Chapter 21
Mira
The rain had picked up by the time we passed through Sanctum’s ten-foot iron gates, sheets of water sliding down the metal like the place itself was exhaling.
The driver pulled around the back and came to a smooth stop beside the private entrance.
When he opened my door, a blast of cold air rushed in.
I tugged the hood of my jacket tighter as I stepped out, bracing against the downpour. The rain wasn’t the only thing prickling across my skin, something else hung in the air tonight. A charge. A warning. A promise.
I couldn’t tell which.
My pulse had been a wreck all afternoon, a steady, nervous flutter that hadn’t eased since I read Sir’s message. I didn’t know how many times I’d re-read it.
Complete control.
Trust.
God, even thinking the words made my stomach twist. But it kept my mind off the dinner the other night with my boss. The one I’d gone home and dreamed about. I was going straight to hell.
I scanned my ID at the discreet black keypad beside the door. The lock clicked, and I stepped inside, the warm amber light greeting me like a friend. The familiar mix of incense and polished wood that once intimidated me, offered the promise of surrender.
Tonight felt different.
I wasn’t just nervous. It was more than just anticipation.
It was pressure and I wasn’t sure I wasn’t going to be able to un-knot my stomach.
Milly stood waiting for me at the reception bar, her hands clasped behind her back, her spine straight. The same pose all the submissives used when instructed to wait.
“We’ve been expecting you,” she said softly.
Of course they were. Sir never left anything to chance. He always took care of every little detail, down to the lingerie I wore and if I was in stockings, heels, or barefoot.
I wet my lips. “Is Mistress Vivienne here?”
“She’s preparing the room.” Milly’s gaze flicked to my fingers that fidgeted with my sweater. “Follow me, please.”
I nodded and forced my legs to move. Each step echoed louder than it should have, like Sanctum itself was listening.
I’d never passed another soul during prep before, not beyond Mistress Vivienne and her girls. It always struck me how seamless everything ran here, how perfectly the schedules must align behind the scenes. No awkward run-ins. No lingering stares. No risks.
Anonymity wasn’t just a rule here.
It was an art form.
And tonight, I felt every ounce of the weight that came with it.
There was something different tonight as I stood outside the room Master had chosen for today. Milly left me there, barefoot, grasping a soft fluffy robe they let me wear, knowing I’d have to drop it as soon as I stepped across the threshold.
The words in the message echoed in my head.
Control.
Trust.
Could I do this? What exactly was this?
The door opened unexpectedly in front of me. My pulse raced, my feet stayed planted.
Warm light spilled into the hall. He was in there, waiting for me.
As much as I didn’t know what waited on the other side of that threshold, I knew one thing for certain—hesitating wouldn’t help me. And it definitely wouldn’t improve my chances of being able to sit comfortably over the next couple of days.
So I drew a breath, loosened my grip on the robe, and stepped inside.
The door closed behind me, his presence filling the room, but I kept my eyes forward and dropped the robe as I’d been instructed.
As much as I wanted to turn to him, I knew it wasn’t allowed. Instead, I squared my shoulders and dropped my hands to my sides.
My breath was shallow, my skin hot and cold at the same time. My nipples were hard enough to cut rock, though he hadn’t touched me yet.
The air shifted behind me as his boots scuffed the floor. My pulse jumped and my gaze landed on the medieval chair in the middle of the room.
My fingers curled slightly, nails brushing my thighs. I forced them flat again, needing to silence the voices in my head.
“Do you submit?”
My knees nearly buckled as his words hit me. It had been all practice up till this point.
“Hands behind your back.”
His command slid over me like silk pulled tight.
My arms moved before my mind could catch up.
Wrists settling together, fingers lacing, putting me in that sensitive position where I couldn’t hide anything.
Not that I could anyway, not with what little I wore.
The black bra barely covered my breasts, the stockings and garter belt covered more than anything else, but didn’t at the same time.
He stepped closer. I didn’t see him. I didn’t dare turn and look, but the heat radiating behind me was impossible to ignore. My breath caught in my chest, frozen in the moment.
He didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. His nearness was enough to unravel me.
“I asked you a question.”
My thoughts raced. Had he? I caught myself before shaking my head. Did I submit?
Did I?
“Yes, Sir.”
The breath I’d been holding escaped on a shaky exhale.
“You’re wound too tight.”
I swallowed. “I know, Sir.”
While I hated the tremble in my voice, it didn’t bother me that he’d heard it.
A soft exhale ghosted my ear. Not a sigh, not quite a growl, but my body tensed, almost as if trying to pull him closer.
“You think you do,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear. “But I don’t think you understand what it means. Not yet.”
A shiver ran down my spine as he circled me slowly, his movement slow, controlled, predatory.
I glued my gaze to the floor, but out of the corner of my vision, I noticed he wore his balaclava.
It didn’t matter if he wore a mask or if my eyes were covered.
I saw the same thing. In my mind, it was Sebastian Reid behind the mask.
Would my master care if he knew? Was it cheating to want one man while kneeling for another? It wasn’t like I could have a relationship with my master. Not outside of our sessions.
He stopped in front of me, his shined black boots coming into view.
“Breathe,” he said, his words almost a caress.
I did, but barely, as I let his scent ground me. Cedar, rain, and darkness. All him, all my master.
“Good.”
I hadn’t realized he’d lifted a hand until two fingers slid under my chin. Not quite touching, but hovering so close the warmth of him skated across my skin.
“Lift your head,” he said quietly.
His words weren’t harsh.
They weren’t gentle either.
I swallowed as I obeyed.
“Good girl.”
The praise hit harder than I expected as he stepped into the shadow before reaching his hand out to me.
I walked in here not quite sure I could give him control, and now, once again, I felt more alive than I ever had as I slipped my hand into his.
The moment our hands met, something in me melted.
“Come,” he said, and turned away from me. It didn’t matter. I couldn’t take my eyes off the odd chair and the straps.
He led me forward, the medieval-looking chair standing in front of us. Dark wood polished until it shines, leather straps lying neatly in place across the arm rests and legs. I’d seen one or two in my research, but this looked different. More real.
He turned me around and walked me back until my legs hit the edge of the chair. My breath hitched as he motioned for me to sit. The leather was impossibly cold against my hot skin.
I picked a spot on the floor and stared as he laid my arms against the chair and fastened the leather straps. One at my wrists, another above my elbow, followed by a final one holding my shoulders to the chair. When he was done, my entire upper body was immobile.
He lifted my chin. “Look at me, Pet.”
My eyes darted to his in surprise, disappointment filling me when I realized it was too dim in here to see his eye color.
“Color?”
I stared at him, not understanding the question. When he cocked his head and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, my brain caught up with the moment.
“Green, Sir.”
He pursed his lips together as he released my chin and moved down to my legs. He pulled them apart, binding my ankle, then my thighs before stepping back. A moment later, he moved around me and my world went black again as he slipped a blindfold over my eyes.
His lips brushed my ear.
“Color?”
“Green,” I said this time with no hesitation.
“Good,” he murmured, his breath on my skin.
The darkness not only quieted the never-ending voices in my head, but it sharpened everything. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but I felt it.
He shuffled his steps as he circled me. Something clicked and the chair fell back, startling me, the gasp escaping me before I could hold it back.
“TSK, TSK, what are we going to do with you?”
My chest heaved. He wasn’t happy with me, and this didn’t sit well with me.
“Sorry—”
He placed his fingers over my lips, stopping me mid-word.
A squeak caught me off guard. Almost like a dog toy. He pushed something into my hand.
“Squeeze this.”
I obeyed. The same squeak sounded again.
A rubber ball. A squeaky toy.
I was confused.
“I’m going to gag you,” he said calmly. “So you will not be able to use your safe word.”
I gulped.
A gag?
My pulse kicked hard, thudding against the leather strap across my thigh. My fingers tightened around the squeaky toy, ridiculous, humiliating but suddenly the most important thing.
“I—”
The word barely left me before his fingers brushed my cheek, quieting me.
“You will use that instead,” he said, voice low, calm, absolute. “One squeeze for yellow. Two for red.”
My lungs tightened. The gag would take my voice. The blindfold had already taken my sight. The straps held my body exactly where he wanted it. I couldn’t move. I was totally at his mercy.
All I had left was my breath and a cheap little rubber squeaker.
“Color?”
I shifted slightly in my seat, not able to do much but just sit there. “Green, Sir.” He could fuck me right now and not only would I let him, but he’d probably slide right in.
My breath hitched. My thighs would have pressed together if they weren’t secured open for him.
“Do you understand?”
I went to nod but couldn’t move my head. He chuckled, a sound that went straight to my core.
“Words.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered, the words shaking but clear.
He released my jaw, and the chair shifted again beneath me as he adjusted something behind my head. The click of metal, the soft drag of leather. He was prepping the gag — the knowledge made my chest expand and tighten all at once.
He wasn’t punishing me. That didn’t seem like that was what this was.
He was taking me deeper.
“Good girl,” he murmured, and the praise warmed my soul.
The blindfold made everything sharper. Louder. The faint brush of fabric as he lifted something — the gag, presumably — felt like a cold draft against my skin.
He tapped it lightly against my bottom lip.
“Open for me.”
My mouth parted instantly, instinctively. The silicone pressed against my tongue, filling my mouth just enough to steal the ability to speak but not enough to suffocate.
I whimpered as he buckled it behind my head, the leather cinching snug against my hairline.
Helplessness washed over me like heat.
“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, fingers brushing my cheek, tracing the edge of the gag strap. “Perfect.”
I gripped the squeaky toy tighter, the rubber giving under my palm.
“You feel vulnerable now, don’t you?” he asked, voice a quiet stroke across my ear.
I hummed, not able to move my head. I was helpless. He’d taken my voice.
“Good,” he whispered. “You give more of yourself when you’re vulnerable. And tonight…”
His hand slid down my neck, stopping at the center of my chest, hovering without touching.
“…I want everything.”
My heart hammered so hard I felt it in every strap around my body. Here I was bound, blindfolded, gagged, and couldn’t respond if I wanted to. But here I was at his mercy, never having ever been so present in my life.
“Color?”
He pulled the gag back a tad, long enough for me to answer.
“Green.”
He released it, his fingers closed around my thigh possessively.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s get started shall we?”