Queen (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (31 page)

While at Restraint I drew a few eyes, but not because it was lust or appreciation of my body, it was lust for my control and domination. Or it was a look of
look at that freak
!

I’m getting closer to thirty every day. My body isn’t as it was after sitting on my ass for the past decade in front of countless computers. My breasts are now a DD cup size thanks to breastfeeding. And I don’t even want to think of all the ways childbirth changed my body- twice. I am a six-foot-tall, one-hundred-eighty-five pound scary bitch with wild hair. I’ve never worried over my appearance until I saw how everyone coveted the angel.

As soon as we got home from Restraint, Ade was waiting for us. She was surprised by our progress, but equally shocked at Fate’s revelation of her cheating with her sister’s boyfriend, who just so happens to be Ade’s fiancé’s partner. It’s been a tense few days. Fate really is submissive and she grovels better than anyone I’ve ever seen.

Night number three of my new exercise regimen, I walk around the neighborhoods. I’m working up to jogging. Night number three without a call from the
Master.
He, too, found me lacking as did Dexter and Cortez. I have no worries on Ezra; I lack what he finds attractive.

I don’t really want them, but it’s painful that out of four men, none of them are interested. I should have tried dating before I thrust myself into the BDSM culture. I would have more information and skills to draw from. Life just got in the way and now it is too late. I doubt I could get a date unless I told them who I really was.

My identity is another issue. I’ve ghosted for over seven years and while I was at Whittenhower Estates, I didn’t exist.

One more thing I found out about exercise, there is no escaping your thoughts. While I work, I am my work- while I read, I live the story. While I walk, my thoughts spin like a tilt-a-
whirl and it’s nauseating.

My path takes me to an older section of the city. Row after row of Brownstones
line the street. When I was a kid I wanted to live in this neighborhood. I wasn’t irrational enough to pick one of the more affluent neighborhoods. I chose the one bordering the one I grew up in. Little did I know at the time, I’d downgrade several steps to the worst in the city before I was ten and then later move to the most expensive neighborhood. It’s amazing the journey my life has taken me on.

I should be proudly striding down the street, not scuffing my shoes worrying about men. I don’t need
no stinking men.

The irritating buzz in my ass-pocket signals someone is pulling my invisible, digital leash. If I wasn’t a technology junkie, I’d smash the bitch. I smile that my newest program worked. I was sick of “blocked” callers. I formatted a program to “unblock” them and installed it on our phones. I don’t re
cognize the number calling me.

“Who is this?” I bark into the phone. I hate it when people that I don’t know
call me. The snap of the call disconnecting pisses me off. I used to be so calm and patient. Lately I want to flail people alive for even the smallest grievance.

Another vibration buzzes my palm while I’m glowering daggers at my cell. Same blocked number, this time in text form.
½ block North on the right- 163- Red door. –M.

I look over my shoulder like a crack-head, trying to spot who’s watching me. Who’s M.? Is this the elusive Master or some serial killer who managed to figure out my personal cell number when I was outside of their home? Gut instinct says it’s the Master.

I’ve graduated from stupid-girl moments to detrimental-woman idiocies. I can see the red door blazing three houses up. How did that asshole know I was out here? I know people are creatures of habit, but is three days really a routine? I’m never leaving the house again. I should just go home.

I didn’t plan on meeting the Master while wearing exercise clothing. I had a new outfit picked out that emphasized my attributes without making me look desperate. I don’t want him to see me wearing ratty jeans, a t-shirt, and dirty sneakers. My hair’s pulled into a ponytail and I haven’t brushed it since yesterday. What a great first impression I’ll make.

I pace back and forth on the same ten-feet of sidewalk. I feel watching eyes now. I just hope it’s the Master and not a resident ready to call WinterCrest.

After several false-starts I find myself on the sidewalk beneath the red door. I quickly run up the three steps before I can change my mind. I clack the cheerfully evil gargoyle knocker on the red, ornate, wooden
door. The sound reverberates to my soul. This moment is life changing. I’ll do anything for Ade, but this is more for me than her. I need this- I think.
The pop of the lock startles me and I back down a step.

The door slowly creaks open revealing an imposing man.
I back up three steps until I’m on the sidewalk. I can’t peel my eyes from the cement to look at him. I don’t know what he looks like except for his brown eyes. They are warm; why do they scare me so? The daunting Dexter from Restraint didn’t have this effect on me, but he isn’t the Master.

“Shh... it’s alright,” a silky smooth voice coos. “I won’t hurt you. You’ve found the right place.”

I keep my head down, but my eyes flick up to see him. Shadowed in the doorway is a lean man who’s taller than me. His black hair is cropped short, barely showing that it holds a curl. His eyes are warm, a soft shade of brown the color of whiskey. Only half of his face is visible because of the lighting. I draw two steps closer to see him better. I know him instantly. I’ve seen countless picture of this man. His anonymity is as important as mine. The man before me- the Master- is none other than Marcus Zeitler; Ezra Zeitler’s adoptive father. Holy Shit!

He’s the man who stared at me through the secret panel to the passageways at Whittenhower estates. My breath catches in my throat.

He stands patiently in the doorway as if he could stand there for hours as I inspect him. He’s around my age, maybe a little older, but the age of knowledge that screams from his eyes is ancient. He knows things that will take me a lifetime to learn.

He isn’t looking back at me, but through me. I’m transparent before him. My breath hitches. He’s looking through to my soul. I drop my eyes again. I try to speak, but it doesn’t feel right. I wait.

“This will be a pleasure, Regina.” My name rolls off his tongue like a caress. I flinch and retreat back to the sidewalk.

“How do you know my name?” I accuse. “I told the guy- Dexter,” I stutter. “I told him my name is Queen.”

His eyes tighten, creating fine lines at the corners. I flinch again. I instinctually know that I somehow broke a rule I haven’t learned yet. I apologize underneath my breath. He must have sonic hearing because he acknowledges my apology.

“
It’s fine, Regina,” he stresses my name again. “We haven’t discussed anything yet. Please come in. It’s too cold on the street for this kind of talk. I’ll explain. Follow me,” he says as he opens the door to the Brownstone farther. It casts a pale-yellow light onto the street. It gives me a better view of Marcus. He’s beautiful with the pleasant expression on his face. My stomach knots. I’ve never been so afraid, not even when I started my life over alone with a child growing inside me. I’m not afraid of him. Something is innately familiar about him, his demeanor perhaps? He reminds me of Grant and tears fill my eyes and my throat constricts. Years later and one thought derails me- almost brings me to my knees.

Fingers stroke my c
hin. My eyes connect with his.

“You are so young to have such a tragic, tortured soul- beautiful,” he marvels. “I can almost hold it in my palm.” His hand slides
to settle between my breasts.

“Your heart beats so strong, Regina. It will be my greatest pleasure to break you,” he hypnotically purrs.
As his eerie words register in my mind, I’m pushed into the Brownstone. The lock deafeningly clicks into place.

My heart flutters the speed of hummingbird wings. I could feel his hand on my heart. His soothing threat sped my blood. It didn’t frighten me- it excited me. Years without a real challenge have left me numb. I want to see Marcus try to break me.

His smile spreads across his face showcasing perfect, sharp, white teeth. It’s a challenge and I smile in answer.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he snickers.

My shoulders relax. He’s just a man, who is similar in personality to me. He won’t harm me unless I want him to. The devious glint in his eye says he’ll make me beg him to hurt me and, dammit, I’ll like it.

“Before we begin,” he gestures to a room off the entryway. I slowly walk down the narrow hall that borders the staircase and turn into the room where he pointed. I don’t know what to expect, something like Restraint. Even Restraint was a surprise; it wasn’t as brutal as I thought it would be. Marcus’ lair, however, isn’t what I expected. It’s what Restraint should be. From the outside you wouldn’t know what lurks beneath the stone exterio
r of this building- a dungeon.

“Yes, every room is similar to this one. Each one is for a different type of instruction.” H
is voice is soft yet piercing.

There’s nowhere to sit. I stand and look at the floor. I’m not ready to see what surrounds me.
“Regina, you may look me in the eyes as we speak. Since you’re training to be a Mistress I want us to be on equal footing, unless and until I tell you otherwise. Do you understand?”

I
suck in a breath sharply when I hear that word from his lips. Tears stream unbidden from my eyes.

“Please, Sir. Yes, I understand. Please do not call me Mistress. I can’t bear to hear that word. I prefer to be called Queen and nothing else. My personal life has nothing to do with this. I know you
understand privacy.” I plead.

“My apologies,” he whispers. He looks torn and upset. I reach for his hand to comfort him, but let it fall to my side. It’s been so long since I’ve touched anyone that wasn’t in my household and even longer for a male. I feel unsur
e if my touch would be wanted.

“You may casually touch me as long as we aren’t doing instruction. I said we’re equals- I mean it, Regina. I will not call you that word. I, however, will not call you Queen until you earn it. When your training is complete I will call you Queen. I do understand the need to keep our private lives separate from this,” he gestures around the room. “We will conduct everything here. I do not go to Restraint for obvious reasons.”

He strides over to a large object draped in purple fabric and flings off the covering. He reveals a rich-brown leather sofa. He pats a cushion in invitation and sits next to it.

I settle next to him- confident but not relaxed. He leans back, angling himself so we’re facing one another. He rests his arm along the back of the sofa. His long, tapered fingers play with the ends of my hair.

“This is about trust- me trusting you and you trusting me. This is a lifetime commitment. You’re here for training, but ultimately it is to bind us together with me as your Master. We will be equals until I tell you to do something. Never question me. If I say it, it is law. If you cannot abide by this, then leave. Do you understand?” He patiently waits for me to respond. I instinctually know that saying I understand is the same as signing a contract with blood. It’s my spoken word.

“Yes, Sir, I understand and agree.” And I do. I need guidance. I need someone to hold me up when I can’t shoulder the weight. I understand this because I was this for Grant. I hadn’t realized at the time, I had been Grant’s Master. “Master,” I try the sound.

He doesn’t say anything. He simply looks at me for a few suspended moments in time with a very serious expression on his face. He nods his head and smiles.

“Stop,” he calls abruptly in a furious voice. I freeze in terror. What did I do?
His hand lashes out and latches onto my face so I can’t turn it.

“You made this agreement- get out,” he says calmly and coldly. I shift to follow his instruction, but his fingers strengthen on my jaw- bruising. Tears spill from the corners of my eyes from the painful strain.

“I’m sorry, Regina. Had I realized the time I wouldn’t have invited you this evening.” His expression is friendly, but I can see the worry etched across his face. His mercurial moods are confusing and scary.

“I have a visitor here right now as well as one on his way. It’s for the best that you vacate. Please rejoin me tomorrow evening at eight. I’ll make sure we aren’t interrupted.” He pointedly looks over my shoulder and glares at someone.

I can feel them staring at my back. My body blazes to life under their gaze. My eyes dilate and my body flushes with sweat. I start to pant in puffs of air. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? I close my eyes and inhale through the potent cocktail that travels through my veins. I have no name for what’s happening, but I’m finally wide awake. My body loses its ability to hold me upright. Marcus’ fingers are all that keeps me from sprawling on the sofa. The gaze intoxicates me- drugs me.

Marcus smiles down at me in awe. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and
chuckles under his breath.

“Well, I’d have never thought that possible. Are you still with me, Regina? Are you doing alright?” His voice flows over my skin and I shiver. The combination of the gaze and his voice has me quivering.