by Lila Dubois
Sasha paused and Emory was silent. Waiting. She closed her eyes and took a breath before speaking again.
“My agent got me a job. It wasn’t acting, but modeling. I didn’t really know anything about modeling, but I never turned down a job—especially one that was so easy to get. I didn’t even audition.
“My agent told me it was to model clothes at a party, and the host of the party was a really important movie financier. I remembered that he sounded funny when he was telling me about it, but I was so insecure about succeeding against all the pretty blonde girls that I thought he was afraid I couldn’t do it.”
“Sasha.” There was some scratching, as if Emory were moving around. “Sasha, I’m so sorry.”
“I haven’t told you what happened yet.”
“I can guess.”
“Maybe not.” Sasha closed her eyes. As if she were touching a bruise, she poked and prodded the memories, bringing them to the surface and checking to see that yes, they were still tender.
“That first night there was a party. All I had to do was put on these little shorts, a sparkly bra and high boots. I remember thinking at the time that I looked sexy, though looking back I realize I looked like a cheap prostitute. I walked around, drank, talked with men who were there.
“I could feel him—the host of the party—watching me. I did everything I could to catch his eye, while at the same time never actually going up to him. I was hoping he was looking at me, thinking I’d be good for a movie. The party ended and I went home, but the next day I got called back to his house, again for a party.
“This time there was no one there but him. I’d worn a little sundress, expecting that they’d give me something to change into. When I walked in and saw him—standing all by himself in the center of his huge living room, a wall of windows with an ocean view behind him, I felt so small, so poor.
“I started to say something but he held up his hand. He told me that I was not allowed to speak unless I was given permission, or unless I was asked a direct question.”
Sasha opened her eyes, stared at the ceiling above her. “That’s how it started.”
“He just started treating you like a sub?” Emory’s voice was tight, upset. It made Sasha feel…loved, that he was upset for her.
“Yes. I didn’t know there was a name for what he was doing, for what he wanted me to be, until much later. At first I obeyed because I was scared, because I was afraid of saying no to him.
“The first day I was there all he asked me to do was sit on the floor by him. He worked, watched TV and read. I never felt ignored—it was like I could feel him looking at me even when he wasn’t.
“I got another ‘job’ with him the next day. This time when I walked in I didn’t speak and he smiled. He said that he wouldn’t force me to do anything, and that I was free to leave whenever I wanted, and he would still tell my manager I’d done a good job.
“But then he told me to take off my clothes and kneel.”
“Damn him.”
“I just stood there, I didn’t know what to do. I started to think that I would be what my mama worried about—a prostitute—and yet I was scared to just walk away.
“He came up to me, stood right in front of me. He told me that he wasn’t paying me for sex, that we wouldn’t have sex, and that what he wanted from me was something very specific, something he could tell I would enjoy. He said that all I had to do was exactly what he said and that if I did that I could never disappoint him.
“He put his hand on my shoulder and pushed me down, so I was kneeling. This time when he told me to take my clothes off I did, never getting off my knees. That was when I started to feel it, her—my sub.
“Being ordered to strip had gone from horrifying to arousing. I was terrified he’d notice, terrified that if he did notice he’d think it was because I wanted to have sex with him, when really it was his dominance, though I didn’t know the name for it yet, that had aroused me.”
“He must have realized you were submissive that first night.”
“Yes, though I still don’t know what I did that made him think that. I am more aggressive now than I was then, but I was never—what is the word? Meek.” It was something that still worried her, that she was somehow sending off signals that said she was submissive.
Emory must have understood her fear, because he said, “I would never have guessed that you were submissive if I hadn’t seen that tape.”
“I’m glad. But whatever I did, he knew. If I’d never met him I doubt I would have even known that BDSM was something I needed.”
“Did he even tell you what BDSM was, tell you what he was doing?”
“A few months later. By that point he was touching me. He’d kept his promise, we didn’t have sex, but I was always naked with him, and he’d put his hands on my breasts, my pussy. It was the way he did it—with total authority, as if he had every right to do it, that aroused me.
“Then one day he called me directly. All this time when I’d leave his house I’d have no idea if I was ever going back, until my agent called and told me he’d rebooked the job. This time he called. All he said was a time, then hung up.
“That was the first day that he told me what I was and what he really wanted to do with me. He told me that he would no longer be hiring me through my agent, but that I would come on my own. He didn’t ask, he just told me, and by that point I didn’t question him. He said that starting tomorrow I would stay with him for several weeks, and that I had twenty-four hours to make sure I was ready by paying my bills, calling family and friends. Then he bent me over, right there by the door, and fucked me for the first time.
“I wasn’t really ready and it hurt, but it felt so good. It was also the first time I came without a man’s fingers on my clit. When he was done he told me I was the perfect sub, and that when I came back tomorrow I would be punished for coming without his permission.”
“Sasha,” Emory said her name, nothing more. There was background noise coming from his end so she almost didn’t hear him, and it wasn’t until she heard the sadness and panic in his voice that she realized her own voice was wavering and watery from the tears that coursed down her face.
She drew in a shuddery breath and told herself to just stop talking, but now that she’d started the story she felt compelled to tell him everything.
“That first time I spent two weeks with him. I learned the difference between fun, play punishments like spanking and cropping and ones that were true punishment, like caging and sensory deprivation. One day he handed me my clothes and told me to go home.
“I didn’t ask any questions, I just went. It was…very hard. I was confused. The normal world seemed strange. I got angry, I got upset. I had my first bad audition. Then I found communities online, other Doms I could play with virtually, and even heard about clubs. I realized that there were lots of women like me, who needed what I needed but who still had normal lives.
“I pulled myself together, had some good auditions. I was even starting to plan a trip to one of the clubs when he called again. I went, without hesitation. This time it was only a week, and things were more intense, but when it ended I didn’t fall apart—I had figured out that I had to separate this from my normal life. He didn’t call for a month and I couldn’t stand it anymore. I needed those feelings, that release. I arranged through some people I’d met online to go to a club, just as a guest and wearing a mask, because a TV episode I’d filmed had just aired. A few people invited me to watch private sessions. That’s when I realized there were rules—the checklists, the waivers—that I hadn’t followed with him. I realized that the subs should have some control, even as they give it up.
“The next night I went back to the club. I met a Dom there who took me for the night. He was quiet, stern and, according to all the other subs, strict and scary. I was glad, because he seemed more like what I was used to and I was hoping to find those same dark feelings. But he played by the rules. We spent an hour just going over th
em, and he taught me about safe words.
“I was worried that it wouldn’t be as good this way, but when we started the session I realized it was better. Deep down, I’d always been afraid, because there was never any guarantee of safety. Before, if I broke a rule and earned real punishment like the cage there was no guarantee that I’d get food, water or be let out. But this time I knew I was safe, and that freed me. It was the most intense experience I’d had, so much better than with…the first Dom.”
“I’m glad you met a normal Dom.”
“Is there such a thing?”
“Maybe not, but what the first man did to you was brainwashing and coercion.”
Sasha considered before agreeing. “Yes, it was. But it wasn’t until after I’d gone to the club that I felt owned.”
“What do you mean?”
“A few days later he showed up at my apartment.”
“Who?”
“Ra— The first Dom. He knocked on my door, and when I opened it he came in as if he owned the place. I didn’t know what to do. My apartment had become the base for my normal life, and by showing up he’d broken the barrier between two things I’d tried so hard to separate.
“He told me to come with him and I questioned him. It was the first time I’d ever done so. I’d realized that I didn’t need him and that there were other people who could give me what I wanted. I told him that.”
The next part made Sasha shiver with remembered fear and arousal, a combination that still made her feel ashamed. “He grabbed me and put me on my knees. He told me that no one would ever treat me the way he would, and that he’d found me and that made me his.
“He said he knew I’d gone to the club, that another man had touched me. Instead of forbidding me to do that, or collaring me—I had just learned about collaring at the club—he said that he wanted to remind me who I belonged to. He pulled up my shirt and grabbed my breasts, and it was like a switch had gone off in my head. Suddenly I was his. He took me back to his place. I was there three weeks but it seemed longer. I knew now when he was breaking rules, and I started to resist him when he did. The punishments were,” she rolled her tongue in her mouth, searching for a word, “brutal.”
Jayne’s voice came from the hall. Hearing her assistant was so unexpected that Sasha jerked up. She’d been miles away from her mansion in Santa Monica, back at a crappy little apartment in East Hollywood, in a time when she was unsure of herself and her place in the world.
“Sasha, I know you’re supposed to be resting, but—” Jayne was cut off mid-statement.
“Let me through.” Emory’s voice was hard and dark. Her bedroom door opened and Emory entered, phone still to his ear. His blue eyes were like flashes of lightning, and his whole body radiated power. He closed the door very carefully behind himself and hung up his phone.
“Emory.” The slow tears turned into a flood when she saw him. He’d protect her, if only from her memories. He came toward her and she held up a hand. “I’ll never finish if you touch me.”
He nodded and dropped to his knees beside the chaise she was lying on. He laid his hand on her foot—a simple contact, yet she felt it through her whole body.
Sasha dropped her phone to the floor and clenched her hands together. She took a moment to drink in the sight of Emory before turning her head away from him.
“When he let me go, he told me not to forget who I really belonged to, and that I was free to be with whomever I wished as long as I was prepared to be reminded of my true Master. It was a threat—I was black and blue from the punishments—and I didn’t, don’t, doubt him.”
“That why you won’t play in L.A. You’re worried he’ll find out.”
“Yes.”
“But, Sasha, that must have been, what, five, six years ago? He no longer has any hold on you—”
Sasha turned to Emory, let him read the truth in her eyes.
She saw the moment he understood, knew it because his hand fell away from her foot. Her heart clenched—she would lose him now too, proving Rafe’s words that she would always belong to him.
“When?” Emory asked.
“Six months ago,” she answered quietly. “I was only there for a night. But I’ll never be able to just walk away from him. He changed my life, and not just by showing me that I’m a sub.
“That time I spent three weeks with him, my life fell apart while I was gone. I’d missed a callback, I hadn’t told anyone where I was going and I was behind on all my bills. I scrambled to come up with stories to tell each person, but my agent dropped me and my apartment building had already started eviction proceedings.
“I called him. It was the first and only time. I said that I needed help. As far as I was concerned he owed me. I don’t know if he felt the same, but he paid for six months’ rent on a nice apartment and then paid movers to help me. He invited me to a party at his house, and for the first time he explicitly told me that he was inviting me as a regular guest.
“I met my current agent at that party, and the director of my first big movie, a movie that he financed.”
“And you feel you owe him your career?” Emory’s voice was carefully neutral.
“No,” Sasha spoke vehemently. It had taken her a long time to realize that she had earned her success. “At that party he didn’t even introduce me to people. As far as everyone knew I was tagging along with someone else. In fact, my agent introduced me to him, months later. We both pretended it was our first meeting.”
“Then why do you respond when he calls?”
“Because he knows. Because if he wanted to, he could ruin me. And most of all…because I don’t know how not to.”
“My god.” Emory sprang up from the floor and wrapped her in his arms. “Sasha.”
With a little cry of relief, she huddled into his embrace. “I thought you wouldn’t want me.”
“Not want you? I want you so much I’m scared to admit it, especially after hearing what you’ve been through.”
“I don’t really regret it, because it taught me who I am, what I want. It’s also one of the reasons I tried so hard to be tough outside of my sub, and that became my entire career.”
“You didn’t have to suffer.”
Sasha inhaled—he smelled like man and clean clothes. It was nice. “Maybe, but the only thing I really regret is that I know what I want but have to risk everything to get it.”
“No more.” Emory eased their upper bodies apart. His gaze met hers. “You are mine. You will not be flying around to meet with other Doms, you will not meet with this man if he calls again.”
“Emory, do you mean—”
“I mean I already told you I want to date you. Now I’m saying I’m going to collar you, marry you, all of it.”
Sasha blinked. “That was the worst proposal ever.”
“Valid point, but I’m under stress at the moment. This was not a formal proposal and shouldn’t be seen as such. It was more of a statement of intent.”
“I don’t want you to think you have to do any of that because you’re trying to protect me.”
“Sasha,” he cupped her face, “I’ve wanted to lay claim to you since the minute I realized you were a sub, putting aside the fact that I’ve seen all your movies and had more than a few fantasies about you based on those. You are so perfect it’s laughable. I am fully aware that being with me will not help your career, and that you could do far better. I’m sure that someday you’ll get tired of having a boring lawyer in your life and trade me in for some hot actor, but I’ll take the chance.
“I love you, Sasha Menezes. Not Sasha Brazil the actress, not Sasha the sub, but you.”
A smile worked itself across her face. “You love me?”
“Pathetically.”
She laughed. “I can’t believe you think that you’re not good enough for me.”
“I don’t think it, I know it.”
“Well, then we’re a matched pair, because I think you could do better than me. My life is insane, a me
ss. I drive too fast, I shop like crazy, I spend months away on location and I can’t live without a million people running my life. If you’re with me they’ll be in your life too, you’ll be a part of this mess.”
“I want to be a part of your mess.”
“I love you.”
Now it was his turn to smile. “I was hoping I’d hear that someday.”
“Then I’ll say it again. I love you.”
Their lips met in a soft kiss that deepened into something both joyous and pulse-racingly hot. Emory helped her from the chaise then lifted her, taking her from the sitting room into the actual bedroom part of her suite. They stripped each other, clothes falling softly to the floor.
They made love, a strange mix of vanilla and BDSM as he held her down, only to roll over so she was on top, before taking her hair in his hands and holding her still for a deep kiss.
When they were done, Sasha lay at his side, safe and secure for the first time.
Chapter Nine
“I knew you liked her.”
Emory looked up from his computer and blinked to focus. Mary stood in the doorway, a grin splitting her face.
“Liked who?”
“Sasha!” Mary whipped out a paper she’d been holding behind her back. It was a printout of the front page of one of the major gossip blogs. Still grinning, Mary marched across the office and handed it to him.
A new man for Sasha?
The first lady of action has a new man in her life. Spotted leaving Hollywood hotspot Fedora, Sasha was seen hand in hand with a new man. Sources say it’s Emory Setter, lawyer to the stars and Sasha’s own legal counsel. When asked who he was, Sasha reportedly said, “My lover,” and then kicked the photographer who dared block her way. I’m wondering if Ms. Brazil is having legal trouble, or if she’s really sleeping with her caliente attorney. Attorney-client privilege!
Emory had a terrible feeling he was blushing. He handed the paper back to Mary. “She didn’t kick the photographer.”
“It’s true! You’re dating Sasha Brazil!”
