There is a God.
Chapter 4
Lucy
* * *
As I enter the main playroom at Surrender, my steps are lighter. It’s absurd that I should feel any relief simply because I filled out an application, but I do anyway.
I glance around, taking in the number of people inside and adjusting to the dimmer lighting. The walls are painted black, as are the floors and ceiling. I love that part. The anonymity.
I smooth my hands down my dress as I wander farther into the space, and when I find myself crossing my arms, I force myself to stop and keep my hands at my sides.
I’ve learned a lot from watching the last four weeks, absorbing the rules most Doms have for their subs. In an odd way, I’ve forced some of those rules on myself just to pretend I’m someone’s sub. That I belong to someone.
I fist my hands because it’s the only way to keep them at my sides, especially tonight. Every previous week, I’ve arrived in jeans and a modest sweater or shirt. This is my last night, though, so I’ve forced myself to get more fully in the mindset of role play.
In order to keep from giggling at my imagination, I chew on my bottom lip. Role play. Right. Alone. It can’t really be considered role play if I don’t even have a partner. It’s just me.
So, I’m wearing a dress. It’s not fetishware. It’s not even remotely provocative or revealing. It’s actually kind of prissy. It’s pink, which is my favorite color. A soft pastel pink. It’s made from the same material as a polo shirt. In fact, the upper body is precisely that—collared and only slightly fitted, hugging my breasts.
There is no defined waistline. Instead it drops down to my hips, and the skirt is pleated, landing halfway down my thighs. If I were to twirl, everyone would see my panties. I have no intention of doing anything like that, but the thought that I could is somehow titillating.
I’m wearing pastel pink flats too. They are the most extravagant shoes I own, and I only bought them last year on a whim because they called out to me at my favorite local consignment shop. They were almost new, my size, and my favorite color. In order to justify them, I’ve worn them often to work with other pink blouses and shirts.
The dress is another story. I got it at a thrift store. I have no idea why I bought it. I’ve never worn it before tonight. Where would I wear it? It cost only a few dollars, so I have never worried about the expense, but though I loved it when I tried it on, I later realized it had no real use in my life.
The reality is that I look younger than my age in it. I wouldn’t have worn it to work at Martin and Sons because anyone who came in would have thought I was one of the owner’s kids instead of taking me seriously as the receptionist.
Tonight I spotted it in my closet and didn’t hesitate to put it on. Now that I’m inside Surrender, I feel relaxed and more comfortable than I ever did in jeans. I feel young. Too young. Much younger than twenty-two. But that’s the point. And I’m not alone. There are other women in this club who are dressed far younger than I am tonight.
It suits me in an odd way that I can’t put my finger on.
I glance around, knowing I need to make the most out of my evening. It’s my last night at this club. Even if I miraculously manage to get a job working for Master Roman, I still wouldn’t return to his club as a patron. It would be weird. And if I don’t get the job, well, then I’ll be in such dire financial straits that my Friday night entertainment will be the last thing I think about.
A purring noise has me turning toward the right, half expecting to see an incongruent cat in the club before I remember that there are several members who engage in pet play. Sure enough, I see a woman on her hands and knees being led through the main room on a leash. I’ve seen her before. She has cat ears fastened to a headband and even a tail, which I assume is attached to a butt plug.
I follow her with my eyes, pondering the fascination of pet play. On the one hand, submissives who enjoy role-playing as a puppy or kitten don’t seem to be required to make many decisions. They have turned over nearly every aspect of their lives to their masters, permitting themselves to be led around, fed, even caged.
While I watch, the man holding the kitten’s leash attaches it to a bolt in the floor. He points at the floor, she curls up on her side, and he wanders away. She looks content. Relaxed. Happy.
Part of me can understand. After all, for the few hours she spends as a kitten this evening, she doesn’t have to worry about whatever problems might exist in her real world. They aren’t hers. She left them at the door.
However, I don’t think I would enjoy being cut off from communication like this kitten seems to be. My mind would race with the need for social interaction. I smile at the irony considering how introverted I am and how few people I have spoken to in this club.
As if on cue, a deep voice to my left interrupts my thoughts. “Enjoying your evening, Ms. Neill?”
I turn to find Master Julius standing near me. The tips of his fingers are tucked in the pockets of his black dress pants. His brows are drawn together, but his lips are lifted in a slight smirk. “Yes, Sir,” I murmur. I’ve seen him every week, which isn’t surprising since he is the manager of Surrender. Master Roman is the owner. I don’t see him as often.
“I’ll be wandering the floor this evening. Please let me know if you have any questions.”
“I will. Thank you, Sir.” It feels awkward referring to the men I encounter in the club as Sir, but I’m getting used to it. I haven’t spoken to very many people anyway.
Master Julius slowly walks away.
I realize I’m still standing near the entrance to the main room. I haven’t moved beyond this spot yet. Perhaps that’s what led Master Julius to check on me. Forcing my legs to propel me forward, I inch around the room. It’s growing crowded.
I pause to watch a submissive with gorgeous dark skin being caned by a Domme with nearly white skin and naturally blond hair. I recognize them. They often scene together. Perhaps they are a couple. When the cane lands on the darker woman’s naked bottom, I wince. She isn’t bleeding, but angry welts have risen all over the backs of her thighs and butt.
If I’ve learned anything in the past five weeks, it’s that pain is not for me. I may not be able to pinpoint my precise kinks yet, but I’m not a masochist.
Unable to stop myself, I cross my arms and hug myself, turning my gaze away. I find myself lured to the corner of the room where a woman stands oddly facing the wall. I don’t recall having seen her before. She’s tall and a bit on the heavy side.
As I wander closer, I’m fascinated to realize she’s wearing a frilly white dress and carrying a teddy bear. She has her thumb in her mouth. A man who is slightly shorter than her and slender steps up to her side. He sets a hand between her shoulder blades and presses her nose into the corner.
I can hear him as he admonishes her. “When I put you in time out, I expect you to keep your nose to the wall. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she responds. “I’m sorry, Daddy.” She straightens her shoulders, presses her breasts against the walls, and keeps her nose right where the man directed her.
My breath hitches. I drop my arms to my sides and continue watching. The man paces behind her, lecturing her. “Do you understand why you’re in time out?” he asks.
I swallow, my gaze on the woman. She drops her thumb from her mouth and clasps her hands behind her back.
Instinctively, I reach behind my own back and grab my wrist with my opposite hand. I rock forward and backward on the balls of my feet, feeling as if I’m the woman being chastised instead.
I glance around, feeling odd at my reaction and my behavior. It’s dark in the room. I’m in the shadows. No one has noticed me. Nor would anyone care. Far kinkier things are happening all over the club than one woman watching a scene with her hands clasped behind her back.
“I’m sorry for talking back to you, Daddy.”
He stops pacing and smoothes a hand down her back. “I know you are,
little one, but you’re still going to stand in this corner for fifteen minutes to think about your behavior. I have some things to take care of. If you fidget, your time will start over.”
“Yes, Sir,” the woman whimpers.
The man leaves her there, disappearing.
I can’t move. I’m frozen in my spot watching this woman who is obviously pretending to be a young girl. She’s sniffling. Her shoulders are rising and falling. But she doesn’t move an inch otherwise.
My knees shake. I know I’m shivering, but I can’t move. I’m mesmerized by the dynamic. I wait the entire fifteen minutes and then a tear escapes my eye as the man returns, hugs the girl/woman, and tells her what a good girl she is. He brushes her hair back from her face, wipes her tears, and snuggles her into his side.
When the scene is over and the two of them walk away, I find myself emotionally drained. It takes me several minutes to move from my spot, and I head for the women’s locker room.
I need to lock myself in a stall for a few moments of privacy.
I need to wash the tears from my face and take some deep breaths.
I need to ponder what just happened to me and what it means.
It doesn’t really matter, however, because I won’t be returning to Surrender or any other club in the near future. Whatever discovery I might be able to glean about myself from watching that scene, it will have to be set on the back burner.
Chapter 5
Master Roman
* * *
As I watch Lucy flee the main room and enter the women’s locker room, I draw in a deep breath, realizing I have not taken in enough oxygen for a very long time.
I’ve known for weeks that Lucy was born to be a little, or perhaps a middle. I’ve been in the lifestyle for over half my life. I’ve seen nearly everything there is to see. I’ve known many people, both men and women, who enjoy role-playing at many different ages. I’m familiar with the signs.
Lucy’s inclination doesn’t shock me. In fact, it’s what drew me to her in the first place. I’m confident I sensed her kink even before she did. Nevertheless, I’m blown away by what I just witnessed. It was as if Lucy herself had been the submissive in that scene.
I take several more deep breaths, my gaze glued to the locker room door, wondering what she’s doing in there. I’ve seen her aroused before, but I’m not certain if her reaction to what she witnessed is arousal this time or simply sub drop.
Does she fully comprehend what happened to her? I’d give anything in the world to go to her. Comfort her. Hold her. Stroke her hair. Someone needs to. She’s in need of just as much aftercare as the woman who stood in timeout, if not more.
So many questions run through my head. Is she crying? Is she alone? Is she even able to stand on her own?
Is she touching herself? Did she get off on that scene?
My hands are fisted at my side, and I take a step forward.
“Don’t do it.”
I hear those words from behind me just before Julius steps around me and blocks my view. His gaze is stern.
I swallow hard. I’ve never once been this affected by someone. Not in my club or in any other club. I hope no one is watching me as closely as Julius is. I have a reputation to uphold.
Julius crosses his arms and stares me down. “You can’t go in there. You know that.”
“Were you watching?” I ask.
“Yes. Most of it. Enough to know you’re salivating right now.”
I roll my eyes, trying to make light of my reaction. Failing, I’m sure. At least in front of my closest friend. Julius knows me better than anyone alive. I can’t hide from him. It’s not possible.
“I sent Claudia in to check on her inconspicuously.”
I groan. It’s not that I don’t think Claudia can handle Lucy. I know she can. Claudia is a Domme. One of the best. I’ve known her since college. Julius and I met her in a club we were members of at the time. She is perfectly capable of being discrete. I have no doubt Julius informed Claudia that he personally noticed Lucy dropping into subspace. There isn’t a chance in hell that Julius would have mentioned me when he sent Claudia into the locker room.
My groan is not out of concern for Claudia’s ability, but rather because I would prefer to be the one holding Lucy in my arms right now. Not Claudia.
Julius has the slightest grin on his face. Not so much his lips but the corners of his eyes. “I’ve never seen you like this.”
I roll my eyes again, but there is no denying he is right. And why would I bother? “She’s special.”
“I see that, and may I remind you that you went to a lot of trouble and paid top dollar to that PI to learn everything about her. If you confront her now, you will ruin your plans. She needs to believe she randomly applied for the job as your assistant, and you need to pretend you’ve hardly noticed her before, if ever.”
My breathing evens out. I nod. He’s right. Of course. And I question my momentary weakness. It’s so out of character.
“Monday, Roman. You can wait until then. You’ve waited years for the perfect submissive to come into your life. Two more days is not going to kill you.”
Intellectually, he’s right. But my heart is pounding, and I’m anxious to speed this process up. I hate that I need to interview her like the hard Dom I intend for her to see in me. Then I need to hire her to be my assistant and slowly introduce her to my world.
It’s all planned out. I’d be a fool to break my own plans at this stage.
An outsider would examine this plot and find me to be manipulative and crossing the line. Perhaps they would be right. But I don’t see it that way. I know in my heart what I’m going to do for Lucy is bring her out of the shadows and into the light, introducing her to a life she was meant to live.
Just because she doesn’t know it yet doesn’t mean I’m wrong. Every natural instinct in my body tells me I’m right.
The truth is even Julius doesn’t know how far my reach has gone. He arranged the PI and made sure Cindy had applications at the front desk. He does not know I spoke to the PI several times myself and paid for extra services. He does not know I spoke with her employer and ensured she would be desperate when she arrived here tonight and found out I needed an assistant.
If I hire her and she turns out to be completely different from the woman I’ve been watching slowly process the lifestyle she’s been exploring, I will let her go. I won’t have a choice. I’ll do everything in my power to find her another job so she leaves me in better shape financially and emotionally than she was when she arrived.
But I know in my soul she is the perfect woman for me.
My girl.
My little.
My life.
It can’t go wrong. I can feel it deep in my bones.
Chapter 6
Lucy
* * *
I have never been more nervous in my life than I am at this moment, standing in this enormous dark-wood foyer of Master Roman’s mansion. As I wring my hands together, I’m unable to keep my nerves at bay. I’ve arrived early, and the older man who opened the front door upon my arrival has instructed me to wait inside this imposing entrance area.
I shuddered as I watched the man walk away from me. He moved with purpose but not speed. He informed me his name is Weston. I’m not sure if that’s his first name or his last. His expression was serious, and he hardly glanced at me before leaving me to fidget alone.
I still can’t believe I’ve been granted this appointment. Interview, really. The truth is I both need and want this job. Badly.
Somehow Fate has stepped into my pitiful life like a ray of light. Things like this don’t happen to me. Ever. I’m not the sort of girl who has good luck, or any luck at all.
I’m standing in the dark wood foyer of Master Roman’s estate, and I can’t believe I’ll actually get this job. Surely, he will have had a chance to look over my resume and found me lacking by now.
Nevertheless, a woman named Nancy called me Saturday mor
ning to set up an interview first thing this morning. Apparently, Master Roman is desperate. I wonder if he’s even been informed of my qualifications or if his secretary simply set up this appointment without consulting him.
I shake that idea out of my head. I may not know Master Roman at all, but from what I’ve seen, it’s unlikely anything in his life happens without his stamp of approval.
I have no idea in the world what the job entails or if I’m qualified, but I took the time Friday night to carefully fill out every detail of my job history on the application, praying Martin and Sons would give me a good review even though they had mysteriously fired me.
I’m a hard worker. Always on time. I stay late when required. Never complain. No one in the office ever reprimanded me a single time since I started working for them two years prior.
My discharge had come as a total surprise.
My luck a few hours later lifted my spirits. Hope alone was enough to help me sleep the past few nights.
Standing here in the foyer, waiting, is making me question my decision. This isn’t just a house or even a mansion. It’s an estate. I realize I’m in over my head. I know it, but I’m still intrigued. If Master Roman is willing to interview me, I will do my very best to impress him.
“Miss Neill.” The voice startles me, and I jerk my gaze up to find the same older man returning. “If you’ll follow me, please.” He turns around and retraces his steps down the hallway.
I take a deep breath and follow him. The ceiling is very high, and our steps echo on the hardwood floor. My entire concentration needs to be focused on not tripping over my own two feet.
I remain two paces behind the presumed butler as we round a corner and then continue down another hallway. Finally, he stops at an open door and motions with his hands for me to enter. Just as quickly, he continues down the hall, leaving me to realize every step I heard on the walk toward this room has been my own. This man moves silently. His presence feels like it’s out of an old movie. I have trouble believing people still own homes like this and employ butlers like him.
Raising Lucy Page 2
