10. Sophia
TEN
Sophia
Hand in hand, we leave my new quarters, the lingering warmth of our morning still electrifying the air between us. The early sunlight bathes the corridor in a soft glow as we make our way to breakfast.
The cafeteria buzzes with morning activity. The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon greets us as we enter, mingling with the hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes. My stomach growls again, louder this time, drawing an amused glance from Blake.
“Starving after our vigorous morning activities?” he teases, his eyes spark with mischief.
“Famished.” I grin, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. I lean up on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “And ready for more vigorous activities. You took it easy on me.”
“I’ll take note of that.” His lips twist into a cocky grin. “Sweetie, we’ve barely begun. Trust me when I say, I’ve barely scratched the surface of what I want.”
“Oh, I hope so.”
“Dammit, if you get me hard in front of my team, I’m going to swat that pretty ass of yours and keep you on your knees for hours.”
“Hmmm… Now that sounds tempting. ”
“Tempting?” He looks down at me, his pupils dilating with intense, unbridled desire. “Don’t try to manipulate me, sweetie, or I’ll turn you over my knee and redden that ass of yours.”
“There’s no playing involved. Only obedience.”
“Obedience?” He tilts my chin up with a finger, searching my eyes. “Baby, you don’t have to obey me. I’m not your master.”
“Not yet.” The loaded words hang between us.
“I’ll never be that.”
It’s a letdown. He doesn’t understand the deep-seated reasons driving my behavior.
Blake pulls me aside, his voice low and filled with earnest intensity. “I want equalty in this relationship. Mutual respect and care. Domination and submission without coercion—nothing like what you’ve experienced before.”
His gaze holds mine firmly, and I can see the depth of his sincerity. “I enjoy being dominant,” he continues, his voice softening yet remaining authoritative. “I crave the kink, the power exchange, but not because I want to be your master or to control you through fear. I want to guide you, help you explore your submission in a way that’s empowering for you, free from the shadows of your past.”
The words resonate deeply, sinking into the very core of my being. He promises a different kind of intimacy, one where my desires are acknowledged and respected. A place where my past doesn’t define the dynamic but rather offers a foundation for something healthier and more profound.
Blake’s touch is tender and reassuring. “This is about mutual consent, trust, and genuine connection. You’re safe with me, and I want us to build something real together. No fear, no manipulation—just us, finding our way.”
A knot in my chest loosens, and I exhale, feeling the weight of my past begin to lift. In his eyes, I see not a promise of dominance for the sake of control, but an invitation to explore and reclaim my pleasure and submission on my terms.
“What if I can’t escape my conditioning?” My voice wavers, betraying my emotional turmoil.
The reasons behind my actions are a tangled web of true desires and the brutal conditioning I’ve endured. The line between the two is so blurred that sometimes, I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“That’s abuse, not love.” His tone is gentle but resolute.
I lift my gaze to meet his, silently conveying the depth of my longing. He understands. This isn’t just about desire or control—it’s about finding something real amid the chaos that can anchor us both.
Blake’s thumb strokes softly against my skin. The gesture is tender and intimate, and it reassures me that he sees beyond the surface, that he, too, seeks the same genuine connection.
“Do you trust me?” Blake asks, gazing into my eyes earnestly.
“With my life.” I cling to him desperately, trembling. “But what if my pleasure comes from—from coercion? What if that’s the only way I know how to feel good?” I desperately search his eyes, fearing he’ll reject me and my broken desires.
“It’s important to unpack that,” Blake notes patiently. “Your body and mind have endured unimaginable trauma. What you crave might be scar tissue response as much as real preference. Understanding which is vital.”
He squeezes my hand reassuringly. “I’m a Dominant, yes, but a loving one. I push boundaries out of care and consensual exploration. Not cruelty or coercion. I want to help you heal and reclaim your right to agency and consent. I want to explore submission with you in a way that prioritizes your safety and pleasure above all.”
“That’s a tall order.” I shudder at the enormity of the path ahead, but Blake’s steadfast belief in me bolsters my courage.
“This journey starts and ends with you.” He brings my trembling fingers to his lips. “You lead, I’ll follow. No demand without consultation. No punishment without cause. Mutual trust, mutual respect.”
He embraces me fiercely. “Let me show you a different way of being intimate—a way that meets both your needs and mine.”
In this moment, the boundaries blur, not just between our bodies but between our hearts, as we forge a bond that transcends mere physicality, reaching into the depths of our souls .
I bury my face against his chest and make a solemn vow to myself. I choose Blake’s love over the comforting numbness of submission. I choose to heal despite the crushing stigma and self-doubt I’ll undoubtedly face.
“Deep thoughts for the cafeteria, and I’m interested in exploring this further.” Blake’s hand tightens around mine, grounding me in the present. “But how about we continue that in private?” He searches my eyes, his gaze softening as if he understands the weight of what we’ve just shared.
He shifts the conversation back to something lighter, something easier to handle for now. “So, what are you in the mood for?” His voice is warm and comforting.
“Anything and everything.” I laugh, feeling a wave of happiness wash over me. “But coffee first.”
We move through the serving line, selecting our food while exchanging light banter. The scent of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon fill the air, making my stomach growl in anticipation. With our trays full, we weave through the bustling cafeteria, searching for a quiet corner.
Just as we find a cozy booth, a familiar voice calls out.
“Morning, lovebirds. Sleep well?” Ethan, the team leader, grins at us from a nearby table where the rest of the team is gathered.
We approach the table where Charlie team sits. Ethan’s face breaks into a wide grin. “Well, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence. Come on, plenty of room.”
Blake pulls out a chair for me. His fingers brush my shoulder as I sit, a barely-there touch that steadies my nerves. He takes the seat beside me, a solid presence at my side.
Gabe leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good to see you, Sophia. We were starting to think Blake was keeping you locked away in a tower.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
Blake’s jaw tightens, but there’s no real heat in his voice when he says, “Watch it, smartass.”
The team chuckles, a warm, familial sound. Walt tosses a wadded-up napkin at Gabe’s head. “Ignore him, Sophia. We don’t let him out in public often.”
“You’re just jealous of my charm.” Gabe catches the napkin mid-air.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Hank drawls, sipping his coffee.
Rigel, practically vibrating with energy, pipes up. “Sophia, what do you think of Guardian HQ? Pretty cool, right?”
The easy banter washes over me. These men seem…human.
Approachable.
Ethan’s expression softens, his tone gentling. “How are you settling in, Sophia? Is Blake taking good care of you? Getting you everything you need?”
I glance at Blake, finding strength in his steady gaze. “He’s been... very kind.” My voice barely rises above a whisper.
“Kind, huh?” Walt waggles his eyebrows. “That’s not a word I’d usually associate with Blake.”
Blake’s hand finds mine under the table, a silent reassurance. “Alright, enough. Let the woman eat in peace.”
The conversation shifts, the men falling into an easy rhythm of jokes, banter, and tall tales of their prowess. I listen, picking at my food, marveling at how these dangerous men can also be so... normal. And how, despite the noise and unfamiliarity, I feel safe.
Protected.
Blake’s thumb traces circles on my palm, grounding me in the moment. For the first time in years, I allow myself to relax in the presence of men.
“Everyone’s been very kind.” I twist a strand of hair around my finger, my heart racing. “It’s a lot to take in, but I’m grateful for... everything.”
“Speaking of… Any news from Mitzy’s team on Greaves?” Gabe leans forward, his expression turning serious.
I flinch, my body instinctively curling inward. Blake’s hand finds mine under the table, a steady anchor.
“You okay?” His voice is low, meant only for me.
I nod, forcing myself to breathe. To listen .
“The last ping put the yacht somewhere in the Pacific.” Ethan’s voice drops as he leans in, his expression tense. “They’re having trouble getting a solid lock.”
Walt shakes his head, frustration etched on his face. “Bastard’s slippery.”
“How... how does Mitzy’s team track people like that?” My mind races. I need to know more. “It must be complicated.”
The team exchanges glances. Blake gives me an encouraging nod.
“It’s a combination of satellite imaging, financial tracking, and intelligence work,” Hank explains carefully. “Mitzy’s got some tricks we don’t fully understand.”
“Satellite imaging? Financial tracking? What do you mean exactly?” I lean in, my curiosity piqued.
Hank hesitates, then elaborates. “Well, we use advanced satellite tech to scan large areas. As for financials, we track suspicious transactions, offshore accounts, that sort of thing.”
“Like those new micro-drones,” Rigel blurts out. “Did you see the demo? They’re practically invisible.”
“Easy, rookie,” Ethan warns, but there’s pride in his voice.
“Drones?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual. “What kind of drones?”
Rigel’s eyes light up. “They’re tiny, like insects. Perfect for surveillance in tight spots.”
“It sounds incredible.” I file away every scrap of information. My stomach churns with conflicting emotions. “I’d love to learn more about how it all works.”
Blake squeezes my hand. “One step at a time, okay? You’ve been through a lot.”
I don’t push—it’s not worth arousing any suspicion—and lean back, letting the conversation flow around me.
The men shift to lighter topics, but my mind races with what I’ve already learned. As I listen to the team’s easy banter, guilt hits hard. These men trust me and make an effort to include me, yet here I am, gathering information to use against them .
I push the thought away, focusing instead on Blake’s warm presence and the tantalizing smell of my neglected breakfast.
The eggs are cooling, the toast growing stale, but I can’t bring myself to eat. My stomach is too knotted with anxiety and guilt.
I force a smile, joining in the laughter at one of Gabe’s jokes, and allow myself to pretend, just for a moment, that I could genuinely be a part of this.
This could be my life, free from the chains of my past and the threats that loom over my future.
“Well, if it isn’t my uglier half and his merry band of misfits.” A familiar voice cuts through the cafeteria chatter as we finish our breakfast.