Leaving Roman (Surrender Book 3)

by Becca Jameson

  Shit. That wasn’t at all what I meant. “I didn’t mean that as a reprimand, blossom. It was a compliment. You’re very efficient.”

  She dips her face farther. “You wouldn’t have been behind if I had managed to keep up with your filing while I was in school. Or…”—she swallows—“if I had let you hire someone to replace Easton when he quit.”

  I smile at the top of her head, remembering the arguments we had about me replacing her when she started taking classes three years ago. I’d wanted to hire another assistant. She had balked, partly because she didn’t like to relinquish her responsibilities to someone else, but also because she didn’t want yet another person entering our inner sanctum and seeing how we live—namely her as my little girl.

  Those hadn’t been our only issues, to be fair. There had also been a bit of jealousy involved. Lucy hadn’t been able to stomach the idea of a gorgeous woman working for me, and frankly, I hadn’t been able to handle the thought of a man ogling her. We’d been at an impasse.

  In the end, we’d gotten lucky. I’d found the perfect assistant to help out part time. Easton Rogers. He’d been a new member at the club. He’d also been gay. Win-win. Lucy hadn’t had to worry irrationally about me spending time with a woman, and I hadn’t had to worry about Easton hitting on my little.

  Easton had worked for me for two years. He is extremely submissive, and it had only taken Lucy a few days to relax around him and stop worrying about him judging her. Unfortunately, a year ago, he’d found a Dom who’d swept into his life and filled a void he’d desperately needed, and he’d left us to live full-time with his new Dom.

  Lucy and I hadn’t even discussed the absence or the fact that things fell through the cracks in my office. By silent agreement, it had seemed obvious that she would fill the shoes of our missing staff as soon as she graduated.

  At least that had been the plan in my mind. And I’d believed she agreed until recently. Now, I’m no longer confident we’re on the same page.

  “Look at me, blossom.”

  She lifts her gaze to meet mine, her lips pursed.

  “Who runs my household?”

  “You do, Sir.” Her voice is soft.

  “Did I miss a discussion between us about hiring someone to replace Easton last year?” I ask sarcastically.

  “No, Sir,” she whispers.

  “Exactly. I knew it would put too much pressure on you to find a new assistant and introduce that person into our household. So, I didn’t do it. The fact that things are behind is purely my fault. You’re not to blame.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmurs without conviction.

  I lean forward again and take her chin in two fingers. It’s time to lay my cards on the table once and for all. “I want you to fill that position. It would have been unfair to hire someone and then fire them a year later.”

  She swallows, her face flushing.

  “I realize the job is beneath you now that you have your degree, and I promise I’ll do everything in my power to add responsibility so your mind gets exercised. I sense you’re restless and worried. I have ideas. Trust me?”

  She nods slightly. “Yes, Sir.”

  I’m not making things up. I do have ideas. I know how capable my Lucy is. I can easily assign her to some of my newer clients and let her shine. She could probably run my entire financial planning business if anything ever happened to me.

  On that thought, I’m reminded of something else that’s been on my mind for several months. I need to marry her. I need to change my will and make sure she’ll be taken care of after I die. I need to bind her to me more permanently before… Before she slips away.

  I’m scared out of my mind though. We’ve never once discussed marriage. It’s not something either of us seem to need. And I’ll admit, my motives concern me. Part of me knows on a business level that marriage would secure her future. The other part of me feels a sense of desperation that I need to do something. Fast. Anything to make sure she stays with me.

  I hear the beep of the alarm being set and know that Claudia and Abby have left the building. We’re alone. Finally. I have plans. I’m going to remind my sweet little girl why we’re so damn good together. Over and over. Until she screams out in pleasure.

  Chapter 9

  Lucy

  Master Roman releases my chin and smiles that smile that tells me I’m in for a wild ride. It’s enough to erase the pounding in my chest over the weird discussion we just had. I’m also glad Claudia chose this moment to leave Surrender. It’s keeping me from having to speak up and express my thoughts about my future. I’m not ready. Or maybe I’ll never be.

  Why do I have to feel so restless? I have the best life of anyone in the world. I have a Daddy who loves me dearly and thinks I walk on water. I have everything I could ever want, staff to see to my every need, an education, closets full of clothes—even though I don’t have access to them and I don’t choose what I wear—the best food I’ve ever eaten, and immeasurable love.

  Oh, and sex. God, the sex is amazing. Even though I don’t choose when or where or how I get to come, I rarely go to bed without experiencing multiple orgasms. And when I do, I have myself to blame.

  I never engaged in gossip with the other girls at school because I would have been mortified if they ever found out about my lifestyle, but I have been around them enough to know that most girls do not have great sex lives. Okay, it would seem no one does.

  God, I’m lucky.

  With this reminder, I set my hands on Master Roman’s shoulders so that I won’t trip over my panties as he helps me rise to my feet. Surprising me, he reaches down and pulls my panties up over my bottom. Today’s pair is white with pastel Care Bears all over them. They are full cut, as usual, and tight.

  In the early days, Master Roman dressed me in looser panties, but he started buying them a size smaller when he determined the pressure against my pussy made me squirm even more. Now is no exception. I suck in a breath as he tugs them a bit too high, forcing the crotch to rub mercilessly against my clit.

  He pats my bottom. “Let’s go.” As he stands, I try to calm my racing heart. He’s not going to put my dress back on me. I know this. And yet, I’m still a little unnerved. As usual. I’d almost be less stressed if I were naked than wearing these little girl panties and pastel light-up shoes meant for a child. My socks are equally youthful, white and folded down with a pink ruffle along the edge.

  As Master Roman takes my hand in his and leads me to the main floor of Surrender, I marvel at the juxtaposition of my contrasting emotions. As usual, I’m filled with a combination of mortification and arousal. But I’m used to it.

  The main room is dimly lit in the way it always is when the club is closed. The overhead lights are on a timer. Sometimes Master Roman sets me up under a bright spotlight. Other times he plays with me in a darker corner.

  Tonight, he turns to me at the doorway and meets my gaze. “Do you see anyone in here?”

  “No, Sir.” Of course I don’t. The club is empty.

  Master Roman pulls something out of his back pocket and holds it up. “I’m going to blindfold you. You’re going to pretend the club is filled with people.”

  I nod. How hard could that be? And how the hell would he know if I was fulfilling his demand? Master Roman has amazing abilities, but mind reading is not one of them.

  The blindfold is thick and wide. It completely blocks out the club. I shiver as he takes my hand and urges me deeper into the room. I suddenly wish I had paid closer attention to where everything is situated so I’d have a better idea about where he’s leading me.

  When we reach what I assume is the center of the room, Master Roman takes my shoulders and slowly spins me around. As he does so, he walks the opposite direction. I realize immediately he’s intentionally disorienting me. It no longer matters that I don’t have the room memorized.

  He stops after several spins and slides a hand up my arm. “Safeword?”

  “Jacks, Sir,” I whisper. I
t’s been a while since he reminded me. That alone is enough information to tell me we’re about to do something new. Daddy reads me well. I’ve never had to use my safeword with him. He’s never pushed me far enough to warrant it. I know he won’t tonight either.

  “Don’t move, blossom. I’ll be right back.”

  As he leaves me, I start to panic. It takes me a moment to remind myself to breathe. No one is here but Master Roman and me. He’s made it perfectly clear that he would not break that promise. The evidence is still there to remind me in the form of a stinging hot bottom beneath my panties.

  I have to fight to keep from crossing my arms. Covering my breasts is never allowed. My predicament at the moment will seem like a walk in the park compared to whatever alterations he would make to his plans for me if I cross my arms. Instead, I keep one arm straight and rub my forearm with the opposite hand. My nipples are puckered, and the air conditioning is not helping.

  Suddenly, the room fills with noise. Talking. Lots of voices. As if the club is alive and hopping in the middle of a Friday night.

  I suck in a sharp breath and freeze, trying to rationalize what I’m hearing. I somehow manage not to cover my breasts, but I can’t keep myself from pulling my feet close and squeeze my thighs together.

  “Lucy…” The voice is a warning, close to my ear. “Is anyone in the club?”

  I swallow. My mind is playing tricks on me. “No, Sir,” I mumble.

  “That’s right. What you’re hearing is a playback from several nights ago. It’s just background noise. I want you to feel like the club is filled with members while we play.”

  I shudder. “Yes, Sir.”

  He sets his hand on the back of my neck and guides me across the room in a random direction, his fingers lightly gripping the base of my skull.

  People are talking all around me. The room has speakers in every corner. Master Roman is brilliant. I’m unnerved.

  He squeezes my neck when he wants me to stop. “Stay here, blossom.” I hate when he leaves me. I always feel calmer when he’s touching me, especially when I’m blindfolded. He knows that. He does it on purpose to keep me a little off-kilter. It works.

  When he returns, he grips my waist and lifts me off the floor. I gasp as he spins around and sets me on the edge of some sort of bench. The leather on the backs of my thighs is my only hint. “Lie back, Lucy.” His hand comes between my shoulder blades to help me, and the next thing I know I’m on my back on the bench, my arms being drawn over my head.

  My body shakes. I can’t quite picture where I am. The room is filled with various benches. This could be any one of them. But most of the time, the submissive is situated on her belly over the bench. This one is wider and longer.

  When Master Roman wraps something around my wrist and secures it high above my head, I whimper. My lip quivers, and I’m unable to stop it. I bite down on it as he secures my other wrist in the same fashion. The strap feels like soft leather, and I imagine him buckling it like a belt.

  I pull my legs together. My feet are dangling off the end of the bench, bent at the knees. Or maybe this is more like a table. I strain to find this apparatus in my mind and fail.

  Master Roman trails a finger down my forehead, over my nose, across my lips and chin and then down my neck and between my breasts. The tips are swollen and needy. I’m especially vulnerable with my arms restrained above my head like this.

  Meanwhile the hum of chatter in the room indicates it’s filled with patrons. I have to remind myself this is a tape from a busy night. I can’t hear any distinct voices, but there are a lot of them.

  As Master Roman drags that finger down my belly and veers to one side to trail it down my leg, I arch my chest slightly. Thoughts of him touching my sex soon are interrupted when a crack fills the room. I nearly jump off the bench. I would have if I had been able to move. Instead, Master Roman puts a hand on my belly and holds me still. “It’s just a paddle, blossom. A naughty submissive is getting her bottom spanked across the room.”

  God, it’s so real. I can actually picture a woman bent over nearby, her red bottom in the air, tears running down her cheeks. It’s hard to remind myself it isn’t real.

  Master Roman releases my belly and smooths his palm down my leg until he wraps his fingers around my ankle and lifts it slowly. Higher. Wider.

  I hold my breath as he settles my leg on something cold and metal, my knee bent and pushed so wide that my pussy is totally exposed. When he wraps something around my ankle, securing it to some sort of frame, I finally draw in a deep breath. I can’t seem to release it.

  Another strap is fixed to my upper thigh, holding it in place. Wide. Spread so far open. He trails his fingers up my thigh, over my belly, and down my other leg before treating it to the same restraint.

  Suddenly I realize I’m on some sort of gynecologic table. I’m still wearing my Care Bear panties, but they aren’t keeping me from feeling exposed. My shoes feel heavy, weighing me down. I test my restraints and find I’m truly strapped tightly. The only part of me I can move is my bottom slightly to the left and right. I can also lift it a few inches.

  Testing my boundaries was probably a mistake because moments later, a strap is drawn across my hips and cinched tightly.

  I take a deep breath again and let it out slowly. My nipples ache to be touched. My panties are soaked. My clit is throbbing. My pussy is begging to be filled. It’s been a while since Daddy made me feel this strongly.

  I’m overwhelmed with sensations, and he hasn’t touched me yet. The voices filling the room are a constant reminder that people can see me. They’re watching me.

  Wait. That’s not true. No one is here. I’m safe. I’m protected. I’m loved. I’m going to get relief soon.

  Master Roman’s finger trails along the tight edge of elastic next to my pussy. Slowly. Teasing me. Making me need more. I moan.

  He tucks his finger under the edge and lifts it away from my pussy, and then I hear a noise I can’t identify. It sounds like scissors. Cutting. It makes no sense, so I strain to hear better, rolling my head to one side.

  He lifts the crotch of my panties higher, and the noise continues. My mind plays tricks on me, confusing me, not giving me enough clues. Finally, he releases the elastic and it snaps back against the crease of my leg with a pop that stings.

  I take shallow breaths. Something is off. I can feel the air in the room against my pussy lips and my clit. A breeze hits my bare skin, confirming the crotch of my panties is gone. Everything clicks into place. He literally just cut away the cotton material covering my pussy.

  I shiver violently, visualizing the club members around me staring at my bare pussy. Master Roman had insisted that I shave my pussy entirely the first day I moved into his home. I have done so every single day since then, with the exception of the times he’s done it for me.

  His fingers land on my outer lips. I know they’re swollen with need. He pulls them apart. “So wet for me, blossom. I won’t even need lube to examine you.” He holds my folds spread wide with one hand and pushes something cold and metal up inside me.

  Oh, God. We’re playing doctor. He’s using a speculum. He’s slowly turning the dial, forcing my vagina wider and wider. The stretch is tremendous. I feel both full and empty at the same time.

  When he’s satisfied with how wide I’m stretched, he trails a finger around the edges, dragging my wetness over my clit. “So pretty. Sweetest cunt I’ve ever seen. Why have we never used this table before now?” he asks rhetorically.

  Someone cries out in the room, and I follow, my body jerking as I scream. No one is here. No one. It’s all the tape.

  Apparently satisfied with that part of the examination, Master Roman removes the metal device and sets it aside with a clang. He doesn’t give my pussy a break, however, because moments later, something else is at my entrance. “Deep breath, blossom.”

  I inhale slowly. I know better than to defy him when he commands me to breathe. It’s always in my best interest
to obey that demand.

  Something thick eases into me. The pressure is intense. Whatever it is, it’s larger than Master’s cock. And it keeps getting deeper.

  I tip my head back, my mouth falling open at the pressure. I’m so full. I’m not sure I can take more. But it keeps coming. Deeper. Spreading me wider. Forcing the walls of my vagina to stretch. Finally, it stops. Instead of drawing it back out, Master Roman seems to secure it inside me.

  I’m panting as I strain to listen to several clicks. Snaps? Something that attaches to the dildo and also to the bench under my bottom. More straps reach over my thighs and connect to the bench above my hips. “How’s that, blossom?”

  “So full, Daddy.” I squirm.

  “Be my good girl and let your body adjust to it. You look so pretty with your cunt forced open so wide. Everyone in the room is watching your pussy.”

  I flinch and then remind myself he’s lying. He’s the only one in the room, and he’s watching. A humming noise starts, and then something vibrates against my inner thigh. Something wide and smooth.

  Master Roman has used every toy known to man on me. I figure out quickly that this is a body wand. He’s been known to torture me with this toy for hours before. I need to come so badly, but I don’t tell him this. I’ve learned that lesson more times than I can count too. If I want to come tonight, I’ll keep my lips shut.

  The vibrations disappear from my thigh, but the noise gets louder, and I realize why the second he taps my nipple with the flat end. I arch my chest the miniscule amount possible and moan into the noisy room.

  Master Roman wraps his fingers around my other breast and holds it steady before torturing the second little nipple with direct pressure. He switches back and forth, knowing me so well, knowing how intensely I’m aware of my nipples, how exposed and aroused I can feel from any sort of contact with them, including my dresses.

  Wetness is leaking around the edges of the enormous dildo to run between my legs toward the tight hole of my bottom.