by Leigh Lennon
“Kitten, can’t you see yourself on the stage, letting go of all that bogs you down. Letting your body experience pure pleasure. Taya and Jared. They get off on their subs finding this release.”
This is still not me. I belong to no one, nor could I ever. “I love to be fucked but not controlled,” I state plainly. Still, my eyes are locked on the four before me.
“I have so much to teach you.” And just like this, he grabs my hand, and I pull my skirt down while he weaves me through the darkness. Once we get to the stairwell that leads us to our apartments, I want to smack him. “I was enjoying the show.” I didn’t want to leave; how could he not get this?
“Either you enjoy the show because some part of you likes the idea of being controlled or you don’t. It’s why we left.” He deposits me in front of my door and leans down to give me a kiss on the forehead. “Good night, Kitten.” And he’s gone, walking back down the hallway to the stairwell. He’s going back to watch, and he leaves me at my front door. What a fucking asshole!
Chapter Twelve
Chadwick
Since the night in the dungeon, I’ve required Eve to come sit in my office during the day. She stands next to my couch, a question on the tip of her tongue. “Can I read?” she asks on the first day of this requirement.
“As long as I don’t want to talk to you.” She has this ability to move her head out of my view, and I imagine she rolls her eyes. “Kitten, I have X-ray vision. I can see you rolling your eyes at me.”
She turns on her heels, her actual heels, and almost falls over. With the abundant pairs of sneakers the girl owns, I wonder sometimes if she’s ever worn heels before. Certainly not my required four-inch ones but her legs look like they go on for days. I’ve also ordered her so many dresses, she can wear a new one every day for three months.
“No, Sir, I wouldn’t ever dream of it.”
I hitch one eyebrow higher than the other. “Kitten, your ass is about to be put over my knee.” She stands near the couch. “Can I sit, would that please you?” The words would normally sound sassy, but in the low rasp of her pitch, the seduction that plays off it, lulls me, and I smile.
“You’re good, Kitten. Your response, if from anyone else, would have earned them five smacks on their bare ass.” I keep on threatening her, and it’s not like me to let her pull one over on me. But I’m like that proud father who can’t see the faults in his own kid. When it comes to Eve, she blinds me from following through on my threats.
“And yes, Kitten, but no book now.” She places it down and lifts her head to mine, crossing her legs at her knees. “You need to give me one reason you are so opposed to this lifestyle.”
She swings her face from mine and touches her hands to her lips. Her fingers begin to quiver, and if I look closely, though I can’t see her directly, a little glint glimmers from her eyes as tears begin to form.
“Kitten, I have all day. I can sit here until you answer me, and though it seems like I’m punishing you, I need to know how to help you.”
Her body takes a sudden swing toward her head, and she answers me, though it’s not what I want. “Why do all this for me? You’re lavishing me with so much, and now you want me to open up to you about my life. Oh, and by the way, I don’t have just one bad thing that keeps me up at night. My life was the entire bad thing which still keeps me up at night.”
This is part of my conditioning for my subs. There’s always something in someone’s life that pushes them to BDSM. It’s not always a situation that’s horrible. It could be something positive, but it’s always some defining moment. And I uncover this with every person I train, and though she’s technically not my sub, I’m laying the groundwork for when she becomes mine.
“I’ve never had control of my own life, and I can’t give it over to anyone…ever.”
I lean back in my chair in front of a little coffee table across from the couch where Eve sits. Her body is rigid, and I internally smile. Now we’re getting somewhere.
“Care to elaborate?” I pause and wonder how hard to push her.
“Is this a question I’m allowed to answer honestly?” It’s her turn to lift one eyebrow higher than the other.
“Yes, but we’re not leaving this office today without exploring this further, Kitten. So if you need time, I can give you that, but understand I want more, and I want it today.”
She nods, then leans forward, grabbing her book. I return to my desk, and something shifts in me just with the idea she’s in my office and near me. Something soft, something warm, something so foreign.
The morning turns to afternoon, and the kitchen sends up lunch, a simple chicken Caesar salad and wine. During the quiet mealtime as she moves the lettuce and chicken across the plate with her fork, I let her have her silence. I won’t push, not yet, but she needs to get this out. I’ve seen enough broken women in my life to know she’s one.
Her face is downturned, and she’s barely eating a thing, and although I’m devouring my salad, my eyes are on her the whole time. I don’t miss her small winces or how her lips narrow to a thin line at times and still, the glint of tears in her eyes.
“Are you not hungry, Evelyn?” I like to keep her on her toes as to what I’ll call her. The jerk in her body tells me that using her God-given name doesn’t go unnoticed by her as she places her fork down on the center of the plate.
“No, Sir, I’m not. I’m sorry.” She leans back, and in a span of a week, she understands my rules, even if some are still unspoken. She doesn’t leave the little table room service has brought in for us, and a quiver in her voice surprises me. “I’m ready to share that one thing with you, Sir, if you’re ready to hear it.”
I nod, placing my own fork down next to my plate. In my intense gaze, I try to channel the energy she may need to get through this. And it’s again a big red flag in my abhorrent behavior toward this girl.
She lifts her head, meeting my eyes even though I hadn’t told her to do this. “I spent more time in homeless shelters than in homes. Sometimes we’d crash on the couch or floor of someone my dad knew. His money went to booze, and I never had the power to make it better for me. But I guess maybe I should be happy. At least he didn’t abandon me like my mother had.”
She has not taken a breath during this realization of the hell of her life. But it makes me understand Eve just a little bit more. And with these uncharted territories, I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.
I’m watching her on the front porch of my grams’ farm. I’d wanted to get her back out here. She loves horses so much, but more so, taking her away from the club helps her forget I’m a Dom. I’m sure it’s not far from her mind, but I hope she can see me in a different light. Her denial about her growing feelings toward me are just as profound as the same ones I’m refusing to acknowledge, too.
I’ve told her to sit on the front porch as I took care of some issues with the staff, a favor my grams asked me about today when she found out I was on my way for another day here.
My grams started this farm years ago, breeding some of the best thoroughbreds, many of which have gone on to win the Preakness Stakes, Kentucky Derby, and Belmont Stakes. She’s always wanted to breed a triple crown winner and has gotten close a couple of times.
She sells most breeds but keeps ten personal horses, one being my beloved stallion, General Bruin. My eyes are still on her as she stares off in the opposite direction. What is it about this girl that has me unnerved?
I know she’s broken, messed up by her parents. It’s been something she’s shared with me in snippets and only when I pushed a little. Okay, with me, probably more than just a little.
I take a step closer to her, and when a branch breaks under my steps, the noise gets her attention. “Hey, so this isn’t creepy at all, you watching me, like a stalker, Sir.” That sass. Fuck, it’s a turn-on and never has a smart mouth been a turn-on for me. A smart mouth is used for one thing, sucking my cock. And with her, I want more. No, I need more.
“Come
on, Kitten, before you get yourself in trouble. They have the horses ready for us.”
She stands, walking down the front porch in a pair of cowboy boots I bought for her for this visit. She’s sexy in her four-inch heels, but with her jeans tucked into these boots and a tight blue tank top, her curves are unfair to every other woman on the face of this earth.
The staff has a bag attached to my saddle with a little surprise I have for Eve. She’s riding Lady Luck, my favorite mare, as General Bruin follows them, my eyes locked on Eve’s body.
She slows as my horse saddles up next to Lady Luck. “I have to hear how you named your horse, Sir.”
I give her a little chortle. “From the very beginning, this guy has been the one who thinks he’s in control. And I called him my little General when I was breaking him. I had to use Bruin because UCLA is my alma mater.”
“Your horse, wanting to be in charge? Hmm…” She’s tapping her chin. “What are the odds?”
“Yeah, my grams said the same thing to me. It’s like we were meant for one another,” I add as we come to a clearing with a large tree in front of us. “Hey, let’s stop here. I have some lunch.”
I’ve surprised her. She yanks her head to mine, shock covering her face. “You made a picnic lunch for us?”
Now, this has me laughing. “Made? Absolutely not. But ordered to have the staff do it, yes.”
She shakes her head at me, probably thinking something along the lines of entitled little rich kid.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, like I’m going to answer you. I know you want any excuse to spank me, so I’m keeping my mouth shut.”
We’re off our horses, and I take them to two covered stalls my grandmother has around the grounds for occasions like this. Securing them to a covered shed, I turn on the spigot that flows straight into a trough for the horses, and they begin to drink the water.
Eve already has our blanket on the ground under a tree and a beer in her hand. “Your staff knows how to really treat you, Sir,” she teases, handing me one as I sit down near her.
“I actually asked for wine, but this will do.” Her attention is on the outdoors.
“This is so beautiful out here. I can’t believe it. Man, if this place was mine, I’d never leave.”
But my attention is on the beauty in front of me. “Yeah, it sure is beautiful, I agree.” She has no idea I’m talking about her as her gaze comes back to mine. “This tree has been here for as long as I can remember.” I point at a little pond a couple of hundred feet from us. “And this is the reason I love it out here. I’ve spent many hours under this tree, just in reflection.”
She begins to choke on her beer. I pat her back, but as her breathing levels, hysterics replace her coughs. “Somehow, I can’t see you, Chadwick Westbrook, just sitting out here taking in the sights.”
I give her a little wink. “Ah, but you’d be wrong, my kitten.”
“And how many times did you have the company of another girl out here?”
My reply is quick. “Never. My subs weren’t part of my personal life. I made sure they had what they needed, but they were never like you.” This revelation comes out so very easy, and she stills, averting her eyes to the ground. I take the silence as a good time to dish out our lunch, so I hand her a sandwich, a small individual bowl of fruit, and a bottled water.
She unwraps it quickly. She’s hungry, and with one bite, she begins to moan.
“That good, Kitten?” I ask.
“Ah, fuck, is this crab?” She takes another bite. “And bacon?”
I love seeing Eve eat. She has a rocking body, but she’s never been so vain that she attempts to hide the fact she loves food.
“Yeah, this is my grams’ specialty. Fresh crab, bacon, small chunks of cheese, cayenne pepper, bay seasoning, and cucumbers in an olive oil and mayo spread.”
She’s eating it as if it may disappear. “Hell, Kitten, at the rate you are eating, it’ll be gone by the time I unwrap my own sandwich.” I can’t take my gaze off her. She’s that intoxicating.
“Hey, I have a question for you?” she asks.
“Okay, but I get to ask one for you, too,” I retort.
“Well, I guess that’s only fair.” She takes another bite of her sandwich and a sip of her water. Placing it down on her lap, she squares her shoulders to mine. “Tell me about your parents.”
Ah, fuck. I set down my own sandwich. “Well, the bottom line, they are shit heads.”
“And?” she probes.
“And what? They were just more concerned about appearances than my welfare. You’ve not met Greer yet, but we are pretty tight. His mom was my nanny and raised me. When they left on trips, I stayed with her in her servants’ quarters, and every time they came back, they’d punish her, by not letting me play with her son. In their minds, I was too good to stay in the servants’ quarters and they knew Greer meant a lot to me. I was in her care, Pamela that is. Greer and his sister, Grace, was the center of Pamela’s world and taking my friend from me, was punishment for all of us. My parents were assholes. And sure, I’m an asshole, but I hope I’m a little bit removed from the degree of assholes they were and still are.”
She opens her mouth to continue the questioning, and it’s my turn. “Ah, ah, ah. It’s my turn, Kitten.”
She’s back to shoving her sandwich in her mouth. “Your father. He raised you. He must love you in some way?”
Ever since the day in my office, I want to know more about her father. I know from experience that the shittiness of others sometimes changes one’s life for the better, so maybe she learned from his mistakes.
“I do think he loves me in his own way. But his disease has caused him to be the shell of the man I remember when I was little. There was a time alcohol didn’t rule his life. But when my mom left, it changed him. I’m not making excuses—fuck no. He’s hurt me so much in my life. And when I thought he’d change, he’d do something more disgusting. He’s the reason I moved in with Kira. He broke into my apartment and found the money I’d saved between my mattress and box spring. It wasn’t a lot, maybe three thousand dollars, but it’s what I wanted to use to get out of the city. And away from him.”
She wants to cry, but when she hides her face from me, I see her swipe at her cheeks. “He gave this creepy-ass friend of his a key to our apartment when I was seventeen, and the sick fucker almost raped me. And my father just brushed it off as Darryl being Darryl.”
I don’t realize I’m doing it, but I crush the beer can in my hand, and it spills everywhere. I can’t move to clean it up. “But you got away?”
“Oh, yeah, my knee really did a number on his family jewels. And Larry was there for me.”
I have it on the tip of my tongue. Who the fuck is Larry?
“Calm down, Thor. I mean, Darryl is the fucker you could go and teach a lesson to, but Larry was our apartment manager. I only had food to eat because his wife would send me what she claimed was leftovers, but I think she made it just for me. He was the sweetest man. He passed away three years ago, and to this day, his wife still checks on me.”
It gives me perspective. I hated my parents, but my childhood was good because of others—my boys, their parents who loved me, and my grams. Her childhood, though… I can’t for the life of me have the heart to ask her if she has one good memory. Ignoring the beer on the blanket, I do the oddest thing—for me—and crawl over to her, pulling her onto my lap. And she allows it. We sit like this for several minutes. I can’t put my thumb on it, but this very intimate moment has me wanting her in more ways than just my submissive.
In the two weeks since my temptation has arrived in my life, I swing from sweet to ice cold at times. When emotions that only Eve stirs up inside me hit me so strong, I waver from wanting to do something sweet for her to being a complete asshole. This is the only way I know. But her behavior is just as hot and cold, too.
In the contract, it says she has to accompany me three times a week to the dungeon, but she agre
es to it almost every night. On the night I hadn’t asked her, when I checked on her after my time down there by myself, she’d been pouting like a four-year-old.
I hadn’t touched the subject with her. And somewhere in this whole clusterfuck, I’ve discovered some interesting facts about Ms. Evelyn Lipton. She’s a hard worker. The restaurant manager tells me she’s one of the best waitresses, earning herself a lot in tips. This makes me happy. I’ve never accepted a freeloader, and her work ethic is important.
She’s funny. Her one-line banter makes me smile. And I have to say, she dials it back as to not go over the line. And I enjoy her interactions with others as they laugh and smile around my kitten.
She’s infectious. Both men and women alike watch every move she makes. Her fucking curves and ample tits only add to the spell she casts around them. Out of character for me, the little green monster has come out to play. Jared has had to talk me out of revoking many memberships merely from other Doms staring at my kitten.
I’m thinking of Eve when Nina interrupts me. “Sir.” I must have missed the knock on the door. “I’m sorry, but I have Cord Jackson from LA. He says it’s an emergency.”
My lawyer, Greer; my LA manager, Cord; my Seattle manager, Maddox; the twins, Gio and Anton who oversee my business at my clubs in New York and London; and Jared have been my closest friends as we grew up together. I’d been the lonely rich boy with no friends, and Cord, Jared, Maddox, Greer, Anton, and Gio were the servants’ kids who lived on the estate with their parents. My mother was appalled I’d become friends with riffraff, as she called them, but fuck, if they weren’t a lifeline to my lonely existence. I don’t think I could have survived without them.
“Hey, fucker,” I say, picking up the phone. I’d die for these men, and fucker has always been my term of endearment.
“Chad, shit. I have the cops here.”
My relaxed position in my chair is no more, and I lean forward, picking up the handset and taking it off the speaker. “Don’t say a fucking word.” My other hand is texting Jared now, telling him to contact our lawyer, Greer. “Not a word, I’m sure they’re listening. Text me everything. I’ll be on the next flight to LA.”
