With This Collar (14 page)

She continued to concentrate on her task then called him back after her twenty minutes were over. “I apologise for not answering. I had just started kneeling when you called, so I decided to finish my assigned task first.”

“You made the right decision.”

Her heart skipped a beat from pleasure. She glowed when she received his approval.

“Are you naked as you’re supposed to be?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I’d like you to shave your pussy for me.”

She knew that wasn’t an uncommon request, and it shouldn’t have surprised her as much as it did.

“I want you completely bare, hiding nothing. Will you do that for me, Julia?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Though she wasn’t a sub and performing an act such as that should have probably made her feel like one, strangely it didn’t. Rather, his request liberated her. There was a lot about this relationship that perplexed her with its complexities.

He wished her a good night and ended the call.

It took her forever to fall asleep, and she was convinced Lana was wrong about it not being possible to die from sexual frustration.

She had difficulty concentrating at work the next day. She was thinking about the lingerie she needed to buy, and the fact that she’d need to change her razor blade before shaving her pubic hair.

On most Friday nights, Julia went out with the girls from the office. They drove to the same place and ordered the same drinks and appetisers. They’d done it for so long that the waitress just came by the table, plonked down coasters and asked, “The usual?”

But tonight she was on edge and didn’t feel like socialising. She wanted to be alone. She’d sent an email to the group, excusing herself from the outing. The Friday After-Work Gang had given her a fair amount of hassle, teasing her about a man being more important than friendship. They all knew that wasn’t true, but she’d put up a protest anyway, reassuring everyone she’d be at the next outing.

Rather than going home, she drove to the mall and walked straight into a lingerie store for the first time in her life. Typically she just picked up a bra or two every year at the department store. And she replaced her underpants—cotton briefs—a six-pack at a time. She owned a couple of cute negligees, but those were old, and they’d been bought on sale and on impulse when she’d picked up a new pair of pyjamas.

The lingerie store, with its endless displays of naughty and nice outfits overwhelmed her. Before tonight, she’d never been fitted for a bra, but the determined saleswoman wouldn’t accept no for an answer. She whipped out a tape measure, looked at Julia, then opened several drawers and filled Julia’s arms with a dozen different types of bra, from demi-cups to ones that added two full cup sizes. There were lace ones and sheer ones. There were several in black, a couple in white, taupe, purple, red, and one that was the colour of sherbet.

By the time she was done, she’d spent almost half a pay cheque on garter belts, stockings, shoes, bras, panties, even a couple of thongs that the very helpful—probably on commission—cashier had suggested.

Julia had even caved in and selected a bustier. When she was carrying the bags out to her car, she realised just how plain and boring her life had become. Meeting Marcus had shaken things up. Without realising it, sometime over the past year, she’d become locked in a routine, getting up to her alarm at six, having cereal and juice, showering, dressing in plain undergarments, black slacks, one of five blouses or sweaters, depending on the weather, and sensible, arch-supporting clogs.

It wasn’t just the Friday After-Work Gang that defined her routineness, it was everything.

Twice a week she went to the gym. On Tuesdays, she watched her favourite television show. She’d accrued two weeks of vacation time, and she hadn’t scheduled any time off from work. How funny that she’d thought of Harvey as boring. She was just as bad, if not worse.

Her cellphone signalled an incoming text message. It was from Master Marcus. It contained his address and a reminder that he expected her at six. But he said nothing else.

It was as if he knew that leaving her alone would make her longing more intense.

She drove home, navigating treacherous roads. This winter felt endless, and she was ready for spring.

Nervous energy churned in her.

She baked some chicken and asparagus for dinner, but she spent more time moving the food around her plate than actually eating.

Finally, she scraped the leftovers into the garbage disposal and poured a glass of red wine.

She loaded the dishwasher then drew a warm bath. Soaking for half an hour, even while flipping through a magazine, didn’t relieve the inner turmoil.

After drying off and finishing the wine, she wrapped up in a terry-cloth robe and went into the living room. She turned on the fireplace to take the chill out of the room.

She wasn’t dreading her kneeling assignment as she had the last couple of days. All along, she’d known she really didn’t have to do what he’d said. He’d never have known the difference. But even if he didn’t ask about it, she’d carry around a guilty feeling.

More than that, though, the experience had taught her something important. Following his orders, especially when he wasn’t around to enforce them, had changed something inside her.

That was the main reason she hadn’t masturbated to completion, even though she’d been tempted. Coming even once would have taken the edge off, something she desperately needed. Again, he’d never have been wiser. She could have kept it secret if she’d wanted. But the discussion with Lana had convinced Julia to at least try to follow his orders. It was only for less than a week. It wasn’t like she had to do it for the rest of her life.

A secret part of her enjoyed her new evening ritual.

It broke the tedium that had become her life.

She set the timer on her phone, then dropped the robe and lowered herself to her knees.

After drawing a deep breath and putting her hands behind her neck, she focused her gaze on an odd-shaped knot in the wood.

For the first time all day, she didn’t spend time fighting the inevitable thoughts about Master Marcus. It was as if, by allowing herself the freedom to think about them, they didn’t have as much power to cause her angst.

She replayed the evening at Master Damien’s—the Devil’s Den—and anticipated what may happen tomorrow night. By doing that, she was able to shove away her discomfort. Focusing her gaze on the floor made it easier to block out distractions. And because she was now spending so much time in the nude, it didn’t feel quite as uncomfortable as it had even a week ago.

She finally understood what he meant about it being meditative.

The alarm rang on her phone.

The noise jarred her. She’d been surprisingly at peace. She turned off the alarm then stood. That, too, was easier than it had been. This time, her muscles weren’t quite as cramped.

Feeling somewhat proud of her new-found knowledge, she wrapped herself in the robe again, turned off the fireplace, checked the locks then turned off the lights. All in all, a thrilling Friday night.

She climbed into bed with her e-reader. The half of her pay cheque that she hadn’t spent on underwear had gone on books. She hadn’t been choosy. She’d downloaded spanking fiction, a domestic discipline anthology, a couple of BDSM novels, how-to guides for subs, and even one for Doms. She’d read bits and pieces of all of them, and was really fascinated by the guides for subs.

As Master Marcus had told her, there were as many different types of relationship as there were couples. There were many terms of respect, expectations, punishments, even various types of servitude. She didn’t fancy having her back used as a coffee table for Master’s drink, but she had softened on some of her earlier, uneducated judgements. Wearing a collar might not be right for her, but she understood Lana better.

After scrolling through all her book choices, Julia selected one of her BDSM novels and began to read. Before long, she was turned on. Absently she reached between her legs and stroked her clit. When she realised how close she was to an orgasm, she immediately moved her hand and closed her legs. Damn it, that made it worse.

In frustration she parted her legs, hoping that would relieve the pressure.

She wondered if she would survive the night.

Even her dreams were erotic, and the next morning she woke up feeling as if she might snap.

She headed for the gym then ruined the positive effects with an extra-large latte and a cranberry orange scone. She pampered herself with a manicure and a haircut, anything to make the time go faster.

When she made it back home there was a text message waiting from Marcus. ‘
Yes. You have to kneel today.’

She checked the clock.
Crap. Crap, crap, crap.
It was stupid not to have planned on kneeling, and now, if she did it, she might be running late. She drummed her fingers on her thigh, trying to decide what to do.

That she even had to think about it probably meant she really wasn’t a true sub.

She agonised over the decision. He’d never know whether she’d followed his orders or not. But she was a terrible liar. Since he’d sent the text, it meant it was on his mind, and that it wasn’t just an order he’d issued earlier in the week and had forgotten. In all probability, he would ask. And there was a hundred per cent certainty she’d tell the truth. He’d likely punish her transgression. That idea bothered her a little, but not as much as the knowledge that he might be disappointed in her.

Hurriedly she stripped and dropped to her knees. Because she had so much to do, it took her much longer than normal to relax and harness her irritation. This felt more burdensome than it ever had.

She gritted her teeth and drew in a few shallow breaths.

Realising she was feeling angry rather than compliant, she readjusted, exhaled through pursed lips, then gazed at the floor. She thought about Master Marcus’ instructions, and she wondered if he was looking forward to seeing her, too. Clearly she’d been on his mind or he wouldn’t have texted. That knowledge calmed her and made it possible to endure the last fifteen minutes.

When the alarm signalled that twenty minutes had passed, she all but leapt up.

In the books about BDSM, there was a lot written about moving gracefully. She still had a lot to learn.

She hurried through a shower, and it took her considerably longer to shave her pussy than she had imagined it would. Time was ticking away dangerously when she began the ponderous process of selecting lingerie. The pile of discards grew in the middle of her bed before she settled on a black demi-cup bra, a silky, skimpy, black thong, stockings and garter belt.

The garter belt was one of the most frustrating things she’d ever dealt with. Trying to slide the plastic piece through the metal clasp was annoying enough, but having to reach behind her to fasten them, all but sight unseen, was next to impossible.

The clock continued its relentless assault on the minutes.

Finally she slipped into the pumps she’d just purchased. They were ridiculously high, and the slant pitched her forward. The heels were pencil slim, the arch support non-existent. They were unlike anything she’d ever owned.

She looked in the mirror and was stunned by the reflection. It was as if she’d been transformed. The trim at the salon had revitalised her hair, and it fell in soft curls around her shoulders. Wearing such luxurious lingerie made her feel sexy, and that helped her look sexy. She really didn’t notice the few extra pounds. The shoes made her legs look impossibly long, and, for the first time in her life, she noticed a little definition in her calf muscles. She felt different than she ever had. A wildly wicked part of her wondered what else was possible.

Going out with only a coat covering her underwear felt scandalous. She buttoned it completely and cinched the belt in a double knot so it couldn’t possibly come undone.

Julia had spent her entire work career in a conservative office. Even in college, she’d been one of the good girls. She’d never rebelled, and so what he was asking her to do was so far out of her comfort zone it was shocking. There was no doubt, though, that she was ultra-aware of her femininity.

And she liked it.

Five minutes later, she was driving towards his place. She’d been to that area of town a few times for dinner, and she loved the energy. Fortunately it wasn’t far from her apartment.

She followed his meticulous instructions and didn’t make a single wrong turn. It was four minutes after the hour when she punched in the code for the underground parking garage. The red and white arm opened and she drove in. She turned down the radio. Even the light classical music was making it impossible to think. Actually, she knew, it was anticipation that was making it difficult to concentrate.

When she reached the guest parking area, she saw him standing there, in the middle of a spot, his arms folded across his chest.

Her heart missed a beat.

Over the past month, she’d managed to convince herself that, when it came to Master Marcus, her imagination had been working overtime. There was no way he was as tall, as broad, as ruggedly handsome as she remembered.

But he was. All that and more.

Tonight he was all in black. Boots, jeans, belt, short-sleeved T-shirt. His short hair emphasised the angular planes of his face and the firm set of his mouth.

He pointed to an empty slot next to where he stood. She manoeuvred the sports utility vehicle into place and gripped the steering wheel tightly for a few moments to regain her equilibrium. At home, in the comfort of her imagination, the idea of playing with him had tantalised her. But the reality of having him standing there, waiting, sucked the courage from her limbs.

She turned the key to shut off the engine. Then, with false bravado, she stiffened her shoulders. She gathered her small purse and reached for the door handle.

“Good evening,” he said, offering his hand. “I’m delighted you’re here.”

She slid her palm against his, grateful for the assistance. His touch lit a flare inside her. Everything that had been dormant fired brightly. Nerve endings sizzled. No man had ever affected her like this, filling her with desire.