Authors: Lila Dubois
“Wow, that looks really nice.” I turned to sit on the edge
of the conference table. “You’re good at this.”
Brad set down the phone and half closed his laptop. “You
thought I wasn’t?”
“You’re like one of those secretly smart guys.”
“You mean I don’t try and ram down people’s throats how much
I know?”
“Exactly.”
“I hate those people.”
“Me too.”
“Sounds like there’s a story in there.” Brad wiggled his
eyebrows.
I opened my mouth but the conference room door opened. I
jumped off the table as Salli came in. Brad took the lead in walking her
through the app.
“What do you think?” he asked when he was done.
“Beautifully scientific, elegantly educational.” She laughed
at her own alliteration. “And is our pretty Leona helping you?”
“She’s been great with the content. A pleasure to work
with.” Brad’s voice was smooth and friendly, but with a hint of formality that
wasn’t there when he talked to me.
“Wonderful. And we’ll see you at the gala?”
“I wouldn’t miss it. Thank you.”
“Of course. Wayne recommended you so highly, and considering
the donation you’re making we couldn’t live with ourselves if you didn’t
attend.”
When I was sure Salli was gone I let my shock show on my
face. “You’re attending the gala?”
Brad grinned and it was seriously sexy. “Of course. I told
you, I was recommended for this job by one of the big donors—Wayne Clayton.
Plus I’m giving LACMA a big discount and counting that as a donation to the
museum.”
I went back to my chair feeling embarrassed and small.
“Leona? Why are you making that face?”
“I’m not making a face.”
“Yes you are.”
“I keep forgetting that you’re…”
“That I’m what?”
“You’re important, and apparently rich. You’re on the gala
guest list. You drive a custom electric sports car…and you have a Poké Ball
patch on your bag.”
“And that’s weird to you?”
“Yes…no. I don’t know. I just hate not knowing who people
are or what they want.”
“I hear another story in there.”
“I’m not telling you about it.”
“Come on. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Are we?”
“Is that the problem? You don’t know what we are?”
Frustrated and flustered, I slammed the lid of my laptop
shut. “You want a story? How about last year I didn’t book tickets home to see
my grandparents for Thanksgiving because the guy I was sleeping with had
mentioned that I could spend the holiday with his family in Orange County. I thought
that meant we were getting serious. I find out on Wednesday night, the day
before Thanksgiving, that he’s already at home, and when I text him he says
that he wanted time just with his family.”
Remembered shame and embarrassment knotted my belly. “And
that’s not the first time that’s happened. I don’t get people. How can you call
someone your girlfriend and then abandon them? Or how can you get jealous of a
girl going to a party with other people when you’ve explicitly said you didn’t
want something serious?”
“I’m sorry, Leo.”
“I just wish…I wish everyone played by the same set of
rules. It’s not like I’m desperate to be in a relationship or something. I’m
very happy by myself, but when I am with someone I want to know what we’re
doing, what the rules are.”
Brad was frowning. He opened his mouth as if he were about
to say something but didn’t.
I realized how what I’d said would sound to him and rushed
to explain. “I wasn’t talking about you. I mean, when we texted it was like…
But then when you emailed me there wasn’t…”
Hating myself for sounding utterly stupid, I opened my
laptop and stared at the screen.
“Leo, I try and keep all business correspondences
professional. What I said when I texted you… That is how I feel about you.”
I heard him get up but I didn’t react. My heartbeat was
thrumming in my chest.
Brad pulled my chair out from the table and spun me around.
I kept my gaze down, scared to look up.
His fingers stroked my cheek, lifting my chin until I
relented and met his gaze. His eyes were a beautiful gold-green color.
Brad dipped his head and kissed me—firm but gentle. No
tongue, no teeth, just his lips on mine. It was perfect. I wanted to be kissed.
I needed to be kissed, and to kiss someone back.
I hooked one arm around his neck and gave myself over to the
perfect moment. Brad’s hand settled on the curve of my waist, and the touch
felt more intimate than anything Master Clay had done to me.
I jerked back, slapping my hand over my mouth. I’d forgotten
about Master Clay.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Brad grabbed a chair and pulled it over, sitting so that we
faced each other, our knees almost touching. “Why are you sorry? I’m not.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Are you seeing someone?”
“It’s…complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m not, not really, but I shouldn’t be… You deserve better
than me.”
“Are you seriously trying an ‘it’s not you, it’s me’?”
I smiled despite the knot in my belly. “I am. And it’s
true.”
He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Complicated?”
I grimaced. “Very.”
“I’m pretty good at complicated.”
“I guess you’re pretty complicated yourself, but you could
do better.”
“Leo, I’m not giving up on you.”
“What? Brad, I’m not… I can’t see you.”
“Let me make this not complicated. I like you. I think
you’re smart and gorgeous and funny. Be my date to the gala.”
I opened my mouth to say no. I had no right to get involved
with someone like Brad.
“Come on, Leo. Not complicated—be my date to a party. We’ll
dance and drink.”
Warmth filled me. “I’d…I’d like that.”
Brad smiled and I fell a little in love.
Brad looked like a sexy geek in his tuxedo, and despite the
heels he was still a smudge taller than me. Our cheeks pressed together as we
danced. The low-cut back of my dress meant that his palm was pressed against my
bare skin and my whole body was alive with desire.
The song ended and I turned away from Brad to applaud. The
quartet announced a break and the dance floor started to clear.
Brad’s fingers laced with mine. “Want another drink?”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
He grinned. “Two more glasses of Champagne coming up. Want
to go outside?”
“I’ll meet you out there.”
As Brad queued up I made my way to the doors, stepping out
into the courtyard. There were a variety of other well-dressed people milling
around. The shoes, as gorgeous as they were, weren’t the most comfortable
things, so I started walking in search of someplace to sit.
A dark-haired man in a black tuxedo turned and I froze. It
was Master Clay. He started walking toward me, an elegant blonde on his arm and
a bespectacled older gentleman walking beside him.
I smoothed my dress down, the Champagne making me brave.
What would he think when he saw me looking so elegant and expensive?
As he passed I said, “Hello, Clay.”
His head whipped to the side and his eyes narrowed as he
caught sight of me. I expected his lips to curve in that little half smile of
his but they didn’t. The blonde woman with him raised one brow.
He turned away without acknowledging me and my stomach
dropped.
“Here you go.” Brad’s voice was like a warm salve on my
bruised feelings. When I turned he examined me as if he were looking for
something. I forced a smile and accepted the glass he held out.
“Thank you.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, my feet hurt.” I pulled up my dress to show him my
sparkly shoes.
“Here.” He offered me his arm and guided me to a concrete
bench. When I sat he dropped to one knee and grabbed my ankle.
“Brad, you don’t have to—”
He unbuckled my shoe and rubbed the ball of my foot. I
moaned. He did the same to the other foot.
“Now I really feel like Cinderella.”
“Does that make me a handsome prince?”
“Prince Charming. Cinderella’s guy is the technical Prince
Charming.”
“Well then, Princess.” He slid my shoes back onto my feet.
“Can I interest you in a dance?” He rose and bowed.
I stood and curtsied as best I could in the narrow skirt. “I
would be honored, my prince.”
Brad led me back to the dancing and I put Master Clay and
his cold greeting out of my mind.
* * * * *
My phone woke me at the
ungodly hour of 9:00 a.m.
I dragged it off the nightstand, trying to muffle the ring
as my roommate rolled over in bed. I’d been asleep for barely six hours. The
gala had gone on until midnight last night, and Brad and I had ended the
evening eating fries and drinking milkshakes at a diner, then making out in his
car until 2:00 a.m. It had been very tempting to invite him up to my room, but
I knew I didn’t have that right. I already wasn’t being fair to Brad.
“Hello?” I muttered.
“Is this Leona Thies?”
“Yes. Can I help you?”
“I’m downstairs.”
I sat up. “Who is this?”
“This is Michael from executive limo. I’m your driver.”
“Uh, hold on please.”
I stumbled out of bed, my head swimming with the start of a
horrible hangover, and stumbled to the desk. I had four messages from Master
Clay waiting on Tumblr. The first two asked if I was still awake, the third and
fourth told me that he wanted me at his house tomorrow and that the driver
would come for me at 9:00.
“Shit. Shit.”
When my roommate rolled over again I grabbed my phone and
slunk into the bathroom. After telling the driver I’d be right down I brushed
my teeth, threw on the first clothes I could find and grabbed my bag. I dry
swallowed some aspirin once I was in the car, my head now throbbing for real.
When the car pulled up at Master Clay’s house I found myself
more reluctant to get out than I had been the first time. Between the session
last time and the way he’d looked at me last night I didn’t really want to see
Master Clay.
I got out of the car. I needed to be smart. Brad was…he was
wonderful…but being with Master Clay had proved to me that I wasn’t normal
enough to be with someone like Brad. It had been bitchy and selfish of me to go
out with him last night, horrible of me to make out with him. Sexually I needed
Master Clay, and though Brad had, for the most part, been straight with me
about what he wanted, I knew that a relationship with him would eventually end
up like all my other attempts at relationships had—messy and confusing. BDSM
was what I needed. What I wanted.
I climbed out of the car and went to the front door. I rang
the bell and waited, praying Master Clay wouldn’t answer—I was wearing leggings
and a t-shirt I’d gotten for free at a basketball game. I didn’t have on any
makeup, but I knew there was some in the bottom of my bag.
I opened the door and let myself in, making my way through
the house and out the back without seeing Master Clay. Once in the dressing
room I checked the drawer but there was nothing in it. I frowned. I’d left both
sets of lingerie he’d gotten me in there, but now I didn’t see them.
Leave. Leave now.
The urge to run was humming through me, but that was
ridiculous. Master Clay probably wanted to see me after last night. Maybe he’d
seen me dancing with Brad and thought I’d slept with him. I’d tell him that I
hadn’t, and admit that I’d kissed Brad if he asked. Master Clay wouldn’t care.
After all, he’d never kissed me.
I frowned. I hadn’t realized until now that Master Clay had
never kissed me. That was so strange—he’d touched me, used me, but never kissed
me.
I stripped off my clothes and took a few minutes to apply
some makeup. I’d taken a shower when I got back last night but hadn’t blow-dried
my hair. There wasn’t much I could do about it, so I scrubbed my fingers
through it, hoping for a tousled look.
Naked, I stepped into the Marquis’ Quarters.
“Leona.”
Master Clay was waiting for me. I jumped and looked at him
before I remembered that I shouldn’t and dropped my eyes.
He grabbed my upper arm and marched me across the room.
“M-master Clay.” The greeting cracked and I was suddenly so
nervous I felt sick.
“You were at the gala last night.” He pushed me up against
the wooden post. “Arms up.”
I lifted my hands over my head, aware of how my hands were
shaking. “Yes, Master.”
“You spoke with me.”
“I…I called you Clay, Master.”
“I told you that outside of this room I was Clay. Outside of
my house you are never to address me. What you did showed an utter lack of
judgment.” Master Clay put a hand on my back and forced me against the post,
then wrapped a strap over my wrists, pressing them against the wood.
“I’m sorry, Master Clay. I thought…” I turned my head, my
cheek against the smooth wood. He added a second strap around my waist.
“Clay and Master Clay are the names I use for BDSM. You
risked exposing a part of my life I keep private by using it.”
“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“Put one foot on either side of the post.”
I adjusted my feet, spreading them just enough so that I was
positioned the way he’d ordered. He added a third strap around my calves.
“Are you angry with me, Master?”
“I was angry, but now I’m disappointed.” Master Clay grabbed
my hair, pulling my head back until we were looking at each other. “Oh Leona,
someday you will be the kind of woman who could topple kingdoms—a modern-day
courtesan. Your submission will one day be the most elegant gift a master could
hope for. Right now you are young and foolish. You risked not only my privacy
but your own. The man I was speaking with is on the LACMA board of directors.
He didn’t hear you, but if he had you would have lost your internship.”
“I didn’t know. I was… I’m so sorry. Master, please.”
He released my hair. “I warned you that I do not take true
punishments lightly. Your behavior last night was beyond the pale. You will be
punished.”
I was scared. Truly scared of him and the situation I was
in. I jerked against the straps. “Master, please, no.”
“This is what you need, Leona.”
“Then yellow,” I blurted out the word. “Red.”
“Leona, the stoplight safe word system is for sessions. Not
for punishments.”
Horror filled me. That had been my way out. If I couldn’t
use a safeword then I was truly trapped.
“Master…it was a mistake. Please. Red.”
I heard him walk away, heard doors opening and closing.
“You will feel pain but not be permanently damaged. What I
do to you now will be something that perhaps in a few years after your pain
tolerance has developed you would see as foreplay. For now it will be painful,
and the experience of the punishment is both degrading and humiliating. You
will not forget this, and in future you will use better judgment.”
There was no warning save a whistling noise before the first
strike landed across my bare ass.
Shock insulated me, the thought “this can’t be happening”
masking the pain for a moment. When the second blow fell I screamed, my whole
body tensing. It felt as if he’d laid lines of fire across my ass.
“It hurts! Please stop.”
“Of course it hurts, Leona.”
I screamed as he continued to beat me. When my throat was
raw I gave in and started sobbing. I couldn’t get away, couldn’t stop him.
When he released the straps I clung to the post and slid
down to my knees. My ass throbbed and I was sure that there had to be blood
dripping down my legs.
“Stand up, Leona.”
“No. I’m leaving.”
“You’re not. It would be irresponsible of me to let you go
like this. You need time to come down from the punishment.”
I didn’t acknowledge his words. I hated him. I feared him.
Master Clay pulled me to my feet. My eyes were watery from
crying and I could barely see where we were going. I struggled weakly when he
cuffed my hands together. I didn’t have the strength to fight.
The cuffs were attached to a chain dangling from the
ceiling, which was pulled until I was forced onto my toes, the muscles of my
ass flexing, which sent fresh waves of pain through me.
My head dropped down between my arms.
“Take some time to think, Leona.”
With that Master Clay walked away, leaving me hanging there.
* * * * *
I stood on the walkway outside my building, emotionally
numb. My whole body hurt, but my ass was on fire. The fabric of my tight
leggings pressing against it was agony. It would be glorious to go upstairs,
strip off my clothes and get into bed.
Yet I didn’t move.
“Leona. Leona.”
I wasn’t sure how long my roommate had been calling my name
before I noticed and looked up. She was standing on the balcony to our suite,
waving at me.
“Stay there, he’s coming down! I packed you a bag.”
What was she talking about?
A minute later Brad walked out the front door of my
building.
A sob welled in my throat at the sight of him. The urge to
run into his arms made me dig my fingernails into my palms.
“Hello, Princess.” He was grinning, but as he got closer his
smile faded. “Are you okay?”
No. I’m not.
“Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about something else. What are
you doing here?”
“I came to take you to lunch. When you didn’t answer your
phone I thought I’d better check on you, so I wandered around until someone
told me where you lived.”
“Good thing you’re not a stalker.” I struggled to pretend
everything was normal and banter with him.
“At this point I think I am your stalker. Your roommates are
nice. I said I was going to take you to lunch in Venice and they packed a beach
bag for you.” He held up a striped tote. “If you don’t want to go that’s fine.
I’ll text you later.”
“No, I’d love to.” As much as I wanted to lie down in bed I
didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts.
I fought to hide my pain when I sat in the passenger seat of
his car. Taking the tote from him I rummaged through it. My bathing suit, a
towel and a sundress were packed in there, along with some condoms. Clearly my
roommates approved of Brad.
I closed my eyes as we drove. The silence was calm rather
than awkward. When we pulled into one of the pay parking lots on Venice Beach,
Brad helped me out of the car.
“What do you feel like, seafood or Italian?” He pointed to
the restaurants along the beach path.
I turned and looked out at the endless gray-blue of the
pacific. The water looked cold and dark.
“Can we go out to the water?” I asked.
“Sure. Want to change first?”
“Yeah.”
I slid into one of the stalls in the beach bathroom. My
leggings were stuck to my ass and getting them off brought tears to my eyes. I
wanted to skip the bikini bottoms, but I didn’t want to go commando. The thick
swimsuit material was smooth enough that it didn’t hurt the way my leggings
had.
Stuffing my clothes into the tote and pulling on the
sundress as a cover-up, I shuffled out to where Brad was. I hoped my sunglasses
hid the fact that I’d been crying.