Conquering Jude (8 page)

“I’d like to speak to you, Jude.”

The slightly accented voice had him stiffening.
Well there’s one question answered. She left his ass behind, but for what purpose?
He curled his fingers around the window frame in front of him before taking a deep breath.

“And what if I don’t want to talk to you?”

“Give me five minutes and if I can’t convince you of a good reason to keep me around, I’ll leave. I never force myself where I’m not wanted.”

He sounded closer but the calm assuredness radiating from his voice intrigued him. Straightening, he turned to face the man. He crossed his arms over his chest.

“You have five minutes.” He gazed pointedly at the clock as the silence grew. “And you’ve already wasted thirty seconds of it,” he added when the man continued to stare at him.

“I was just wondering what it was that intrigues Mistress Olivia about you. At first glance, I would have to say you’re a good ‘ole boy that takes no shit from anyone. You’re from the South if I’m not mistaken?”

Jude nodded. Moving towards his desk, he sank down into the chair. Bracing his chin on his hands he continued to watch the man. “But somehow I don’t think that you’re here to talk about my origins.”

Cocking his head, the man studied him thoughtfully, his gaze bright and direct. “Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here.”

Lifting his hands off the desk, Jude frowned at him.
What the hell is he up to?

“Really? And what would some other slave want to know about me? Are you worried I’m going to steal your Mistress’s affections away?” He stood - unable to sit still. His footsteps were muffled by the lush carpet under his feet, but he almost wished he could hear the ratta-tat of them against the linoleum.
Anything to get my mind off this conversation.

“No, I’m not. Slaves aren’t jealous of each other, Jude. Our training forbids it.”

Jude arched an eyebrow. “Really? I was in the service for over ten years and I’m here to tell you there’s no training out there that will ever eradicate jealousy. It’s bred deep in our bones. Hell, even wars are fought over petty jealousies and greed.”

“Then perhaps the military should send its soldiers to a club to be trained by someone like Mistress Olivia.”

Laughter built in Jude’s chest at the idea as he stopped in front of the bar. “Boy, I’ll admit that Olivia is a helluva a woman but not even she would be capable of whipping a platoon full of horny soldiers into obedient submissives.” He continued his pacing.

“True. By the way, my name isn’t Boy, it’s Micah. Micah Beaumont and my Mistress sent me as a gift to you.”

Jude froze, half way between the bar and his desk. “Excuse me? There’s no way in hell I’m gay, Micah. So you can run home and tell your
Mistress
I said thanks but no thanks.”

Micah burst out in laughter. “Neither am I, Jude.”

Jude studied Micah for a moment. “You mean to tell me that if Mistress asked you to get down on your knees and suck my cock, you wouldn’t do it?”

All humor left Micah’s face. “If she asked it of me, yes. I wouldn’t enjoy it but I would do it.”

Running a hand through his hair, Jude scowled at him. “But why? If you don’t enjoy doing something like that, why would you do it? Just because Olivia said so?”

“No, not because she said so, but because
I
want to please her. She gives so much to me but rarely takes anything in return.
That’s
why I do something I wouldn’t normally consider.” His face lost the intense look as a huge grin filled his dark face. “But luckily for you, that’s not why I was sent to you.”

Micah burst out laughing. “I haven’t heard that expression in years. In fact the last time I heard that was when my pops was exasperated with the fact that I wasn’t going to outgrow my submissiveness.”

“So did you? Outgrow it?”

Micah sank down into the chair in front of Jude’s desk. “Nope. I’m submissive through and through. I love being told what to do, when to do it and how to do it. I’m what they call a slave. It’s a different type of submissive.”

Jude leaned forward, now intrigued. “Explain. What’s the difference?”

“Simply, a submissive is usually only submissive during certain aspects of their lives. Say you’re a sexual submissive. You’d want to be dominated in bed. It’d get you all hot and bothered to have your lover control how fast the sex is, when you have the sex, and how hard she wants you to fuck her.”

Jude gave a muffled groan which he tried to disguise by coughing.
God I don’t need him thinking I’m being aroused by his words.

“I can see the idea intrigues you, Jude. That’s why I am here. Mistress has told you what you have to do to gain entry into her club again?”

Jude rubbed his eyes. “Yeah. Something about embracing my submissive side. I’m not submissive. I can’t be like you.”

Micah nodded. “But how do you know? Have you ever thought about it, dreamt it in the deep of the night when no one else is around to see? Woken up hard and aching because you need that darker edge – nails digging, teeth nipping, the sting of pain and your lover commanding you to fuck her harder – just so you can find release?”

Jude looked away, terror filling him while his mind begged for him to admit just once even if it was to the man in front of him, exactly what he wanted.
Do I dare?
Finally he met Micah’s steady gaze. He dug his nails in the palms of his hands. “How did you know?”

“Because I’ve been there. I had a successful career as a video game programmer, on my way to the top of my field, but the higher I climbed the more trapped I felt. I’d go to raves and clubs looking for mindless fucks just to cope with the stress. But none of them did anything to relieve my stress for long. Once I came, it came back even stronger than before.”

“So what changed?”

“I ran into Mistress, literally, at a rave that was hosting a BDSM night. She was so strong, so forceful, so demanding. I was in a bad mood. I’d just been forced to take another promotion I hadn’t wanted. So I acted out. I snarled at her about watching where the hell she was going. I even called her a bitch.”

Jude chuckled at the idea. “Let me guess? She put you in your place?”

“Oh yes. Before I knew it, she had me bent over the bar, my hands restrained and told me she was going to show me exactly what a bitch was capable of.”

Jude swallowed and could see the image in mind. Mistress and Micah in a crowed club, techno music pounding as she laid into Micah’s ass with her whip…
naw, the whip would be too dangerous in such a setting.
“So what did you use on you?”

“You know that crop of hers, the one with the dangling silver beads on the handle?”

Jude nodded. He’d seen it many times. Even wondered if that was what she’d used on his ass during his punishment.

“She told me I was going to be getting ten strokes with it. I came on the third. And for once I didn’t feel hollow afterwards. So I immediately apologized and begged her to take me under her wing.” Micah paused and looked at Jude. “That was six years ago. She took a twenty-one year old punk and gave him a purpose. I live to serve. I still design, but my life need for submission is fulfilled, almost on a daily basis.”

“Almost?”

“Yes, I’m between Mistresses at the moment, and Mistress Olivia has been generous enough to
use
me when it gets to be too much.”

Jude looked at him thoughtfully. “As interesting as your story is, why are you here?”

Micah smiled. ‘I’m going to be your guide. Mistress gave you the price of returning to Olivia’s but she didn’t give you the tools to achieve it. So use me. Pick my brain, ask me questions, find out if Mistress is really what you want, and if you can handle the idea of being what she needs.”

This is the last fucking thing I expected
. Jude’s eyes widened and it was all he could to keep his jaw from dropping open.

Chapter Five

Pushing open the door to her condo, Olivia tossed the mail on the small stand next to the door. It was followed quickly by the clank of her keys hitting the polished wood. It’d been a long night at the club, and now more than ever she was vastly aware of how alone she was. Forgoing the lights, she wandered down the hallway, the weak light coming from the kitchenette guiding her. Pausing at the alarm panel, she deactivated the alarm before resetting the security system. In the two weeks since she and Micah had shown up at Jude’s office, she found herself missing Micah. It was hard to believe but while he didn’t stroke her inner fire like Jude could, he’d been a soothing presence in her life for many years. She knew eventually he’d find another Mistress and she’d let him go.
But not yet, Lord, please not yet.

Although he’d been busy
guiding
Jude, he’d still made time to come into the club for his normal appointment.
That’s good. Even doing me this favor, he shouldn’t neglect his own needs.
She was torn between relief and something else. Something she couldn’t identify. All she knew was that Jude hadn’t rejected Micah outright, which pleased her.

Surprisingly, when Micah had shown up earlier today at the club, she hadn’t had the nerve to ask him about Jude’s progress though. Instead she’d focused on him, trying to give him a bit of reward for doing this task for her. His reward - every bit of pleasure-pain he deserved. While she reddened his muscled back, she took pleasure in his writhing, knowing she was giving him what he needed. She’d even managed to keep her mind firmly on the task in front of her. If Micah was willing to give his all for her, she could do no less for him.

He’d probably tell her in a heartbeat how his journey to enlightenment with Jude was going
if
she asked, but she hadn’t been able to swallow her pride enough to find out. Once she’d agreed to Jackson and Micah’s pleas to allow Jude to try to find his way back, she’d distanced herself from the plan. Just in case he didn’t succeed. Even though she found herself hoping he would.
Maybe there’s still a chance. Maybe he’s ready to accept the truth.
She didn’t want her illusion of eventually claiming him to end yet. Maybe she was acting like an ostrich but she wanted the dream for a little longer.
I can only hope he’s just waiting for me to claim him, to show him, to guide him towards the submission he needs as much as his next breath.

A bitter laugh escaped her.
Who the hell are you fooling, Olivia? You already know he’s nowhere near accepting his submissive side. You’re only setting yourself up for heartache.
The familiar mocking tone of Addie’s voice in her head had her cringing.
Leave it to that woman to play the devil’s advocate.

Entering her kitchen, she yanked open the fridge. It’d been several hours since she’d last eaten. She was just reaching for the one of the familiar white cardboard boxes holding her favorite sesame seed chicken when a rough hand wrapped around her upper arm. A startled grunt escaped her as she found herself slammed up against the half open door of the fridge. A cry left her as her weight slammed the door of the appliance shut on her wrist. Hot searing pain traveled from it, up and into her shoulder.

“Son of a bitch!”

“You’ve been warned, bitch.” The dark undertones of a slightly accented voice were barely audible. She looked over her shoulder towards the voice but the sheen of unshed tears made the man’s image blurry and obscured what little she might have been able to see in the dim light. The man pressed harder on both her and the door. The pain that had been searing before now had dark spots dancing before her eyes. Her knees trembled as she swayed. If she could have thought about it, the only thing keeping her upright was the pressure on her wrist.

“Do you understand?” The release of the pressure on her wrist was god sent, but was quickly gone as he slammed it closed even harder on her wrist.

“Warned about what?” Her voice came out in a cross between a croak and scream. With her mind firmly centered on the pain in her wrist, she was blind to the fact her ever-present crop was still attached to its thong on her hip. Even if she hadn’t been in such severe pain, she wouldn’t have been able to reach where it rested on her right hip. With her hand trapped she’d have to reach across her body with her left and there wasn’t even room to wiggle. The hard body keeping pressure on her back assured her of that.

“You will sign.” A paper was shoved in front of her.

Fighting the pain, she tried to focus on the paper. “What is this?”

The click of penlight had a small but bright light shining on the sharply creased documents. Despite everything, she recognized legal documents when she saw them. The small type wavered in front of her eyes before she could determine what they were.

“Ownership papers. You
will
sign these.”

Her immediate reaction was a stiffening of her back. “No. It’ll be a cold day in hell before a man owns me or takes anything that’s mine! Never again!”

“Sign!” The voice was a bit less certain.

A vague though crossed Olivia’s pain dazed mind. “No. Go back and tell whoever sent you that I’ll never sign any papers.” A hand delved into her braid, yanking her head back. The dark eyes peering out from behind a black mask were furious.

“You
will
sign or you
will
die!” The flash of silver as he drew a knife out had her throat drying out and her pulse banging wildly. Fury fought with the pain.
Who the hell did he think he was?

“Go ahead cut me. I’m still not gonna sign your fucking papers. And if I’m dead, whoever sent you still won’t get what they want. Everything I have goes into a trust run by Amery Alastar upon my death.”

A low curse erupted from the man’s throat as the name of one of the most powerful and influential Doms in Ireland passed her lips. The fact the man recognized the name gave her sense of satisfaction.
It’s something I can tell Pet. Only someone from Ireland would recognize Amery’s name.
A pained smile crossed her face. Only a fool would willingly tangle with Amery. His reach was long, far and wide. What he couldn’t reach with his vast fortune, he could with his wealth of connections within the community – both politically and in the BDSM world. Everything faded into darkness as her frustrated attacker hauled her head back and slammed it into the cold hard metal of the fridge.