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“I don’t tell you how to train your servants or your sluts, you don’t tell me how to train mine.”
The tension between the two men frightened Tessa. This sparring had a darker side she didn’t like; there was obviously much they weren’t telling her. Though she knew her position was to surrender unconditionally, she still had a healthy dose of curiosity that wanted to jump right in with a dozen questions for them both. Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.
“Miss Cotille, or shall I call you Trinket? I rather like that name for you.”
Tessa didn’t reply, rather nodding to him as he addressed her.
“Remove your clothes, all but your stockings and your shoes.
Taken off guard by his demand, she didn’t respond immediately.
“Tessa,” Miles said sharply, when she didn’t reply.
Jerked awake by the command, Tessa reached behind her to the zipper on her skirt. It came down quickly, the slip of material dropping easily to the floor. She briskly unbuttoned the sheer black fabric of her blouse and tossed it to her side on a chair.
It was just that simple. She was sure Miles was pleased with her quick disrobing. Standing in nothing but black gartered stockings and twinkling gold, she was stunning, stunning enough to quiet the men behind them, who now turned to gaze at her nakedness.
“Great ass,” one man exclaimed. “Can I have her Damien?” he called out in a drunken bellow.
“Not tonight friend.” Damien calmed him with his definitive voice.
The men stared at the scene in silence, letting Damien hold court in his own way. Everyone could see by his kingly bearing, the pomposity in this voice, and the arrogance on his face, that he called all the shots. He expected the others, including Miles, to shut up. Why these men bowed to Damien wasn’t clear, it was simply a given. Tessa couldn’t see why he would have that kind of power. It must have been money that he held over their heads.
While the others behind her might have been lusting for her body, Damien was incredibly cold and matter of fact. He could easily win points from Vincent. For that matter, maybe he’d taught the doctor his detached style.
“I want another piercing,” Damien finally announced, after what seemed an interminable time. Tessa, for all her nakedness, was sweating, little beads forming between her breasts. Her hands were cold and clammy, and if she was honest with herself, she would have recognized that she was growing wet between her legs.
“
Another?” Miles questioned.
“Something high on her pubic mound. I want her labia pulled wide.”
“A spreader would handle it,” Miles said.
“I want this more permanent. She’s too damned sassy for her own good. A bar, some kind of gold rod to hold apart her labia, fixed with studs on the end through that plump flesh of hers. It will remind her of her place. She’s not nearly humble enough to suit me.”
Miles met eye to eye with his mentor/patron. The stark contrast between the two was impressive. Damien icy, Miles passionately cold. Damien a man of power and financial worth, Miles a man of infinite soul and artistic inspiration. But in this place, Damien had cards in his hand that were not Miles’ to play. The two were not comfortable with poker faces. Their “eye to eye” was tortuous to watch. So much was going on beneath the surface of their confrontation. Tessa could feel it, like another burning fire in her belly; though she didn’t wholly understand what was separating the two.
“I’m sure Vincent can fashion something suitable,” Damien broke the silence.
“I’m sure,” Miles replied.
“Just be sure she’s trained with a collar when she comes, or she’ll have a much rougher time than any of us will enjoy.”
“I have great faith in his one. She’ll not disappoint you,” Miles said.
“Humph.” It was all the reply Damien would utter. He waved them off, and rose from his chair to join his watchful companions.
“A game of poker?” he suggested to them.
The group moved to an elegant felt covered card table at the other end of the room.
“Will you join us Miles?” Damien surprisingly suggested.
“I think I will,” Miles promptly replied.
Tessa was surprised that Miles agreed to stay, the natural rhythm of the night would have dictated a brusque retreat. Instead, he pulled up a chair with the others, leaving Tessa standing alone, with no clothes and no instructions. When he finally motioned for her, it was to point to a chair in the corner, opposite him.
