SecretDom (3 page)

Chapter Four

Rissa sat in her office doodling through an incredibly boring conference call
over the last quarter’s numbers, interjecting her own opinions for why the
re was a sudden decline in profits from her own division, and nibbling on a stale bagel. When she hung up the phone, she looked down at her notes to gather them up for her assistant to transcribe into the appropriate Excel spreadsheets and memos to the rest of the accounting department, but the randomly scribbled
‘
E’s’ that mimicked the
signature on the notes
she’d received the two days before made her decide to just do
it herself.

How would she explain that
‘E’
wasn’t just a fancy sum symbol, but instead
was the only moniker she had for the mystery Dom who sent her notes that by all rights could only be described as creepy-stalker evidence that she should have forwarded to the police on her way to stock up on door locks and assorted ammo. That instead of doing the logical and responsible thing, she drank more wine and pleasured herself two nights in a row to the fantasy stalker because
—
hell
—
any attention after eight and a half months of celibacy was good attention. Sure. Good luck explaining that one and NOT have them immediately attempt to force her into a nice self-loving jacket to be tended to by the nerdy men in white coats. She shook her head to rid herself of this barrage of self-berating thoughts and smiled at the
receptionist as she brought in the day’s lunch orders.

“Turkey and cheddar on wheat, hold the mustard, light mayo and extra
alfalfa, right Ms. Trent
?” The waifish young woman couldn’t possibly be mo
re than twenty years old, but she dressed and carried herself like a seventy-year-old grandmother. She was sweet to the clients though and always managed to get
Rissa’s lunch order and coffee right, so she tried not to take out her own twisted
mood on the young woman.

“That’s right, Melanie. Thanks. You wouldn’t happen to have one of the cream cheese brownies in the order today, would you?” Rissa nearly squealed with
delight when Melanie rummaged around a bit and came up with exactly that. Not that she
needed the extra calories, but damn it, she’d been
deprived of the warmth of a man, sex, and for a brief period of time that ended this morning, caffeine. No way in hell was she going to miss the opportunity to indulge in chocolate. She took the lunch, coveted brownie, and the stack of mail from Melanie and sat back down at her desk after closing the door. If she happened to make sex faces as she enjoyed her brownie, by God, nobody else in the office needed to see it.

Forcing herself to abstain from th
e decadence of the small 3x3 square’s
worth of a tastegasm, she started in on her sandwich as she thumbed through the mail. Her heart jumped and her sandwich suddenly became meaningless and rather difficult to swallow as she fingered the embossed edges of an envelope exactly like the ones s
he’d received the previous day and night before
.
‘
Ms. Rissa Trent
’
was stenciled on the front in black ink against the ecru envelope and the same black ribbon sealed the missive from her secret Dom. Immediately, the subtle scent of his cologne greeted her like an old friend and warmed her from the inside out better than any cup of coffee ever could. Her head screamed that she should put the letter down and dial 911 on her phone to report a stalker, but before she could obey her brain, her fingers were tugging on the end of the ribbon, revealing the new card inside.

I hope you enjoyed yourself the last couple of nights. I desire nothing more than to be the one whom gives you pleasure, who makes you happy. You deserve more than a fantasy
—
fantasy can be reality.
You’ll know when it is time to make
your choice, for it is yours to make. -E

Her face flushed, and she suddenly felt more than a little embarrassed. Could he have known what she did last night?
How she’d fant
asized about this secret admirer and come more powerfully than she had in years? Surely not. Then again, how had he known her name, her address, where she worked, where she stopped for coffee, or that deep inside she kept a hidden desire to submit to a Dom? Fuck, that trip to the police station was looking better and better. She tucked the note into her purse, grabbed her keys, purse, and her precious brownie then hastened out the door to her car. Her pulse raced, her breath became harder to catch, and her skin slicked with a cool sweat at the thought that someone was watching, stalking her. The paranoid part of her kept looking around to see if anyone was watching, but the curious part of her in coalition with her desperately needy girly parts, staged a coup. As she drove toward the police station, she kept glancing at the envelope and note in her purse until she drove right past the station house and made the first left that would take her back to her loft. Sitting in the parking garage, she dropped her head to the steering wheel and gave herself a good lecture.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Hello?! He could be a serial stalker,
serial killer, and/or rapist;
one of those guys you’ve seen on Dateline for crying
out loud! Hell, for all you know,
he’s some dirty old nudist who sits behind a computer
screen jerking it to food porn all day or something. DANGER, PELIGRO, RUN
BITCH RUN!” Rissa sat back in the seat, gathering her purse and keys into her lap
before getting out of the little black BMW just as the little
devil’s advocate that
lived in her head piped up.
“Then again, he could be the one you’re meant for…”
Sometimes, she wished that little voice could be silenced with chocolate as easily as her resolve to work out five days a week could be. Unfortunately, that little voice was both an inconvenience and usually right. But this time, surely not. Right? She locked her car and opted for the stairs instead of the elevator, hoping the seven flights of stairs would help her focus on something other than the battle between excitement, fear, and desire churning in her belly. By the time she made it to her floor
, she regretted her choice in shoes for the day, the fact that she’d
half-assed all those squats and lunges at the gym, and the fact th
at she’d chosen a home on the 7
^th

Chapter Five

Before she could make it all the way down the hallway to her door, she noticed a package perched precariously against the door frame, and immediately, she knew it was from him. The inky black satin wrapping paper, the single gold
ribbon and the telltale envelope she’d begun to
both fear and look forward to gave it away.
She scooped up the package and sighed when it didn’t explode or start
ticking from being jostled.
Suddenly, she couldn’t get into her loft fast enough
. She kicked the door closed behind her and sat down on the dark hardwood floor just inside. Her purse and keys fell into a heap along with her jacket. As her heart tried to jump out of her chest, she stared down at the package.

Rissa moved the envelope that came with it to the side and pulled the ribbon on the package, carefully unwrapping a white box. Whispering a prayer that
whatever was inside wouldn’
t hurt her, she pried open the gift box. Her mouth fell open and she wanted to gush over the beautiful fabric inside, but shock had stolen her voice and nothing came out. Inside the box was an immaculately crafted boned corset in the most luxurious black satin with a single vine of gold stitched roses engraved all the way around the piece like a binding of rope.
This wasn’t something
you could order off the internet or pick up at some cheesy fetish shop. No, this had to be hand crafted and by a true artist. Beneath it, she found a garter belt to match and seamed stockings. She laid the items carefully back in the box then opened the envelope.

Tonight. 7 pm. -E

As far as cryptic messages go, it was up there, but how could she say no? She closed her eyes and tried to be smart about this. Everything about the situation screamed a warning
—
DO NOT GO. DANGER RISSA TRENT! DANGER! Even so, she found herself gathering up her things and stamping her perfectly pedicured, high-heeled feet to her bedroom with the gifts in hand, running down a mental check
list of all the things she’d need to do to be read
y at 7. Finally, some sense of reason chimed in, and she decided to at least make an attempt to be safe. IF her mystery man was as wealthy as his gifts and letters suggested, and IF he was a TRUE Dom, then she knew one person who could tell her for sure.
The one who’d introduced
her to the lifestyle almost a decade before
—
Myles. The
city’s
resident Dom
extraordinaire who’d seen the submissive side of her she’d denied existed and who’d
helped her explore that side of herself when she was twenty-five. Now, almost ten
years later, and at least half a dozen years since she’d last seen or talked to Myles,
she was surprised to find that she still remembered his number. Rissa sat down on the side of her bed with the gifts and notes beside her and waited impatiently and nervously for her old friend to answer.

“Well well, if it isn’t Reese’s Pieces. Always knew you’d come back,
sweets.
I’ve missed you.” Myles was nothing if not straight to the point and charm
personified, though she shuddered at the nickname.

“I’ve come a long way from Reese’s Pieces, Myles. And I wouldn’t count
on me being back just yet either. Listen, you said if I ever needed anything,
anything at all, I could call you, right?” His grunt in the affirmative spurred her on. “What I need is information. I’ve received a few letters and one incredible gift, but from whom I’m not sure. Whoever it is used the word ‘
submission
’ and there are so
few people who know that
…”

“
Letters and gifts? Wait, black and gold? And just the letter
‘
E?
’” He
chuckled lightly on the other end of the line,
and she wasn’t sure if she should be
scared shitless or relieved.

“Yes. Black and gold, and always signed ‘
E.
’ Who is it, Myles? Should I
be concerned? Call the cops? I received the first note two days ago, another with my morning coffee, then one at work today, and the gift when I got home with a note that just says
‘T
onight, 7 pm.
’ Am I safe, Myles? You know almost everyone
in the lifestyle.
I trust you here.” She worried her lip and crossed her fingers, hoping he’d give her the answer she craved.

“Yes Reese’s
.
You’re safe. I can’t
tell you who he is, but what I can tell you
is that you’ve met him before once when you were with me. I can also tell you that if he’s set his sights on you, you’re the luckiest little sub in town, so perk up those tits, break out the wax and show him what you’re made of
, honey.
You’ll be safe
and very well taken care of. I promise
Reese’s
. I brought you into our world.
I’d
never let anything happen to you in it.
”

She sighed in relief even as the excitement of the unknown made her skin tingle.
She hung up with his “Don’t be a stranger and welcome home” comments
ringing in her ears.
She’d given up the lifestyle
, and with it, half of who she was to be with Deacon
because he didn’t understand her needs. She’d loved him enough to
give up that part of herself to be with him, but things had never felt right; had never felt whole.
She hadn’t been really
and truly satisfied in over six years. But now, the delicious flames of desire licked up the inside of her skin; the memories of cool steel binding her wrists, rough rope rubbing against raw skin, and the euphoric feeling of completely surrendering to another only ramped up her anticipation and arousal even more.

The chiming of the hall clock brought her back from her trance-like memories and with it came a sense of panic. Five pm.
Two hours to do what she’d
normally take all day to do. Grabbing a pen and paper, she started a list; shave, wax, shower, hair, make up, nails, dress. In two hours? No problem. Who was she kidding?! She plugged in the warmer and dumped in the wax. Trying to remember all the rules for subs Myles had taught her, she realized she was actually nervous not just about meeting her secret Dom but about pleasing him. And therein lay one
more fantasy she’d not explored since she received the
first letter just days before. Pleasing him.

With Deacon, he’d been pleased by no more than climbing on top of her and
flopping around for a while. There was no exchange of trust or power, no risk, and no reward. Her mind latched onto the thought of how powerful
a Dom’s reward
could be for a sub that pleased him well
—
often by doing nothing more than giving her trust and obedience
—
by giving herself over to him to care for. Each image
—
some fantasy of what could come or
memory of what she’d experienced
firsthand
—
crossed her mind, and she found herself lost as she showered to make herself clean
for the man who’d be waiting for her tonight.