Retribution (Book 3 of The Dominion Series) (37 page)

"Now, you must be starving," he says and takes my hand. "Our meal is ready. Please put on one of the dresses in the armoire. I think I want you in the white dress with nothing on underneath. Then, once you're dressed, we'll eat."

He pulls me over to the huge antique armoire, and opens it. Inside, it's lined with cedar and on a rack hang a dozen dresses – gowns of different colors and fabrics, all of them looking like they're out of couture shops in New York.

He takes out a white gown and holds it up to me. It's a diaphanous shift with thin straps and is made out of a material that feels like the finest silk.

"Here," he says and takes it off the hanger, returning the empty hanger to the rack and closing the armoire. "Dress while I watch."

He pulls up an ornate chair and sits, his hands on the armrests, his legs wide, his head to the side. I stand in front of him and hesitate. He watches me expectantly.

"Don't be shy, Eve. I've seen you naked before. Every inch of you."

I shrug one shoulder. Of course he has. But still… Things are different now.

"Eve, there's nothing you can't try, nothing you can't feel with me. No reason to be embarrassed. Nothing you can't do except disobey.  Please, change into the gown."

I hang the dress over the foot of the bed and undress while he watches, acutely aware of his eyes on me. I remove my sweater and jeans, and then my bra and panties, folding each item and placing them on the chest at the base of the bed. I quickly pull the white dress over my head, and while I have the dress just around my neck, I catch sight of him and his eyes are fixed on my nakedness, his nostrils flaring, lips parted.

I imagine he's thinking of how I'm now all his to do with as he will within the terms of our contract.

It arouses me – that look of complete possession.

I slip the gown down over my body and adjust it. My nipples are hard from the chill in the air and clearly visible through the thin fabric as must be my pubic hair.

"Is this appropriate for dinner?"

"Don't question my choices, Eve. If I picked it, you can trust that it's entirely appropriate."

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, "it's just that--."

"Don't speak until I ask you a question. If I want to know what you think about something, I'll ask. For the first while, until you're used to it, when you answer a question or if you need to ask me something, start with
'Please, my Lord
, or
Please, Sire
. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"Say it out loud, Eve, so I know you understand."

"Yes," I say and then swallow, forcing out the words. "
My Lord.
"

"You don't mean it now," he says and his voice is husky, "That I am your Lord and Master, but there will come a day when even just saying those words will make you wet and ready for me."

I say nothing, for already, just saying the words has made my heart beat a little faster and I feel warmer, a little breathless.

He takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom.

"What about my feet?' I say and look around.

"I want you barefoot, and please, remember the rules."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say. "
My Lord
."

He pulls me into an ornate dining room lit by dozens of candles. A long dark wood table that could seat thirty people has a place setting for Michel at the end and one for me at his side. Michel pulls out my chair and seats me while the servant lays a napkin on my lap. Michel takes a seat and removes his own napkin and I hope my table manners are up to his standards as a member of the former Occitan nobility.

"I'm not sure if I know the right fork to use," I say and smile, checking out the array of cutlery. Michel leans over and places his finger over my lips.

"Eve, remember – speak only when I ask you to or when you have a question."

I grimace. "Sorry," I say when he removes his finger, flustered at breaking the rules again so soon. "
My Lord
," I add quickly, but then my back stiffens just a bit. He doesn't want me to just speak when I feel like it. A flush spreads over my cheeks from anger. But then I remember how Luke's slave behaved and I understand this is part of teaching me what's expected of me when we're on stage in front of Soren.

"Can I call you something other than '
My Lord'
? What about
Sir
?"

He shakes his head. "You called Julien 'Sir' and I don't want you thinking of him unnecessarily. When you're used to it, you could call me
Master
when we're alone. Always
My Lord
in public."

I sigh. I don't know what feels the most natural. "
Master
, then."

"I'll have to change the Contract to include it."

"Can’t we just agree to it?"

He tilts his head as if waiting.

"Oh, sorry. Can't we just agree to it,
Master
?" I shake my head. "No, that doesn't feel right. I don’t know what title to use. Maybe '
My Lord'
is best after all. It's just so hard to remember…"

"Don't worry," he says as he points to the servant to pour some wine for him to taste. "I expect to have to discipline you quite a bit at first. I
want
to, so don’t be too well behaved."

"You
want
me to make mistakes?"

"
Eve
…"

I cover my eyes. I've done it again – spoken without permission or without a question preceded by an appropriate form of address.

"I'm sorry, my Lord," I say, averting my eyes. "I was confused. I thought you wanted my complete obedience."

I glance at him and he's grinning that characteristic de Cernay grin.

"You're very strong willed. You won't be easy to tame to hand and a Master with any discernment loves so very much the whole taming process – especially taming someone with a strong will. Submission is so much sweeter when it does finally happen. But," he says and takes his wine glass, smelling it before tasting it, nodding to the servant, who pours me a glass.  "No topping from the bottom or I'll have to punish you. And I will enjoy that far too much for my and your own good."

He raises his eyebrows at that and I wonder – does he
want
me to try? Does he want to punish me? What would he do to punish me?

"My Lord, if I may ask," I say, after taking a sip of wine. "What would you do, exactly, to punish me? Do you have a dungeon somewhere in the depths of this house? Will you go all medieval on me if I disobey you?"

"I
am
medieval, Eve. I was born in 1194. I grew to be a man in that time. I try to keep up with modern trends, but unlike Julien, my psyche is medieval. You have to understand that. And no," he says. "I don't have a dungeon in the basement filled with rusting Iron Maidens, thumbscrews and racks. If you disobey, you'll get a good spanking, usually with my own hand. It's far more enjoyable that way, because your bare ass deserves to be touched, and after a spanking you always get fucked, hard. I'll use a riding crop for sensory stimulation only."

The servant comes over to our table and holds a tray of food out for Michel to inspect. I'm still focused on his words – after a spanking I get fucked – hard?

Michel examines the dish – some kind of roast meat. He nods and motions to me. The servant holds the tray out and I shake my head and turn back to Michel expectantly.

"Eve, you must eat," Michel says. "The roast venison is excellent."

"I'm a vegetarian."

He frowns and waits.

"My Lord," I say and exhale.

"Eve, there will be little protein for you, given the food shortages. I doubt tofu is in big supply in the stores and the cheese will run out very soon because of supply chain failures. You must eat the food we can get and not be so picky. When did you become a vegetarian and why?"

I sigh. "I don't remember," I say. I give in and take a slice of the roast. It looks good and smells good. Then I shake my head. "My Lord," I say, exasperated.

He grins while he inspects a tray of vegetables and roasted potatoes. "Be thankful you don't have to call me
My Lord Bishop
or
Your Excellency
." Then he glances at me, his blue eyes wicked.

"Don’t make me call you
Your Holiness
," I say and laugh, remembering that Soren wants him as his Pope. Then I cover my mouth. "
My Lord,
" I add quickly.

He's smiling as he helps himself to some food. When the servant leaves, Michel takes my hand and bows his head. He makes the sign of the cross and says grace, something I remember from my own days when I still believed in the God of the Catholic Church.

Father of us all,

This meal is a sign of Your love for us:

Bless us and bless our food,

And help us to give you
glory
each day.

Through
Jesus
Christ
our Lord.

Amen

He makes the sign of the cross once more but he can’t expect me to profess a faith I don’t possess.

"You see, Eve," he says and lets go of my hand. "We are all submissive to someone. Even a former Viscount, Bishop for a Week and eight-hundred year old vampire."

I smile and then we eat. I haven't really eaten with him very often – never in such a formal way and despite everything we've been through, I barely know him.

I didn’t realize how hungry I am and eat with relish, having eaten mostly peanut butter, beans and rice since the red rain fell. Roast venison and root vegetables from the garden are so much better.

I don't say anything while we eat, nor does he. I wait to see what he wants. Finally, he turns to me, chewing thoughtfully, his brow creased.

"So, Eve," he says. "Tell me how you're feeling."

I put my knife and fork down and pick up my glass of wine.

"My Lord, I was just wondering, are you expecting me to be your servant as well as your submissive? Is this just limited to sex or is it more?"

He adjusts his position and considers what I've asked. "Do you mean, will I expect you to wait on me? Pour my wine, wash my hair, dress me?"

I nod. "I didn't see anything specific in the Contract, but the wording was pretty general and so I wondered…"

He raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, sorry.
My Lord
…" I say, emphasizing the title. I heave a sigh. This is harder than I imagined.

"Would you
like
to wait on me? Wash me when we have a bath, serve me when we eat, dress me? I could amend the contract if so. I have servants who take care of most of my needs and you're meant for more than that so I personally don't expect it."

"No," I say, then add, "
my Lord
, I'm not particularly interested in being your stand-in manservant. I might like to wash you and your hair when we have a bath together. I might like to help you dress and, well, definitely help you undress…"

He smiles at that. "I'll amend the contract to read,
The slave shall assist with aspects of the Master's bodily care when appropriate to the situation
."

I nod and smile. "Very good, my Lord."

He pours me more wine and I take a sip. He returns to his food and I watch him eat for a moment. He looks so at home in this sumptuous setting, dressed in a white shirt open at the collar and black tunic like he wore at Soren's party. I could see him with lace at his cuffs and neck. Against his pale skin and dark hair, lace would be very attractive.

"Why did you want to be a priest? You're so handsome. I can't imagine the girls of Carcassonne were happy to see you take up the cross."

He glances at me and picks up his glass of wine, but says nothing. Finally, he puts his glass down and waits, staring straight ahead.

I inhale sharply when I realize I haven't used the proper form of address.

"
Crap
," I say. "I'm sorry, my
LORD
." Exasperation fills me. "Can't I just say it once and have that count for the entire meal?"

He turns a jaundiced eye towards me. "That's not how submission or slavery work, Eve. Each time you address me, you must use the appropriate title. It shows respect. Deference. It reinforces our power difference. That's the whole point of this. I have power over you – the power you freely chose to give me so that I could possess you and control you, absolve you of any responsibility for your own desire. If you talk to me the way you did before we entered into this relationship, we might as well just be an ordinary couple and that's not going to work. Not at this time, at least. Soren expects you to be my slave."

"It's just that I don't know if I can remember to use the proper title all the time," I say. "
My Lord
."