Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Robert sent me a message letting me know Damon and Christopher would arrive around six o’clock. It’s half past five. We’re both showered, and Giselle is naked but for a chrome collar, kneeling in the middle of the living room rug, getting her head into slavespace as we wait for them.
I haven’t kissed her since this morning. It won’t do for them to see her—or me—when we’re outside of our roles. We’re both far too vulnerable like that. No, it’s better this way, with this conversation looming over us.
I watch her as she kneels on the floor. She’s in classic slave position: knees parted, palms up on her spread thighs, head bowed, eyes on the floor.
I had her put her hair up, and her neck encircled by the shiny collar looks so damn tender to me.
I grind down on my jaw hard and turn away from her to look out the windows.
Below us the city is busy, with cars coming and going, people on the sidewalks, all of them probably leaving their comfortably mundane jobs, heading to their comfortably mundane homes, never having to face the sort of situation I find myself in.
Not that other people don’t have real problems, but I almost envy them the lack of this sort of complication in their lives.
Except I’d hate that life, of course. It was never meant for me. Nah, it was either ending up on the streets, living poor, like my family always did, making nothing of myself—or this. I’m damn lucky, and I know it. Still, I’m about to possibly—probably—blow it the fuck up, ain’t I?
I hear the elevator doors slide open and glance at my watch: five forty-five.
They do like to keep everyone on their toes, don’t they?
Damon is finely dressed in dark trousers and a white dress shirt open at the neck.
Christopher is dressed in jeans and heavy black boots and a black T-shirt. Classic for each of them.
I cross the room to greet them. Giselle, of course, stays exactly as she is.
Damon is the first to reach for my hand, and I shake it. His grip is firm, and he’s smiling.
“Gilby. Good to see you,” he says.
I try not to read too much into it—not that he’s given me much to go on.
“Hey, Gilby,” Christopher says as he grabs my hand, giving it a hard squeeze, his eyes glittering, as if he’s amused by something. But he’s always hard to read. And he’s often amused by something. Almost everything, when he’s not busy being pissed off.
“Drinks?” I offer.
“A scotch for me,” Damon says.
“Anything for you, Christopher?” I ask.
“Nah, I’m good.”
I move to the bar and pour Damon a scotch in a crystal glass, then do the same for myself, except it’s my good gin over ice. I hand Damon his drink as he settles onto the sofa.
Christopher is standing before Giselle, watching her, then he leans down and whispers something in her ear, pinching her cheek as he straightens up.
And fuck me, but it makes my blood boil a little, which is completely fucking out of line.
The House, and therefore Damon and Christopher, own her contract.
Own her. I swallow my anger down with a good sip of the gin.
“Come, sit down,” Damon suggests, and I sit next to him on the sofa while Christopher takes a seat on a side chair. “I hope all is well, Gilby? You’ve found the penthouse comfortable?”
“Yes, it’s extremely comfortable. Well…” I have to stop, letting out a short chuckle, “‘comfortable’ is a very bland word for what this place is. It’s spectacular, ain’t it?”
“It’s meant to be,” Christopher says. “I’m glad it suits your needs.”
“It does, and more. Thank you for letting me use the place. I know it’s not something offered to just anyone.”
“You’re hardly ‘just anyone’, Gilby. Not to us.
Not to anyone in our circle. Your work with us is much appreciated.
” Damon leans forward, his elbows on his knees, holding his glass in one hand.
“This could be considered an unusual situation, and I understand many people in our kink realm would believe it to be, but as you know, having been at The Training House these six years, these things happen sometimes.”
“I’m not sure what to say to that, to be honest.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” Christopher interjects.
“It’s not like we didn’t know you were in love with her.
Ha! Don’t look so shocked—did you really think you could keep something like that secret from us?
Fuck, no. Our only question is if she feels the same way.
Once we’ve established that, then we can move on to a solution. Girl, come,” he commands.
Giselle crawls across the floor to Christopher and leans down to kiss the toe of his boot.
“Nicely done,” he says, “but not necessary right now. We need to talk to you. And yeah, I know talking is not your thing, and you’re naked and collared, so we’re going to go into the bedroom, you and I, and I’m going to help you switch out of this headspace.
Get to your feet and follow me, Giselle. ”
It doesn’t escape my attention that he calls her by her name. He always knows what he’s doing, this one.
He stands, and she rises gracefully, as always. He moves off toward the bedroom, and she adjusts her posture—head down, hands clasped behind her back. Christopher doesn’t even look to see if she follows; we all know she will, and she does.
Once they’ve disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me with my heart pounding, Damon clears his throat.
“The look on your face, Gilby, as if you could murder him,” he says with a small chuckle. “But I’m not really making fun of you. Not after what I’ve been through myself. How have you been holding up since we left the House in your hands, since you came here to The Apartments?”
“Not well, to be honest. Being here has been a real gift; I know that. And time with her has been…incredible. But thinking about what comes next? Hard to even wrap my head around it, as much as I appreciate what you and Christopher have done for me, Sir.”
Damon waves a hand. “That’s not necessary—no titles between us right now. We’re here to talk to you both simply as people today, roles aside. It’s the only way we can get to the bottom of the situation. I imagine they’ll be just a few minutes.”
“Uh…yeah, alright. Well, it seems you know I’ve been in some turmoil.”
“Of course we do. We’re all trained observers, we sadists, aren’t we?
You as much as Christopher and I. We see everything.
It’s definitely become more noticeable in the last year.
I know you’ve been avoiding her more and more.
I don’t even know when the last time was that you worked her, although you’ve worked her sister and the other slaves we’ve had at the House plenty. ”
“My apologies. I always try to do my job well—”
“And you do,” Damon interrupts. “I’m not here to berate you—quite the opposite.
You’ve been a great addition to the House.
I really don’t know that we could have run it as smoothly without you.
Which is why we have a particular sort of offer for you, if she is agreeable.
But for now, let’s enjoy our drinks and get caught up.
The Palm Springs house is beautiful, and the weather has been gorgeous.
Our lovely Aimée is waiting for us there.
After we leave San Francisco we’ll go back for a few days, then we plan to go to Berlin to see some friends, then on to Paris for a bit, if all goes well here.
But you should get down there sometime, to the Palm Springs house.
Christopher would be happy to lend it to you. ”
“Would he, Sir? I’ve never spent time in Palm Springs before, although I’ve driven both of you there. But I always turn right around and head back to San Francisco.”
“The desert has its own sort of beauty. The mountains, the brightness of the open sky. There’s a really spectacular sculpture garden there, if you’re interested in that sort of thing. You’ll see it sometime, I think. Ah, here they are.”
I look up to see Giselle, collar gone, dressed in a cashmere knit pants set in a soft cream color. Her feet are bare, and they look especially naked to me with her in clothes. Her hair is still pinned up, and that creamy cashmere against the tender skin of her neck… So vulnerable.
Her cheeks are flushed and I can tell she’s confused. Well, so am I.
She moves to the middle of the rug, but Christopher takes her hand and sits her on the sofa next to Damon, so that he’s between us.
Damon takes her hand. “Giselle,” he says, and it hits me like a sort of shock, hearing him say her name for the first time, rather than the usual “Girl”, even though Christopher just did so himself, but Damon is so much more formal.
“We’re here to discuss your future. We need you to be as honest as possible.
For right now, you need to simply be yourself.
Not a slave. Not Girl, but Giselle, present in your own body—in your body.
It’s yours for the time being. Do you understand what I’m saying? ”
“Yes,” she answers. “I-I think so.”
“Excellent. Now, we are aware, Master Christopher and I—and Gilby has confirmed it—that he’s in love with you.”
Oh, her cheeks turn a bright pink, and she lowers her gaze, those long lashes resting on her cheekbones.
So damn beautiful. I wish I could hold onto her hand while they question her, then immediately question what the fuck happened to the sadist in me that I’m disturbed by the idea of her suffering in any way. I suppose that’s what love is, eh?
“So,” Christopher says, “what we need to know from you is how you feel about him. Do you feel the same? Do you love him? Or are your feelings less intense than his? And before you answer, you need to know there will be no punishment for you no matter what your answer is. Or for Gilby, either.”