“She saved my life. A few years ago, when I was drunk, she found me. It’s because of her I’m not an...an alcoholic anymore,” I explained, owning up to my past. “The night you took me home was the first time I’d drank in a couple of years.”
“There is a difference. You no longer owe anything to someone who harms you, no matter how much they did for you at one point. Once a relationship becomes harmful, toxic, it’s no longer a matter of debt, but a matter of what you deserve as a human being.” Delilah’s eyes flashed and her measured speaking indicated she kept a tight rein on some powerful emotions. “No one ever deserves to be treated as less or hurt, even in BDSM.”
“Isn’t that the point of BDSM?” I asked, puzzled. “Isn’t the point behind a sub to be subservient? Less than?”
She chuckled softly and her demeanor relaxed. “Then you’ve missed the entire point. Think about who really has the power over how far things go and when they stop.”
With that, she patted my knee, then left the living room. The sound of cabinets opening in the kitchen reached me as I considered her words. What did she mean by them? Wasn’t the answer obvious?
Obviously it’s not obvious, or she wouldn’t have said it, idiot. I inwardly rolled my eyes at myself and really thought about it.
“Who has the power over how far things go and when they stop,” I whispered, hoping repeating it would help me understand. It felt like I was trying to solve the world’s hardest riddle.
Bastet padded in and paused in front of me. Her bright, yellow eyes searched me for a moment, as if assessing whether I was still an emotional hazard. I wiggled my fingers at her and she leaned forward, pressing her nose to one for just a moment.
“You have such beautiful, yellow eyes,” I told her.
Yellow. That was Megan’s safe word for slow down during the demo...
“The power is in the sub’s hands,” I suddenly yelled, scaring the cat so much that she rocketed from the room.
“What?” Delilah appeared in the doorway, and her features were scrunched in concern. She clenched a spatula in her hand, as if ready to wield it as a weapon.
“The sub has the power. They set limits, and use safe words. They have the ability to control when things stop or what can and can’t happen,” I said.
A smile warmed her features and her body relaxed. “Exactly. That’s absolutely correct. So next time you start feeling like you are worthless, remember that you always have power with me.”
She left the room, and I walked over to the window and looked outside. I’d spent such a small amount of time in Delilah’s care, and yet already I’d learned and experienced so much. It was going to be hard to leave if the rest of our time remained like this.
Though I could do without all the crying.
Chapter fifteen
After eating, I called Brandi and then we set up the cell phone so it forwarded calls to Delilah’s. Taking an active role in tackling my issues helped soothe the tension and emotional turmoil inside. By the time we finished writing a list of my bill amounts, and having Brandi promise to bring my mail to the club so we could get the account numbers, I stopped shaking and simply felt anxious.
“I’m sorry there were no calls for jobs in your voicemail,” Delilah said as she watched me bounce my leg with nervous energy. “You will get a job, Paige. You are a smart woman with solid work experience. It will happen.”
I offered her a wan smile, but couldn’t bring myself to reply. The only things I had to say were either sarcastic or downright self-depreciating. Things I knew she wouldn’t tolerate me saying.
We sat in silence for a moment, before she stood and grabbed my hand. “Come with me,” she instructed. “You need something to do, and I have things that need to get done.”
Great. Now’s when I become a maid as my part of service sub duties.
She led me to the room that held her materials and mannequins, then released her hold on me. Her demeanor seemed to lighten as she crossed the room and turned on a computer, then clicked some music on. As usual, her preferred techno orchestral melodies filled the space.
With a flourish, Delilah picked up a bag and brought it to me. She shoved it into my arms, then pointed at the table. “You’ll find fabric scissors and measuring tape over there. I need two lengths of one foot, and two lengths of three feet cut.”
I stared at it for a moment with wide eyes, then looked back up at her. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at this...”
She flashed me a wide grin. “That’s why I bought twenty feet for a ten foot job.”
My cheeks burned at the thought of failing that badly. I’d never been an artsy person. Before becoming an editor, I’d always spent my time playing sports. Brandi often questioned how the transition from athlete to English major happened. I never knew what to tell her. After the rape and assault, I gave up sports and never looked back. Books were safer.
The table seemed to sneer at me as I approached it and the bag crinkle sounded an awful lot like an evil chuckle. Great. Inanimate objects are now mocking me in my head. I’m a dead ringer for sane.
I pulled the material out of the bag and ran my fingers over the ruffled lace. The measurements and amounts she needed played through my mind as I measured one set, then the next. The fabric scissors sliced through the material in a soft scrunch scrunch , and I did my best to ensure there were no jagged edges or distortions on my cuts. Before taking them to her, I compared the same-length strands to each other. The one foot pieces matched, as did the three feet pieces.
When I brought them to her, my insides whirled. I felt like a kid bringing their parent a crayon drawing or craft. I desperately wanted to have done it right. Needed her to smile and praise me. To share my perception that I’d achieved what I was trying to accomplish.
Delilah took each piece and looked it over, a solemn expression on her face. After she’d inspected them all, she nodded. “These look great. Do you know how to sew?”
“No,” I admitted, and for some reason, shame jabbed at me. “I never tried to learn.”
“That’s perfectly fine. I can do the sewing. Later, we’ll see if you can cut more complicated measurements. As is, you being able to cut things like this as well as you did will help me a lot. Sometimes, if someone else can just do that easy work, it frees me up to do the more complicated stuff, and that is a huge stress relief for me,” she said.
As I watched, she used pins to secure the shorter pieces as cuffs on the Victorian looking tuxedo, then attached the longer pieces inside the collar. I wanted to point out she’d asked me to make them too long, but I remained silent. Delilah obviously did this for a living. She would know the precise measurements far better than I.
“Alright, are you ready to go?” she asked as she straightened.
“Go?” I gave her a puzzled look. “I’m still in a nightie and didn’t know we were going anywhere.”
The grin on her face had me grinning in return. “You look so beautiful in that gown, I forget it’s not exactly a socially acceptable piece to wear in public. Would you mind changing clothes? We have to meet up with a couple of clients at The Black Cuff. The pants suit we bought you would look really good, and it’ll keep you covered if you have to take measurements and kneel.”
“Will they be open this early?” I asked, glancing around for a clock.
“By the time we get dressed and get there, it’ll be two. The club opened early today. It’s a holiday, remember?”
I searched my internal calendar for holidays and came up with nothing. “Ummm...”
“Cinco de Mayo,” she said.
“Oh.” I stood there, shuffling my feet. Since giving up drinking, I’d forgotten about the holiday. I’d always worked through it in the past, even if it was on a weekend. Especially if it landed on a weekend.
“They are having a party at the club. Things won’t start getting in to full swing until around five, but it will give us plenty of time to meet with the clients and take their measure
ments.” Delilah walked over to her computer and turned the music off, then shut the computer down.
“Why not have clients just meet you here? You have plenty of space to create a shop area to meet them in,” I asked.
She froze for a moment, then glanced at me over her shoulder. “I like my privacy. I don’t always like or trust my clients. I’d rather my home remain a safe place. For my sake, and sometimes for the sake of my sub.”
I understand what she meant all too well. Her reasons were more than acceptable. “Makes sense,” I responded. “I’ll go change.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” she said as she busied herself with the pink maid outfit in the corner.
Bastet lounged in the hallway, tail flicking as she stared at the doorway I emerged from. I stepped over her, then padded down the carpeted hallway to the bedroom. The layout of the house was becoming familiar to me pretty quickly. For some reason, it already felt less foreign to me than the guest house did the entire month I’d lived there.
I entered the closet where my things were, then pulled the pant suit Delilah suggested off the hanger. The vest-like top hugged my curves in ways that made me confident in my sex appeal. The pants, fashioned from the same material, molded against my ass and billowed around my ankles. The red heels I wore last night would look wonderful with it, but if I’d be kneeling, I probably needed something more comfortable. I chose the black flats instead, and hoped my Domme would approve.
She entered the bedroom as I exited the closet. I gestured at the clothes within at as I spoke. “What shirt do you think I should wear under this?”
“None,” she responded without even looking. “Wear it without one.”
“But, my cleavage!” I made a motion like I was opening a book in front of my chest.
Delilah laughed, and the sound caused a stirring of heat within me. How could a laugh create lust? I didn’t know, but hers sure did for me.
“You’ll look gorgeous. We are going to a BDSM club, remember. You will fit right in,” she said.
I gave up the argument and re-entered the closet to grab a bra and a matching panties. They were both red. It seemed to be a trend with the clothes she bought me. At least the pantsuit was a nice shade of charcoal. The panties slid on in a whisper of silk, and then I pulled on the pants. Once I removed the nightie, I folded it and placed it to the side. When I finished dressing, I carefully laid the nightie on the made bed. It was too nice of a piece to throw in the floor.
Delilah came out in an outfit that almost matched mine, except hers had a sapphire-blue kerchief in the pocket this time. She held a matching scrap of material in her hand. As she approached, I cocked my head curiously, wondering what she was up to.
“Lift your hair,” she commanded. Her words came out barely audible.
I did so, though I couldn’t help the frown on my face. Delilah reached out, and I realized she held one of those pretty collars in her hands. Black lace fringed the bottom half, and the ends connected with silver choker clasps. It fit snuggly, but didn’t feel too tight.
“There,” she said, stepping back. “Now you are collared and don’t have to worry about anyone at the club if we aren’t together constantly.”
“You’re worried about Bryce,” I said, noting the possessive look in her eyes.
Delilah stilled, as if surprised by my observation. After a moment, she nodded. “I suppose I am. He can be a real...well, bastard. There’s no help for it, I suppose. He was born in to wealth and let it go to his head. It’s a shame, really. He’s not hard on the eyes, but his soul is as black as tar.”
“Do you think he’ll be there?” With Teresa, I silently added.
She shrugged. “I don’t know. And now it doesn’t matter. You’re mine, for everyone to see.” Her fingertips slid across my face in a gentle touch. “He so much as lays a finger on you, and you come straight to me. I’ll see to it he never has the chance again.”
I leaned into her touch, and for the first time in my life, I felt truly protected. Her words hit me on such a deep level that I couldn’t even comprehend. Without thinking, I stepped up to her and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Thank you, Mistress.”
She blinked at me a moment, and I realized I’d caught her by surprise. Just when I began to worry I’d done the wrong thing, her face blossomed into the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. “You’re most welcome.”
We made our way to her SUV, then drove to the club. The ride was uneventful, and though I still clutched at the arm rest, my grip relaxed by the time we arrived at our destination. The parking lot already contained several cars, and I scanned the lot for Brandi’s little red car automatically. It wasn’t there, but then again, the weather was nice enough she may have walked.
The club thrummed with activity, and music filtered through the speakers. Sombreros and piñatas hung randomly around as decorations. Instead of little black dresses, suits, and gothic bondage gear, most of the clients wore sundresses or blue jeans. A few even sported cowboy hats.
“Since when was Mexican synonymous with Wild West?” I asked with a snort.
Delilah grinned at me in return. “Just wait until you meet my first client.”
She guided me upstairs to the private rooms. When we reached her door, she produced a small key out of her pocket. The door unlocked without protest, and we entered the relative quiet of her room.
“What do you need me to do?” My gaze immediately traveled to the furred rug and a shiver of desire filled me. How would I be able to get her to take me to subspace again? She’d done nothing sexual today. How could I ask for it without looking like a wanton whore?
“The wardrobe over there has a semi-hidden drawer near the bottom. Could you pull it out and bring me the measuring tape and clipboard from inside of it, please?”
“Yes, Mistress.” I made my way over to it. The drawer wasn’t hard to find, and I pulled it open and fetched what she asked for. As I turned around, a soft knock sounded on the door.
“Mistress Mary Ann! How wonderful to see you back in town.” Delilah threw her arms wide to embrace someone.
When she stepped back, she revealed a woman who stood almost as tall as her. Auburn waves of hair fell past her shoulders, and her eyes beamed as she smiled at my Mistress. A tan cowboy hat topped her head, and a soft blue plaid shirt that matched her eyes encased her well-endowed frame. She wasn’t model thin, but her thicker, muscular body looked healthy. Her clothes suited her, as if she truly belonged in farm gear instead of just playing dress up for the holiday.
“Delilah, it’s good to see you,” she replied. Except her accent made it sound more like, “good ta see ya.”
“I miss your company terribly,” Delilah said. “Will you be coming back more often?”
Jealousy flared up within me, but I kept my features perfectly neutral as I watched the exchange. Their friendliness with each other was none of my business. I swear, I’m getting jealous every time she even looks at another woman. What am I going to do if she decides she wants a threesome? I shuddered at the thought.
“Well, I’ve had a bit of a break in work, so I should be in and out a tad more often. Since it’s just me out at the ranch right now, I’ve sold off about half my land and livestock. I’ve just got the fifty acres, a small herd of cattle, and the horses now,” Mary Ann said.
“Why did you sell off so much? Did something happen?” Delilah’s body stiffened and I knew it meant she was worried.
The woman waved her off. “No, no. The farm was too big for me to manage alone. Besides, my passion was always helping the horses. Cattle ranching, that was...” She broke off and hurt flashed on her features. “Any hoo, he wouldn’t want me getting out of the lifestyle on account of his passing. I thought going to the opening shindig for this new club might be a good idea. That’s why I called you.”
“Did Heath tell you about the theme yet?” Mistress asked. At her client’s frown, she said, “It’ll be a Seven Deadly Sins theme. Pick one
, and we’ll work something out for you.”
“Huh, I— Goodness, but you gave me a fright.” Mary Ann stared at me with her hand to her chest. “You’re like a rabbit, frozen and quiet over there.”
“More like a stalking tigress,” Delilah said with a small chuckle. “This is my sub, Paige. Paige, this is Mistress Mary Ann. She’s one of the other board members of the club.”
“Please to meet you,” I said, putting on a smile.
The rest of our time with her passed in a flurry of activity. Once she chose the sin of Pride—which seemed to be the exact opposite of her personality—Delilah sketched a couple of designs. Mary Ann chose one, then we took her measurements. My Mistress taught me how to do the measurements, and our client was all too happy to “play the guinea pig” as she put it.
When she left, our next client entered only moments behind. His muscular form and broad shoulders were something I recognized a mile away. The small form that followed him caught my attention immediately.
“Good afternoon, Master Rick, Amy,” Delilah welcomed them. “Did you choose your sins yet?”
“We thought we’d go with Greed and Envy,” Rick said as he wrapped an arm around his wife. “I know they are different sins, but is there any way we could do a couples theme?”
“Of course!” Delilah flipped her clipboard open, pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, then quickly did a sketch. “What do you think of this? We can use a matching shade of green to tie them together even more.”
“That’s perfect,” Amy gushed, then stared up at her Master. “What do you think?”
“Looks alright to me.” Rick kissed the top of her head.
“Let’s get you two measured then, shall we?”
The measuring went a lot quicker this time, since I had a better idea of what I was doing. It didn’t seem long at all before Delilah was waving them out the door as I put the measuring tape and clipboard back. The measurements and sketches she’d made sat on an end table next to the door.
“Well, we’ve got a bit of work cut out for us. The party isn’t for a few more months, but we’ll get more clients. Mark my words. And everyone is going to want to be unique, so no pre-made conceptions of clothing, either.” She leaned against the door after she closed it and her gaze roamed over me. “You look like some sexy CEO.”
The Abduction Agreement (Mistress May I Book 1) Page 13