Living a Lie (Book 0.5 in The Lie Series) (2 page)

I bit my tongue not to laugh. That
question meant something deeper to her than my preference in hair
color. “Your first question is about hair color?”

“
Just curious.” She
blinked, her eyes appeared even more lost. I couldn’t stand the
fact I had put that look on that exquisite face.

“
No, I don’t. I think blond
is highly overrated. My personal favorite is red.”
Awe damn, she quit looking at me again.
She had tucked that beautiful face against her
shoulder. “But a close second is brown. There is something about a
brunette. They are dark and mysterious.”

That smile I had been hoping for
slowly ran across her face. She hit the record button on the
digital recorder and pulled out a set of questions.

“What is your real name?”

Oh no, beautiful, I don’t
trust you enough for you to know that name. I only give out my name
to those I care about.
“Sir.”

“No, not what you want me to call you,
but your real name?”

“I’d love to have you call
me Master, but Sir will do for now.” I glared at her. “Do to my
real job and personal life I’m not willing to entrust my name with
anyone.”
Didn’t you do your homework? That
was my first and only rule I had in relations to this
interview.
Her eyes widen, and I witnessed
her wither under my stare. She slumped deeper into the couch
cushion she was sitting on, and that exquisite shade of pink spread
across her face.
Oh, yes, you would be so
fun and easy to control.

She rattled the sheet of paper she was
holding out of nerves. “What led you to this lifestyle? Why did you
choose to become a Dom?” she asked in a soft and shy voice, but
arched that perfectly etched eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t choose it. I found who I
truly was through it,” I answered, knowing that was the truest
answer I’d ever given. Charlie, my brother, introduced me to this
life, and I’d never looked back. It was the one place where I could
freely give myself over to someone and not worry about the problems
in my life.

“Is it a power thing?” she
continued expeditiously. She adjusted the collar on the shirt she
was wearing.
Oh, babe, I want to stop that
fidgeting. You should walk in a room and own it. Why do you feel so
bad about yourself? You have all the power. If only you realized
it.

“It’s a power thing, but I’m not the
one with the power. It’s the submissive who holds it all.” I simply
stated. Her mouth flew opened. “Don’t look so shocked. My girl
holds all the power. It’s my job to bring it out in her.” I
shrugged my shoulder and winked. “Then I get the fun of molding
that power to fit my will.”

She didn’t look down at her long list
of basic questions, she let her heart lead her instead. “How does
beating someone give them the power? It sounds like abuse to
me.”

“I do enjoy the handcuffs and whips,
but it’s simply a tool to show the submissive how much power she
has in her.”

She shook her head fervently. “How? I
still don’t understand.”

I’ll gladly show you,
babe. But I’ll settle with trying to explain for now.
“The best part of a BDSM relationship is total
trust. Everyone involved knows where each other stands. It’s the
ultimate freedom.”

“I don’t understand,” She moved to the
edge of the cushion and started to stroke her hand over her thigh,
working the hem of her skirt up to expose a sliver of that sensual
upper leg. I licked my lips. She let the paper holding her
questions fall to the ground. I had her complete and undivided
attention.

“A true Master is not a man or in some
cases a woman that likes to fuck hard or control. People like that
are asses. It’s also illegal and called abuse. A proper Dom is a
person that no matter what will be there for you. Not just
sexually, but emotionally and physically. He’s not a subs abuser,
but her ultimate comforter. Likewise with a sub, she has an inner
need to please her Master. No matter where they are or what they
are doing, the simple tone of his voice makes her body alert and
willing to obey his every wish. Whether it’s to pour him a glass of
water or suck his cock.” I paused as she flinched. I leaned over
and for the first time brushed my hand over her soft skin as she
pushed her hair behind her ear. “There is nothing abusive and
controlling about BDSM. It’s no more than two people trying to
discover what makes their soul soar.”

“You wouldn’t force me . . .” She
coughed and corrected herself. “You’ve never forced a sub to do
anything she didn’t want to do?”

“I’ve never forced a woman to do
anything she didn’t want to do. I’m just very gifted at getting her
to do whatever I desire.”

My mind drifted back to the night that
changed me forever and seeing the mangled and bloody body of the
only woman that had ever captured me. My leg bounced involuntary as
a sharp pain sliced through my stomach. I was a sick bastard, but
hurting anybody like that took it to a level, I could have never
sunk too.

“I love the power exchange between a
sub and their Dom. Having a strong woman release the power in her
totally for my enjoyment, is a feeling like no other.” I moved on
the couch next to her and nudged my nose in her hair. “Do you want
to know power, sweet Cherry? Do you want to know what it’s like to
call me Master?” I whispered in her ear. She shivered.

“I can never let you hurt
me?”

“Parts of BDSM does involve pain. Some
people thrive on it. Both subs and Doms. But that’s not all it is.
Do you read?”

She nodded, and involuntarily tilted
her head, giving access to her long, graceful neck. "It’s not all
kink, depraved, and dirty.” I lightly placed my lips on the vein
throbbing in her neck and kissed it. “In your books, when the hero
makes love to the woman and holds her hands above her head while he
fucks her and sucks her breast. That is straight up BDSM. However,
people don’t want to admit that they may actually like to dip their
toes in the muddy waters of this lifestyle. You would be shocked to
see me in my everyday life. I have people I see on a daily bases
that would never dream I would step foot in a place like this much
less own it. I bet if you dig deep enough, the thought of being
controlled and letting a man have total ownership of your pleasure
causes your skin to tingle.” I moved back from her. She was aroused
and the smell coming off her was intoxicating. I would never risk
feeling for a woman again.

“People BDSM in everyday life they
just don't recognize it. I'll give you an example. Two girls share
an apartment, one wants to go out clubbing, so she persuades her
friend to go. That's straight up domination and submission, Here's
how so. The clubbing friend knew her friend once there would have a
great time, she just needed a wee push to get her out, dominance.
The other one wanted to use the excuse she was persuaded into it.
When really she knew she would go anyway, submission.” I got up and
shrugged off my sports coat, hanging it over the back of the couch.
“Want something to drink?”

She nodded. I walked over to the bar
and dropped two ice cubes into a glass. “Water, please,” she
said.

I poured my favorite whiskey over the
ice and fetched a bottle of Evian water out of the small fridge
under the bar. “Do you understand now?”

When I turned around she had her arms
wrapped around her sensuous frame. She looked out over the horizon.
The sun was setting causing it to cast a sea of colors over the
polished hardwood floors. She was watching a mirror across the room
as if it was a prism when she got a glimpse of the numerous hooks
dangling from the ceiling. She flinched and scooped up the fallen
set of questions moments ago she had disregarded. “I still don’t
understand. How can you classify the act of passionate lovemaking
with the same act that use chains and belts?” She sipped down a
large gulp of water.

I sat across from her and
crossed my legs, resting my glass on my left knee. “Take the couple
in the novel that we talked about.” I held up my pointer finger to
emphasize the point. “B is for bondage. He held her hands together.
No not with handcuffs, but with the force of his own hand.” I held
up my first two fingers. “D is for domination. He’s in control and
being the dominating one.” I held up a third finger. “S is for
submission. She is submitting under his control.” I leaned forward
and smiled as she rubbed her thighs together. “Submitting is often
the greatest aphrodisiac, Mrs. Black,” I whispered. She wiggled and
adjusted the papers in her lap. Not to get her to crawl totally up
in her self-made shell, I held up a fourth finger and continued. “S
and M is for
Sadism and Masochism. That is
the missing element in my little anecdote. But it does not have to
be in this lifestyle at all. It’s the extreme that people focus on.
But it’s a small sliver of what our lifestyle is about.”

“What is it about then?”

“The best lifestyle in the world.
First you have to have complete and honest communication with your
partner. Name one couple in a vanilla relationship that has total
trust, feels completely safe, and has the utmost respect for each
other. That’s the basic fundamentals of BDSM.”

“But no love?” she asked and started
to tap her pen against her opened notebook.

“Who needs love?” Somehow, I still
don’t know how, but I managed to curl my lip in to some semblance
of a smile.

“Have you ever loved someone special?”
She stared down at the notes in her lap and knotted her fingers
around her pen.

“I’m incapable of love.”

“You’ve never loved
anyone?”

“You can’t love what you
can’t have.”
Loving from a distance is
worse than the bite of any belt.

“You can have most anyone.” Her voice
was so soft my ears barely registered a sound.

Except, the one I really
want. The one so much like you. Sweet, innocent, and
hurting.
“Can I have you, sweet
Cherry?”

She scooted to the curve in the
sectional. The silence was deafening. I stood up to replenish my
drink when the sight of her curling one long piece of hair around
and around her pinky caught my eye. I couldn’t stop watching her as
she studied her prewritten questions. She cleared her
throat.

“What led you to discover the BDSM
lifestyle?” she asked, looking up at me with a look of pure
innocents.

“I think we’ve already covered that
question, but the short answer on who led me to this amazing
lifestyle is Charlie,” I started to tell the story when the
familiar chine of the intercom buzzed.

“Master, your class is ready to start
when you are,” Amanda announced. I glanced back at Cherry who
looked shocked and stunned. I had purposely planned the interview
so close to one of my beginner’s classes so I can answer a few
questions and be done with it. I didn’t want it to end. I found
myself fascinated with each of Cherry’s facial expressions, the way
she twisted just about everything through her fingers, the nervous
little twitch of her ear. I wanted more of her.

“Cherry, I really have to go. Would
you like to set in? It’s a class for beginner Doms,” I asked, and
put back on my sports coat.

She started gathering her
stuff together and shook her head.
Damn, I
didn’t want her to leave
. “Tomorrow night,
I have no other commitments. Say around seven? I’m truly
sorry.”

She laid her briefcase in her lap and
smiled up at me. For that brief moment, I swore my long lost frozen
heart thawed. “Seven, sounds great, Mr. . .” She paused and held
out her hand to shake mine.

I almost let my name slip, but luckily
regained my facade. “Seven, Mrs. Black.” I brought her hand to my
lips and softly kissed it.

Chapter 2

Cherry Black

Meet me at the Pier. Good
things always seems to happen at the Pier and you, Mrs. Black, are
a GOOD thing. Yours, Sir

I stuffed the card back into the
daisies it was safely nestled into. Sir might be a mystery but he
was making it a gift worth opening.

After a hair appointment at my
favorite salon, an hour at the makeup chair, and seven outfit
changes, I was finally ready to meet Sir to finish our interview. I
know it was a professional interview, but nothing had felt more
personal. I was as nervous as my wedding day. For the first time in
years, Sir made me feel simply like a beautiful woman. A woman that
a man could desire. He was a man, I desired.

Sir said to meet him at seven sharp
and something told me he expected his orders to be followed to the
letter. Despite my need to hurry, I drove to the restaurant at
exactly the speed limit. My stomach was churning fast enough to
make up for my lack of speed. When I arrived at the restaurant, I
giggled. Why? I had no idea, other than my nerves were
shot.

I walked in not knowing what to do.
Would he be waiting for me? Was I to wait on him? So I was
immediately shocked when the attendant knew who I was and ushered
me to the back room Sir was already waiting in.

“Good evening, Mrs. Black.” He clasped
my hand bringing it to his lips. “Your name might be Mrs. Black,
but stunning is what I want to call you. You look simply
breathtaking.”