Chapter 19
19
T he security alert on my phone tells me she’s arrived, long before her timid knock announces her presence.
“Enter.” I lean back in my office chair and watch as the door to my study swings open. That dark head of hair slips inside, allowing the door to shut behind her on silent hinges.
She has a simple black cotton dress on, with cream buttons along the front. The floaty fabric stops midway down her bronzed calves. Her shoulders are bare, with only thin straps covering what lies beneath—the garment she has been provided to wear that sits hidden by such a very plain exterior. In one hand, she carries an oat-colored sweater. With her hair piled in a loose bundle on her head, she looks innocent enough to be spending an afternoon at the library buried in a stack of classics.
It’s almost laughable. As though she tried her hardest to choose something as unassuming and mild-mannered as possible in order to hide the truth.
A different tale this night will certainly tell by the time I’m finished with her.
Those dark eyes of hers go wide, as she hesitates just inside the doorway. Glancing at the heavy oak paneling lining the room, the large fireplace, before stopping with a lingering glance at the location of her sordid adventure with the three of us.
The couch where she allowed herself to be used however we pleased.
“You can undress there.” I readjust my watch, checking the time as I do so. Seven p.m.
I’ve got the floor of Noire House to navigate after this is over and done with. I’ve got VIP clients wanting to burn my ear about ideas for future special events they’re interested in the club providing. I’ve got Keisha texting, needing to find a moment without prying eyes or ears when she can brief me on intelligence her girls have collected over the past week while they’ve been seeing to their regulars, who we monitor closely.
While I never know how long this type of thing is going to take—because it largely falls to the sub in question as to how naturally they acclimatise to the basics—I’ve got my instructions for how this girl is expected to be prepared.
I’m certainly not going to waste time dancing delicately around this girl’s feelings about all of this. I cannot save every single soul I cross paths with, and she has already been saved by me once.
That’s more than many others get.
It’s more than I fucking got.
No one saved my brother and me from abuse at the hands of the Noire family, not when we were just children plucked from our beds every night to endure the worst kinds of abuse to satisfy their sick pleasures.
Posey Reed might not like the prospect of her future, but it’s sure as hell a whole lot more pleasant than so many of us had the misfortune to suffer through.
As I glance back up, I see that she hasn’t moved an inch. Still standing there clutching her sweater with knees knocking together. Jesus. This isn’t boding well if she can’t even follow a simple instruction.
“You need to follow every command I give you, Posey.” I rub over my chin while narrowing my gaze on her.
That jolts her out of whatever trance she’d found herself stuck in.
“Don’t call me that.”
I keep my eyes trained on her, noting the way her knuckles have whitened around the material bunched in her fist.
“What would you prefer then?”
“Poe will do.” Her eyes dart around, observing the large, heavy oak desk I’m seated behind, my double computer monitors, and the bookshelves at my back.
This study is the place I end up spending a large proportion of my time, if I’m not in the rooms sprawling across the floors above us. In here, it’s a legacy of Noire House and looks like something plucked out of time from a hundred years ago, with its somber gentleman’s smoking room appearance, but it’s fit for the task at hand.
When you have to infiltrate a world and stay hidden within it for as long as I have, you learn to put up with shit like antique decor.
“Why do I have to be here?” She chews the inside of her cheek, remaining resolutely stationed in the doorway, not daring to step a foot closer.
“Part of your required initiation is to be taught how to best serve those who you belong to.”
Her eyes nearly fall out of her head with how wide they grow.
“You mean… serve them? As in sex ?”
I push out of my seat and come around to lean against the front of my desk.
“Learning to please your Dominant doesn’t always mean sex. There can be many other ways to fulfill that power dynamic that remain intercourse-free.” I start to roll my shirt sleeves up my forearms as I talk, and she squirms like a cat on hot coals. “However, in this particular context, yes, that is what you are being initiated for.”
“Is that why I had to wear this stupid outfit? So you can fuck me easily and send me on my way?” Her voice catches as she snaps at me.
I finish rolling my sleeve and look her over as I smooth the fabric in place just below my elbow. The fireplace hisses and pops with the weighty silence stretching out across the room. There is a mile of distance between where she remains standing and the position where I rest my ass against the front of my desk.
“Who said anything about me fucking you?” My upper lip curls.
Poe’s brown eyes flash, bouncing quickly between my forearms and my face.
“Isn’t that—”
Her expression runs through a sequence of emotions. Relief? Confusion? Whatever it is, I don’t fucking care; this is yet another task I have to carry out amongst an unending sea of other tasks that come with making sure pleasure is the ultimate priority inside these walls.
“I already told you. There will be times when your presence is required for your training; beyond that, I don’t care what you do. Your time spent in this room is for me to carry out the duties I’ve been entrusted with, and that is to teach you what will be expected as a submissive.”
Those pink lips of hers part in a silent protest.
“We’re not off to a very promising start. I gave you an instruction, however either you misheard me… which I will occasionally excuse… or you chose not to listen. Let me tell you now, your future is going to be far more pleasant if you adapt quickly to this role. ”
“I don’t want this fucking role.” She gives me that same glare from the night of the auction when she finally figured it all out. That we weren’t some little fantasy, we were exactly the calculating bastards we’d been required to be for so long I don’t know any other goddamn way to exist.
Pushing off the desk, I cross the floor to where she’s glued in place. It’s certainly not how I’d expect any half-decent sub to behave. I don’t go to them, they come to me—willingly so, and on all fours. Tonight, however, I’ll allow her a little rope for leniency, considering this is her first session.
“You’re telling me you don’t want safety? You don’t enjoy being given commands while knowing you are ultimately the one in charge? You’re saying that you wouldn’t relish in the knowledge that your every desire is being taken care of without question?” Stopping just in front of her, I allow my gaze to trace the line of her shoulder, extending down her upper arm, and as my eyes move, so does a flurry of goosebumps, painting her skin.
“Because that is what a submissive is. They aren’t weak or powerless. In fact, they hold all the cards.”
“What if I don’t care… what if I don’t want any of this?”
“Wouldn’t you rather learn to swim than drown?”
“Are you always such an asshole?” She huffs.
“Yes. Especially when I’m begged nicely. Now, take your dress off. I don’t have all night.”
“How charming. I suppose next, you’ll tell me something equally as crass like I’ve seen it all before .” She lets the sweater go, allowing it to tumble onto the floor, then begins to slowly unfasten the top couple of buttons of her dress. “I don’t understand why I have to get half-naked for this.”
“If you’re going to learn, you need to get comfortable with knowing how to please the new masters in your world.”
That makes her pause. The blood drains from her face, and she fumbles the next button, slipping clumsily, and I catch the pained wince in her expression.
My eyes tick down to her hand she’s now cradling in front of her. The bandaged site of her injury peeks out.
“Are you alright?” I step closer, and reach forward to catch her wrist, turning it over in order to examine the heel of her palm where the dressing has been affixed.
Poe swallows, her cheeks pale. “That word. The way you just said it… that’s exactly what the man said in that place. Told me he was my master now.”
I hold her soft hand inside my own, staring at the concealed site of the gash I know lies beneath that bandaging, while contemplating the hidden hurts that I cannot see residing within this girl.
“I didn’t intend to bring up bad memories for you, Poe. I won’t use that word again.”
“Isn’t that what being a good little sub is? Obeying someone and calling them that?” She draws her hand away, and I let her take it back.
“No. Different people have specific words they prefer, your Dominants will inform you of how they wish to be addressed.”
“What do you prefer?” She holds my eyes for a second, then flicks them away.
“While we’re in a scene, you’ll address me as Sir.” I fold my arms and rest one hand over my chin. “The next time you come in here, I’ll expect you to be ready to begin right away. Tonight is an opportunity for you to learn about some of the basics, and then we will go from there in future sessions.”
“So that’s why I have a phone now. Your own personal on-call submissive.” She undoes another button, revealing a first glimpse at crimson silk and lace.
That makes me tilt my head ever so slightly, holding her big doe eyes in my own stern gaze. “If I’m in need of a submissive to fulfill my needs, I have a whole three floors of willing guests upstairs to choose from… and trust me, they’re all here by their own volition. So, no, I do not need to summon your presence, Miss Reed. In fact, I’ve got several other places I already need to be tonight.”
Those delicate fingers hover above the button at her sternum. The fabric hangs loose enough now for her to hook the straps off each shoulder, and as I watch on, she at first clutches the material against her bosom as it begins to slip down her figure, then eventually pulls her palm away, allowing the dress to flutter to the floor.
“Very good.” I observe the way she holds herself. Shifting around, uncertain of what to do with her hands, or how to stand. A faint flush of pink brings color back to her cheeks.
The lingerie she has on is a fragile array of silk and lace trim. A full bodysuit with deep cleavage. The blood-red color sits perfectly against her skin tone, accentuating her dark bronze complexion.
“Do I take these off?” She dips her chin in the direction of the high-heeled black boots she wears.
An almost identical pair to the ones she wore that night.
“Leave them on,” I say, then gesture for her to follow me.
“Fetch yourself a cushion from the couch, then join me on the other side of my desk.”
As I settle myself down in my office chair, I flick a quick glance at the time on my computer screen. I don’t have much longer before I’m due elsewhere, so perhaps, fortunately for Poe, she’s going to be relieved of her station shortly.
When she appears beside me, her eyes are almost comically round.
“What am I doing with this?” She raises the cushion slightly.
“Use it for your knees. That spot right where you’re standing is adequate.”
“You want me to kneel beside you? ”
“Yes.”
“And that’s all?”
I give her a stern look, one that says how little patience I have for incessant questioning, but hopefully one that also conveys that the quicker she stops getting in her own way here, the better.
“Fine, I’ll kneel on your stupid cushion.” She drops it to the floor, then lowers down. Except, the whole time, her dark eyes watch me, and that just won’t do.
Grabbing her chin, I pinch tight. “That’s, ‘ Yes, Sir,’ when you’re in this room. And you’ll kneel quietly with your eyes on the floor unless I give you permission otherwise, do you understand?”
Her tongue shoots out to wet her lips.
My thumb itches to trap that lower swell of plump mouth and hook her captive to my command. But, I stay waiting for her inner war to subside, and for her to give me the answer she knows I’m expecting.
“Yes… Sir.” She breathes. They’re two incredibly simple words, yet uttering them in that way is the ultimate test for many.
“You have your instructions.” I turn to my computer, pulling up a few different documents I had been reading through. Reports from the club’s database, tasks needing attention. All meaningless, mind-numbing shit.
Poe kneels beside me with her head lowered as I handle a few emails and read through some Noire House security intel from my brother.
More minutes pass by, and she has remained knelt there, unmoving, with head bowed and hands loosely folded in her lap.
Eventually, I know it’s time. Turning back to her, I hook a forefinger beneath that delicately proportioned chin. When I tip her face to look up at me, I’m met with an entirely unreadable expression.
“That’s all. You may get dressed now.”
Her brows knit together.
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have to do anything else?”
“No, for your first session, you did very well.”
She looks at me with a myriad of questions behind her Bambi eyes. Full lips parted. A whole lot of womanly curves and smooth skin on display like the good little pet she’s going to be.
“So, run along, princess. I’ve got shit to do, and clients to attend to.”
That gets her moving real damn quick. Poe doesn’t even look at me, and hardly has her dress on before she flies out the door, this time shutting it behind her with a loud click, leaving me in peace once more.
Or some semblance of it.