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“Yes, Madame,” he replies obediently.
I can tell by how his molars grind that this is hard for him. Slipping into submission isn’t something he’s familiar with, at least not on the surface level. Deep down, I can tell he loves it.
“Come in. Take your clothes off. Just down to your boxers for now.” Turning my back to him, I give him his orders as I cross the room toward the wet bar, where I pour two glasses of water and wait for him to do as I said.
“Yes, Madame,” he mutters softly.
When I turn around, I’m pleasantly surprised to find him kneeling on the floor, staring at the rug.
As hard as I try to hold a flat expression, I can’t fight the smirk that starts to grow. He really does love this.
“Have you had any water today?” I ask as I walk toward him.
His brow furrows as he gently lifts his head to look at me. “Um…yes, Madame.”
“Here. Drink this,” I say as I pass him the water. He takes it with confusion and gulps the whole thing down. “Whenever I see you at the club, you’re drinking alcohol. If you’re going to be mine, then I want you to stay hydrated. Understand?”
“Yours, Madame?”
I walk over and touch his chin, tipping his head back. “You want to be mine, don’t you?”
His breath hitches as his piercing green gaze bores into mine. “Yes, Madame.”
“Good. Then I expect you to take care of what’s mine. Hydrate. Eat well. Exercise. Understood?”
On his next exhale, something calm and at ease washes over his expression. And in that moment, I start to truly understand Clay. He loves to know what is expected of him. He loves easy tasks explained to him, and he loves praise.
“Good boy,” I reply, and judging by the way his eyes light up, I’m right.
I take his glass and walk away, setting them both on the counter.
“Last week was just a trial, but if you’re going to come back, we need to discuss the rules and boundaries. When you are here with me, you will submit to me. I want you to do exactly as I tell you. Some of it will be sexual, and some of it won’t. But as long as you come to me, you are mine. If you don’t do as I say or you break one of my rules, I will punish you. But if you do as I say and please me, I will reward you.”
Spinning back toward him, I pause at the sight. His long brown hair hangs over his forehead, and a hint of a smile tugs at his lips.
“Is that what you want, pet? Will you come back?”
His smile grows. “Yes, Madame.”
Rule #9: Tell him what you want.
Jade
My phone buzzes on the nightstand for the tenth time today, but I ignore it. Instead, I’m trying to focus on thisGilmore Girlsepisode, even though I’ve seen it a hundred times and I already know Rory will say or do something stupid.
Maybe watching a fictional character make poor choices is therapeutic in recovery from making my own poor choices.
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, still reeling from the humiliation at that sex club. So much for beingboldand doing things without regrets.
I have regrets, all right.
I never should have made that appointment. I never should have shown up at some classy sex club in the city. And I never should have asked that beautiful woman to teach me how to be a Domme just to please my boyfriend.
Now, even though Clay has no idea what I did, I still can’t bring myself to face him. The shame is internal. I don’t think I could look at him now without thinking about him and her together, knowing I’ll never live up to her. And it was wrong of me to try.
I’mnothinglike her. She’s the embodiment of sex and power, flawless in every way. I’m a bumbling, naive people pleaser without a clue as to how to be sexy or confident.
The phone buzzes again, and guilt gnaws at my stomach. I hate for him to worry, so with my bottom lip pinched between my teeth, I pick up my phone.
