by Kitty Thomas
After all, this was what had brought her to his office initially so many years ago. She'd been in what people called a total power exchange relationship, living in a dom/sub situation 24/7/365. It was a game so intense it felt as real as the situation she was in now with him.
The problem was when a relationship like that ended. Shannon had been dumped by her master with no real explanation except that he'd met someone else. She'd been with him for only two years, and yet, it had taken months of therapy to bring her back to a place where she could deal with life independently.
Her master had taken over so many aspects of her life, it was as though she'd had to relearn everything. That was when Lindsay had known he couldn't make her his. It wasn't a commitment issue. It was the fact that time and age were what they were.
Things might be great now, but some day he would become old and feeble. Maybe it would be much later than most people because he took such good care of himself, but time was cruel. If they both lived out their natural lifespans he would die long before her. And then what would happen to her?
He had to make sure she was taken care of, protected. He had to be sure she had someone for when he was gone. While it may be a very long time in the future and she might not even have any strong sexual urges by that point, this type of relationship was about far more than sex. And all those other needs would still be there even if the sex no longer was.
It was encoded into her DNA. Just like it was in his.
Damian was a good friend. And he was Shannon's age. A couple of years older, actually, but close enough. Lindsay wanted her to bond with him so that someday—hopefully very far in the future—she'd be able to easily transfer over to him.
The doctor was pleased to find her attracted to his friend, and she seemed comfortable with him. And he had definitely been pleased with her.
“Master? Is your license in danger? Will he say anything?”
“Damian isn't a patient, just a friend of mine. It was all just a game to work you up, kitten. He knew you were under the desk the whole time. Everything is safe.”
“Oh.”
They stopped at a red light and Lindsay turned to study her. She seemed relieved, not upset or betrayed. He wasn't sure why he'd felt the need to play it that way. He just wasn't prepared for questions about who Damian was or why she was playing with him so soon.
“He likes you a lot,” Lindsay said.
“Did he say anything about the scars?”
The light changed. “No. They aren't nearly as noticeable as you think they are now.”
“Okay, well he's not blind. They might not look as bad as they did in the beginning, but they're still bad. It's obvious... something bad happened.”
“Not necessarily. You know enough to know that not every scar comes from something tragic. There are plenty of people in our world with marks they proudly display.”
“These aren't those kind of marks.”
Lindsay sighed. “I know.”
“I wish I could get them removed,” she said quietly. “I know it would be expensive... but...”
“No. I don't want them removed.”
“What? Why?”
“I already looked into it, kitten. It's not the money. It can be a painful procedure, and there are no guarantees. As old as yours are, you might still have them even after going through all that. And I need them there. I can't let myself forget and ever risk something like that happening to you again. And I never want you to think that you're not enough as you are, or that you aren't beautiful to me... as you are. We both know that even if we could, erasing those scars won't erase the real damage. It won't get rid of the memories or the nightmares.”
She looked out the window, and he couldn't get a read on her. “Okay,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her.
“If you want to see the information about it, I'll let you look. If you really wanted to do it, I would consider it, but I don't think it will do for you what you think it will.”
“Where are we going to lunch?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Dome.”
She smiled at that.
Chapter Nine
Shannon sat at the desk in the outer office staring at the impossibly tall stack of papers to file. It was Friday, and the doctor was all business. Fridays were his busiest day. It wasn't even lunch yet and already he'd seen four patients.
Friday was all work and no play. Like a real job. He hadn't done anything dirty with her, nor had he suggestively requested coffee through the intercom. Was he already tired of those games? Maybe he didn't have time for them.
She glanced at the clock. Almost lunch time. Maybe he would take her out for lunch. She'd enjoyed their lunch at Dome earlier in the week. She'd never had the opportunity to see Anton's spa. There was always a lot of chatter about it at the house, particularly from the new girls Anton had interviewed. Shannon had sadly never gotten that interview.
She quickly filed the stack of papers while he finished up with his last patient. Fifteen minutes later a redheaded woman in her late twenties stepped out and slid a charge card across the desk for Shannon to process.
She ran the woman's card and scheduled another appointment. When the patient had gone, Lindsay stepped into the outer office.
“Can we go out to lunch?” Shannon asked.
“I'm afraid not. Fridays are too busy for me. I normally order in from the cafe downstairs.” He laid a long envelope down on the desk.
“What's this?”
“It's your paycheck,” he said with a wink.
Shannon hadn't expected him to pay her. Now that she thought about it, it was pretty strange she hadn't handled money in eight years. She pulled the check out of the envelope.
“Twenty five hundred dollars for three days' work?” She did some quick math in her head. That was over a hundred dollars an hour.
He smiled. “I take care of what's mine. Besides, you do provide extra services. I think what I'm paying is fair. Don't you?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” The idea of him paying her for her services was sending an unexpected jolt of pleasure between her legs. Just when she thought he couldn't make something dirtier, he went that little extra mile. “I can't cash this though.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I doubt I still have a bank account. They close inactive accounts. And my driver's license is expired.”
“That's not a problem.” Lindsay pulled a card from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “This is from the bank at the end of the block. The president is a very close friend of mine. I've spoken with him, and he understands you have challenges with ID. He's going to set something up for you so you can bank without a problem. Just ask for him and say you have an appointment. He's expecting you. Then I want you to take the afternoon off. Go shopping, buy yourself some pretty things, and I'll meet you back here at nine o'clock.”
She couldn't believe it. She was going to have real money of her own. She was going to get to go shopping in a real store and walk out with bags.
“Wait... how do you know I won't go to the police?”
Lindsay smiled. “Because I'm giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.” Then he winked at her again. “And you kind of like me. Now go.”
She was starting to more than kind of like him, but she wasn't prepared to let him know that.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He disappeared back into his office and closed the door behind him.
Did he really trust her not to go to the police? Shouldn't she? He was right, though. He was giving her everything she'd ever fantasized about. It was a kinky dream come true. She wasn't about to ruin it.
It would be wonderful if she could just report Brian. She'd love to see that motherfucker behind bars. But there was no way to put him in prison without implicating the doctor. And she found, much to her chagrin, that she no longer hated Lindsay enough to destroy him.
Riding the elevator down ten floor
s by herself was strange. She hadn't been alone with this much freedom since she'd first been brought to the house.
She'd been nervous and excited the whole drive. And she kept thinking Lindsay was going to... touch her. But he never did. Not once. Until recently.
The bank at the end of the block was large and local to the city. There were several regional branches, but it wasn't a mega chain. She pushed through the revolving gold-colored door. It emptied out into a swank lobby.
This was where the people with old money banked. She remembered years ago she used to drive past it and think about the kind of people who came here. It seemed more like a country club than a bank. She'd heard people got turned away routinely if they didn't open huge accounts.
Suddenly she felt very self-conscious in what she was wearing and the look the teller at the open window was giving her—that snotty derisive judgment—wasn't helping. The girl behind the counter said, “I think you might be in the wrong place.”
It really wasn't just a rumor. These assholes had no interest in smaller accounts. Shannon looked back down at the card again. “I'm here to see Martin Graysen.”
The girl laughed. “I don't think so.”
“No really. I have an appointment. My name is Shannon Foster.”
The girl still looked skeptical and like she was about to have a great joke to laugh about with her friends over the weekend, but she picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a few numbers. “Mr. Graysen, a woman named Shannon Foster claims she has an appointment with you.”
The girl's eyes grew large. “Yes, Sir.” She disconnected the call. “You can go right up. He's at the end of the hallway on the fourteenth floor.”
“Thank you,” Shannon said, offering her sweetest fake smile. What a bitch.
The fourteenth floor opened out to a reception area, behind which was a very large office with glass for walls allowing her to see inside the president's office from the reception desk. There was an enormous window that stretched from floor to ceiling and went the whole length of the office. Mr. Graysen must not be afraid of heights.
“I'm sorry, are you lost?” the receptionist asked.
“I have an appointment with Martin Graysen.” She expected to have to navigate another rude gauntlet but instead the woman smiled.
“Shannon?”
“Yes.”
“You can go right on in.”
“Thank you.”
Once again, she felt underdressed. She went into the office and sat down. A moment later, the door opened again, and Mr. Graysen sat down behind a large oak desk. He was about Lindsay's age and nearly as good looking. And tall. Very tall.
“All right, Shannon, I've got you set up. Your account is all ready to go. Here is your debit card, as well as a credit card in your name. I'm afraid the limit on the credit card is only twenty-five thousand. If you'll give me your check, I'll get that deposited right away for you, and I'll send you down to HR to get an employee ID card made. They'll think you work at one of the other branches but it will allow you to deposit or cash checks without a hassle in the future. We let our employees bank here. One of the perks.”
“I-I'm sorry, but how is this already set up? How do I already have cards in my name?”
“Doctor Smith called me last week. He's a priority customer and a dear friend.”
“I- Okay, but... I mean, isn't this all a little weird to you?” She couldn't imagine what he must think Lindsay was paying her $2,500 a week to do. Did he think she was his whore? It was sort of true. But it also wasn't.
“Relax, Miss Foster. I know you're his pet.”
Off her surprised expression he said, “I'm not sure I should be telling you this, but I got a girl from the house he helps run. She's absolutely wonderful. I couldn't be happier.”
“Oh. I see.”
“You must be very special. I've teased him for years about not having anyone. It'll be just one moment, and then we can send you down to HR. I've got a little card all filled out so they won't ask any questions. They'll just take a quick photo, make your ID card, and you'll be ready to go.”
Mr. Graysen disappeared out of the room and down a long hallway. This was definitely not how she'd imagined things would go down. She'd thought he might treat her like a whore because in truth, her outfit was definitely too sexy for daytime office wear.
She'd worried he might come on to her, or ask weird questions she wouldn't know how to answer. She stood and walked over to the window to gaze down at the city. The view was pretty terrifying.
A few minutes later he returned. Shannon turned from the window. “I guess you're not afraid of heights.”
He chuckled. “I base jump. So, no. Not afraid of heights. Here's your receipt. Your account is open and ready for use. There are no daily spending limits but our security system will keep an eye on transactions, so if they start breaking whatever pattern you establish we might call Dr. Smith to confirm everything is in order. If you lose either card, just give us a call and we'll take care of it.”
***
Saturday was a long, lazy day at the house. Shannon had just finished lunch and planned to go lie beside the pool with Julie, Mina, and Annette, but that plan was about to die a quick death because Lindsay now crossed the cafeteria with fierce purpose in his gaze. When he reached the table, he leaned in close to her, whispering gruffly in her ear.
“Put your tray away and come with me.”
She was startled by his tone. “A-am I in trouble?” She couldn't think of what she might have done. He seemed pretty amped up about something.
He chuckled. “No, you're not in trouble. At least not yet.” he allowed the enigmatic riddle to hang in the air as he rose back to his full imposing height, towering over her. He waited expectantly for the obedience that always came.
She felt flustered but got up and took her tray back to the drop-off counter. Lindsay was immediately upon her, his hand pressing against her lower back, guiding her out of the cafeteria and down one of the long hallways.
“Where are we going?”
“To our private dungeon.”
This was a punishment. It had to be. But what had she done? She couldn't think of anything. He took her to the set of dungeons he'd told her about but had never brought her to... until now. When had he had time to set it up?
Off her confused expression he said: “Gabe set it up for me while we were at work in the city this week.” Lindsay unlocked the door of one of the cells and led her inside. “I need your help training our new trainers.”
Shannon wasn't sure what to look at first. The walls were lined with implements of pain and pleasure. Expensive sex and bondage furniture was scattered about the room in a pattern that certainly only made sense to Lindsay.
There were five strange men in the room. They were young, hot, virile, and... hungry. The looks they were giving her... she hadn't had looks like that in a long time from anyone but the doctor and Damian. Suddenly she felt very self-conscious about the scars on her back. Surely those hungry gazes would fade to disgust or disinterest the moment they saw them. Just because it didn't disgust Damian or Lindsay didn't mean these men wouldn't judge.
Only a few feet away was a fancy, comfortable-looking bed that was definitely not a feature in Brian's dungeons. She had a very strong suspicion she was about to be fucked on this bed for a hungry and rapt audience. That thought made her sex come awake and pulse with need. She could already feel the wetness flooding her panties. But even so... the scars.
“I- I can't,” she said, backing up, but she only found herself more ensnared by Lindsay as she backed further into his arms.
He leaned next to her ear. “You can, and you will. If any of these foolish punks makes you feel insecure or unwanted, he'll wish he'd never been born. I'll personally inject anyone who chooses to live so dangerously with a horse tranquilizer and send them down to Brian.”
She shuddered.
He didn't exactly say any of this quietly, and when Shannon looked up, she
could see the men had heard the threat very clearly. But those hungry gazes hadn't abated. They were like wolves excited to be alone with a lost, delicious lamb—already planning how they would devour her.
“Undress,” Lindsay ordered.
She hesitated, still afraid for them to see the scars.
“Don't make me ask twice. I'm supposed to be training them, but I can just as easily punish you. They need to learn that, too.”
Shannon swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. She was suddenly aware of how she must have looked to the men in her tight low slung jeans, nearly sheer white low -cut T-shirt, black bra, her nipples protruding even with the bra. She carefully removed the jeans and peeled the T-shirt off.
“Undergarments as well,” he demanded.
She couldn't bring herself to look at the strangers as she carefully unclasped the bra and slowly slid the straps down her arms. She dropped the scrap of black silk on the pile of clothes, then bent to slide her panties down. She flung the matching piece of silk on top of the other clothes she'd discarded.
“Go lie down on the bed.”
“Yes, Master.” She knew he'd want the title—especially with an audience. It was a power and control thing. She knew him well enough to know he'd want her status with him made plain for this group of horny new trainers. Shannon avoided the men's eyes and went to lie on the bed.
She shivered as Lindsay's heated gaze seemed to become lost tracing the curves of her flesh. Then he turned his attention to his excited students.
“The first lesson. Making a woman come. I know you think you know how to do this. Trust me when I say you most likely do not. When training a woman to please you, pain should be used judiciously and only for punishment. It is so much easier and better to control her with pleasure. And unless we're dealing with pain sluts, this is our standard training protocol. If you want a woman to excitedly rush to please you, you want her to know you can deliver pain. You want her to fear that possibility, but to be drawn more strongly by the other things you can deliver. You want to be the flame your little moth can't stay away from. Even though she knows it's bad for her.”
Lindsay had slowly loosened his tie while giving this speech. He removed it and draped it over a chair. He unbuttoned his pants and without even the slightest bit of discomfort at having an audience—even a male audience—he freed his growing erection from the confines of the fabric. Who knew Lindsay was an exhibitionist? The surprises never stopped coming with this one.
