by Anarie Brady
“You poor girl,” Paul said, rolling off her, “I must have crushed you.”
“You did,” Alicia smiled. “It was wonderful.”
Paul laughed and pulled her to him. She rested her head against his shoulder and drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Eight
Cheesy Hash Browns
2 large russet potatoes
2 strips bacon cut into pieces
1 Tablespoon butter
1/2 cup milk
1/3 cup Parmesan cheese
Salt and pepper to taste
Wash and scrub potatoes, leaving skins on. Grate. Squeeze out excess moisture from potatoes. In a cast iron skillet, fry bacon pieces until translucent. Add potatoes and fry until they begin to brown. Add butter, milk and cheese, stirring to prevent clumping or burning. Season with salt and pepper.
“So what are your plans for the day?” Paul asked the next morning.
“Actually, I don’t have any. Tomorrow I’ll need to do some marketing and cooking for another client, but today I’m open,” Alicia responded while flipping an egg.
Alicia had slept for two hours the night before then awoke to a nibble on her breast. Apparently Paul recovered quickly, because twice more during the night they had made love. Finally exhausted, both Paul and Alicia had slept in the next morning. Now, dressed in one of Paul’s T-shirts, Alicia was preparing breakfast, American style—fried eggs, a slice of ham, hash brown potatoes and sourdough toast. The slight ache between her thighs reminded Alicia of Paul’s virility. Secretly, she hoped he would take her at least once more before dismissing her. At the moment, though, Alicia grinned, noticing he was already salivating, his mind clearly on food.
“In that case, why not spend the day with me?” he offered.
“That would be fabulous, Paul. I’d like that.” Alicia smiled as she set the plate of food in front of him, thoroughly enjoying the way his eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the sight of breakfast.
Quickly, he picked up his knife and fork and began shoveling the hot food into his mouth.
“Holy Christ!” he said between mouthfuls, “this is heavenly!”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Alicia answered as she daintily cut a bite of ham.
“I usually get by with a piece of toast and some tea. Anyway,” Paul continued, “I’ve a bit of shopping to do and thought you might enjoy an outing. Besides, I’d like to give you something—a remembrance of our time together.”
Alicia dropped her fork and stared at him.
“What?” Paul asked, frowning in obvious confusion.
“I’m not a whore, Paul. You don’t have to pay me,” she said quietly, tears beginning to form in her eyes.
“What?” he questioned again. Then, “Oh, Oh!” as he apparently finally understood the insult he had just delivered. “No, Alicia, I didn’t mean it like that!” He too dropped his fork and held her hand.
Alicia, looking directly into his eyes, saw true remorse.
“Sometimes when I say things, they just don’t come out right. I never thought of you as a whore—never will! It’s just that last night— Well, it was special for me.” He looked down and seemed to stumble for words.
“It was for me too, Paul,” Alicia said, trying to fill in the awkward silence.
“Please, just come with me. You’ll understand. I guess I’m asking you to trust me, forgive me too. Truly, I didn’t mean to offend you.” He gave her a lopsided grin.
How could she resist that?
“Sure, I’ll go with you. But on one condition,” she added.
“You got it.”
“You clean up again while I bathe.”
Paul laughed and kissed her hand before grabbing his fork again. “Done!”
* * * *
A few hours later, after Alicia had helped Paul select a gift for his mother—a beautiful hand-painted silk scarf—she and Paul entered a small gallery. Alicia turned in a circle, eyes wide, mesmerized by the explosion of color and texture.
“Oh, Paul,” she murmured, “your work is incredible.”
“Glad you like it.” He smiled. “I’ll be right back.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head and walked into the back room. Alicia slowly made her way around the gallery, shaking her head in amazement. How could he come up with the ideas for these breathtaking paintings?
“Here we are,” Paul announced, obviously holding something behind his back. “This is what I wanted to give you. I painted it a few months ago. For some reason, though, I didn’t want to display it. It was almost as if I was…well, called to create this.”
Alicia cocked her head and began to fiddle with her braid, unsure of what to say.
“Anyway,” he continued, “after meeting you, I know why I had to paint it.”
“Why is that?” she asked quietly.
“Because I dreamed of you.” He pulled the small, framed painting from behind his back.
Soft lavender melted into sea-green waves then crashed against each other, creating a tidal wave of deep purple lined with magenta and culminating in dark forest greens. Alicia was speechless.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?” he asked, frowning.
“How did you know?” she wondered, bringing her hand up to her chest.
“Know what?”
“When I come.”
“What?”
“When I come,” Alicia said, tears springing to her eyes. “That’s what I see—the colors. I see beautiful colors. And when it’s good—really good, like last night—the colors are vibrant purples and greens! How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Paul answered, looking again at the painting. “Like I said, I had a dream one night and when I woke up I couldn’t get this image out of my mind—not until I had it on canvas.” He grinned. “I guess I really was dreaming of you.”
Alicia wrapped her arms around him and kissed him gently on each cheek. “Thank you, Paul. This is the best gift I’ve ever received.” She wiped a tear away.
He gave her a lopsided grin and said, “Then turn off the tap. Come on, you’ve cooked for me enough. Let me take you out for lunch. Then maybe you can explain to me why you have an air of sadness around your eyes.”
Alicia linked hands with Paul and shook her head in bewilderment. It was true. The last few months had provided her with more contentment than ever before in her adult life, but still, something, some sadness, tickled the back of her mind. But how, she wondered, had Paul picked up on that? Considering the painting and her response to him, perhaps the two of them truly did share a special connection.
* * * *
“So,” Paul began an hour later as they shared a pot of tea, “tell Uncle Paul what troubles you.”
Alicia smiled in response. “Nothing, I’m fine.”
Paul simply stared at her until Alicia began to squirm.
“Okay,” Alicia sighed, “I’ll tell you, but really, it’s nothing. The last few months have been wonderful. Professionally, my business is taking off, I’m improving my cooking skills, I’m doing what I love and making a decent living off of it.”
“Yeah?” Paul encouraged.
“And Maverick—he’s, well, he’s…” Alicia waved her hands, unsure of how to describe Maverick.
“Are you happy when you are with him?”
“Yes!” Alicia answered immediately. “I feel— This is hard. I’ve never tried to put how I feel into words.”
“I’m a good listener.” Paul reached over the table to hold her hand.
Alicia wasn’t sure if he realized it, but the simple movement of his thumb over her knuckles was beginning make her tingle.
“I feel complete. When I am at his disposal—either his personally or if he lends me out— Well, I feel…” Still struggling for the right word, Alicia began to fidget. “I feel…empowered!”
“Good! That’s how you should feel—at least if your nature truly is that of a submissive.” Paul smiled.
“I don’t understand. How can I feel powe
rful and submissive at the same time?” she questioned.
“Because, my dear, it isn’t the Master who holds the power, it is the submissive. Only she—or he—has the power to say enough,” Paul explained.
Alicia mulled that one over in her head for a while. “You’re right. I never thought of it that way before. It makes sense though,” she responded.
“One problem solved, then! Now, what else is on your mind?”
“I don’t know anyone,” she blurted out.
“You know me.”
“True, but that’s not what I mean. I don’t have any girlfriends. I’m actually lonely, I think.” Alicia realized what she was saying was the truth.
“What about Megan? I know the two of you have been introduced.” Paul sipped his tea and watched her carefully over the rim of his cup.
A picture of Megan’s venomous eyes popped into Alicia’s mind. “I don’t think she really liked me much,” she whispered.
Paul laughed. “So you’ve discovered just what a jealous bitch that one is, huh? Well, my advice is to stay away from her. I don’t understand why Maverick keeps her around sometimes. Don’t take your eyes off her, Alicia. She’s vindictive,” he added with a serious note in his voice. “I know. Let me introduce you to Ivory.”
“Who?”
“Ivory. She’s lovely. One of Maverick’s favorite models, actually,” Paul explained.
“I don’t know. What if she hates me too?” Alicia asked.
“Not a problem. While it’s true Maverick and Ivory have been intimate, she is not one of his companions. She’s not submissive. My guess is that if she were into the lifestyle at all, she’d be a Dom.”
Alicia didn’t know what to say.
“Look. Ivory’s bright, fun to be with, forceful and honest to a fault. If she doesn’t want anything to do with you, she’ll say so. She is not a game player. Why don’t the three of us meet for lunch in a few days?”
Still Alicia hesitated. What would Maverick say?
“Well…” she stumbled.
“Leave it to me.” Paul ended the conversation by leaning over the table and kissing her.
Chapter Nine
Braided Bread
Float 2 Tablespoons of yeast on warm (not hot) water until softened
Stir in: 1 1/2 cups warm milk
1/2 cup sugar
2 teaspoons salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup softened butter
1/2 cup chopped blanched almonds
3 1/2 cups all purpose flour
Mix with a spoon until smooth. Add more flour until easy to handle. Turn onto lightly floured board, adding flour and kneading until smooth (you will use roughly 7 cups of flour). Place in a greased, covered bowl and let rise in a warm place until doubled in size. Punch down. Let rise again until almost doubled again. Divide into three sections. Roll into snakes. Pinch the ends together and braid the three sections together, pinching to close. Cover and let rise again. Brush with an egg wash if desired. Bake in a moderate oven (350 degrees Fahrenheit) until golden brown, approximately 30 minutes.
“So, Paul was pleased with you,” Maverick said the next day.
Alicia answered without rising from her position. “Yes, I believe he was, Mr. Devonshire.” Alicia knew her voice would be muffled since her forehead rested on the floor in front of Mr. Devonshire’s feet, so she tried to enunciate each word. She had arrived at his house an hour earlier and, following the directions taped to his front door, had gone directly to the playroom and removed all of her clothing except for the black garter belt, fishnet stockings and stiletto heels. Once there, she had remained in the greeting position, awaiting his arrival.
“Good. Paul is a very close friend. I don’t want him disappointed. Do you understand?”
“I’m not sure, Sir,” Alicia responded.
She felt a tug on her braid and raised herself so she sat on her heels, her hair firmly in Maverick’s grasp. Hopefully Maverick would now command her to greet him.
“You are to consider him your second,” he said gently.
“Sir?”
Maverick tugged harder on the braid. “Come now. Surely you understand that. Paul is to be your second Master.”
Alicia wasn’t sure how to respond to this news. Finally, she smiled up at Maverick, rubbed her face against his leg and said, “Thank you, Sir. I will serve him to the best of my ability.”
“I’m sure you will.” Maverick’s face was stern before he wrapped the braid around his hand and pulled.
The tautness on her hair forced Alicia to crane the back of her head upward, face toward the floor.
“But here is my concern, my most precious companion. Paul has a soft heart and an even softer touch. True?”
“Yes, Mr. Devonshire,” Alicia answered.
“He will tell me you have pleased him no matter what you do or don’t do. He will give me a glowing report of your abilities simply because that is his nature. He and I have discussed this, and he has agreed to be more assertive. My theory is that you will both enjoy rougher play on occasion.” Maverick paused for a full minute.
Alicia began to tremble, unsure why she suddenly felt both fear and anticipation.
“You need a firm hand,” he finally stated.
“This is true, Sir,” she responded.
“Did I ask you a question?”
Alicia closed her eyes. Oh, God! “No, Sir, you did not.”
“You have just proved my point. Not only do you need a firm hand, you crave one. Without it, you will simply get yourself in trouble. You feel pride in yourself and fulfillment when you accept a well-deserved consequence,” Maverick said as he continued pulling on her braid, forcing her to raise herself to a full kneeling position.
This time, though, Alicia refrained from answering.
“Good. Despite your little slip of the tongue, which will be addressed in due time, you do remember your place. Now, upon promise of severe consequence”—he paused as Alicia gave a little shudder—“you will inform me of any…lapses, shall we say, when you are with Paul. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she responded quietly.
“If you fail to answer his call, meet him at a requested time, dress to please him, or worse, fail to please him enough so that he doesn’t experience orgasm, you will report your lapse to me. Agreed?”
“Of course, Sir.”
“You understand this is a test of your honesty. I will have no way to know if you are lying or not since Paul will, I’m sure, do nothing but rave about your performance. I rely on your truthfulness.” He forced her into a standing position. “You will, naturally, gratefully accept any consequence he deems necessary as well.”
“May I speak, Sir?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Alicia took a deep breath and looked directly into Maverick’s eyes. “I promise you, Mr. Devonshire, that I will be completely forthcoming. I will sincerely and humbly report any of my own shortcomings with the hope that you will trouble yourself to correct me.” Alicia licked her lips and continued. “I would like you to know, Sir, that what you say is true. I do take pride in my ability to accept your consequences. I find myself looking forward to kneeling before you and I find more joy and fulfillment than I ever thought possible when you use me for your own pleasure.” Alicia dropped her gaze, catching a hint of surprise in Maverick’s eyes.
“In that case, my dear,” he said as he flicked his wrist and turned her away from him, “march yourself over to that cane-bottomed chair and sit.”
Alicia followed Maverick’s command, seating herself delicately on the rough chair. She knew from experience that no spanking would be necessary tonight. If Maverick had her sit on this perch for more than a few minutes, her bottom would be red and marked from the caning. Alicia bit down a bubble of disappointment. She had actually been hoping for a good spanking. It had been a full seven days since the last one, and she found herself craving the slap of leather against her skin. Still, she knew her bottom would
be red and tender from the narrow wooden strips, so she contented herself with that knowledge.
“I have a surprise for you, my pet. Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Of course, Sir,” Alicia answered hesitantly. Hadn’t she just said as much?
“Unbraid your hair,” he commanded.
Alicia’s hands immediately went to the band at the end of her braid. She removed it and began to release her long tresses, allowing her hair to spill freely around her shoulders, the ends curling against her back. Maverick smiled and left the room. While he was gone, Alicia fidgeted, her bottom decidedly sore from the stiff wicker biting into her flesh. Within a few minutes, Maverick returned to the room with another man. Neither of them spoke to her, nor did either give her leave to speak. Therefore, Alicia kept her eyes lowered and waited.
The olive-skinned gentleman lifted Alicia’s hair and began to run his fingers through it. “This is glorious, Maverick. And you’re right. This quantity, not to mention quality, will be perfect!”
“Yes, I thought you would like the challenge, Hector. Well, I’ll leave you to it then. What do think, an hour or so?” Maverick asked.
“Oh, that should do it. Have you told her what’s going on?” Hector asked with his hands still wrapped in Alicia’s hair.
“No, I haven’t. No need. She’ll do as I command or suffer the consequence,” Maverick answered.
The other man simply laughed in response.
“Alicia!”
Alicia jumped a bit, startled to be finally addressed.
“Hector is an accomplished hairdresser. He will attend to your hair in a particular style we both have been wanting to try. You, as he just said, have the perfect hair for such an experiment. Do as he says, my dear, no talking and do not let your bare bottom leave that chair and do not squirm. When I return, I want to see perfect indentations left from the caning. Understood?” Maverick warned sternly.
“Yes, Mr. Devonshire,” she answered, a glimmer of true fear growing. She did trust Maverick, but what if this hairdresser wanted to cut off all her hair? Her breath came in short gasps as tears began to form.
