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Chloe, you dont have to finish therapy and be completely healed for you to embrace love again. A ll you had to do was be willing to be helped, and feel like you have taken control of your life again. You have. The comfortably sixty-something Indian woman had shifted on her oversized sofa and offered Chloe another lemon drop. So when you want to see Brendan is entirely up to you.
Yesterday wouldnt be soon enough. But she wanted to do it right, so she spent time talking about it with Marguerite, discussing her approach, what she wanted to do, just as theyd talked about that fateful day in the garden. Therefore she asked Marguerite to draft the next letter she would send to Brendan.
When the woman was done with it, she brought it to Chloe. They were in the Tea Leaves kitchen, Chloe preparing a lemon cake for the afternoon visitors. When Marguerite laid the heavy stationery on the butcher block, Chloe looked down, then raised a brow. Its pretty brief. Thats all you need to do?
Marguerite nodded. Yes. Only one more thing is needed.
Chloe looked back down at the note.
Brendan. West wing. Holograph room. Friday 9 p. m. Staff member will give you further instruction. Wait upon my pleasure.
So whats missing? Other than full sentences, a greeting of some kind
Marguerite handed her the calligraphy pen. Your signature.
Chloe nodded. Took it in hand. She signed with a flourish, then included a smiley face and a couple Xs and Os, for hugs and kisses. When she glanced up at Marguerite, mischief dancing in her eyes, Marguerite leaned in, kissed her forehead.
Theres my girl, she said, satisfaction in her voice.
* * * * *
The Zone was the Florida areas most exclusive fetish club, and it showed. Chloe had been to an opera house when she was young, and been overwhelmed by the jewel toned carpets, huge chandeliers and winding staircases. This place had the same odd mixture of macabre and beauty as a Phantom of the Opera set. Marguerite circumvented the dance floor areas and public play area, however, which Chloe knew might have made her far more nervous than she was. Instead, Marguerite took her to a lower level where the changing areas and rented private rooms were. She felt okay about being here. It was like being at a masquerade, because everyone was wearing different things. She saw people in Goth wear, full bondage, even a couple people completely nude except for collars and leashes, which was like the carnival. She also saw masks of all shapes and descriptions, from full head masks to Mardi Gras masks with sparkles and feathers. She herself blended in well, and felt as mysterious and dangerous as her outfit suggested.
It had been all her idea, the setting, the costume. In truth, it was a private fantasy of hers shed never had the resources to tryor a lover she trusted enough to try it out. A t first she hadnt been sure she should tell Marguerite about it, thinking Brendan might decide it meant more than it did, but Marguerite had been reassuring on that score.
Chloe, a lot of women have Domination or submission fantasies. It doesnt mean that they are in fact Dominants or submissives. We are very sexually imaginative creatures, and we like a variety of situations to explore that. Brendan has a fairly good grasp of who you are. Trust in that.
Some of the playrooms had windows, and Marguerite explained they could allow two way, one way or no viewing, depending on the Master or Mistresss preference. A s they walked past the ones that allowed viewing, at least from their side, Chloe digested the various scenarios. Pony play, sensory deprivation and pain, pure psychological Domination. She stopped at the Victorian drawing room, where apparently a male butler was being severely chastised by a Master for spilling his brandy. The butler had been pushed over the arm of a wingbacked chair and forced to suck his Masters cock while his trousers were dropped and he was enthusiastically caned by another Master.
Chloe blinked, somewhat mesmerized by the action, as all three men were handsome males, and the butler had a superior ass, but then Marguerite was tugging at her elbow, drawing her onward. Chloes brow creased, though, as she passed a window with a mother and child scenario.
The male was cradled in a womans arms, suckling her breast as if he were a nursing infant, though he was wearing a cock harness. She was swatting his organ with what looked like a wooden spoon, making him flinch. His toes curled at every strike, however, and he was leaking from the tip of his very erect cock.
Its kind of strange, but as different as all these are, theres something similar about a lot of it. Isnt there?
Yes. Youre picking up the undercurrent. Its all about letting go. Surrender and trust. Its as different for each person as any personal need is.
Chloe looked toward her. Marguerite wasnt here to be part of a scene or the upstairs nightclub atmosphere, but she wore a snug skirt and soft blouse thin enough to outline a feminine camisole beneath. Her hair was pulled back, showing the pearl and silver necklace she often wore, that Tyler had given her at their wedding. A gift Chloe had finally realized was Marguerites collar.
Thinking how that had dumbfounded her, she had that momentary sense of despair again, that she would never understand any of this, but she reminded herself that she didnt have to. This was about Brendan and her.
Did Brendan find those things with you? Surrender and trust? Chloe dared the question. She no longer felt angry about them, but she had to admit there was a tingle of jealousy she was trying to accept and defuse.
He found a Mistress in me. But he didnt find his heart. Chloe, there are people who come to the club and go home to wives or husbands, children, none of whom know a thing about this part of their lives, and never will, because they come here to satisfy their craving.
But this is part of Brendan, Chloe responded. Its part of how he acts, how he makes love, how he speaks and thinks.
Yes, it is. Which means, as I told you, if hes chosen you to serve, whether or not youre a Mistress doesnt matter.
I dont want him to serve me. I want him to love me.
In Brendans mind, they are the same thing. Marguerite grasped Chloes hand. I will always have his respect, his devotion. But you are well on the way to having his heart. He has to trust you enough to admit that, to acknowledge he wants something for himself. A Mistress breaks a submissive down to his deepest needs. A s unusual as it sounds, if you can be his Mistress this one time, compel him to admit what he wants for himself, then ever after it will be far less important that you are not a natural Domme. The reason I think you have run into troubles, from his side of things, is that he is avoiding that admission and therefore falling back on serving you as a Mistress in ways that you are not comfortable accepting.
So I have to get him to admit he wants me more than the moon, the stars and the universe combined. Chloe cleared her throat. Piece of cake.
Marguerite adjusted her glance to the next viewing pane, and the amusement in her eyes curved her lips. Do you remember him?
Chloe glanced to the right and recognized Marius, her waiter. She winced, noting that he was stretched out on a cross naked while a Mistress worked on him with a paddle, leaving large rectangular blocks of reddened skin on his ass with her liberal swats. His fine set of shoulder and ass muscles were tight, his fists clenched. She noticed his cock was in some form of electronic sleeve that appeared to be rippling like Her eyes widened as Marguerite nodded.
