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“I’m not saying those words,” I decide just to see what he does, reveling in the fact that for once in my life, I feel safe enough to push a man’s buttons a bit, a smoking hot and ridiculously moody Alpha-Dom’s, no less.
“Yes, you will. I’m a patient man. I know you’ll submit with reverence once you’re trained properly.”
If you say so…
The final object on the tray taunts me, but… I kind of want to try it too. As if reading my mind, he lifts the small silver butt plug, handing it to me.
“This is the smallest they make in solid Sterling silver.”
Solid? The man wants me to insert over a thousand dollars worth of silver into my ass…
“You’ll use the lube and insert it every day when you’re alone. For the first week, you’ll do ten minutes a day, the second twenty and the third half an hour with a slightly larger one which I’ll supply you with next week. I want you to practise stretching while wearing it. In a few weeks’ time, your ass may be ready for me to gently sodomize you… if you want that.”
Don’t pass out, Indie… Just stay upright a bit longer…
The bright twinkle laced through the shadow of his eyes somehow helps my voice to relocate back to this galaxy and into my throat.
“Um…” I place the butt plug, engraved with our fucking names on it no less, back down onto the tray, my fingers wandering to the gold choker. I turn it over to see our names engraved in the metal strips that house the clasp. And see the same in the silver one, the leather one, the handcuffs.
When did he even have time to get that done?
“Um…”
Make words, Indie, for fuck’s sake…
Just words that vaguely resemble the English language.
With the heat from my red cheeks surely now a viable alternative fuel source for the province of Maryland, I attempt to string a sentence together.
“Um… When did you get all this?”
“Four months ago. The same day I ordered them to be engraved.”
My look of incredulity makes him smile. “That’s impossible,” I say, wracking my brain. “That’s when I was living at Carrie and Tom’s… and working for you. We barely knew each other.”
“I knew enough to know that I had to have you. In fact, I knew that from the minute I saw you. These are the only items of this sort I've ordered in the last four months.”
When I frown in disbelief, he pulls out his phone, tapping some buttons and scrolling for a while. He hands it to me and I see emails to Johnson’s Jewelry Design.
Connor,
They’re perfect. I’ll have someone pick them up tomorrow. I’ll need a discreet box.
Please send me a bill for the balance.
Best regards,
Greyson Everitt.
I click on the pictures to see all the items now lying on the tray, and as I zoom in, our names, engraved… and then the date—four months ago.
I was his temporary assistant then.
I scroll through the long feed of messages back and forth between Grey and the jeweler—instructing him on design, on the objects he wanted, choosing fonts for the engraving, requesting alterations to design, to color, to shape.
The first email goes back to a Monday at the end of May. I remember that day because it’s Orpha’s birthday. It was also the very first day I went to work for him, the day he pissed me off by ordering me to make a group of men tea, which, in retrospect may have been an acceptable instruction seeing I was paid to be his assistant.
Strength drips from me as I realize he had it designed on the evening of that first day, a day I was mad as hell at finding out that what I believed to be an arrogant prick was going to be my boss for the next two weeks.
