Page 95 of All The Pretty Little Lies

"You don't know what you're asking," he says, his voice low and gravelly.

Vesper steps forward, her green eyes blazing with determination. "We do," she insists. "We need to make this convincing, Zaire. You're the only one who can help us."

Zaire hesitates, his gaze flickering between Vesper and me. I can see the internal struggle playing out on his face, the desire toprotect warring with the knowledge that this might be our only chance.

"Please," Vesper adds, her voice softer now. "We have to do this."

Zaire looks to Oscar, a silent conversation passing between the twins. After what feels like an eternity, Oscar nods, his face grim.

"Fine," Zaire says, his voice thick with resignation. "I'll do it."

Relief washes over me, quickly followed by a wave of apprehension. What have we just signed up for?

Zaire takes a deep breath, running a hand through his dark hair. "But you need to understand something," he says, his silver eyes intense. "This isn't about barking orders at someone who's submissive. It's more than that. So much more."

The air in the room seems to grow heavier, charged with an electric tension that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

"The only way to truly learn," Zaire continues, his voice low and serious, "is to experience what it feels like. Both sides of it."

“Where did you learn this exactly?” I question. “I doubt there’s a book out there on how to be a dom for dummies.”

“I learned through experience. As a second son, like you very well know, we have no power. No control over my future. But in the bedroom, I found a place where I could exert control. Where I make the rules.”

“So, you just woke up one day and decided to be a dom?” I chuckle.

“No, asshole. It’s who I am.” His gaze meets mine, unflinching. “I won’t lie or sugarcoat it. It wasn’t always pretty. I made mistakes, hurt people unintentionally. But, I discovered a piece of me that I needed like a puzzle piece clicking into place. It just works for me.”

I glance at Vesper, curious how she's reacting to hearing about Zaire's sexual history. But her face remains impassive, her green eyes focused intently on Zaire as if drinking in every word.

Zaire continues, his voice taking on a reverential tone. "Through those experiences, I came to understand that true dominance isn't about subjugation or cruelty. It's about guidance, protection, and nurturing growth. It's a sacred responsibility."

I turn to Vesper, searching her face for some clue to her thoughts. "And you?" I ask softly. "Why do you...I mean, how can you..." I struggle to find the right words, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. Finally, I blurt out, "Why do you allow Zaire to dominate you?"

Vesper's emerald eyes meet mine, an array of emotions swirling in their depths. She takes a deep breath. "All my life. I've craved freedom. I was raised in a gilded cage, every decision made for me, every move scrutinized. I dreamed of the day I could spread my wings and fly."

She pauses, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “But the fear and anxiety of what happened before it started to take over. I was on the brink of shutting down again. Zaire helped me. When I submit to him, the world narrows to just us. The fear melts away, replaced by a sense of safety and certainty.” Her eyes meet mine again. “It’s paradoxical, I know. But surrendering control, even for a little while, I’ve found a freedom more profound than anything I’ve experienced. The freedom to be fully present, to feel everything without reservation, to trust completely.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

My heart skips a beat, the implications of both of their words sinking in. I glance again at Vesper, expecting to see hesitation or fear in her eyes. Instead, I find only steely resolve.

"Whatever it takes," she says firmly.

“Show me,” I demand.

Zaire nods, his face a mask of concentration. "Alright," he says, his voice taking on a new tone, deeper, more commanding. "Vesper, come here."

I watch, fascinated and terrified, as Vesper moves towards Zaire without hesitation.

"Kneel," Zaire commands, his voice soft but brooking no argument.

Vesper sinks to her knees in one smooth motion, her head bowed, hands resting palm-down on her thighs. The transformation is startling - gone is the fierce, independent woman I've come to know. In her place is the woman who came to us broken and controlled.

I watch, transfixed, as Zaire circles Vesper's kneeling form. His eyes rake over her, assessing, calculating. When he speaks, his voice is low and smooth, like velvet over steel.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and I see Vesper's shoulders relax infinitesimally at the praise. "You see, Talon? This is what submission looks like. It's not just about following orders. It's about giving away control and putting your trust in that person whole-heartedly.” He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over Vesper's hair. She doesn't move, doesn't even seem to breathe. "It's about becoming an extension of your master's will. A perfect reflection of their desires."

My throat goes dry as I watch the scene unfold. There's an intimacy to it that makes me feel like an intruder, yet I can't look away. Zaire's movements are precise, controlled. Every touch, every word seems calculated to elicit a specific response from Vesper.

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