Chapter 8
Gideon
H er gray eyes look blue tonight, taking color from the simple cotton dress she’s wearing. It looks incongruous with the stripper heels and red lipstick, but not with her hair, worn loose as I directed, a tumble of pale curls.
Good. Obedient.
I find no fault with the way she follows instructions.
Still, I can’t deny second-guessing my decision to have her come here, where I live.
Usually I meet my dates at a hotel because it’s impersonal and adds distance, but this is my home and the only person who visits me here is Lucas.
Then again, there’s a certain ease that comes with having a scene here, mainly due to me having complete control over my environment and also access to all my toys.
Having them delivered and picked up from various places is a fucking hassle.
It’s better not to think too deeply about that, though, and certainly not when she’s asking questions.
I allow subs to ask a few things before a scene so they can get fears or doubts out of the way, and if they’re honest with me, I’m honest with them.
I’m a hardline Dom, but I’m also fair. So even though I don’t particularly want to answer this question, especially when I can barely articulate it to myself, I answer, “Your photo was a pretty one. And you dumped my son.”
She colors. “I’m sorry about Luc, but?—”
“You don’t have to explain.” I don’t want to talk to her about Lucas right now. “It’s got nothing to do with me.”
“Um, a-actually, it’s got everything to do with you.” Her voice is husky and I can hear her nerves, but also that note of determination in the words.
She wants you.
It’s nothing I didn’t already know. She wouldn’t have pushed me that night in the hotel room, then sent a follow up message if she didn’t.
I’m used to women wanting me and I don’t say that with arrogance, it’s just the truth, so I don’t know why the thought of this particular woman wanting me is so… arousing.
It’s not her youth — I’ve been with subs younger than I am as well as subs who are older, and it’s not the age of the person or their appearance that matters to me. It’s their mind— what drives them, what excites them, and what scares them that interests me.
She’s certainly a pretty package, though, and I’m not made of stone. I like naked women as much as the next heterosexual man, but there were elements of her that surprised me that night and it’s those elements that are drawing me in right now.
Her obvious nervousness. Her wariness. The way her eyes are already darkening as they look into mine, a sure sign that she’s in a state of arousal.
The fact that I made her wait a week so she’d remember what happened between us last time and maybe rethink things if she wanted, yet she still turned up here.
She’s honest, ending things with Lucas before she messaged me, and even though I didn’t give her an easy lesson, she’s back and wanting more, and that speaks to a certain courage.
I do like a plucky little sub.
“I’m not your boyfriend, Odette,” I tell her. “So if that’s what you’re hoping for, you can forget it.”
Her fingers move restlessly on the strap of her purse. “No. I…I didn’t mean that. I j-just….” She trails off, her gaze dropping before the force of mine, and that sign of instinctive submission is like a long, slow stroke down the length of my cock.
A silence falls and I let it while she shifts on her feet, so antsy and nervous as the tension pulls tighter and tighter. It’s arousing, watching her be so anxious and unsettled, and knowing that it’s all because of me.
“It wasn’t just about your picture, Odette,” I say at last, deciding to give her a little more honesty as a reward for her bravery.
She looks up instantly, silver eyes wide.
“You’re a pretty girl, but pretty I can get anywhere,” I go on. “That night though, you displayed a certain…. strength. I found it intriguing and decided I wanted to test it over the course of a night. Test it fully.”
Her mouth opens then closes, her face flushing.
She’s pleased with that, which is interesting.
Most women prefer compliments on their appearance, not observations about their strength, but she certainly likes it, and, strangely, I find that arousing too.
Strange, because while I get off on a sub’s pleasure, it’s usual direct physical pleasure rather than the pleasure of delivering a compliment.
It’s good, though. Just another piece of the puzzle I can use to amp up her reactions, later.
“Another thing,” I continue, because I need to get this out of the way and it’s important that she knows I’m aware of it. Honesty is vital with a new sub and trust is everything, so I won’t hide things from her. “Luc told me what happened to you. About how you were attacked.”
Her expression freezes and she blinks. “What?”
I don’t repeat myself, letting the quiet sit there, studying her as her face loses the frozen look, a sudden storm of emotion blowing across it.
Interesting how open she is. Maybe it’s youth, or maybe that’s who she is, unable to keep from broadcasting every thought in her head. One thing is clear though: she’s angry
“He had no right to say anything to you,” she says furiously. “It’s not his story to tell.”
Interesting. Lucas didn’t say it was a secret but she’s certainly acting as if it was. Why? I get that it must have been traumatic for her, and clearly it’s a private matter, but is it really of any consequence if I know? Does it matter to her what I think?
“Nevertheless, he told me,” I say calmly.
This time she meets my gaze without any trouble whatsoever and there it is in her eyes, that steel.
It’s bright and gleaming and I get a sense of its strength.
This woman may look fragile and breakable, but she has a backbone of pure iron, and once again I feel it, that kick of raw heat.
I want to push her, test her, match my steel with hers and see what happens. Fucking sparks, I can already tell.
“It’s behind me,” she says, her voice flat. “It was a year ago and I’m over it. I don’t want you to see me any differently or treat me any differently, because I’m not a fucking victim, okay?”
No she is not, and that is very clear. Yet she’s also afraid that secretly she might be, because what else is behind all that anger but fear?
It gives me more context for why she’s here and why she wants me in particular.
Why my brand of Domination is something she’s afraid of and yet yearns for.
I’m not the only one who wants to test her; she wants to test herself too. Good. I can do that.
“I will treat you any way I see fit,” I point out mildly. “But that is information you should have told me.”
Her jaw firms. “Why? It’s none of your damn business.”
“Everything that goes on in this room is my damn business, and that includes you and your safety. Not being aware of a sub’s issues because she’s been keeping secrets can be dangerous. Are we clear?”
She stares at me belligerently, still pissed as hell.
I stare back, implacable, unrelenting. “Answer me, sub. If you don’t like any of those rules, you know where the door is.”
Odette bites her lip and glances down at the carpet.
Her jaw is still tight and so is the rest of her body.
It looks as if she’s bracing herself for another attack.
Perhaps I should give her some reassurance, but I am not that kind of man.
Besides, the Master in me knows that’s not what she needs.
What she needs is to be tested, so she can see for herself the strength that I see in her.
So I say nothing, letting her decide what she wants.
A couple of moments pass and then she lets out a breath. “Okay,” she mutters, then looks at me again. “Fine.”
Again, she’s proving her courage, and I find myself pleased that she’s decided to stay. The longer she’s here the more of her I see and yes, I like what I see. Very much.
For a moment I debate the merits of asking her about the attack so I’m aware of any potential triggers, but that could end up being unhelpful.
Especially in cases like this one, where a sub is working through issues she doesn’t even know she has and needs to be confronted with her own fears so she can face and overcome them.
In the end though, I say nothing, letting yet more silence fall since silence can be a great tool to mess with a sub’s head.
She continues to shift on her feet, clutching at her worn purse of pale leather, still salty as fuck with me judging from the silver flickers of temper in her eyes. “So,” she says impatiently, breaking the silence as I knew she would, “What would you like me to?—”
“Quiet.” I interrupt, command deepening my voice. “You remember what I told you last week? About the rules?”
“Yes.”
Her hands are shaking a little and I like that. I like everything about her right now, her anger and uncertainty, her anxiety and her impatience. All emotional cues I can use to make her feel so good, so very, very good.
Now. It’s time to let the Master out to play.
“Keep your heels on,” I order. “But take off the rest of your clothes. Fold them neatly and lay them on the floor next to the couch, along with your purse. Then kneel in front of the windows, facing the room.”
She takes a breath and stares at me for a long second as the reality of what she’s come here for gradually sinks in, but I hold her gaze, pinning her where she stands.
Imposing my will on her through the sheer force of my presence.
I can sense how she’s trying to hold my gaze, to not look down, but I will not allow it.
The battle of wills lasts only a couple of seconds, but the thrill of it gets into my blood like a line of the very best coke, and when she eventually drops her gaze, fuck it’s a rush. I’m getting hard, which is unusual so early into a scene, but that’s fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.