Disciplined by the Dom (6 page)

More interest in this.Ur not only one on it. I NEED A MEMBER LIST. Biographic deets, shit they r into. Dont fuck up. Big $.

Catie’s stomach flipped over. A member list. Biographical details. What people are into. Basically the worst privacy violation she could imagine, and someone else was “on it?”

Well, what did you expect?

Her dismay increased incrementally, like notes on a terribly discordant scale. She really hadn’t thought this through. She’d only ever envisioned herself writing some sort of poetically philosophical think piece, with pseudonyms for all the members. Something literary. The kind of thing that communicated what Volare was really about, how it helped people, the sexy mystery of a secret society. Something classy. But then she’d taken it to freaking
Brazzer
, the guy who ran the worst tabloid in the country.

Because she knew he would pay.

And now there was someone else on it.

“Oh, Catie,” she whispered to herself. “What have you done?”

With a sudden burst of energy, she looked around for the exit, as if reassuring herself that she could leave. She could run away. But even as she retraced the steps to the elevator that led back down to the normal world in her mind, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She couldn’t run away from these people, from Volare; they’d been
kind
to her, the closest thing she’d imagined to a family.

And, truthfully, she didn’t think she was strong enough to run away from Jake. After just one time. One time, and months of wondering about it. One perfect time.

She never would have guessed that being dragged up on a desk by her hair would feel “perfect,” but that hadn’t been the only surprise. It was insane, but as terrified as she was of being found out, when Jake was inside her, it had felt like he’d seen right through her. And he’d still wanted her.

Jake. Jake what? She didn’t even know his last name. Didn’t know the “biographical details,” as Brazzer had put it. And Jake's warning—that he didn’t grow attached, that he wasn’t built that way—loomed in the background of her mind. So what that he wouldn’t be attached—she couldn’t allow herself to become attached, either. And she definitely couldn’t afford to let him get close, or anywhere near the inside of her head, ever again. After all, she had no one else to rely on. It was all up to her.

“Oh, fuck me,” she muttered.

“You can be sure of that.”

Jake’s voice slid across the room, smooth and slick, like spilled oil, and she could tell before she even saw him that he was be smiling. She saw him then, leaning against a far wall with his arms crossed, watching her from the shadows at the end of the bar. She was used to seeing him there at night, tending bar, chatting with people, holding court in his strange, guarded, gentlemanly way, watching over the whole club. She wasn’t used to seeing him look back at her.

He looked good. Better than good. His physique was very noticeable under that finely cut suit, and the shadows accentuated the angles of his face. Catie began to feel her pulse throb in very unusual places.

“You’re late,” she said. He raised an eyebrow, and she realized her mistake. “No, you’re not. I’m sorry.”

The eyebrow stayed up.

“Sir,” she added.

“You’ll learn better than that,” he said quietly.

The smile had faded from his face, replaced now by a look that might almost be concern. He pushed himself off the wall, and gestured towards the phone she still had in her hand.

“Bad news?” he asked.

Oh shit, he’s been watching me
. She racked her brain.

“I thought this wasn’t supposed to get personal,” she said, jutting her chin up at him. Was she reminding him, or trying to convince herself?

There was a pause, a moment of stillness. He studied her. Then he nodded, very slightly, and said, “Of course. Follow me.”

Jake turned around and walked into the dark, winding halls of Volare.

chapter
6

Catie had to trot after him to catch up, her heels echoing off the dark hardwood floors. She followed him through the twisting halls and confusing layout, deep into the heart of the private rooms at Volare, where she’d never had reason to be before now. She found herself wondering why they’d chosen such a confusing layout, until they reached a room at the end of sudden turn, and then she guessed the reason: disorientation. They wanted you to feel like there was nothing else in the world besides the room you were in. Like there was nothing else happening besides what was happening to you.

The walk gave her time to think, which turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. That text message from Brazzer was still on her phone. She hadn’t deleted it. What was she going to do? It seemed like she had only minutes to decide. She didn’t want to have to figure all this out under Jake’s intense stare.

Brazzer had said there was someone else on it. Would he have lied? Maybe it was just a way to spur her on. He’d been waiting for a long time. But now he seemed more sure that the story was real and would be a big draw. Someone else must have some information. Who? Would it be someone who knew anything? Who appreciated anything about Volare? Who cared about these people? What kind of story would they write if they didn’t?

Catie bit her lip. That had sounded a lot like a rationalization. But it was a good rationalization, because it was true. Catie hadn’t realized how important Volare had become to her. As strange as it might be, she had started to feel at home. She loved hanging out in the lounge at night when it was busy and had the feel of an intimate, old-timey social club where everyone knew each other, bonded by a common interest. She loved that everyone was expected to contribute to the charitable goals in some way, even if she still had no idea what the hell
she
was going to do. She loved that people naturally looked out for each other. She’d had about fifteen million offers of guidance, from mentoring to training to whatever, and none of them had felt skeezy. This place didn’t deserve to be depicted as some kind of famous pervert’s carnival sideshow playground.

And she was now the only one who could prevent that, even if it was her fault that the story would come to light in the first place.

She nearly bumped into Jake. They had come to the end of a particularly dark passage, and she could barely make out a large, ornate wooden door in front of him. Jake produced a key and opened the door.

It was pitch black inside the unknown room. Catie didn’t move. She felt a hand wrap around her arm and pull her forward, past Jake’s body, and then his hand was on the small of her back, pushing her into the blackness. She moved stiffly, stupidly afraid.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “And no.”

“Do you trust me?”

Her heart beat against her chest, her breath felt shallow, the air felt thin, and his touch once again short-circuited something in her brain—and still,
still
, somewhere inside her, she was aware of the terrible, tragic irony: she did trust him. She just didn’t deserve to.

“Yes, sir,” she said. “I do.”

She felt his hand brush her hair away from her neck, and then his lips moved against her ear. His touch spread a tingling wave over the surface of her skin, and the warmth of his body against hers gave her strength. She was already losing her mind to him.

“In this room, Catie, there are two requirements. They are not negotiable. They are…inviolate. First, I will have your total obedience, in all things. Second, you place yourself under my control, completely. Do you understand?”

Catie felt dizzy. No, she couldn’t see well enough to know if she felt dizzy. Light-headed. Disoriented. Not in full control of herself. And then it hit her: she didn’t have to be in control in this room, because
he
was in control. Her job was simply to obey. Catie melted into the memory of how she’d felt when she had knelt for him in Lola’s office. It was better than any role she’d ever played. It was totally freeing, because she was under his control. She was under his protection. He would take care of her.

If only this were real life.

In the dark, she smiled.

“I understand, sir,” she said.

But then he flicked a switch and a single overhead lamp came on, dispelling any sense of comfort she might have had. It hung on a chain in the middle of the room, over a table and two chairs. It looked like an interrogation room from a spy movie. It would be almost funny if it weren’t for one thing: the only reason to interrogate someone is if you think they have a secret.

She was going to be interrogated.

Does he know? How could he?

She forced herself to calm down. There was no way he knew. None. He would have kicked her right out of Volare immediately if he did; he wouldn’t mess around with all these games, would he? He would hate her if he knew who she really was.

That thought was not comforting.

Jake walked out from behind her and went to the table. He shrugged off his fine jacket, under which he was wearing another tailored shirt, and hung the jacket on the back of the chair. He pulled the chair out and pushed the table sideways so there was room in front of it, and then he turned to look back at Catie.

He began to roll his cuffs up, exposing muscular forearms.

“It’s good that you haven’t moved, Catie, because I did not tell you to. You are a natural submissive, you know,” he said, regarding her with that evaluative stare again. “You cannot fail, in the way you are worried about failing.”

Catie tried to keep her face expressionless. She had been wrong. Nothing about this would be easy.

“Thank you, sir,” she said.

Jake hitched up his slacks and sat wide-legged in the chair. His body language was unmistakable. He was in command. Except for the modern dress, he might have been a king or a conqueror or something, commanding his forces from a throne.

“Come here,” he said. “And kneel.”

She was glad her skirt was short enough that it didn’t cause her much difficulty, but the floor in this room was hard and uncomfortable, not like the carpet in Lola’s office.

“It’s proper manners to kneel before me, you know,” he said, like they were just having a normal conversation. “There are all sorts of things many Doms will expect you to know. Different commands, different etiquette. That they are all different strikes me as an argument for treating each encounter, each partner, with the unique respect that it or they deserve. But many Doms are idiots. I do not advise you to become involved with idiots. In any event, I don’t necessarily hold with formality of manners, though in some cases I may demand it, and then I will tell you so.”

Catie met his eye. “Then why am I kneeling, sir?”

“Because I like to see you down there.”

He smiled wickedly at her.

“Not everything has a reason, Catie. Some things just
are
. First lesson.”

“I know that one already,” she said. “Sir.”

Catie immediately wished she could take that back. She’d said it because she’d thought of
him
, of her attraction to him, and how it seemed to exist as its own entity in the world, its own force of nature, and she’d just instinctively told the truth about it. There was no reason for it. It simply was. It was like the way she was alone in the world, and had no one else: it simply was. Wondering why didn’t change anything.

Oh God, please don’t ask me what I meant.

But Jake was simply watching her with that half smile. Did he know what she’d meant? Or was he thinking of his own life?

“Good,” he finally said. “Get up and sit in that other chair.”

She did, glad to be out from under his stare. Maybe it would give her a chance to collect herself. Compulsive truth telling was not something she could afford to do. She couldn’t lose control like that again. She had to keep focused. She
wanted
to keep focused—on
him
.

The chair itself was a simple metal frame with a metal seat. It looked grim, but wasn’t particularly uncomfortable. It was neutral—she didn’t feel it much, one way or the other. She supposed that was by design, too. It would certainly let her keep her mind on other sensations.

“First important question: what are your hard limits?”

She stared at him.

“I don’t know.”

“That is not an acceptable answer. You have been here long enough to know that.”

Catie studied Jake, sitting with that relaxed sense of command, calmly looking at her with his uniquely aristocratic wildness, and realized, with both horror and elation, that she couldn’t think of anything she wouldn’t let him do. That was insane. It couldn’t be. Yet he brought out all the darkness in her, every crazy whim or impulse she’d ever had. How could one man do that?

“I know,” she said. “I can’t explain it. But I don’t trust myself to answer, because I don’t know.”

His eyes narrowed, and she heard him suck in his breath very quickly.

“Go on.”

“I think I need you to help me figure them out,” she said quietly. “I think it’s different…with you.”

“But you hardly know anything about me, Catie.”

She smiled, not able to help herself. “Some things just
are
, sir.”

Jake’s hands closed into tight fists and his knuckles got very white, but he never stopped looking at Catie. His face was stone. Only his eyes were alive, burning with an intensity that might have frightened another woman. It didn’t frighten her. It made her want more. With a start, Catie realized that she wanted to know about Jake. She wanted to know him, to be inside his head, the way she felt he’d been inside hers. More than that, she felt like she needed it. But whether it was for Brazzer or herself, she wasn’t yet willing to say.

Except she was the one in the hot seat.

chapter
7

She squirmed and allowed herself to look up at him. She’d been wrong about the positioning of the light above; as he drew his own chair in, it was slightly behind his head, casting his face in shadow. He studied her for several long seconds before he seemed to come back to himself and remember they were there for a purpose.