The Parlour (VDB #1) (33 page)

Lowering the new dress over my head, I instantly feel at peace. It clings softly to all the right places, and appears to increase the size of my lacking boobs quite effectively. Always helpful. Although, I can’t help wondering if it’s too much. We’re going to dinner. I don’t need to be so over dressed, do I? Having said that, he’s always over dressed for everything and he gets away with it. I can’t even remember the last time I look like this. Probably the company Christmas party the year before I got sacked at Cutlers. Hardly anyone spoke to me at that either. I was the stupid, ditsy clerk who hung around the bar area and tried not to look out of place. I remember Johnathan Cutler, the boss’ son, pinching my backside at some point and laughing at my horrified face. Well, not any more. All this fear and worry needs to park itself somewhere else. Thankfully, that seems to be becoming easier by the minute when I’m around these people. They enthuse me somehow, give me a courage I wasn’t aware of before. Pascal physically pushes for it. That’s what Ruebin said. He shows people who they are. What sort of man does that? He may seem scary to others, I suppose. He might even seem like a devil coming to get them, and I’m not stupid enough to believe that he’s not a bad man in some ways, but every time I’m with him my respect for him seems to grow. He softens. I can feel it in him, and he doesn’t seem to be a man who softens for just anything or anybody.

Miraculously, my hair has stayed exactly how lady in the salon styled it. Its sharp edges have fallen straight into place and the ends taper on my jaw. My eyes are layered with thick black eyeliner, causing the grey green to practically pop out of my head, and the crimson lipstick I found glides on with ease. I stand back and gaze at my reflection again. This dress is much better, much more me, and there’s a part of me that’s happy to not be doing as he asked. He may not have asked directly, but that was what he inferred. Fuck him. I’ll wear exactly what I want. He doesn’t want another pet. If he did, he wouldn’t have given me the option to defy him, nor would he have asked me to use a belt on him. I look down at my hand and watch it slowly opening and closing of its own will. It reminds me of the pressure point that Mr. White found on my wrist, and I trace my own fingers around until I find the same position. It feels nothing like the pain that he inflicted, but I can sense the same inner fear, as if my body knows what is coming and is fighting my brain to remove the sensation. I don’t like it, but then maybe I’m not built to like it. Roxanne said she thought I was submissive, and while I do like the sensation of being manhandled, I don’t like the pain. Not in this way anyway. Perhaps I should try this on Pascal later. I very nearly laugh at my own stupidity as I stare back at my reflection and try to imagine little Lilah causing real pain to anything, let alone Mr. Van der Braack. Maybe I do need that chat with Mr. White after all.

He stared up at the apartment and tapped his cane on the floor. Never before had he been quite so perplexed by the idea of submission. Was he really going to allow this? Again? Alexander was one thing. A new unknown was quite another. Lucinda had been a learning experience. They had both been gangly teenagers when it began. It had taken years of training and guidance before she’d eventually found her way through their version of love and come to be a Domme of repute. Years littered with ill angled stirpes and bruises, and arguments of the highest order, but a balance had eventually been found between them, a union of sorts. Until Alexander had taken that from him, which he had willingly accepted. Now here he was, about to entertain the same idea again with a new woman, one who knew nothing about herself, one he craved desperately. He was too old to go through all this again, though. Lilah was beautiful, but she would need years of guidance to achieve the results Lucinda had come to. Only Alexander had the natural ability to cause the type of pain necessary, only he had the inbuilt darkness that offered the flare of satisfaction he required on his skin. The finest person to teach Lilah how to embrace her abilities would be the man himself.

He raised a brow at himself and leant back against the car, blowing out some smoke into the night air. It was an interesting idea, possibly irresponsible, but it would kill two birds with one stone. Alexander would have to tame himself to become a tutor, and Lilah would be learning how to be a true Domme the fastest way she could, with the precision of a master behind her.

He mused over the vision of the evening they met. He’d never before witnessed the brutality of hands such as Alexander’s. They were feral, primal. They still were to this day. Only those of the headmaster he still loved even now were similar in their ferocity. That small kitchen in Venice had been the host of the most enlightening day of his life, as he met the man he would fall in love with. It surpassed any other memory he had inside him, even his first beating. Just watching the man learn how to use his strength more effectively had been worthy of all the turmoil in between.

“I believe it’s required of you to come up and get me.”

His head flicked across to her apartment to find her hanging out of the window. Her glossy dark hair framed her amused face perfectly, and her long, thin arms dangled gracefully along the edge of the window sill.

“This is not a
date
, my dear. I do not do ‘dates’,” he called back, chastising himself for the very fact that he had blindly followed when she ordered him to pick her up. He hadn’t even given much consideration to why. It had been natural submission, just as it was with Lucinda, and just as it would be with Alexander if he could ever get the damn man to order his chaotic brain.

“Then we do not go out,” she shouted back, and promptly closed the window. He stared at it in disbelief, cursing the underlying need to go and beg her to come down. Before he knew it, he was at the door to her apartment.

“Better,” she said quietly as she opened the door, ignored him, and walked straight down the hall to the elevator. He followed her and pushed her into the cubicle as quickly as his aggressive tendencies would allow, grabbing at every part of her to alleviate the confusion and frustration that were beginning to circulate in his veins. She squealed and backed herself up to the side of the glass.

“You are not permitted to give me orders,” he snarled, ripping at the one-sided dress to expose her other collarbone. He yanked it down so hard her free breasts pushed out of the top, which he instantly grasped and twisted within his hand. She moaned under his teeth and lifted a leg to hit something on the wall behind him, causing the doors to close.

“Do it, here. Now.” She groaned, her hands suddenly grabbing at the fabric of his jacket and shoving it off his shoulders. He found himself desperately trying to contain his desire for once. Just once, he felt the need to be decent, to not simply fuck her delectable cunt in an elevator. To take her out to dinner, lavish her with finery and show her he was better than she might imagine. Not that he was in reality, but for once, the consideration was fascinating. He slowed his grasping and gently licked across her skin. It still tasted of citrus fruit, sumptuous in its texture, even over the raw bone beneath.

“You are not in control of yourself, my dear,” he whispered, pushing himself into the leg she had wrapped around his waist and trying to alleviate his cock’s ache for her. The sudden shove that near kicked him away from her was unexpected to say the least.

“What is my name?” she yelled. She didn’t bother to cover herself, nor did she take her eyes from his. He straightened his jacket and gazed at her furious glare, trying to release the internal battle for control and give it to her. They remained that way for a minute. Nothing moved other than the air between them. She simply presented her inner fire and dared him to avoid it. Her grey eyes didn’t blink, nor deliver any kind of yielding to his frown. She only raised her head higher and let her mouth form that half amused smile she constantly wore. Divine. She looked more delicious than he had ever seen her. Every curve was highlighted by her angered demeanour. Wicked eyes and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass glared at him, that slightly aloof disposition of hers now claiming every inch of space in the small enclosure.

“You know I could force you to the floor, my dear. Fuck you and leave your cunt for the crows to peck over. Your pretence is not worthy of my compliance.”

Still, she didn’t move. She simply continued to glare. He watched the slight quiver of her lip and felt the growing issue in his breeches groan for more from her. Eventually, she began to hitch up her dress and pointed at the floor in front of her. He raised a brow and licked his lips, considering the thought. This new Lilah James was a slut indeed.

“Do you belie–”

“Nope, down,” she snapped, still pointing at the floor. “I am not interested in your opinion. Down.” He raised a brow even higher and immediately let the order wash across him. It seemed she didn’t need too much training in directing discipline. “You will get those knees dirty for me, Pascal. You will use your tongue to form my name, and then we will go out to dinner.” His mind battled the thought for one more minute before his knees gave way to the idea. Her fingers were in his hair almost instantly. “Take them off,” she said as he brushed his lips over the fabric of her underwear. He slid them down her legs and tossed them out of the way as she directed his mouth to exactly where she wanted it, hooking her leg over his shoulder.

“An L first,” she spat, pulling his tongue down onto her clit and then pushing him downwards. Her scent was near intoxicating as she tightened the hold of her leg and moaned while moving his head sideways. “Now an I,” she said, more quietly this time, dragging his face back upwards and moaning again as she did so. His cock reacted once more beneath him, desperate for the attention she would withhold. He smirked and imagined Alexander’s amusement. “L,” she said again, holding his head so tightly his nose rubbed into her and coated him in her juices. He groaned beneath her and let the fight disperse from him as she breathed out in satisfaction. He worked her in equal measure, allowing the feel of her slippery cunt to arouse his needs further. It would take nothing for him to rise up, pin her small frame and fuck her without thought. He could just ram into her and fuck this indecision away, but something stopped him, the same thing that beckoned him downwards beneath her. The need for someone else to look after him, to allow him the quiet he craved, peace. “A,” she whispered, now beginning to grind herself into his mouth. He could feel the shake beginning in her hooked thigh and grasped hold of it to steady her, all thought of his own control evaporating as she maintained her air of superiority and claimed the moment from him. “Oh God.” He smiled into her and lapped at her opening, drawing the lines of the A over and over again until her other leg began to quiver also. Beautiful moments, still captivating in their hold over him. She clamped her hold on his head harder and panted, her cunt now pushing itself into his tongue and asking for firmer strokes. “H,” she moaned out. It wasn’t all that different to an A, and just what she needed. He pushed harder and licked and sucked until she began tugging at his head erratically. “I can’t… Oh God!” She moaned. He felt the weight falling into him and immediately lifted her other leg to help her. Help her? An odd concept, one he could only relax into as he held her aloft and finished what she asked him for, ordered him to do. He pushed her back to the wall and let her cause more pain to his head as she gripped and yanked at his scalp. His cock burned for attention, desperate to have her mouth over it, or be buried inside her. He growled into her and bit down onto her lips, tugging at her clit until her thighs clamped and she panted in rapid succession above him. “Yes! Fuck, yes, more. Oh God, I… Fuck.”

More minutes passed as he knelt there and held her quivering body against the wall, still licking and sucking at the nectar that poured out for him. Eventually, her legs slowly relaxed and her mewling and moaning eased to nothing but quiet breathing above him. He rested his head into her thigh and allowed her to keep hold of the power between them. So mesmerised was he by another one of their moments that he simply relaxed and listened to the sound of her body moving, small pulses of something he’d not often felt gracing his mind. Only with Alexander had this ever been close to completion, never with Lucinda, nor any other. He was filled with a quiet sense of well-being as he kneeled beneath her, perhaps even happiness. Flickers of families and love tempted his imaginings, eliciting feelings he was ill prepared for. He tensed at the thought and began to move away from it before it consumed him with a stupidity none of them were ready for.

“Name?” she said, quietly above him, immediately tightening her hold on his head again and gripping her thighs around his neck. He chuckled and let her tip his head up to her. She looked radiant above him, resplendent in her command over him. Stunning. He watched her mouth curve into a smile of contentment and sighed out in frustration at his own inadequacies.

“Lilah, I am not positive this is–”

“Perfect,” she cut in, letting his head go and levering her legs from his shoulders. She kicked the button on the wall again, pushed her dress down her body and lifted her arm back into the strap of her dress, all the while holding his gaze as he still knelt beneath her. “Up. Time to do the dating.”

He let the sound of her stern voice wash across him again and removed his gaze until he was simply staring at the mirror behind her, looking at himself. On his knees. His mind instantly remembered the last time he’d been made to look at his own submission. Lucinda thought it an evil trick as she stood above him. It always humiliated him. Always made him feel beneath her, belittled. She never gave him a compliment, never said she loved him, never made him feel worthy of any form of care. She simply dominated, caused pain, and then left his battered body to rot in its own blood. Just as he’d asked for. Just as he deserved.

A hand brushed his shoulder and gently caressed the back of his neck. Supple fingers flexed and worked the nape until he felt a wave of near positive emotion come flooding back.

“It’s okay,” she said soothingly, as if she somehow understood all the memories that were certainly not ‘okay’. She knew nothing of his past. Nothing of how depraved his actions had been, still would be. She was an innocent. A child. Maybe a small offering of salvation in some manner, he supposed, but an innocent nonetheless. He imagined Alexander with his constant conundrum regarding Elizabeth, his rose. Beautiful, honest. And now lost in a world of turmoil, uncertainty and perilous adventures. Because of them.

“It is not okay, Lilah. This is not acceptable,” he said sharply, heaving his weary frame up to stand, still gazing at the mirror. He was so tired of trying to appease this ache within himself, exhausted by searching for the correct person to master him. Someone to tame the disease ridden hide hidden in wolf’s clothing. Someone to cherish his inadequacies, give him a reason to be less dominant on occasion. Lilah James should not be that master. He just needed Alexander to become more. “What do you see, Lilah?” he asked, watching her confused reaction staring at him in the reflection.

“You,” she replied, slowly drawing her face back to the normal beauty she wore so well. He picked up his cane and pointed it at his face.

“You do not see me. You see an attractive male specimen who you are convinced is more than he portrays. He is not. I am not. I will not deprave you as he has her. You are not meant for this world. You should go back into your apartment and forget this.” So that he could find someone else to do Alexander’s job without a consequence to his soul in the process. Because that statement was a lie. She was more than capable of living in their world, with training. She would quite possibly become a Domme patrons would pay thousands for an hour with. Her small stature and graceful features would confuse and contradict her abilities behind closed doors.

She didn’t flinch behind him, didn’t move at all in fact. She simply stared back and then pressed the button behind her to initiate the lift’s descent, then walked around to grab the cane from his fingers until she blocked his view of himself.

“I want Alexander to train me.” He raised a brow at the unexpected response. There was not one ounce of hesitation or indecision in her voice. “You are not strong enough to guide me through this.” He half opened his mouth to disagree, because he most definitely was, but then became more interested with what else she had swirling in that intelligent little mind of hers. “I can’t become more than I am if you know what’s coming. And you’re wrong, Pascal, I do see you. While your outer layer is pleasing, it’s your heart I’m after. I can’t get to that without him, can I?” He sighed and shook his head at what she wanted. He could never give her that. What was left was only for Alexander, and no one but him should have to deal with the magnitude of holding it.