Layla

by Claire Marta

  “We both know that’s not true. She told me what happened.”

  Blue eyes meet mine. “And? Going to go off on me, too?”

  Eli shakes his head, black hair falling into his eyes. “You should know where I come from by now,” he says, as he sucks his magic back inside him. “You might not know who I am, but you’ve lived long enough to recognize the kind of power I hold and the culture I grew up in. I don’t have the same views on sex as Layla. I wasn’t raised that way.

  “As a dominant, I understand your choices. I would have made the same. If you asked the Mistress, or Adam they would say the same.

  “How Layla reacts is her own beliefs. As important as they are for her to hold onto, sometimes the right thing to do isn’t the one that’s the most moral.”

  “And did you tell her that?”

  Eli grimaces, “I didn’t have the chance. Did you know about her magic?”

  “What?”

  I knew Layla had dormant magic of course, all creatures have some form of it, and I’ve met enough nymphs and mermaids in my life to know it was only a matter of time before hers appeared. But the way Eli is going about asking me is worrisome.

  “She lost control. Nothing I couldn’t handle on a normal day, but I had someone else with me. And even among friends I don’t untangle myself from Callum’s glamour without a good reason. If she was a danger to us or herself, I would have subdued her, luckily it didn’t come to that.

  “She needs to learn control. That much raw magic will eat her alive. I don’t know her origins, she refuses to talk about them, but there’s something we’re missing. What I felt, it wasn’t normal for someone her age, not with what she claims to be.”

  “I’ll talk to her. I had plans to do so if she hadn’t contacted me by tomorrow, I’ll move up my timeline.”

  “Thank you,” Eli says. “She might not agree, but she needs you.”

  I don’t necessarily agree that it’s me she needs, but she does need someone.

  ***

  The dilapidated building in the shit neighborhood Layla calls home makes my fists clench. I know she’s young and a student, I know how expensive city living can be, but there has to be a hundred better places for her to live than this.

  I want to drag her out of here kicking and screaming because she’s better than this.

  Ignoring the stench of mold and mildew and God knows what else, I follow the scent that’s burned into my memory. Salt water, sushi, and something that is just her. Her scent leads me to her apartment where I knock briskly on the door.

  It takes a few moments, but eventually the door opens. I make note of the fact that she didn’t even ask who was at the door. Her trusting nature is a dangerous thing after what happened.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Checking up on you. Since you couldn’t do me the courtesy of a text.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here.”

  “Not good enough, nymph. You have everyone worried about you and I had to hear from someone else that you needed my help, even though I know I told you to call me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Layla raises her chin, trying to be defiant, but I can see how tired she is. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. It’s transparent in the slump of her shoulders, how they look like they’re carrying the weight of the world.

  “Are you going to let me in, or are you going to ask me to leave?”

  Layla sighs in defeat and steps away from the door. Once I cross the threshold, I don’t hide the look of distaste on my face. “This place is beneath you.”

  “We can’t all be rich and powerful,” she snaps.

  “Lose the attitude.” I reply. “I’m sure with some clever budgeting you could find a more suitable place to live.”

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  She flops down on the worn sofa while I opt to stay standing. There’s no way in hell I’m sitting on that furniture. God only knows where it’s been.

  “Why didn’t you call me this afternoon?”

  “I don’t know if I trust you.”

  There’s a fire burning in her gaze that was never there before. It’s intriguing and irritating.

  “Why wouldn’t you be able to talk to me?”

  “Because you’ve proven what I want doesn’t matter!” She yells. “I thought you were a Dom, but you’re just a fucking user and liar like everyone else.”

  “Lower your voice, watch your tone.” I say, voice hard. “We can talk this out like rational adults. If this is about the dildo, I already apologized. Your virginity is still intact so get over it.

  “I made the best decision I could at the time. I understand where you’re coming from, maybe it’s time you understand my position.

  “I was the one who was taking care of you while you were under the influence. I had to do what was right for you. I’m sorry that didn’t fit into your little box of morality, but life isn’t black and white. We all have to make choices we don’t want to.”

  She’s silent. Some of the fire has gone out in her eyes, but she holds herself so rigid I know none of the fight has.

  “Are you that selfish?” I throw at her. “Only worried about yourself and not about what I was going through? I’m a damn good Dominant. That’s not me being arrogant, it’s the truth. The Master I served under would have never given the Mistress his recommendation if he didn’t think so.

  “I take care of my submissive’s needs, whatever they may be. That night you needed a way to counteract the drugs, I gave you one.

  Are you sure you’re a submissive? No sub I know would have ignored their Dom and their needs.

  “Did it ever cross your mind these past few days how I felt about it all?”

  Her eyes glisten with tears but none fall.

  “It seems you want all the benefits of having a Dom without having to do any of the work yourself.” I sneer.

  “Thomas…” Layla gasps out.

  I hold up a hand to stop her.

  “I came here tonight because Eli said you lost control. I was worried about you. All I get for that is misplaced anger. I’m willing to help you, in any way I can. But this cannot go on.

  What’s it going to take to get through to you?”

  She shakes her head, sorrow and regret clear on her face.

  “If you still want this, you’ll be at my house tomorrow morning. But, Layla,” I lower my voice even more, “this is your last chance. Prove to me that you’re willing to actually try.”

  Layla

  Thomas’s housekeeper shows me along the halls of his house.

  My eyes are heavy from lack of sleep. Tossing and turning all night I’m exhausted. I wear a cloak of defeat. The lost feeling is almost as great as when my mother died. I still remember that day. She’d been gone for hours during a storm. Huddled in the cave with the rest of the merfolk, I was safe from the rage of the ocean waves, I waited for her to return. It wasn’t until dawn my father had returned with her body.

  Although supernaturals are protected by laws they don’t always work. Humans had found her washed up on the rocks. With fear and prejudiced in their hearts they’d killed her.

  That day I hadn’t just lost my mother but everything had changed. My father and the rest of my family had turned cold towards me and to this day I still have no clue why.

  Thomas is standing with his broad back towards the door, gazing out at the garden as we enter. I know he must know I’m here. By now he’d have heard my footsteps and smelt my scent.

  Carol gives me a reassuring smile as she closes the door behind her.

  Thomas doesn’t speak or turn. Instead he remains with his back to me.

  Keeping my head bowed, I discard my bag on a chair and quietly strip out of my clothes and shoes. Once they’re neatly folded, I leave them with my bag.

  I’m too tired to fight. All I want is something secure to hold onto. A lull in the monsoon inside my head and heart. To understand
what is happening to me.

  Padding to the center of the room, I kneel before my Master, laying my hands palms up on my thighs.

  “I hope you have had time to think since yesterday.” Thomas finally murmurs, his voice low.

  I keep my gaze pinned to his black shiny shoes. “Yes, Master.”

  Smoothly he turns from the window but I don’t look up. I can feel the shifting of the air against my bare skin, making goosebumps ripple over my entire body.

  The weight of Thomas’s gaze rests on my head. “I understand after everything that’s happened that it may be hard for you to trust. You may think me harsh and unfeeling but this is just my way. I know you may not believe me, Layla, but I have had and still do have your best interests in mind.

  In time you could achieve great things, if you can learn to submit fully. If you are unhappy you must communicate. That is they key to any relationship.”

  Pressing my lips together, I don’t let any of my inner feelings show. “I understand, Master.”

  “You are still angry.” He continues quietly with a sigh. “I don’t expect that to disappear overnight. Enrico is no longer welcome at Carnal Pleasures. He will not touch you again. You are also still upset with me. What has happened cannot be undone, but I hope you will be willing to try again with me.

  “You may speak freely without worry of punishment. I wish to know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  Tears prick behind my eyes as I close them. “Yes I’m still angry. You and Eli hold a different perception of losing virginity than I do. With what I have been taught as a mermaid growing up. Something we hold sacred and special. Whatever you say it won’t change my mind about that. It’s my view.

  “You tried to make me feel bad about that. It hurt. I would never do that to someone...I respect others points of view. ”

  “I never intended to make you feel bad about yourself. Your views and beliefs are not the same as mine. I may not agree with them but I have always respected them. I was merely trying to get you to understand mine.” There’s a rough tone to his voice edged with something softer.

  Regret?

  “I wish to continue as your submissive then, Master.”

  Material rustles, the next instant large warm hands are cupping my cheeks. Gentle thumbs wipe the stray tears that have escaped the corners of my eyes away.

  “You must be certain, nymph.”

  Eyelashes fluttering up, I meet Thomas’s intent golden gaze. It slices straight through me, right down into my soul.

  “I don’t really have a choice.” I whisper.

  “Everyone has a choice.”

  “We both know I can’t control whatever is happening to me and it's only getting worse.”

  Releasing his hold, Thomas rises before offering me his hand. “You’ve seen me perform Shibari at the club. I think it could benefit you.”

  Accepting it I stand to join him, frowning at the light current of electricity that runs through the touch. Thomas wants to tie me up. Restrain me in erotic bondage. Rough rope against bare skin. Strength and exposure.

  “I’ve never…” my words trail off as I shift uneasily.

  Thomas nods in understanding. “This would be your first time. I would like to see the patterns my ropes make against your flesh. Give you a memorable introduction into a kink I master in. Together we can explore the delicate balance of submission and dominance. The intense connection, the slow build up and removal of the ropes will help you mentally still. It will allow you to simply be. With your consent of course.”

  I can say no. Walk away. Thomas is asking me to place myself in his hands a second time. It’s fragile and bruised. Cracks spreading through it sullying what’s left of my innocence.

  Finding his stare, I let my eyes communicate my untold pain. Will he keep me safe?

  Instead of pushing me to answer he stands patiently. His expression never changes as the minutes tick by. Maybe he realizes I’m as frail as a butterfly’s wing. That if he uses harsh methods it would break the fraying tether between us.

  “All right.” I tell him softly, tearing my attention from his handsome face. “You can tie me up.”

  Thomas

  Her words send a shiver down my spine. I’m glad she’s giving this another chance. For her sake and mine.

  I understand that our morals are very different and I can admit I was a bit harsh with her, but I was only reacting to her hostility.

  While I like when my submissives challenge me, I do not appreciate the blatant disrespect she showed.

  I’m willing to meet her halfway, but only if she’s willing to really try. Time will tell.

  “You must stay as still as possible. If you move unnecessarily I might accidently hurt you with the rope. I’ll start with nylon, it’s easier to handle and doesn’t itch like jute.

  “I admire your fight, but you must not push against me. Not only in this, but in everything we do. You feel like you’re not getting anything out of this because you’re clinging so hard to stay in control.

  “Give that control to me and you’ll be freer than ever. Not only that, but you’ll be powerful for once in your powerless life.”

  “I understand.” Her words are barely a whisper, but they’re the reassurance that I need.

  “Stay here.”

  Striding out of the room, I go downstairs to the locked room just off of the kitchen. This is my personal playroom, I haven’t had the chance to play in it since I bought the house, but when Layla is ready I will take her apart in it.

  For now, I cross the room for the chest of drawers. Each drawer has a specific toy in it. Opening the one with the ropes, I grab a bundle of rope and then retreat back to the study.

  Layla is right where I left her. “Such lovely skin.” I say as I close and lock the study door. Carol knows better than to open a shut door, but you can never be too careful.

  “I can’t wait until there are marks on your skin. How tight do you think I have to make your bonds so that they’ll stay awhile?” I muse.

  “I want you to stand with your arms folded neatly behind your back. Grip your forearms lightly, do not put too much pressure on your arms or you may hurt something when I pull the cords.”

  She climbs shakily to her feet, with time she’ll be seamless with her movements. Her nature means she’s more balanced than others, but it is difficult to master being graceful when you’re getting up from your knees.

  Layla gets into the position I want her to. “Shoulders straight, chin up, feet balanced and spread.” I wait while she makes the adjustments then approach her. “Beautiful, let’s see if we can’t showcase that.”

  I show her the rope and her breathing speeds up a bit. “You need to hold still, no sudden movements. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You will tell me if anything is pinching or pulling. It might get uncomfortable, especially if you need to hold the position for a long period of time. It won’t be so bad this time, but it will be overwhelming. Don’t be afraid to use your safe word if you need to.”

  “I understand. I’m ready.”

  I nod in reply and uncoil the bundle of rope.

  First, I tie her wrists to her forearms, using easy to unravel knots. Then I move up to her left bicep and wrap it around her torso.

  Her breath catches in her throat as I pull on the rope and I still my movements. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I listen for her heartbeat and wait until it steadies until I continue. I only wrap the rope around her twice, not wanting to draw it out.

  “Perfect.” I circle her and take in the way the black nylon looks against her creamy skin. “How do you feel?”

  Layla blinks her eyes open, glassy pools of blue focus on me and she smiles a bit. “Secure.” She says.

  “That’s exactly how I want you to feel. I have some emails to answer from my family about their spending budgets. I am going to have you kneel by me. I’ll keep a hand on you as muc
h as I can. Okay?”

  “I can do that, sir.”

  “I know.”

  Gently, I guide her to her knees beside my desk and then take a seat. I keep one hand on her shoulder while I turn the computer on and login.

  I love my family, and I love my job, but my family are spoiled assholes and haven’t taken well to the restrictions I have put on them. Just because they can afford things most people can’t doesn’t mean they need to buy whatever shiny thing they come across.

  I spend forty-five minutes calming frazzled nerves and approving acceptable purchases. When my father handed me the reigns to the family bank accounts he wished me luck, I didn’t understand it then, numbers have always been easy for me, now I know he wasn’t just putting me in charge of our finances—but of their extravagant spending habits.

  Once finished I shut the computer down then turn to Layla. “You did so well,” I tell her, dragging the back of my hand, softly across her face.

  She leans into my touch but keeps her eyes closed. She’s right where I want her to be. A comfortable place between aware and not.

  Sitting still for so long, in a forced position has forced her to find a place to go. Eventually one’s mind will slow down and focus on nothing but the sensations. If she didn’t fight me so much we would have gotten here a long time ago, but that’s neither here nor there. The important thing is that we’re moving forward now.

  Sliding off the chair, I get behind Layla and swiftly undo her binds. Once the ropes are off and I set them aside, I admire the slight marks on her skin.

  Lightly pink, the marks show not my control over her, but her trust in me. It’s a heady feeling.

  Standing, I grab Layla’s arm gently. “Up, we’re going to go sit on the sofa.”

  I brace her as she stands on unsteady feet. “How do you feel?”

  “Weird...floaty.”

  “Just how I want you.” I lead her to the sofa and pull her onto my lap. “You did so well,” I say as I stroke her hair.

  She shivers in my arms and I hold her a little tighter.

  We don’t speak after my quiet praise, but we don’t need to. As Layla slowly comes down I stroke her hair and shoulders. It took a while, but the pieces of our relationship are slowly clicking into place.