Page 10 of Blackwell Manor: A Lesson in Submission

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The Command

Elias didn’t speak at first.

He simply walked slowly, deliberately, his footsteps echoing against the polished wood floors as he approached the two women.

Lillian leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, her silk robe parting slightly, exposing a scandalous stretch of thigh.

She smiled. She was enjoying this.

And Isabella?

She could barely breathe.

Elias finally stopped behind her chair, his presence looming, electric.

Then, in a voice so deep it felt like a vibration beneath her skin, he spoke:

“Stand up.”

Isabella’s stomach dropped.

Her fingers dug into the arms of the chair, her pulse pounding, her body frozen in place.

But she knew.

She knew this was a moment she could not ignore.

And so, she obeyed.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, unsteady, trembling, burning.

Elias stepped closer. Close enough that she could feel the heat of his body, the sheer weight of his presence pressing into her back.

His voice was low, quiet, absolute.

“You want this, don’t you?”

The words sent a shockwave of heat through her, a pulse that settled deep, low, aching between her thighs.

She should have said no.

She should have lied.

But when Lillian reached out, fingers trailing up Isabella’s wrist, over her palm, her lips curving in victorious delight, Isabella did something far, far worse.

She whispered the truth.

“Yes.”

Elias exhaled, slow and measured.

Lillian laughed, a soft, delighted sound, her hand sliding up Isabella’s arm, over her shoulder, up to the delicate line of her throat.

And Isabella?

Isabella closed her eyes and let herself fall.

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