by Kitty Thomas
“I just am.” She couldn't tell him the truth. What if he confronted Brian and just made everything worse? She couldn't tell Mina because she was sure that would stir things up, too. Mina would try to protect her, try to reason with Brian, but it might just make him more angry and determined. She knew from experience that was the last thing she needed.
Chapter Eight
Weeks passed, and the threat of Brian receded into the background. He seemed to have lost interest in Shannon, and she'd become too wrapped up in life with the doctor to keep thinking about the threat. Despite her fears, Lindsay didn't start treating her like she was too fragile to handle him. And as a result, she'd started to feel a little less fragile in his care.
She laid snuggled under the covers in the plant room watching him as he took care of the birds and tended to the plants, already dressed for work. She liked to watch his morning ritual when he thought she was still asleep. She couldn't believe they'd been together like this for weeks now. Even more impossible to believe was the idea that she'd actually thought she hated this man.
Her feelings now had moved so far in the opposite direction from hate that it scared her sometimes to think just how hard she was falling, how much she wanted to give him anything and everything. His control had taken her by surprise, his darkness. She hadn't believed he had it in him. She'd thought him weak, simpering. Now it seemed impossible she'd ever seen the doctor that way.
She was almost constantly wet from his demands, his harsh cutting orders that wrapped around her like safety and security.
“Oh, good. You're awake,” Lindsay said intruding on her thoughts.
She yawned. “What time is it?”
“6:30.”
Way too early. She flopped back on the bed and pulled the covers over her head.
“You have to get up. We have a long drive.”
“Wait, we?”
“Oh, yes. I fired my secretary and told her she could finish out the week last week. It's Monday. You're my new secretary. Congratulations on this promotion.”
And then there was this side of him. This strangely funny playful side that she'd never suspected could exist underneath all that clinical seriousness.
“From fuck toy to secretary. Doesn't it normally go in the other direction?”
“You watch too many movies.”
It was so weird that they'd developed this... banter. Shannon sat up fully in bed, trying to process this new information. “But... I don't have clothes...” She couldn't exactly wear a bikini or workout clothes to a psychiatrist's office.
Though at the moment the biggest and most exciting thought was, I'm going into the city. I get to leave the house. It had been a long eight years of cabin fever.
“I got you some things the afternoon I fired her, the bags are on the floor beside the bed.”
Shannon moved as little as possible out from under the fluffy blankets and peered over the edge to find several large bags from stores she didn't recognize but which were obviously very high end.
“Well, I mean... what did you say... was she upset?” Shannon asked as she lugged the bags up onto the bed and started to unwrap everything.
“I told her I was cutting back my hours and no longer required full time assistance, and I knew she needed full time. I gave her a generous severance package and an excellent reference.”
“Excellent reference!” Ralph screeched from his cage as if to confirm this fact.
Lindsay opened the cage to let the bird out. The African Gray landed on the bedside table and stared up at Shannon and said again, “Excellent reference”. Then he flew off into the tropical plants.
Shannon wasn't sure how he'd done it, but somehow Lindsay had trained the bird to only poop in his cage. As a reward, Ralph got a lot of outside-the-cage time. She was convinced that bird understood about seventy percent of what he repeated. He seemed far too shrewd to her.
“Are you cutting back on your hours?” she asked.
“I'll be working Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. I already cut back on my workload and sent some of my patients to colleagues. Those that aren't candidates for the house.”
“Okay but what about the spa here? I'm supposed to do a lot of that stuff, like especially waxing. And we have a lot of girls here.”
“I talked to Anton about that. He's making other arrangements. It's not that difficult to teach someone how to wax.”
She might have worked up some offense at that but she was distracted by her work clothes. “Um... this is a little sexy for the office isn't it?”
She looked up to find Lindsay had stopped fussing with the plants and now stood over her, smirking. “I think it's the exact right amount of sexy.”
Within the bags she'd found several short skirts—definitely not professional length. Additionally she found loose-fitting, low cut blouses that were a bit too sheer—sheer enough to see the black lacy bras he'd bought for her to wear underneath.
There were several pairs of black heels, garter belts, and black stockings with seams up the back.
“I want those seams always perfectly straight. If they are not, there will be consequences. You represent the office after all,” he said, his eyes glittering with amusement.
And what kind of message was he trying to send with such representation?
“Y-yes, Master.” It wasn't even seven in the morning, and she was already a fluttery hot mess. “Wait, there aren't any panties.” She had panties, but they weren't the seamless kind she'd need for skirts like that.
“Observant girl. This is why I'm hiring you. You're so good with details. Get a shower and get dressed. I'll bring up our breakfast.”
Shannon found herself disappointed he hadn't touched her this morning and tried not to think too much about what that said about her. She rushed through a shower and put on makeup and fixed her hair. Then she selected a red skirt and white top. She may as well go with the sluttiest version of this outfit before she lost her nerve. She was grateful at least that none of her scars were visible. She didn't want to go into the city for the first time looking like a mangled freak.
When she emerged from the bathroom, Lindsay was already on the balcony with their breakfast. Sausage, eggs, buttery croissants, fruit, and coffee.
He looked up from his paper and nodded approvingly. “You were born to wear that for me.”
Shannon felt herself flush from the heated way he looked at her. She sat down as he poured her coffee, dropping a sugar cube into it and a dollop of cream.
“We get a paper?” It seemed a bit risky to send a paperboy all the way out here to the big mysterious white mansion in the middle of nowhere. She'd always thought the guys kept a low profile.
“I get a paper at the office, but I only have time to read it at breakfast the next day.”
“So it's not really news anymore, is it?”
“It's a morning ritual. Eat your breakfast.”
The drive into the city was long. As much as she was thrilled by getting out of the house and going somewhere, she was glad they'd only be making this trip three times a week. Shannon absently ran her fingertips over her bare wrist. He'd taken the security bracelet off before taking her out of the house, promising it would go right back on again when they returned.
But for now, she felt strange and unreal without that little metal reminder of her captivity. Could she find a way to run? She hadn't been this close to freedom in so long. But where would she go? All she wanted was for him to touch her. She couldn't imagine the pain of the absence of his touch, his nearness. All she wanted was to be closer to him, so how could she run? Everything she wanted was right here.
Lindsay didn't touch her or tease her in any way the whole excruciating drive into the city. A chilling thought hit her. Maybe he wanted her to run. What if he was tired of her? She didn't even have a collar like the other girls. How could she be a permanent resident and his real pet if she didn't even have a collar?
“Master?”
“Yes, kitten?�
��
“Are you upset with me?”
“Why would I be upset with you?”
“Never mind.”
Maybe he was bored. Maybe he liked brats. Should she be more bratty? Maybe it was the scars. Maybe they did bother him. Maybe he thought that they were ugly... that she was ugly. Maybe she was his pity fuck after all.
He'd broken down the carefully crafted walls she'd put up to protect herself from anyone, but especially him. If he just threw her away now or lost interest... Maybe bringing her in as his secretary was just another way to keep her on suicide watch to appease his own guilt. Maybe he didn't trust the others at the house to watch her.
Yes, he'd paid all that money and made it official or whatever but what was three million to him? Probably nothing. Or not much. And anyway, couldn't he be getting paid back somehow in an extra cut of the profits from Anton until things were balanced again? Maybe it really was just an elaborate game. And maybe he was finished playing it.
Sometimes she wished she was a stupider person, so she wouldn't have to think so much, so she could just take this at face value like other people might.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. She wiped them quickly away, but Lindsay noticed.
He pulled the car over onto the shoulder and put it in park.
“Hey. Talk to me.”
She shook her head. “I can't.”
“We've been making such progress.”
“I am a pity fuck to you.”
His expression turned dark and dangerous. “I never want to hear those words out of your mouth again. You are not a pity fuck.”
“Then what am I?”
“Mine.”
“But I don't have a collar.” She was now the kink equivalent of the where is this relationship going girl.
He unbuckled his seat belt and turned toward her. He stroked the side of her face and held her gaze trapped in his. “I am not playing. You are completely mine. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes, Master.” That word still felt so strange to her. It had been years since she'd used it with a man. And the last time it had been with someone she could just walk away from any time she wanted. As long as he wanted her, she actually did belong to Lindsay.
“Good girl. I'll order your collar today.” He said it as though he'd always planned to order one and he'd just been busy.
He turned back toward the road, put his seat belt on, and started the car again.
Shannon looked out the window trying to fight the small smile of relief.
***
Lindsay had just gotten off the phone with the collar guy. It was the guy Michael had used for Vivian. Then Brian had used him. Gabe had used him. So they'd started to think of him as their collar guy. It hadn't been a question of who Lindsay would call.
Before making the call He'd gotten Shannon settled in, explained her duties to her, told her to call him Sir at the office and then retreated behind his closed door.
The red light on his phone came on, followed by Shannon's voice.
“Sir, your ten-thirty is here.”
So professional. He should give her a raise.
“Miss Foster, could you come into my office for a moment?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Shut the door,” he said, when Shannon walked in. She was a vision in that short red skirt. When she walked, the dark lacy tops of the stockings peeked out to tease him before retreating back underneath the red fabric. The stockings were silk and very expensive. He never skimped on lingerie. He'd bought twenty pairs.
And she wasn't wearing panties. Or she'd better not be.
He motioned for her to come closer.
She stopped a few feet away from his desk.
“Closer, Miss Foster.”
She blushed when he addressed her by her last name. It was adorable.
“Good. Now I want you to spread your legs, hike that skirt up, and lean over and rest your forearms on the desk.”
“But, Sir, there's someone just outside the door.”
She wasn't playing a game. She seemed genuinely concerned about this state of affairs.
“Yes, I'm well aware of what the phrase, your ten-thirty is here, means. They had a whole course on that in medical school. Do it.”
Shannon hesitated only a moment before doing as he asked. As she leaned forward, her top gaped to reveal her breasts pushed up and held in perfect suspension by the lacy black bra.
“Are you wearing panties?” he asked, his gaze moving up to hers.
“N-no, Sir.”
“Good.” He opened the top desk drawer and placed a couple of heavy steel Ben Wa balls and a tube of arousal cream on the desk in front of her. “I assume you understand what's about to happen here.”
She swallowed visibly. “Y-yes, Sir. But... you can't... we're at... there's somebody out there!” she hissed.
He chuckled. She was so cute when she was flustered. “Oh, I can, and I will. But first, I need to check the seams. I'd hate to have to punish you right here over my desk with a patient waiting.”
Lindsay stood and walked slowly around the desk to stand behind her. He stroked her bare ass, then ran his fingers first down one seam and then the other.
He leaned over her, his mouth next to her ear. “You're lucky today. They're straight. Make sure they stay that way. Or it'll be your ass.”
He took the small heavy metal balls from the desk and inserted first one, and then the other inside her already-wet cunt. Then he rubbed the arousal cream between her legs.
When he was finished, he used one of his plant water misters to clean his hands and dried them on a paper towel. He sat behind the desk and smiled at her.
“That will be all, Miss Foster. Pull the skirt down and send in my ten-thirty. Also, there is some filing I need you to do.” He gestured to a stack of patient files perched precariously on a side table.
“Yes, Sir.” She pulled her skirt down, scooped up the files, and left the room.
***
Shannon tried to focus on filing, but it was impossible. She could barely remember the alphabet or the order it appeared in due to the combination of the arousal cream and the weight of the heavy metal balls inside her.
In the car that morning, she'd been briefly certain she was his pity fuck—or that he was only doing all this to keep her from killing herself so he wouldn't have to live with the guilt of it.
But she wasn't stupid. She knew that look in a man's eyes, and when she'd walked into his office, Lindsay had it. He'd barely been able to tear his eyes away from her cleavage. As impossible as it still seemed to her, he really wanted her. Still, until a collar was around her throat, she couldn't let herself believe. She wouldn't be able to handle it if he changed his mind or grew tired of this game. And even with the papers, somewhere in her mind it would be a game until the moment the collar was in place. A collar meant real commitment in a way bank transfers just didn't. At least to her.
She pushed away the nagging thought that her last master had put a collar on her. And he hadn't had any trouble taking it off again. He'd probably put it on that other girl as soon as Shannon's bags were packed. It had been a very long time since she'd felt that comforting weight around her throat. She'd been sure she would never get that feeling again, and now that she was so close to it, she didn't want to get her hopes up that it really meant anything. He could take the collar off as easily as he could put it on. It wasn't magic, after all. But it would mean something. Especially at the house. It was a public display of his claim on her.
Shannon looked at the clock on the far wall. It wasn't even eleven yet. This was going to be the longest hour of her life—though thankfully an hour meant fifty minutes in Therapy Time.
A moment later, the phone intercom buzzed and Lindsay's voice filled the front office. “Miss Foster, could you bring us some coffee? I would like mine black and Miss Jamison takes hers with cream.”
Oh you have got to be kidding me.
But instead she said, “Yes, Sir.”
How could she possibly roll the coffee cart in there and pour coffee like nothing illicit was going on? She could prepare the coffee in the outer office and then just take it in to them, but Lindsay had made several office protocols clear to her, and she was sure that all rules fell under the general rules of obeying him. If she didn't, punishment would no doubt follow.
In this case, it might be the denial of the orgasm she so desperately needed.
Shannon took a deep breath and slowly eased out of the chair. She clenched her muscles tightly to keep the Ben Wa balls safe in their place. She let out a relieved sigh that they didn't seem too unbearably heavy, yet. She could do this. Though the arousal cream was another matter entirely. She didn't just have to keep the metal balls from falling out, she had to resist the urge to hump Lindsay's leg, or the patient's, while she was in the inner sanctum.
She put the coffee things on the cart and rolled it into the office. Thankfully the patient seemed too lost in her own thoughts to pay much attention to Shannon. She poured the woman's coffee and the cream and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” the young woman said, politely.
Shannon poured Lindsay's coffee and placed it on the desk beside him. His hand touched her wrist for what seemed like far too long, his thumb gently stroking her hand. She looked over to find the patient engrossed in her coffee.
“Thank you, Miss Foster. That will be all.”
“Yes, Sir.” Shannon rolled the coffee cart back out of the room, shut the door, and leaned against it to get her bearings before going back to filing.
Finally the door opened, the patient walked out, paid her bill, and left. Shannon had already checked the schedule. They had fifteen minutes before the next patient. She wanted to race into his office in hopes of a quickie anything, but instead she waited. She had to remind herself he was working. He had patients. She couldn't constantly distract him or make demands all day.
The intercom came on. “Miss Foster, please come into my office.”
