Michele Zurlo (18 page)

When she wobbled with that first step, he caught her elbow to steady her. “Is it painful or uncomfortable?”

“I’m not sure I’ll be sitting anywhere for very long.” She gave a nervous laugh. Mistress Hera would either be wondering what he’d done to her or she would guess outright.

Jonas’s laugh echoed hers, only it contained no trace of anxiety. “You’ll be sitting at my feet. You’re not going as a guest. You’re going as my submissive. You will speak only to me and only with my permission. If anyone talks to you, I will do the answering. You may smile in greeting, but keep your eyes downcast. Only look up at me when you wish to speak. If I acknowledge you, then you may ask permission to talk. If I don’t, then you can assume I’ve denied your request.”

Her mouth gaped open. She knew this protocol was pretty normal in some circles. Sophia always required her submissives to follow these rules, though Drew, who was also supposed to be in charge of the subs they shared, treated the rules more like suggestions. Ellen used them sometimes with Ryan, but almost never when the four of them were together. She knew her stepbrothers were supposed to be badass Doms, but they almost never reined Sam in.

“Jonas, I—”

“Will find out what it means to be submissive. You’re doing okay in private, but you have yet to master how to behave when others are around. Tonight is your first real lesson.”

Without waiting for her response, he left the room. Sabrina stared at the open doorway, a million conflicting emotions slamming into her. This was the part of being a submissive she feared most. Being used as Jonas’s sex slave was her fantasy come true. The idea of losing her individuality and personal freedoms left her cold.

But she’d agreed to five days. If she could get through today and tomorrow, she would be done, and she wouldn’t let him down by reneging on their bargain.

Holding her head high, she ignored the fullness in her ass and went into the bedroom. He had the chastity belt in one hand and a towel in the other. When she entered the room, he smiled the way he usually did when she came into a room where he’d been occupied with something else.

“You’re still swollen and tender. I’m going to put this ice pack inside your belt. You need to let me know when it’s no longer doing its job. I can’t have you out of commission yet.”

She said nothing, but she did move closer so he could put the belt on her.

He regarded her warily. “When we’re alone, you can speak normally unless I say otherwise.”

But she had nothing to say. Her opinions on this entire experiment weren’t settled. “Okay.”

Grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he tilted her face upward. “Sabrina, don’t be bratty. I won’t tolerate it.”

“I wasn’t being bratty. I just don’t have anything to say. I feel so bad for Heather, and I’m afraid you’re going to be rude to her. Well, more rude than you’ve already been.”

“Ruder. Adjectives of two syllables or fewer generally form the comparative by adding -er.”

When he started correcting her grammar, she knew he was annoyed. She wrapped her hand around his wrist in warning. “Jonas, don’t start.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I promise not to be rude to Heather, but you need to call her Mistress Hera. If you meet her away from here as equals, you can use her name. Here it’s considered rude when you fail to use her title, whether or not she’s present.”

“Any other rules?” She congratulated herself on managing to make her question sound civil.

He shook his head. “Customs. I’m going to put a leash on that collar around your neck. Sometimes I’ll use it. Other times, I’ll want to hold your hand. That’s my choice, not yours.”

Her hand went to her neck, where the weight of that piece of leather increased a hundredfold. She’d completely forgotten about it. The thing had become a natural accessory, like a wedding ring, in a matter of hours.

“When we get there, you may nod a greeting, but you may not say anything. It’s unlikely I’ll give you permission to speak, so you just get to sit there and look pretty.”

Her comment about his rudeness had brought out his domineering and irritable sides. Perhaps he should have rested with her. She pressed her lips together to stem the tide of argumentative comments piling up behind them.

“When lunch is served, I will feed you. Every morsel of food you consume will come from me. If it’s not something you want to eat, tough shit. You’ll eat it anyway.”

Somewhere in the midst of her rising ire, a wave of peace washed ashore and swept the majority of it out to sea. If she couldn’t speak to Mistress Hera, then she couldn’t gush unwanted sympathy or come off as heartless and cold. She didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or giving bad advice because she wasn’t allowed to say anything. This was a blessing in disguise.

She didn’t worry about lunch. Jonas knew what she liked. She could spend an hour as a pampered pet. She preferred to be treated like a princess, but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Yes, Jonas.” The soft tone came naturally because she meant it.

The shock in his expression was quickly replaced with disbelief. “Two minutes ago, you were biting your lips to avoid telling me where to shove it. What happened?”

Sabrina shrugged. She couldn’t explain it, not really. “I got over it. Are you picking out my clothes?”

“Yeah.” He gestured to the chair next to the closet where he’d arranged a white, pleated skirt and a stretchy tangerine top. “Accessories first.”

She held the ice pack in place while he adjusted the chastity belt. The small, thin towel he’d wrapped around the ice shielded her from the shock of something too cold. Next he produced a pair of nipple clamps on a chain. He threaded them through one of the rings on her collar and attached them loosely to her nipples. They pinched, but they didn’t cut off her circulation, which meant they were more for show than enjoyment.

As she dressed in the outfit he’d chosen, she realized her shirt did nothing to hide the clamps. In fact, the scooped neckline emphasized everything, and of course Jonas didn’t permit underclothing, so she couldn’t wear a padded bra.

He clipped the leash to her collar and draped it over her shoulder. “You look incredibly sexy.”

It was a compliment he paid often, so she didn’t know why she flushed and bowed her head. He put his arm around her waist and guided her to the front door. As they left, she noted that he hadn’t bothered to dress up at all. She’d tried to unpack his worn-out jean shorts before they left Michigan, but he’d just thrown them back into his suitcase. Paired with one of those cheap mall character T-shirts, he looked like a beach bum. On the surface, she looked ready for an upscale restaurant.

Not that it mattered. No doubt everyone would be looking at her breast features anyway and fail to notice anything else.

To her surprise, very few people seemed aware of them at all. Most were involved in their own activities. Unless they stopped and fucked in the middle of the street, which she didn’t see happening with her chastity belt locked and the key tucked securely into Jonas’s pocket, they weren’t going to garner more than a passing greeting. That brought Sabrina no small measure of relief.

Mistress Hera’s private apartment was located in the back quarter of Hades’s Palace. They had to give their names to a guard and take a private elevator to get there. Once inside, Sabrina leaned close to Jonas, though they were the only people in the small car, and whispered in his ear. “It looks like she hasn’t told anyone they aren’t getting paid this week.”

He lifted one corner of his mouth and shrugged. “Or she told them if they don’t work, they don’t get food and there’s no way off the island. I’ve seen her be ruthless to get what she wants.”

The elevator dinged, announcing they’d arrived at their destination, and Sabrina lost her chance to find out whether or not Jonas approved of that trait. He sometimes called Ellen ruthless. He’d uttered it as both a compliment and a complaint, so it wasn’t a clear description.

Mistress Hera waited on the other side of the door. It slid open to reveal the tall woman clad in a flower print sundress that managed to be both stylish and modern. It dipped low, revealing lush cleavage, and it had a slit up the side to show off a generous amount of her shapely legs.

She held out her hands to Jonas, greeting him first with a kiss to the cheek. Since Jonas wasn’t the kind of man who went around kissing his friends, Sabrina had to stifle her laughter at his discomfort.

Mistress Hera either didn’t notice his standoffishness or she was used to it. “I’m so glad you could make it, even if you are two hours late.”

Jonas lifted half his mouth in a sort-of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Better late than never.”

“Lunch is waiting.” She motioned to the dining table in the open space to her left. “I had a feeling you’d be late, so I didn’t call it in until you were on your way here.”

Sabrina watched Mistress Hera closely, looking for cracks in her armor, anything to indicate that she found Jonas’s hostile nature unsettling. She also wanted to know how the woman knew when they left their suite. But she crossed the room in a series of graceful steps, her bare feet making almost no sound as she padded over and pulled out a chair.

Because she was forbidden to talk, she didn’t ask any questions. Instead she followed Jonas to the table. He had her stand a few feet behind a black, upholstered chair. The material looked like some industrial vinyl made to resist stains and tears. He snagged a large throw pillow from a pile behind Mistress Hera’s sofa and tossed it onto the floor next to where he intended to sit.

He took his seat and motioned for Sabrina to occupy her place at his feet. Really it was to his right, but it was still on the ground. At least he’d provided a pillow. She didn’t relish kneeling for an hour on the bamboo flooring. She folded her feet to one side and put her hand on his thigh, though she wasn’t sure if he would approve of the fact that she wasn’t kneeling properly. The larger plug in her ass gave her some discomfort when she sat up straight. This compromise allowed her to acclimate to the intrusion. She’d already accepted the presence of the ice pack. It soothed her hot and swollen tissues.

The answer came when he stroked a hand over her hair, which he’d let her brush before they left the suite, but he hadn’t let her put it up or pin it back. The breeze had definitely impacted her attempt at fastidiousness, and she was sure she looked like she’d just rolled from bed. Technically she had, but nobody needed to know that.

“So I’ll just dive right in and tell you that I asked you to lunch to thank you for coming over last night. Though I didn’t get anywhere with the bank, the bank manager was able to contact the lawyer for Mr. Mehlberg who said he’d talk to Mr. Mehlberg today.”

Sabrina didn’t have to be a genius to know that assurance wouldn’t get Mistress Hera or Elysium anywhere. The lawyer might know where the Mehlbergs were hiding, but he or she wasn’t going to divulge that information.

The sound of flatware and plates clinked, indicating that Jonas was preparing to eat. She was hungry, so she hoped that meant he would feed her as he ate, not afterward. Mistress Hera made small talk about the food, and Jonas responded appropriately. At least he had remembered his manners.

His hand came down again, and he pressed something warm to her lips. The movement had been too fast for her to see what he had, and the angle worked against her as well.

She parted her lips. Delicate flavors popped in her mouth with the first bite. Lemon and ginger teased her taste buds. She guessed at shrimp. Jonas knew how much she loved seafood. Other wonderful bites followed—rice balls bursting with Asian spices, calamari, steamed vegetables. Every few bites, he would give her sips of water or fruit juice. It was a fresh feast, and soon Sabrina began to feel full. She rested her head on Jonas’s leg and closed her eyes.

The whole time, Mistress Hera talked about the moral issues surrounding whether or not to tell the employees they weren’t going to be paid this week and they needed new jobs next week.

“I haven’t canceled any new arrivals for next week yet. I’m still hoping for a miracle.”

Hearing a conversation without being able to see anyone’s facial expression didn’t bother Sabrina as much as she thought it might. It wasn’t her conversation to have. She wasn’t a participant, and both Jonas and Mistress Hera accepted her as an observer.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit shortsighted and dishonest? People deserve to know news like this no matter how bad it might be.”

Mistress Hera had been talkative until this point, rambling on about costs and procedures and the hit Elysium’s reputation would take for this fiasco. Now she was silent. With the table in the way, Sabrina couldn’t tell whether Mistress Hera was thinking or if the silence was actually as heavy as it seemed.

“You know, I really didn’t think you were going to bring that up. It’s in the past. I don’t even talk to her anymore.” Mistress Hera’s voice carried normally. Like her, it had a presence that demanded attention. But she uttered that mild rebuke so softly, Sabrina had to strain to hear it.

“I was willing to live and let live. You sought me out. You asked my advice, and now you’re telling me you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still keeping harmful secrets. I don’t give a shit whether or not you talk to Helene. I don’t care if you’re sleeping with her. I’m concerned that you’re playing God with people’s dreams. Were you planning to greet them with a speech about how the resort has no employees, so they’re on their own when they thought they were buying an all-inclusive package?”