His Cold Blue Command

by A. J. Downey

  You didn’t look like you’d slept at all this morning.

  I tapped out a return message.

  I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’m home now, and in bed.

  I waited for a return and was very nearly asleep when it came.

  Sleep. Will I see you on Friday?

  Of course, he would…

  Yes.

  Again I had nearly drifted off when the phone chimed. I sighed, a little exasperated, and checked.

  Good. Keep your hands to yourself. That hasn’t changed.

  I smirked.

  Yes, Sir.

  I didn’t get a response. I went out like a light and woke up later that night. Super late… like I had less than two hours before my alarm went off and I needed to head to work. I sat up and waited to see if whatever had woken me would do it again but nothing. I picked up my phone to the low battery warning and plugged it in, smiling at the last text message that was displayed, waiting for me.

  Minx… To be clear, Friday is not to be talked about.

  Excitement fluttered through me and resolute that I would not be falling back asleep, I got up and showered. Taking off the Band-Aids on my knees, I decided to let them breathe but put a little ointment on them. A check in the mirror and I put a little ointment on my chin, too, likewise letting it have some air. I twisted my lips and sighed heavily. It was already Wednesday and Friday would be here before I knew it. I wondered if they would be healed up in time for wherever he wanted us to go.

  I dressed in mind for the weather. It was supposed to be another scorcher out there, and so I went with a light, breezy silk wrap skirt that fell just above the knee and a white cotton tank top. As I was slipping on my sandals, a knock fell at my front door. I went and checked and saw Dawnie on the other side.

  I’d forgotten, she was supposed to come to work with me and listen to one of her books. We were supposed to hang out today after I got off work and I was excited because for once, I had something I could tell her.

  “Woah, you’re all fresh and ready to go,” she said when I opened the door. She came inside and I locked everything.

  “I didn’t go see Gran yesterday,” I said guiltily. “I came straight home and went to bed.”

  “Why?” she asked suspiciously, still tapping her cane around my new apartment, trying to get the lay of the land. She reached out and touched the frame on my daybed and smiled, feeling her way along so she could sit.

  “Have I got a story for you…” I said and she perked up.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  I flopped down next to her and told her the ballad of the Mondayest Monday ever and she sat still, soaking it all up with rapt attention.

  “You should have seen him; he kicked those two guys’ asses before the police even had a chance to get there.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “They called the paramedics and they cleaned me up in his kitchen and Mr. Parnell felt so bad, he took me to dinner… on his motorcycle.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Dawnie cried and clapped a hand over her mouth, giggling.

  “Oh, shoot, we have to go!” I declared catching sight of the time.

  “Well hurry up then! You have to tell me everything.”

  I got my things together and we left, locking up the apartment and her hand on my shoulder, traipsed down the hall.

  “Stairs,” I warned and she let her cane unfold and we took them down; she had the handrail and after the first couple of steps fell into an easy rhythm.

  “So what was that like? The motorcycle ride?” she asked and I smiled.

  “Way fun. It’s so different! Like instead of watching the scenery, you feel like a part of it. You know?”

  She let out a dreamy sigh and said, “I love living vicariously through you. What else?”

  Laughing, we caught the bus to work and it was the best time I had spent with my best friend in a long time.

  I keyed my way into his apartment and was met with soft music rather than the alarm on Friday. I had worked an extra hour or two at the café which had suited his timeline and ensured I would makeup, at least just a little, how much I would be missing out on for having not cleaned this week. I had been carefully saving any extra, though, and would be okay.

  A white box was resting on the dining table and there was another note card leaned against it, my name on the front of the envelope. I set my things down by the door and went and picked up the card, unsticking the seal and sliding it free from the envelope.

  Ally –

  Get yourself ready. Use what I have provided and my bathroom. You have one hour.

  -D.

  I looked up and around and saw him sitting behind his desk. He wore a black dress shirt and crimson tie, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, fingers steepled in front of him. His dark eyes swept over me and all of the arousal and desire from earlier this week came flooding back anew.

  I nodded once and took the large garment box up; it was heavier than it looked, and went down the hall to his room, closing the door and setting it on the bed. I opened it and shivered at what was inside.

  Unrelieved black. A fine material met my eyes and I didn’t know what to make of it. I pulled it free and laid it out and sighed, a bit intimidated. It was a little black dress, a fitted sheath with a tank-top-like neckline to it, simple and more elegant than anything else I had ever owned. With it was a garter, crotchless panties with a matching bra and a pair of very high heels… the kind with the red bottoms.

  What’s more, there was makeup. Like, everything I would need for a full face, the lipstick likewise a red, only deep and rich, an almost-burgundy which would do magically with my fair skin tone. I quickly went and showered, dried and styled my hair and did my makeup in front of the bathroom mirror before I stepped into the dress and slid my arms into the straps.

  A light tap fell at the door and I went to get it. He’d added a jacket over the shirt and wore the suit well. He pursed his lips, expression grave and said, “Turn.”

  I turned around, and he drew the zipper up my back so slowly it made me shiver. I’d never had anyone affect me in such a way dressing me before.

  I went over and stepped into the heels and we were nearly even for height now. He nodded, and despite a lack of change in his rigid expression, I could tell that he was pleased. He went to the final article in the bottom of the garment box and held it out for me. I turned and he slipped the red satin interior of the black velvet cloak onto my shoulders. I turned again and he fastened the brooch at my throat and drew the hood up over my hair.

  “Perfect,” he breathed. “Come on; we’re going to be late.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “Someplace special, to test your limits.”

  That sounded ominous, but I trusted him and the slow burn of excitement was worth finding out what he had in store for me. We went down to the garage and he opened the door to his Mercedes for me and held it. I slipped onto the expensive leather seat and he closed it, coming around to his side and getting in.

  “When we get out of the car, keep your hood up and your head bowed until you are taken inside. Am I understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl,” he murmured, and that golden glow of pride that I’d done something well suffused me… even though I hadn’t really done anything at all. At least not yet. He pulled down an alley, brick buildings rising to either side and stopped in front of an unmarked door. A man in a dark suit stepped out of the shadows and opened the door for me. I looked to Mr. Parnell who nodded and went to his own door, leaving his car running. He came around the Mercedes and put a hand on my waist, guiding me down the few steps and through a door which another man, also in a dark suit, held open for us.

  Once the door was firmly shut behind us, we were in a sort of antechamber, curtained with a podium, a man behind it standing straight and tall, hands behind his back ‒ and faceless. A white mask, blank and featureless, covered his face.<
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  Track lighting fell on a wall where more masks, the pretty kind, were pinned and waiting. Mr. Parnell went to the wall and perused them. Finally, he turned to me and lowered my hood.

  “Turn around. No one will be let in until we are masked and inside. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

  I gave him my back and he lowered a tatted lace mask over my head, pulling it over my eyes and securing it in the back.

  “Turn,” he murmured and he adjusted it and guided me over to a mirror to look. I blinked, the black lace complimenting my dress, tiny white rhinestones scattered across it at the apex where bits branched out and connected. It was something beautiful and elegant and framed my eyes making them seem larger than life, yet did surprisingly well at concealing my identity.

  I turned back to Mr. Parnell and he had donned a black leather mask, one that went straight across his forehead and over his nose, twin peaks of leather stabbing down over his cheeks, bracketing his mouth. The forehead was molded into a permanent scowl. I smiled and said lightly, “It suits you.”

  He smiled and unclasped my cloak, handing it to the man behind the pedestal. He took it and gave Mr. Parnell a ticket back. Tucking it into his pocket, he took my hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, an old-fashioned and gentlemanly gesture. He led me down a curtained hall and spoke as we walked.

  “There are no real names, here. You will call me ‘sir, ’ and you will do as I say. If you must call me anything other than sir, call me Mr. Silver. Your safeword works, it always works. The masks stay on and never come off.” He stopped us at the end of the hall and made me look at him, “Don’t take it off, Bright Eyes, not for anything. You don’t want these other people recognizing you on the street.”

  “Okay,” I murmured and swallowed hard. He was beginning to frighten me.

  “You’re safe with me; you’re here with me. No one else will touch you.”

  “Where is here?” I murmured softly.

  “Indigo Nights… it’s a sex club.”

  I gasped and squeaked out, “What?”

  He chuckled darkly and muttered, “Limits, beautiful. I said we would be testing your limits… I want to know, how far are you willing to go to please me? How much do you trust me?”

  It was a good question… I guess we were about to find out.

  21

  Yale…

  She was beautiful ‒ her green eyes wide and framed in black lace, her blonde hair falling around her shoulders artfully. Her crimson lips, parted in surprise, begged me to slide my cock between them but that was for my eyes only, at least when it came to our first time for that. We stepped into the locker area and I turned her to face me, cupping the side of her neck with my fingers, smoothing my thumb along her jaw.

  She had no way of knowing this entire evening had been bought and paid for by me. That the other patrons here were all well aware of my plans and the boundaries I had set in place. She was not to be touched. No one was to speak to her without my express invitation. The protocols typically abided by in these circles did not apply to her by my design.

  For this scene she was natural, innocent, and pure, and no one would hold her or I to task for any gaffes real or imagined. I had certainly paid them all enough to ensure it. These moments were for her and me, real, raw, and genuine for her to experience with none of the guilt that could be imposed. Of course, she knew nothing of the nature of my game. That was for my knowledge alone. I guess I hadn’t completely left the manipulations of the rich behind, but I did sometimes miss the games, just never the cruel intentions behind them. It was nice to put some of those machinations to use for good rather than ill.

  “Turn around so I can unzip your dress.”

  She searched my face, and even through the masks I could see the apprehension in her clear green eyes. She reluctantly turned around, and I moved her long hair over her shoulder, out of my way. I reached out and parted the material, drawing the zipper down, revealing her silky smooth skin. She’d been so brave to this point, and I rewarded her and myself with a light touch of my lips at the base of her graceful neck, where it met her shoulders, right over the center of her spine.

  Her breath caught and my prick stirred but I wanted them to see her. I wanted them all to see that I’d caught an angel and I wanted to defile her in all of the best ways in front of them all, and ride the high of their jealousy because, agreements and money aside, I knew they would be jealous.

  I turned her around and slid my jacket off, putting it around her shoulders and murmured, “You can have this for now until you’re used to it… but then I will be taking it away. As the night goes on, I intend to take you in front of them.”

  I watched the effect my words had on her, her breath catching, her lips parting in surprise. There, though… her eyes wide, pupils dilating slightly with desire. Oh yeah, she was game, she just needed to feel secure. She needed to feel safe and ease into things, get over her natural shyness, her inherent mistrust. I could help her with those things.

  I tucked her dress away, folding it neatly in a locker, and pocketed the key. She let me guide her in front of me down another long hall and into the parlor of the club. She stopped to take things in, and I drew up next to her, my confidence increasing as she took in the room. Men and women alike were scattered about; in some couples the men were clothed like me, in others it was the woman elegantly dressed and their men sitting at their feet. A few couples were same sex, mostly men, but at least two lesbian couples were in the mix.

  It had been a while since I had come to Indigo Nights, and there were a lot of fresh new faces behind varying Venetian masks.

  “We are going to find a seat, then I will send you to the bar for me. There’s a two-drink limit, so there is no concern about anyone here being intoxicated.”

  “Okay,” she breathed and I turned and pinned her with a withering look. She blushed prettily in the blue-white light and amended, “Sir.”

  I led her into the room and over across the bar to a seating area. I indicated she should sit on a silk cushion on the plush area rug and she lowered herself onto it, her legs curled beneath her like a cat and I sank onto the end of the deep blue velveteen settee edged in rich dark wood. I held her hand on my knee and she looked around us, soaking it all in.

  I watched her, stroking her long hair, down her back and wishing it weren’t against my suit jacket. She peered around the room, taking it all in and her wonder pleased me. What pleased me more was that the more I watched her think, the less tense she became. She was wonderfully accepting, and it was a quality that I could appreciate even if her judgment seemed like it was merely suspended or reserved.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking…” I murmured and she looked up at me.

  She swallowed hard and captured that bottom lip with her teeth, making me glad I had chosen the permanent, matte, everlasting lip paint, or whatever it was. She glanced behind her at the others in the room, dressed well and displaying their class within society with their suits and evening dresses.

  “I’m the only one in my underwear,” she whispered, and I felt my lips curve into a smile.

  “Of course you are, it’s what I wanted.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  I chuckled darkly, “There’s a certain power in flaunting what you have that they can’t,” I murmured and let my gaze slide through the room. “While it’s not something I would do when it came to money or cars out in the general population – here, among the elite? There are plenty of beautiful women I can have on my arm, but everyone here knows that you’re something special. Likewise, I’m something of a commodity. Plenty of women here would kill to be where you are now but none of them hold my interest. Social climbers, gold diggers, the lot of them…”

  “I don’t care about your money,” she breathed and fixed her gaze downward, her cheeks painted in fire and shame. We both knew that wasn’t entirely true. We both knew that she depended very much on what I paid her, but I also knew that if she didn’t…
that if her job at the café had been enough, that she would still be here with me regardless. I touched her face and brought it up with gentle fingertips and said as much.

  She swallowed hard and said, “The lines are so blurred now…”

  I couldn’t disagree. Perhaps it was time for a new negotiation? It was of no consequence now. Right now, I wanted to indulge in my fantasies and indulge in her.

  “Go to the bar, order two glasses of champagne and charge it to Mr. Silver’s tab,” I told her. She nodded and I held out my hands and helped her to her feet. Before she could turn to do as I’d bid, I said, “Leave my jacket.”

  She froze and pursed her lips, her nervousness apparent, yet she was brave. She slipped the dark material from her shoulders and held it out to me, dangling from two fingertips, brazenly meeting my eyes. I smiled and let my pride in her fill my eyes even as eyes from around the room were drawn to her.

  She stepped carefully across the room to the bar, the heels I’d bought her putting a sexy little sway into her hips, and I felt that deep, pleasurable and warm tingle of arousal stir my cock. She returned to me and knelt, offering up one of the glasses to me, and I took it. I clicked the rim of my flute against hers and said, “To exploring our darker sides and indulging our passions.”

  “Cheers,” she murmured and she tentatively sipped with me.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling,” I said again, and swept her face with my gaze.

  “Uncomfortable, nervous, a bit… not embarrassed, but something… I don’t know the word for it.”

  “Vulnerable?” I supplied and she nodded.

  “Exposed…” she whispered and I smiled.

  “You’re beautiful,” I assured her and she laughed nervously.

  “I don’t know if I can do this‒” she stopped herself and said “Sir,” catching herself before she used my name.

  “Drink your champagne,” I ordered and she sipped some more from her glass. I took a drink of my own and studied her, hoping against hope that she would follow through for me. I was worried I may have pushed her a touch too far, too quickly, bringing her out into the world like this, into my world.