Irish Cream (3 page)

She frowned, trying to pull farther away, but he pulled her back against his chest. "What do you mean? I want out. I'm done being submissive."

James stroked her arm, marveling at the smooth skin, and trying to ignore the fact that he'd have to leave soon.

"I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but you're wired to be a submissive, no doubt about it. The only way you'll ever be truly happy is if you give control to someone else."

* * *

Brianna yanked out of James's grasp, stumbling as she rolled off the bed. She should have known. Why had she trusted him so easily? Why hadn't she run when she had the chance?

Maybe he's right.

She shook her head, banishing the unwanted thought. No. She would not be submissive any longer. Even if he beat her for it.

"This was a huge mistake," she said, eying the bathroom door, and wishing she was wearing something more than the robe. "I need to leave. Now. Just let me get my clothes and I'll go. It's dark out, so if I'm careful..."

James was off the bed and blocking her path before she could finish. He didn't touch her, but she knew that look in his cold eyes. He was angry. She reached out to grab the bed post, anchoring herself. James was far bigger than Drew, and she hoped it would be over quickly.

"You're not going anywhere. Get up on the bed. Now."

Brianna shook her head and looked down, waiting for whatever her punishment would be. After a few long moments, she peeked up through her eyelashes, wondering what was taking so long. He hadn't moved an inch, and she slowly raised her head to look at him.

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you really want to sleep on the floor, it's up to you. I promised your friend I'd keep you safe, and that's what I intend to do, like it or not. If you need me, knock on that door over there." He pointed to the small door by the fireplace, then turned on his heel and left her room. She heard the lock click after him, and she couldn't help but run to the door and try the knob.

"He locked me in."

She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms over her chest, chewing on her lip as she looked at the bed. In her mind she saw the tiny apartment she should have been in, it's low, single bed pushed against the wall of the main room, the bathroom barely big enough to turn around in, and the kitchen consisting of one long counter behind a flimsy partition next to a seventies-gold color refrigerator. The one with all the lovely food she'd picked out herself.

Then she saw herself asleep on the cot as Drew kicked the flimsy door in and hauled her back to his mansion.

Back to her cell.

James hadn't hurt her. He hadn't come close, even when he was angry. He'd locked her in, but...she turned to examine the tall, imposing door with thick metal hardware, and she was absolutely certain that if Drew did manage to gain access to the house, he'd never get through that door. Almost against her will, her gaze went to the adjoining smaller portal, and the fact that her appointed protector slept on the other side was surprisingly comforting.

A wide yawn escaped her lips, and she walked to the bed and pulled the covers back, remembering James's command. He'd wanted her on the bed, and the new-found rebel wanted to resist, but the girl who'd spent the last few months sleeping on hay crawled slowly, reverently between the sheets. It was so soft she nearly cried again from the luxury. Laying her head on a cloud-like pillow, she closed her eyes, his voice in her head lulling her to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, James watched Brianna sleep, her hair spread out over the pillow in beautifully deep red waves. Pushing her last night had been a mistake - one that might cost him her trust for good. He was anxious to find out, knowing if he couldn't help her, she'd need someone who could within the next few days as what she'd done, and what she was trying to do really started to sink in. Right now she was still in shock, still in escape mode. But that would wear off soon enough, and she'd struggle on her own if he couldn't gain her trust.

He went back through the door that connected their rooms, and quietly closed the door. Most of the submissives who came or were brought to him weren't fighting what they were. They'd already embraced the lifestyle, and looked to him for guidance. Brianna was different. She hadn't even had a chance to experience a true submissive role, only the role of an abused slave. Leaning back against the door, he knew she was going to be his greatest challenge.

He'd told her he would help, and now she'd need to come to him before they could proceed. How and when she did that would tell him everything he needed to know. Crossing the room, he got the ring of keys from his nightstand and went out into the hall. Slipping the key into the lock on her door, he turned it gently to release the thick deadbolt. Once it clicked back into place, he returned to his room, got fresh clothing for the day and went to take a shower.

Twenty minutes later, he went downstairs to the dining room, and took his place at the head of the table. Nodding to the three ladies who stood patiently behind their chairs, he waited until they were seated and then rang a silver bell beside his plate. Two serving girls came out to set platters of food on the table and then one filled James's plate while the other served the women at the table. When they were finished, they stood off to the side, hands behind their backs and bare breasts thrust forward.

"Angie, please go let our guest know that breakfast is on the table, if she wishes to join us. If she prefers, she can--" He stopped, raising an eyebrow as Brianna shyly peeked around the corner of the doorway. "Never mind, Angie. Brianna, would you like to join us?"

She stepped into the room, her hands clasped together as she took in the scene. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I just smelled the food and thought..."

James motioned to the empty chair on his right. "Please, come eat. There's plenty."

She moved toward him and sat down as Angie retrieved another place setting from the china cabinet and set it before her. James noted the quick glances Brianna made at the other woman’s pierced nipples, and the chain hanging between them as Angie reached across the table to spoon fruit on her plate.

"Oh...I can do that," Brianna said, reaching for the spoon. James put a hand on her arm, shaking his head when she looked up.

"It's Angie's day to serve. Let her."

He restrained a smile as Brianna sat back in her chair, waiting until Angie stepped back to reach for her fork. Glancing at James, then the others at the table, she set it back down, nervously chewing at her lower lip.

James took his time settling a napkin on his lap, and then picked up his own utensil.

"Brianna, please feel free to eat anytime. The others must wait until I'm done, but you are here as a guest." He tucked in to his plate, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She picked up her fork again, took a small bite, then laid it down.

"Why do you make them wait?" she asked, patting the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

"Because I am their Master. And the Master's needs come first."

Brianna sighed. "And what if the Master's needs aren't healthy for the slave?" She didn't address the comment to anyone in particular, half-expecting the standard master knows best in all cases line that had been drilled into her from the beginning.

"Speak freely, Angie," James said, focusing on his plate. Brianna turned to the woman standing behind her. The neutral expression melted away, and Angie smiled, her eyes soft.

"Submissives have a responsibility to choose their Master wisely, but sometimes the choice is not theirs. If the slave feels mistreated, the only recourse is to appeal to another Dom or someone outside the household for help."

Brianna shook her head, turning back to the table. "Good luck with that," she murmured, pushing food around her plate but unable to make herself eat. She'd tried asking other Doms who visited Drew for help several times, but none of them would take her seriously. It was only when Celia witnessed Drew beating her after losing his temper at the Wicked Whip that anyone had cared enough to do something. To help her. Setting her fork aside, Brianna pushed back from the table.

"I think I'll go back to my room," she said, refusing to meet James' gaze as she stood. When he didn't object, she turned and walked out, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right, and it had to be this place, these surroundings. Staying here was no better than being at Drew's, really. Someone else still controlled her, albeit not as tightly. She reached her room and shut herself inside, drawn to the window where she stared out at the quiet neighborhood.

It was odd, remembering that she'd been living a life like most of those people probably did just a few months ago. She'd had a good job, a nice apartment and enough money to do a little shopping on the weekends. The men she dated were nice with very few exceptions, but none of them had ever connected with her on a deeper level. Would it have mattered, she wondered?

The door behind her opened and she twitched, turning to see James close it again. He took a seat in one of the armchairs facing her. She waited for him to speak, but he just sat quietly, watching with those cool eyes. Brianna felt like a bug under a microscope.

"What do you want?" she asked, when her nerves couldn't handle the silent assessment any longer. He shrugged, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees.

"I'm more interested in what you want right now."

She laughed. "You're a Dom. Why would you care what I or any woman wants? It's all about you - isn't that kind of the point?" She knew she was being overly dramatic, that she was allowing her experience to color her view of the lifestyle, but she couldn't seem to help herself. The hurt had nowhere else to go, and James was as good a target as any.

She tensed, watching for any sign that he was upset. But he leaned back in the chair with a sigh.

"You've been through hell, Brianna - I realize that. And you should know that what you went through isn't nearly as bad as some girls have it. You got out. Some women never do." He paused, and she knew he wanted her to acknowledge the truth in his words, but she just waited.

"How many Doms did you know before you went to live with Drew?"

She slowly held up two fingers, hating to admit her lack of experience.

"And did they both treat you like he did?"

Brianna looked at the floor. "No."

"Have I treated you badly in the short time you've known me?"

She shook her head, wishing he'd just go away. "I get the point. Not all Doms are bad, I know. But you guys do get whatever you want, whenever you want it. You're always in control."

"That's because we need to be. The bond between Dom and submissive is a symbiotic one, Brianna. Submissives need to serve...they won't ever be happy unless they can fulfill that need. A Dom needs to control...but without a submissive, he can't fulfill that need. Neither can be happy without the other one - they work together so they both are complete." He got up and walked to her, placing a finger under her chin and raising her face until she looked into his eyes.

"It is about me, but not the way you think. The only way I get what I need is if you get what you need."

Brianna trembled, the intensity in his eyes pinning her in place. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to sink to her knees and take his cock in her mouth, and her cheeks burned with the mental image her brain conjured up. Surely he knew what she was thinking, and she waited for that triumphant grin, but he only leaned closer.

"What do you want, Brianna?" Little more than a breath, his whispered question caressed her lips, a tantalizing promise she so badly wanted to accept. But at what price?

"I...I'm not sure," she stammered, pulling away, the connection between them breaking into tiny shards. "I'm sorry." She turned her back to him, the view from the window reminding her of her ultimate goal, though this time it didn't look quite so blissful.

"Very well," he said, his voice cool behind her. "I won't approach you again. If you need me, you know where to find me."

James heard the front door open as he went down the main staircase, and smiled as Celia stepped into the foyer. Tall and lanky, she was elegant and proper in a demure white pantsuit, her dark hair tamed in some sort of mysterious roll that went up the back of her head. The average person would never guess that she owned one of the hottest BDSM nightclubs in the city, or that she played dominatrix to some of the most influential men in town. Not that she'd ever reveal her client list, but James had met her shortly after she came to town, and he'd done what he could to help her get established. She looked up and smiled as he joined her.

"Hello, James. I thought I'd stop in and see how our girl is doing today. Is she...available?" She winked, but her grin faded as he nodded his head.

"She's intent on staying available, it seems." He glanced toward her room. "I've done everything I can, Celia. She won't listen to me. She wants to - I can feel it, but she doesn't trust her own judgment. Honestly, I don't know if there's anything else we can do - just let her go, and see what happens."