juice down in front of me, then took a sip from her own. Her gaze seemed to be assessing me. “If I asked, would you actually tell me? You’ve got quite a stubborn streak, you know. You’re the kind that if you don’t volunteer the information, getting it from you is akin to pulling teeth from a hen.”

  “Is not,” I protested, amused by her choice of comparison. “I’m very good at communicating.”

  Delilah raised an eyebrow at me. “You are very good at public relations, but you are not very good with personal relationship. You’ll give the bare minimum answer, but nothing deeper. Nothing with true emotional attachment.”

  “You can’t know that. We’ve barely spoken. The conversation we’ve had since I woke up is the longest we’ve had since meeting each other.” I crossed my arms and glared at her.

  Her lips twitched. “You’d be surprised how good of a judge of character I am. Prove me wrong, if you will. What is your favorite color?”

  “Red,” I responded automatically.

  She waited for a few heartbeats for asking, “Why?”

  “I dunno. Why does anyone like any color? I just do. It appeals to me.” I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice over the stupid question.

  “I like both black and gold. I feel they complement each other in a way that can tell a tale, pending how they are paired.
Gold with black etching and fading suggests antiques and aging. A bygone of exquisite far past. Black with gold edging or highlights hints to sex appeal with dominance in mind. Dark allure that seeks to seduce. Equal parts of black and gold represent humanities’ draw to the struggle of good versus evil. Dark versus light. It can empower one, when used in the right setting.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth as she regarded me.

  “You’re an artist,” I responded. “It’s only natural color would have more meaning for you.”

  Her gaze darkened and a tingle of arousal swept down my spine. “Heath’s favorite color is gray. He believes it represents the truth. Answers that are neither one extreme nor another, but fact. He likes seeking out deeper truths. Kyle’s favorite is hunter green. He likes it because it’s a masculine color that indicates a predatory nature. He enjoys the thrill of the hunt. Your sister likes pearl pink. The feminine color makes her feel particularly beautiful, and represents vulnerability. She only wears this color when in privacy with her Master. In public, she puts on a stronger front by tending to wear mauves and hot pinks.”

  I stared at her, opened mouthed. The whole spiel was easy to dismiss right up until the point she brought up my sister. I knew her favorite color was pearl pink, but I didn’t know why she never wore it. I assumed it was because the color stained easily.

  “The pink maid uniform is for her, isn’t it?”

  Delilah nodded. “Why is red your favorite color?”

  I dropped my gaze and stared at my juice as I thought it over. “It’s the color of my hair. Red seems to scream for attention, and to be strong, and can consume anything that gets in its way—like fire. It reminds me of rebirth and passion.”

  “And yet you don’t wear it,” she observed. “To me, that says these are all traits you wish you had. Traits you admire.”

  I clutched the glass and focused on steadying my heart rate. “I guess so.”

  “Would it be wrong to assume your past has given you trust issues, control issues, and self-esteem issues?” Delilah reached out a hand and traced a finger delicately across the back of mine.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I only went to therapy a couple of times. Everyone always wants me to talk about the event itself. The actual rape and beating. I refused to. It takes me places I don’t want to be.”

  “I understand. But completely ignoring something so major can cause complex issues in itself. Your sister tells me you can’t even ride in a car with someone else driving without suffering a panic attack.”

  My head jerked up and I glowered at her. “I do not suffer panic attacks.”

  The smile that teased her lips created a sense of foreboding in me. “No worries, little tigress. We will have plenty of time to test that theory. For now, fill those papers out while I make us something to eat.”

  “Aren’t I supposed to be the service sub?” I asked, my brow furrowing. “Why are you doing the cooking if I’m the sub?”

  “You’ll be doing plenty soon enough,” Delilah said as she pulled some bread out of the cabinet. “Since you are new, I’m easing you into it all.”

  I tapped a finger against the counter as I regarded her. “You call last night easing?”

  She paused and stared at me. There was a moment, just a moment, where it seemed like she would turn away and keep at her task without answering me. “I needed you off center. You would never have given in and told me what we both needed me to hear if you thought you had any control of the situation.”

  “That’s some sneaky bullshit, and I didn’t like it,” I muttered darkly.

  Delilah shrugged in response. “No one said you had to like it. Sometimes, though, it takes going through discomfort to get out of the rut we create for ourselves. You’ve spent so long pretending nothing ever happened to you that you’re letting your past shape your daily life, and you aren’t even aware of it. During our time together, the sexual gratification I’m going to give you is complete, utter release.”

  I bent my head and began working on filling in the lists. These were easy enough. None of them asked about sexual acts, or embarrassing questions. They were fact-based about tried and true things I like or disliked, and I flew through them. It wasn’t long before Delilah placed a grilled cheese sandwich in front of me. The bread sported the perfect golden brown and cheese oozed out of the sides. My mouth watered just looking at it.

  “Eat up,” she said. “We’ve a big day ahead of us.”

  “Big day? What are we doing?”

  “We’re going shopping.” She sent me a smug grin before letting her eyes travel over my body. I became all too aware that I wore nothing but the silk nightie she’d dressed me in last night. “I’ll lend you some clothes for the occasion, though I do so like silk on you.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich and nearly moaned with pleasure. “You’re a very good cook,” I complimented.

  “Thank you.” She finished the bite in her mouth then used that assessing gaze on me once more. “I have a couple of things I need you to do today.”

  “BDSM things?” I asked as dread pooled in my stomach.

  “In a way. Today, I want you to trust me with the purchases I make.”

  I gave her a puzzled look. “It’s your money. Why would I have anything to do with it?”

  Delilah put down her sandwich and regarded me with a calmness that almost sent me into a panic. Calm like that usually meant someone was preparing to tell me something I wouldn’t like. “The purchases are going to be for you. They’ll be the clothes and personal care products you’ll be using while living with me.”

  “Why can’t I just buy my own? Or go get mine from the guest house I’m using?”

  “You surrendered yourself to my control. Remember? One of the ways I want to teach you complete release is by surrendering control over mundane things, first. If you can’t trust me to pick out an outfit for you, how are you going to trust me with your body?” she asked.

  The idea made sense, but it still unsettled me. “I don’t want to,” I groused as I pushed my sandwich around. Suddenly, I didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. “I would appreciate just being given a ride to pick up my car and my clothes.”

  “Paige...” The soft tones of her voice had me looking up instantly. “I promise I’ll never do more than you can handle. You did sign the contract. I don’t expect it to be easy, but I am trying to take things slow with you. Can you at least try for me?”

  Shame washed over me at her words. She was right; she hadn’t asked anything extreme of me. I’d known when I signed the contract this wasn’t going to be some hot, live-in, 3 month lesbian romp with a little light sensation play.

  “Okay,” I said, and quietly fought back the panic that clawed at my insides.

  Chapter eleven

  I sat the bags down in the foyer and gave Delilah a withering look. “I thought you were broke after buying me. How can you afford all of this?”

  “I made a couple of phone calls before you woke up. I never said I didn’t have enough money to pay for you. I simply didn’t have it on hand to pay last night.” A playful smile flitted over her face.

  Her answer did nothing to make me feel better. If anything, it made me more worried. “Please explain. I’m worried about my sister and Kyle.”

  Her smile faltered, and then she nodded. Apparently using please was Delilah’s weak point. I noticed as long as I asked nicely, she would always answer. “I have a few bonds maturing in the bank. My father is a banker and had me learning how to invest before I hit sixteen. Several of my bonds were cashable. You’ll find not only are you paid for, but there’s been a sizable investment in The Black Cuff too. The renovations Kyle wanted to perform are completely covered, and there’s enough start up to create the second club he wanted.”

  My jaw dropped. “How did...”

  “I also own stock in a few companies. Mostly things related to fashion. I watch for trends and move my investments as the trends dictate. Thus far, it’s worked out well for
me.” She grabbed the handles from the bags she carried and headed up the stairs.

  There’s far more to her than I ever guessed. She’s not only intelligent and artistic, but she’s also kind hearted and money smart. I would have to tread very, very carefully with this woman, I realized. Not only did she see through my ploy to dominate the relationship through the factor list, but if she was genuinely everything she seemed, falling in love would be easy. If nothing else was clear about our relationship yet, that at least was. I would be nothing more than a three month play toy. Period.

  I followed her up the stairs, then watched as she stashed her bags of materials in the room with the mannequins. My bags crinkled as I fidgeted nervously, unsure of where to put them. There was everything from clothes to bath supplies to makeup in them. It was a girl’s shopping excursion dream. The only thing we didn’t look at or buy was jewelry, and that was perfectly fine with me.

  “Which room is mine?” I asked after standing there awkwardly for a few minutes while she sorted her fabrics.

  “In our room,” she replied without looking up.

  I stared at her, startled by the decision. “No. That’s okay. I can stay in a guest room or something.”

  My words must have caught Delilah’s attention. She stood and turned to look at me. “You are my service sub. We will be a sexually active pair. Sleeping apart won’t foster the trust or intimacy I want.”

  It’ll certainly foster me growing fonder of you than I should. I held those words back as I glanced down the hallway at the bedroom. “Oh... Okay. Is there a dresser or something I can use then?”

  She grinned at me. “There’s an entire walk in closet at your disposal, and the bathroom has a double sink. There’ll be plenty of space. Come, darling. Let’s get you settled in so you can be rid of that deer in the headlights look.”

  I stepped back and let her walk past me into the hallway, then followed her to the bedroom. I felt like all I’d done since arriving was follow her everywhere. It bothered me just a tad. Mostly because of the apprehension of not knowing when she would expect the kinkier stuff to start happening.