Irish Cream

by Trinity Marlow

  Chapter 3

  James knocked on Brianna's door an hour later, not surprised when she didn't answer immediately. Knowing she was short enough to have missed the small access panel in the top of her door, he carefully swung it open and peered inside her room. Scanning the area, he nearly missed the small bare foot peeking out from behind the bed on the floor.

  His heart racing, he fitted his master key in the lock and yanked the door open, rushing across the room. If anything happened to his charge, Celia would kill him, not to mention the damage to his reputation. Rounding the bed, he pulled up short at the quiet tears sliding down Brianna's face as she lay on the floor. Wrapped in the robe he'd provided, she'd taken a pillow from the bed, but James knew she couldn't be comfortable.

  It occurred to him that was the point.

  Satisfied that she wasn't physically hurt and knowing he needed to tread carefully, he eased himself to the floor beside her, careful to keep a margin between them.

  "How was your shower?" he asked, pleased when her gaze focused tight on his face. Shock at the unexpected question, no doubt. As he'd intended. He waited patiently, fascinated as he watched her try to shift gears. Reaching up with one hand, she swiped the tears from her face.

  "Good," she finally answered, watching him carefully.

  "I'm glad." He kept his expression neutral. "Are you hungry?"

  She nodded. "Yes Si...um, yes."

  James stood, then bent down and offered his hand. "Come on then. The food should be here any minute. One of the maids is bringing dinner up."

  She slipped a hand into his, the coolness of her skin startling him. He said nothing though, just helped her to her feet and led her to one of the big armchairs in front of the fireplace. When she was settled he used the remote to start the electric flames.

  "Better?" he asked, noticing the maid with their cart in the doorway, her hand poised to knock. He motioned for her to enter.

  "You can put it right in front of our guest," he said, standing back while Alicia arranged the cart. Brianna's eyes didn't leave Alicia’s throat until the maid left the room, and he wondered if she was thinking about the collar she'd left behind. He pulled the other chair over to sit opposite her, and removed the silver domes from their plates before he sat down.

  "Thank you," Brianna said quietly, waiting until he picked up his fork and took a bite of the lasagna before she dared taste her own. "It's very good."

  He smiled. "I'll tell Alicia you think so. Or you can tell her yourself when she comes back. She's just learning how to cook, so she'll be pleased."

  Brianna took a few more bites, but James could tell something was on her mind. He hoped in time she'd trust him enough to share her thoughts without fear.

  "Was there something you wanted to ask me?" he said, watching a lovely peach blush spread over her cheeks. "You can, you know. Whatever you want. Don't be afraid."

  She took a sip of her water and set her fork down. "Is she...that is, do you..."

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin and smiled, taking pity on her. This was as good a time as any to explain exactly what he did. And why she was here.

  "Yes, Alicia is my slave. For now. She's here because she wanted to see what it's like to be submissive, without being fully committed. She's exploring the side of her that wants to be dominated, and she's paid dearly for the privilege. If she decides at the end of her time here that she wants to embrace the life, I'll place her with a suitable master. If she decides to go back to her old life, she'll simply pack her bags and walk away."

  Brianna looked down at her plate, pushing her remaining food around with her fork. "Do you do that often?" she asked, not looking up. "Get paid to introduce women to the lifestyle, I mean."

  He leaned back in his chair, watching her. "It's how I make my living. That and the artwork, of course."

  She was thinking again, still playing with her food. "I wish I'd known you existed months ago," she murmured, looking up long enough to flash him a wane smile. "Maybe I'd have figured out this whole submissive thing isn't for me before everything got so out of hand."

  He leaned forward. "Or maybe you'd have learned what it's like to be in a real, healthy Dom-sub relationship, instead of being abused by a cruel man."

  She shook her head. "I'm not sure I believe that's even possible," she said, a sad note in her voice. "I mean, look at me. I can't even take a shower without asking for permission." A short laugh escaped her throat and her eyes grew moist. "I can't even sleep on a bed anymore, James. That's why I was on the floor when you came in. The whole time I belonged to Drew, he made me sleep in a concrete cell, on some hay on the floor with just a thin blanket to pull around myself. I was only allowed clothes when we went outside the house, which wasn't often, and what I got to wear depended on which scars he wanted to show off to his buddies. I was passed around to his friends like a cheap handkerchief, and if I dared to object, he just beat me harder. I never want to experience any of it again. I just want my old life back, damn it!"

  She collapsed back in the chair, tears slipping down her face. James pushed the tray to the door, and then came back to stand in front of her. He knew it would be intimidating. And that she needed someone to be strong. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she was still wired to be submissive, and he was going to do his best to help her recover and learn to embrace her true self.

  Bending down, he slipped one arm under her knees and another behind her back, carrying her to the bed. Setting her down gently, he laid down beside her and pulled her against his chest while she cried it out.

  She quieted a few minutes later, and pulled away, or tried to. He looked into her glassy red eyes and stroked her hair with one hand.

  "You're going to get through this," he said, lowering his voice into the range he used with the submissives he trained. "I'm going to help you, and when we're done, you'll be able to sleep on a bed, and take a shower, and make all sorts of decisions yourself. If you want to, that is."

  She frowned, trying to pull farther away, but he pulled her back against his chest. "What do you mean? I want out. I'm done being submissive."

  James stroked her arm, marveling at the smooth skin, and trying to ignore the fact that he'd have to leave soon.

  "I hate to tell you this, sweetheart, but you're wired to be a submissive, no doubt about it. The only way you'll ever be truly happy is if you give control to someone else."

  * * *

  Brianna yanked out of James's grasp, stumbling as she rolled off the bed. She should have known. Why had she trusted him so easily? Why hadn't she run when she had the chance?

  Maybe he's right.

  She shook her head, banishing the unwanted thought. No. She would not be submissive any longer. Even if he beat her for it.

  "This was a huge mistake," she said, eying the bathroom door, and wishing she was wearing something more than the robe. "I need to leave. Now. Just let me get my clothes and I'll go. It's dark out, so if I'm careful..."

  James was off the bed and blocking her path before she could finish. He didn't touch her, but she knew that look in his cold eyes. He was angry. She reached out to grab the bed post, anchoring herself. James was far bigger than Drew, and she hoped it would be over quickly.

  "You're not going anywhere. Get up on the bed. Now."

  Brianna shook her head and looked down, waiting for whatever her punishment would be. After a few long moments, she peeked up through her eyelashes, wondering what was taking so long. He hadn't moved an inch, and she slowly raised her head to look at him.

  He shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you really want to sleep on the floor, it's up to you. I promised your friend I'd keep you safe, and that's what I intend to do, like it or not. If you need me, knock on that door over there." He pointed to the small door by the fireplace, then turned on his heel and left her room. She heard the lock click after him, and she couldn't help but run to the door and try the knob.

  "He locked me in."

  She leaned against the w
all and crossed her arms over her chest, chewing on her lip as she looked at the bed. In her mind she saw the tiny apartment she should have been in, it's low, single bed pushed against the wall of the main room, the bathroom barely big enough to turn around in, and the kitchen consisting of one long counter behind a flimsy partition next to a seventies-gold color refrigerator. The one with all the lovely food she'd picked out herself.

  Then she saw herself asleep on the cot as Drew kicked the flimsy door in and hauled her back to his mansion.

  Back to her cell.

  James hadn't hurt her. He hadn't come close, even when he was angry. He'd locked her in, but...she turned to examine the tall, imposing door with thick metal hardware, and she was absolutely certain that if Drew did manage to gain access to the house, he'd never get through that door. Almost against her will, her gaze went to the adjoining smaller portal, and the fact that her appointed protector slept on the other side was surprisingly comforting.

  A wide yawn escaped her lips, and she walked to the bed and pulled the covers back, remembering James's command. He'd wanted her on the bed, and the new-found rebel wanted to resist, but the girl who'd spent the last few months sleeping on hay crawled slowly, reverently between the sheets. It was so soft she nearly cried again from the luxury. Laying her head on a cloud-like pillow, she closed her eyes, his voice in her head lulling her to sleep.

  * * *

  The next morning, James watched Brianna sleep, her hair spread out over the pillow in beautifully deep red waves. Pushing her last night had been a mistake - one that might cost him her trust for good. He was anxious to find out, knowing if he couldn't help her, she'd need someone who could within the next few days as what she'd done, and what she was trying to do really started to sink in. Right now she was still in shock, still in escape mode. But that would wear off soon enough, and she'd struggle on her own if he couldn't gain her trust.

  He went back through the door that connected their rooms, and quietly closed the door. Most of the submissives who came or were brought to him weren't fighting what they were. They'd already embraced the lifestyle, and looked to him for guidance. Brianna was different. She hadn't even had a chance to experience a true submissive role, only the role of an abused slave. Leaning back against the door, he knew she was going to be his greatest challenge.

  He'd told her he would help, and now she'd need to come to him before they could proceed. How and when she did that would tell him everything he needed to know. Crossing the room, he got the ring of keys from his nightstand and went out into the hall. Slipping the key into the lock on her door, he turned it gently to release the thick deadbolt. Once it clicked back into place, he returned to his room, got fresh clothing for the day and went to take a shower.

  Twenty minutes later, he went downstairs to the dining room, and took his place at the head of the table. Nodding to the three ladies who stood patiently behind their chairs, he waited until they were seated and then rang a silver bell beside his plate. Two serving girls came out to set platters of food on the table and then one filled James's plate while the other served the women at the table. When they were finished, they stood off to the side, hands behind their backs and bare breasts thrust forward.

  "Angie, please go let our guest know that breakfast is on the table, if she wishes to join us. If she prefers, she can--" He stopped, raising an eyebrow as Brianna shyly peeked around the corner of the doorway. "Never mind, Angie. Brianna, would you like to join us?"

  She stepped into the room, her hands clasped together as she took in the scene. "I'm sorry to interrupt, I just smelled the food and thought..."

  James motioned to the empty chair on his right. "Please, come eat. There's plenty."

  She moved toward him and sat down as Angie retrieved another place setting from the china cabinet and set it before her. James noted the quick glances Brianna made at the other woman’s pierced nipples, and the chain hanging between them as Angie reached across the table to spoon fruit on her plate.

  "Oh...I can do that," Brianna said, reaching for the spoon. James put a hand on her arm, shaking his head when she looked up.

  "It's Angie's day to serve. Let her."

  He restrained a smile as Brianna sat back in her chair, waiting until Angie stepped back to reach for her fork. Glancing at James, then the others at the table, she set it back down, nervously chewing at her lower lip.

  James took his time settling a napkin on his lap, and then picked up his own utensil.

  "Brianna, please feel free to eat anytime. The others must wait until I'm done, but you are here as a guest." He tucked in to his plate, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She picked up her fork again, took a small bite, then laid it down.

  "Why do you make them wait?" she asked, patting the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

  "Because I am their Master. And the Master's needs come first."

  Brianna sighed. "And what if the Master's needs aren't healthy for the slave?" She didn't address the comment to anyone in particular, half-expecting the standard master knows best in all cases line that had been drilled into her from the beginning.

  "Speak freely, Angie," James said, focusing on his plate. Brianna turned to the woman standing behind her. The neutral expression melted away, and Angie smiled, her eyes soft.

  "Submissives have a responsibility to choose their Master wisely, but sometimes the choice is not theirs. If the slave feels mistreated, the only recourse is to appeal to another Dom or someone outside the household for help."

  Brianna shook her head, turning back to the table. "Good luck with that," she murmured, pushing food around her plate but unable to make herself eat. She'd tried asking other Doms who visited Drew for help several times, but none of them would take her seriously. It was only when Celia witnessed Drew beating her after losing his temper at the Wicked Whip that anyone had cared enough to do something. To help her. Setting her fork aside, Brianna pushed back from the table.

  "I think I'll go back to my room," she said, refusing to meet James' gaze as she stood. When he didn't object, she turned and walked out, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something wasn't right, and it had to be this place, these surroundings. Staying here was no better than being at Drew's, really. Someone else still controlled her, albeit not as tightly. She reached her room and shut herself inside, drawn to the window where she stared out at the quiet neighborhood.

  It was odd, remembering that she'd been living a life like most of those people probably did just a few months ago. She'd had a good job, a nice apartment and enough money to do a little shopping on the weekends. The men she dated were nice with very few exceptions, but none of them had ever connected with her on a deeper level. Would it have mattered, she wondered?

  The door behind her opened and she twitched, turning to see James close it again. He took a seat in one of the armchairs facing her. She waited for him to speak, but he just sat quietly, watching with those cool eyes. Brianna felt like a bug under a microscope.

  "What do you want?" she asked, when her nerves couldn't handle the silent assessment any longer. He shrugged, leaning forward to brace his forearms on his knees.

  "I'm more interested in what you want right now."

  She laughed. "You're a Dom. Why would you care what I or any woman wants? It's all about you - isn't that kind of the point?" She knew she was being overly dramatic, that she was allowing her experience to color her view of the lifestyle, but she couldn't seem to help herself. The hurt had nowhere else to go, and James was as good a target as any.

  She tensed, watching for any sign that he was upset. But he leaned back in the chair with a sigh.

  "You've been through hell, Brianna - I realize that. And you should know that what you went through isn't nearly as bad as some girls have it. You got out. Some women never do." He paused, and she knew he wanted her to acknowledge the truth in his words, but she just waited.

  "How many Doms did you know before you went to live with Drew?"
r />   She slowly held up two fingers, hating to admit her lack of experience.

  "And did they both treat you like he did?"

  Brianna looked at the floor. "No."

  "Have I treated you badly in the short time you've known me?"

  She shook her head, wishing he'd just go away. "I get the point. Not all Doms are bad, I know. But you guys do get whatever you want, whenever you want it. You're always in control."

  "That's because we need to be. The bond between Dom and submissive is a symbiotic one, Brianna. Submissives need to serve...they won't ever be happy unless they can fulfill that need. A Dom needs to control...but without a submissive, he can't fulfill that need. Neither can be happy without the other one - they work together so they both are complete." He got up and walked to her, placing a finger under her chin and raising her face until she looked into his eyes.

  "It is about me, but not the way you think. The only way I get what I need is if you get what you need."

  Brianna trembled, the intensity in his eyes pinning her in place. At that moment, she wanted nothing more than to sink to her knees and take his cock in her mouth, and her cheeks burned with the mental image her brain conjured up. Surely he knew what she was thinking, and she waited for that triumphant grin, but he only leaned closer.

  "What do you want, Brianna?" Little more than a breath, his whispered question caressed her lips, a tantalizing promise she so badly wanted to accept. But at what price?

  "I...I'm not sure," she stammered, pulling away, the connection between them breaking into tiny shards. "I'm sorry." She turned her back to him, the view from the window reminding her of her ultimate goal, though this time it didn't look quite so blissful.