Page 54 of The Assignment: Room 3

“What was your aftercare regime with your last Dom?”

“He would rub some aloe on me and give me ibuprofen to help with any swelling.”

He tucks a loose tendril of hair behind my ear before caressing my neck with the back of his hand. “You deserve better, pet. I’m going to raise your expectations.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because you’re a nice girl.” He presses a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called that. Whore, yes. Slut, frequently. But, nice… never.”

“I thought you liked being called those names. Don’t you have a degradation kink?” He stiffens at my back, and I’m not talking about his cock.

“I do. It just doesn’t come from the healthiest of places.”

“I want you to know,” he says as he trails his hands down my arms and into the water, “I don’t see you as either of those things. You’re not a whore or a slut, Celest. I find you to be a breath of fresh air. A rare beauty in a sea of average.”

My eyes well with tears, and I’m grateful to be facing away from Flex at this moment.

“Thank you, Master.” My voice wavers.

He reaches for the soap and starts washing every last inch of my body with such care. Is this what aftercare is supposed to be like? His hands are strong and yet somewhat soft on my skin. It’s a stark juxtaposition to his public persona. He always comes across as the bad-boy Dom. A great fuck, but that’s where it ends. When he proposed our arrangement, I didn’t expect this. To be cared for. To be liked for more than my pussy.

“Is this okay?” he asks with genuine concern. “If you’re uncomfortable, I can stop.”

“No. I like it… a lot.”

“Then get used to it. I plan to teach you how you should be cared for after a scene. It makes me angry to think that Doms we allow in this club aren’t carrying out the proper protocols.”

And there it is—the sinking feeling of obligation. This isn’t friendship. It’s protocol. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’m going to have every member take a mandatory refresher course in the new training suite. There’s no place for shoddy, sloppy shit in my club. It infuriates me. Submissives put so much faith in their Dom. The least they can do is look after their needs. How have you felt without any kind of aftercare for months?”

“I wasn’t being punished. The only hands that touched me were mine, so I took care of myself.” It sounds even more pathetic as I say it out loud. He picks up on my embarrassment. In a club full of Doms, no one wants me.

Flex gently cups my chin, turning my face just enough for him to lean in and capture my mouth in a tender kiss. My pulse quickens as his tongue dips into my mouth, stroking mine with the affection of a long-term lover. Or what I assume it would be.

Every nerve ending in my body comes to life, but he doesn’t push it further, and when he pulls back, I’m left wanting more. “I’m taking care of you for now, pet. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.” He deepens our kiss, and I sink into it, letting myself pretend for a little while that this is real. At this moment, I am wanted, cared for, and loved.

God, how I long to be loved.

Chapter 11

CELEST

The past month has been a whirlwind. I still only make it to the club on the weekend, but Flex has become part of my daily life. We text throughout the day—usually something dirty more often than not, but I enjoy every second. It makes me feel cared for in a way I never have before. That’s one of the reasons I haven’t added an extra night at the club.

My mom has noticed the difference in me and has been probing me for information on the person who ‘makes me smile’ when I look at my phone. She offered to watch Gracie on Friday nights as well as Saturdays, but I don’t want to get too attached to Flex. My daily mantra iswe’re friends who fuck.And, boy, can that man fuck. Every time I walk into the club and see him navigating the world with such grace and confidence, it makes me giddy to know I will end my night in his playroom. Speaking of the delicious devil, my phone beeps as I freshen up my makeup at my desk.

Flex: Morning, beautiful. Did you dream of me?

I’m not telling the truth on this one.

Me: Nope. I was in your playroom, but Henry Cavill was caning me.

It was absolutely one hundred percent Flex, but his ego is big enough already.

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