Page 24 of A Secret and a Lie
A martini, darkish and cloudy with four olives, resides in her hand like she’s been here waiting for me for a while, but I know for afact that I’m on time. When she twists her neck in my direction, her glossy red lips spread into an inviting yet seductive smile.
It’s not until I step fully into the room that I notice the other woman sipping a martini of her own, this one crystal clear with one olive.
“Good evening, Superman,” Genevieve purrs. “Why don’t you grab yourself a drink and join us.”
Making my way to the bar, I pour myself a scotch. Leaning against the counter, I cross my ankles and face the two beautiful women in the room, though Genevieve is the one I can’t peel my eyes from.
She smiles at me and chimes, “Clark, this is Sloane. She’s graciously agreed to attend this lesson, and if things go well, she’ll become your submissive.”
Become your submissive.No, thanks.
It’s not as if Sloane isn’t attractive; she is, with her long honey-colored hair cascading down her back in loose waves and soft, feminine features. She’s just not the one I want.
“It’s nice to meet you, Sir,” Sloane states, her voice silky and smooth.
My jaw flexes as I grind my molars and nod. Without thinking, I order, “Don’t call me that.” I can’t bear to hear that word from Sloane when the only person Idowant to hear it from sits a few feet away.
“Oh, my apologies.” She smiles politely, meekly, before asking, “What would you prefer to be called?”
Shifting my attention back to the blonde on the couch, I meet Genevieve’s gaze. For a split second, something unreadable consumes her features, but it disappears before I can make sense of it. A congenial smile touches the madam’s lips as she explains, “Honorifics seem like a good place to start. Clark, how would you like to be addressed?”
“Do I have options?” I ask, taking a sip of Genevieve’s top-shelf scotch.
“You are free to choose whatever you like. Some common options are Master, Owner, Mister, Daddy. Though, I’ve met some Domswho prefer their own name or even things like King, Commander, or Your Highness. It’s entirely up to you.”
Rubbing a hand across my jaw, I think through those options.NotDaddy, and definitely not Owner. I’m not interested in feeling like Iownanyone, even here. I can also eliminate King and Your fucking Highness. Finally, I announce, “Clark, just call me Clark.”
I’d prefer to use my real name, but I’ve already done enough damage to this op. The more I can distance myself from Ford Crawford, the better.
Both women nod, and Sloane murmurs demurely, “Yes, Clark.”
“Now that we have that out of the way,” Genevieve remarks, dragging the cocktail pick speared into the four green olives through her opaque cocktail. “I think we should go over the importance of safe words. Did you research the color system?”
“Yes. Red for stop immediately, yellow means she’s uncomfortable and I should back off or ease up, green indicates that she’s comfortable continuing.”
The smile Genevieve flashes me tells me she’s pleased, and satisfaction rolls through me. I wonder if this is how Henry feels when she looks at him that way.
“Perfect. The wordliaris also used interchangeably with red in this establishment.” I read that safe word in the original paperwork, and when I nod in understanding, she goes on. “Since BDSM is a power-exchange, requiring trust, it’s important that you understand that when you engage with a sub, you’re assuming responsibility for that submissive’s body, mind, and spirit. She’s placing her wellbeing, which includes both her mental and physical health, in your hands, trusting you entirely not to abuse the power she’s giving you. She’s relying on you to treat her with respect and care for her both during and after a scene.”
Perhaps I grasp what Genevieve is saying so completely because it’s exactly what I want from her. I crave her trust, desperate for her to give me her mind and body. I’m dying for her to want to placeherself in my custody, giving me the ultimate authority over her—if only for a few moments.
I nod. “I accept that responsibility.”
The apples of Genevieve’s cheeks round as a smile pulls at her luscious lips. Her focus leaves me as she addresses the other woman in the room. “Sloane, would you be amenable to a demonstration?”
Sloane moves to the bar, setting her half-consumed martini on the counter and stepping out of her sundress, leaving her in nothing but a lacy bra and panties. Her toned, attractive body moves to the center of the room as she falls to her knees.
“We won’t be engaging in anything that will have you needing your safe word now,” Genevieve declares, morphing into Madam Allison before my very eyes as she approaches the sub on the floor. “Nonetheless, I’d like you to tell Clark what your safe word is.”
Sloane’s eyes are on the floor; her head bowed, with the backs of her hands resting atop her bare thighs as she assumes the very pose Genevieve’s brunette assistant instructed me to be in.
“Liar or red, Clark,” Sloane states, her voice taking on a new layer of reverence that wasn’t present earlier.
Genevieve looks at me then, fire in her eyes as she orders, “Come here.”
Genevieve
Ford stalks toward me like I’m his prey caught in his snare, and he’s about to devour me. My brain screams to chastise him, to tell him that his submissive is on the floor for him. That he shouldn’t be prowling to me like I’m his destination, but I simply can’t bring myself to correct the man.
