Brie Faces her Master's Fears (After Graduation, #4) (5 page)

Brie purred. When she had played out the scene with Sir as her Khan, it had been exciting but full of emotional angst. This time the barriers were gone; she was simply a devoted sub in the hands of her Master.

“I love you, Master.”

He cupped her chin. “I don’t think you know the depth of my feelings for you.”

Chills ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes. Unlike Marquis’ gaze that bore into her soul, Sir’s called to her like a perilous song, inviting her to lose herself completely.

He walked her out of the building to a waiting limousine. She smiled and pressed herself against him as they waited for the chauffeur to open the door. Brie remembered the last limousine ride, one that had been full of passion but had ended in utter frustration.

Not tonight…

Brie slid onto the long leather bench seat, feeling lightheaded with expectation. Sir joined her, putting his hand on her thigh, but he remained silent. For the entire ride he did not speak. He simply stared at her with a look of longing and some unknown emotion—an almost raw vulnerability. It reminded her of their first time alone together.

Her heart started to race. What could it mean? She met his gaze, asking silently,
What are you trying to tell me, Sir?

The limo stopped on the coast at a quiet area of beach. Sir helped her out of the car and escorted her towards the water on path of red tiles that had been laid out artfully for them. The footpath led to a lone table in the sand, surrounded by fiery tiki torches. A man dressed like a chef stood with a chair pulled out for her.

Brie smiled. “What’s this, Master?”

“A quiet Italian meal by the ocean,” he replied.

Brie sat down to the elegantly set table and stared across it as her Master sat down. This was too much—something extraordinary was happening tonight. She could feel it in her bones.

The chef removed covers from two plates, one with small grilled pieces of bread, and the other with colorful vegetables and a small bowl of oil. Sir pointed to the bread, “
Fettunta
, spread with olive oil, grilled with garlic rubbed on top. Best garlic bread you’ll ever taste.” He pointed to the other. “
Pinizimonio
, fresh vegetables to dip in the seasoned olive oil.”

“It looks delicious, Master.”

Sir picked up a slice of bread and consumed it with a look of rapture on his face. Brie was captivated by the vibrant vegetables and took a slice of bright yellow bell pepper, dipping it into the olive oil seasoned with black pepper. She brought it to her lips, trying to look alluring. A drip of oil fell before she could get it into her mouth. It landed on her chest, then rolled slowly under her corset and between her breasts. She looked up, hoping Sir hadn’t noticed. The twinkle in his eyes said otherwise.

“Take off your top, téa.”

Brie ignored the stranger standing beside her and undid the ties, letting her corset fall to the sandy beach. Sir stood up and with his finger, he caught the trail of oil. He lifted his index finger to his lips and licked it off. “I think you would taste good covered in olive oil.”

He sat back down and took a mushroom, dipping it into the oil. Then, smiling at Brie, he devoured it. She blushed. Sir could eat her any way he wanted…

The chef poured them each a glass of wine, before moving back to a grill she hadn’t noticed flaming in the distance until now. Sir was right—her favorite, hands down, was the garlic bread; hard, crunchy, infused with the taste of garlic and the tanginess of olive oil. She had to stop herself from eating the whole plateful.
Submissives are not greedy
, she reminded herself,
even if they secretly want to be.

After several minutes, the chef returned with a covered plate. He placed it before Sir and lifted the cover with a flourish. A thick, juicy steak sat alone on the platter. It was not the pasta Brie had expected.

Sir took the knife the chef handed him and cut into it at an angle. Brie was shocked at how red it was, like rare—
really
rare.

He speared the piece of meat and held it up to admire. “
Bistecca alla Fiorentina
. A simple dish that impresses the most discerning palate.”

Sir held it out for her to eat, but she did not open her lips to take it. With trepidation, she admitted, “I don’t eat rare meat, Master.”

He shook his head. “You have not tried this. Trust me, téa.”

She opened her mouth, but only to please him, even though she was certain she would choke on it.

“It is seasoned simply and grilled only for a few minutes on each side, to let the true flavor of the beef shine through,” he said as he put it in her mouth.

Brie let the bloody meat touch her lips and held back the urge to gag. Sir was watching her intently as she chewed, so she closed her eyes to concentrate on the flavors, divorcing herself from the fact it was basically raw animal tissue. The simple salt, pepper and garlic seasoning, along with the splash of olive oil, heightened the flavor of the steak. This meat
definitely
had flavor, but it was delicate and melted in her mouth.

She opened her eyes after she’d swallowed the enticing morsel. “Delicious.”

Sir sat back with a satisfied grin. “Of course.”

The chef took the knife from Sir and cut the rest of the meat into thin slices, then added a small bowl of white beans to the table.

“Is it to your liking, Sir Davis?” he asked.

“It is an excellent piece of meat. Thank you for the entire meal, Chef Sabello.”

“My pleasure. I would do anything for the son of Alonzo.”

Sir nodded gratefully.

Chef Sabello poured the last of the wine, made a small bow and walked into the darkness, leaving them alone on the secluded beach.

Sir scooped up a forkful of beans and said, “
Fagioli bianchi
are a bit like your mashed potatoes, a required accompaniment of the meal.”

Brie took her own forkful of white beans to taste. Like everything else she had eaten that night, it was simple. A little bit of salt, oil and garlic, with a savory herb she couldn’t identify. The simplicity of it made the ingredients stand out all the more.

“I love everything about this meal, Master. I’ve never had anything like it.”

He chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure you were expecting pasta, possibly a meatball or two.”

Brie giggled, instantly thinking of the animated movie
Lady and the Tramp
, when the two dogs shared the long noodle. She smiled bashfully at Sir as she imagined his lips coming closer to hers as they ate the single noodle from both ends.

Instead, she shared the same piece of mouthwatering meat and bowl of white beans with her Master. It was all the more wonderful because this meal had been a part of his childhood, something he desired to share with her.

Before they’d finished, Brie noticed a change come over Sir. He became quiet again. She could barely get her last mouthful down, wondering what was about to happen—not allowing herself to dream.

“I value sharing this with you, téa. This is a part of my past, the foods I grew up on. It pleases me that you enjoy them.”

“I am honored you want to share them with me, Master.”

“There are other things I long to share.”

Brie’s heartbeat increased. She got up from the table and walked over to him, to kneeling down at his feet. “I cherish your trust in me…”—she almost said ‘Thane’, but chickened out—“…Master.” She kissed the back of his hand in reverence.

He petted her head with his other hand. Sir cleared his throat, but did not speak. She felt an aura of tension radiating from him that was delightfully disconcerting. Her body responded by trembling with expectancy.

“Master?” she asked, looking up at him.

He smiled briefly, but shook his head. “No. Not yet… I think it’s time we took a drive.” Sir got up from the table and commanded, “Gather your top, téa. No need to dress.”

Brie felt wistful leaving the romantic meal behind, already treasuring the memories. She returned to the limo bare-chested. The chauffeur did not bat an eye as he opened the door for them.

Dreams Deferred

B
rie stood before Mr. Holloway, confident that her documentary would wow him. The fact he had called her in to see it spoke of his vested interest in the project.

“Please, Miss Bennett, take a seat,” he said in a firm, manly tone.

Brie looked him in the eye as she gracefully sat down. Sir had instructed her to treat the producer the way she would any business contact, despite the fact he was a known Dom.

She smiled amiably. “Thank you for offering to see my work, Mr. Holloway.”

“Marquis Gray spoke highly of you and believed your work would reflect the same level of excellence he has come to expect from you in other areas.”

Brie felt heat rise to her face, honored that he felt that way. “I hope I can do justice not only to his confidence in my abilities, but to the Training Center itself. It has changed my life, in ways I could never have imagined.”

“Let’s waste no more time then,” he said affably.

Brie handed over the documentary—her baby—without hesitation. She watched him slip the DVD in and hit play. The large TV screen lit up with her introduction. The music started off light and soothing as the words ‘Art of Submission’ floated across the screen with images of submissives bowing, presenting, or kissing the hands or feet of the dominants. The music quickly became hard and pounding as more provocative images flashed onto the screen, depicting bondage, flogging and fire play.

Brie had ended the intro with pictures of the three girls with their silly nicknames: ‘Lea the Lovely’, ‘Brie the Bodacious’ and ‘Mary the Magnificent’. She’d decided to keep the humor of their experiences at the forefront of her film. Becoming a submissive was a complex journey—one that not only involved facing fears and pushing limits, but also encouraged the pure joy of self-discovery.

She watched Mr. Holloway clandestinely as he took in her work. The man had his hand on his chin. His gaze never wavered; his lips never twitched. He was a master at masking his emotions. When the ending credits concluded, he turned off the TV and sat without saying a word.

With all her dreams on the line, such treatment should have put her in a tailspin of anxiety, but she knew it was good and stared back at him pleasantly, saying nothing. After several long, agonizing minutes he spoke.

“It was not what I was expecting.”

Brie swallowed hard, shocked by his reaction, but she kept her composure. “What was your expectation?”

“I had hoped for a more in-depth exposé of your training experience. That girl, Mary—you hardly touched on her issues and you left the end nebulous concerning her future. You also concentrated more on Lea’s humor than her personal struggles. The only person I feel I know after watching your film is you, which is not bad…however, you have other personalities in the film who were not tapped into.”

She took a deep breath before replying. “You are correct. I did not dig deeply into their personal lives. I didn’t want to infringe on their privacy, especially with Mary, who has painful issues in her past.”

“It is those issues that will make this film interesting. We need to know their pain and discomfort, just as you shared some of yours.”

“I doubt they’d want to expose themselves like that, Mr. Holloway. Their willingness to publicly identify themselves as submissives was courageous enough. I am prepared to risk full exposure, but I do not expect the same from my friends.”

“Well, you do not have a noteworthy film without it. You need more footage, individual interviews in which you delve into the darker aspects of their journeys. In fact, I would wager even you have held back some of your more difficult trials.”

Brie nodded. “You are correct again. I consciously made the decision not to burden the viewer.”

“Then it is not really a documentary, is it? It is a piece of well-packaged fluff. I expected a documentary, and
that
I did not get.”

Brie took a deep breath and exhaled silently before speaking, grateful for Tono’s breathing lessons at a time like this. “I thank you for your time, Mr. Holloway.” She got up to leave, completely devastated but hiding it under a pleasant smile.