The Submissive's Last Word (The Power to Please #4) (10 page)

I watched him return to his closet and step inside the huge
room. “You can’t say something like that and leave it hanging, you know.”

He grunted a muffled assent, then in a few moments came out
of the closet with a pair of pants and a belt. He bent over to put them on.
“Your education has been neglected and I intend to begin remedying that
tonight.”

“Oh, that’s kind of exciting.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He buttoned and zipped his pants,
tucked in his shirt, then strung the belt through the loops. “I’ll pick you up
at your place at seven o’clock.”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“What should I wear?”

“Dress casually.”

“Huh. Would that be ordinary people casual or rich tycoon
casual?”

“I wasn’t aware there was a difference.”

“Rich tycoon casual it is then.”

He returned to the closet and I heard him sliding hangers
around. He came out in short order carrying a suit jacket and a tie. He stood
in front of the mirror and flipped up his collar. I stepped forward, between
him and the mirror.

I took the tie from his hand. “I’ll do that.”

He seemed pleased to pass the task off to me. I tossed the
tie onto the bureau. He wore a bemused expression as he watched the tie fly
through the air. “You’ll be needing that.”

I reached for his belt buckle. “Yeah, but not yet.”

He looked down at my fingers unbuckling his belt. I pulled
the belt out of the loops and dropped it on the floor.

I unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them, pushed them down over
his hips.

I knelt down on the thick rug, spread my fingers over his
briefs, tracing the outline of the growing bulge underneath the cotton fabric.
He flinched when I touched him and I heard his hissing intake of breath. I ran
my fingers under the elastic waistband and looked up into his dark eyes.

“I took your pants off,” I said, “so I could watch you put
them back on. So sexy. Now that they’re off, though, I might as well have a
taste or two. I hope you don’t mind.”

He cleared his throat, ran a hand over my hair. “If you feel
you must.”

“I must.”

“Then far be it from me to hold you back.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, and I pulled down his boxer
briefs.

Much later, I sent the poor man off to work with a rushed,
sorry breakfast of a glass of orange juice and a slice of untoasted bread and
butter.

I don’t think he minded, though.

Chapter 9

Lawson, the chauffeur, opened the town car’s back door and I
stepped onto the sidewalk. I knew right away where I was: the rear entrance to
Private Residence. It was the nightclub where I met Michael, where the kink
ball was held and where I performed a skit with the Hoytes in one of the
display rooms. Private Residence and I had some history, and not all of it was
good.

I smoothed my skirt over my hips. I didn’t actually own
anything that was rich tycoon casual, so I had to make do with normal person
best, a stretchy little black dress a friend talked me into buying at a
clearance sale early in the spring. I even sported a pair of semi-high heels. I
thought I looked okay standing next to Gibson in his expensive sports coat and
trousers.

I had no idea what we were doing at Private Residence.
Gibson gave away nothing on the ride over.

He told Lawson that he’d call when we were ready to leave
and the driver returned to the car and drove away.

“I’m kind of nervous about this. I don’t know,” I said.

Gibson leaned in close. “We’re going in the back way, but
we’ll be coming out the front, so you have time to get settled into the idea.
Right now, you won’t see many people where we’re going, okay?”

I nodded, but I was still unsure.

“Remember, you promised to try,” he said.

I had. But still. If there was one place in the city where I
was likeliest to be recognized from the damnable video, this had to be it. Of
course, it was also the likeliest place where no one would care, which was a
comfort.

I considered begging off. After all, I’d had a long day,
spent hours helping Paulina and Xavier clean up the picnic disaster area. I
hadn’t minded doing it, had volunteered, my penance for skipping Paulina’s
living picture thing.

I only had time to snatch an hour-long nap late in the
afternoon. Surely Gibson would understand that I was too tired to go through
with whatever he had planned.

I looked up at him, opened my mouth to tell him my lie. But
I couldn’t lie. I had promised to try. “Okay, but tell me what we’re doing.”

He jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s get inside and
I’ll tell you on the way.”

I nodded, let him lead me inside a small entryway, past a
beefy bouncer who nodded at Gibson, then through another door and into the
building at large.

This was the entrance we used the night of the kink ball,
and it had been decorated gaily for that event. Tonight, though, the area was
quiet, plain like an office building and peopled only by a lone older lady
sitting at a desk.

She greeted Gibson with a gush, fluttered around him before
waving us toward the elevator. Once inside, Gibson pushed the button for the
second floor.

When the doors closed, he finally spoke. “We’re here to
check out the training program. It’s for beginning submissives, like yourself.”

I think my mouth moved but nothing came out. I was stunned.

“A new class started end of last week, so it’s not too late
to add you in, if you’re interested,” he said.

“I’m not. Not at all.”

“We’ll sit in on a class. You can see what it’s like and
decide later. There’s no pressure to make a decision tonight.”

I had so many feelings and thoughts bumping into each other
that I couldn’t find an appropriate one to express first.

The least appropriate one popped out. “Do you actually own
this club?”

I wasn’t sure where that came from, except that it was a
frequently discussed topic between Elaine and I, and a question I’d long wanted
answered.

He answered smoothly, as if it weren’t a bizarre question.
“I’m part owner with Xavier and Paulina, and another couple you don’t know, old
friends of the Martins who run the place.”

“Really? I never would have guessed.” Then came the question
that was actually pertinent to the discussion. “Why are you trying to fob my
training off on someone else?”

This time, he showed surprise. “I’m not. I’d be nearby
during all of your lessons. I wouldn’t ask you to be with people you didn’t
know and trust, not without me there.”

“Uh-huh. That’s great. But, why aren’t you training me, if I
have to be trained? And I don’t get this whole training business anyway. I’m
not a dog.”

He spoke in a soothing tone that annoyed me. “Calm down.
Take a few breaths. It’s going to be okay.”

“You’re being condescending.”

“No, I’m not. You’re panicking and need to calm down.”

My pulse beat a quick rumble in my ears. I took a few
breaths, tried to center myself. Then the elevator stopped and the doors
opened.

“I don’t want to do this,” I snapped.

“It’s okay. We’ll step over here and talk it out.”

We went a short way down the hall into what looked like a
waiting room. I was grateful there was no one else inside.

Gibson motioned for me to sit on the sofa and he lowered
himself beside me.

“Breathe,” he said.

And I did. Slowly, carefully.

After a few minutes, Gibson spoke in careful tones. “Now,
think carefully and tell me what it is that worries you the most about the idea
of attending a training session.”

I didn’t have to think for long. It wasn’t about the videos,
or fear of exposure, or not wanting to be around other people, not at its core.
It was simple. I didn’t want someone else to train me. I only wanted Gibson,
and I was hurt that he was handing me off to another man.

“Do you remember when you told me that you should send me
for training here, but that you couldn’t do it because you didn’t want to be
away from me? Do you remember that?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“So, why is it you want to be away from me now? I thought we
were starting something.”

“We are, Nonnie. I don’t want to be away from you. You’d
attend classes at night, not stay on the premises full time.”

“And you don’t want someone else to be with me?”

“To be with you? Do you mean sexually? No, that’s not what
training is about, not here anyway. I only want what’s best for you, and that
includes what you want for yourself. I won’t demand anything of you, or expect
you to participate just because I told you to. What you want is important. I’m
simply asking the favor of showing you what a class is like. Then you can
decide. Okay?”

When he said it like that, it seemed reasonable.

“Okay, I’ll watch one class,” I said, still disgruntled but
willing to attempt reasonableness.

“Good.”

I got a partial good girl tingle. Damn, even when I was
shaken up, a weak tingle still came through.

We stood and I followed him out of the room and down the
hall. He stopped before a set of double doors and knocked. A young woman opened
the door, saw Gibson, and while giving a gushing greeting that put the older
woman’s to shame, stepped aside to allow us into a small seating area which led
onto another pair of doors. Gibson thanked the young woman and opened the inner
doors, ushering me inside.

It was a large room that resembled a small gymnasium,
brightly lit by rows of florescent overhead lights. Pieces of assorted
equipment were scattered around the room and if I didn’t know better, I would
have thought they were for gymnastics. But I did know better.

In spite of the kink equipment, there was no overt sexual
aura in the room. The plain, off-white walls and flooring and the wooden
bleachers along one wall certainly didn’t lend any sensuality to the place.

There were some people milling around, eight or nine women,
and approximately the same number of men. They were scattered in clumps.
Several of them looked up when Gibson and I entered and a tall, older man broke
off his conversation to come greet Gibson.

He was in his fifties, fit, in good shape, wearing a black
leather vest and pants. He had plain features, yet had an allure to him, the
nudge of attractive power I’d come to recognize.

He held out his hand to Gibson. “You made it. Excellent.”

They shook hands then Gibson gestured to me. “This is Nonnie
Crawford. I spoke to you about her. She’s here to observe tonight. Nonnie, this
is Master Porter. He’s in charge of the training programs here.”

I shook his hand. His grip was strong and confident. We said
we were pleased to meet one another then he gestured to the bleachers and told
us to take a seat, that class would be starting momentarily.

Gibson and I headed to the bleachers and climbed up to the
top for the best view of the proceedings.

“Everything okay?” Gibson asked once we sat down.

I nodded.

“Good.”

“I’d think we were going to watch a basketball game if it
weren’t for the row of Saint Andrew’s crosses on the wall over there.”

He grinned. “We haven’t been doing training for long. I
admit the ambience could use some work.”

Master Porter stepped onto a small stage and walked behind a
podium. His voice carried easily in the room as he asked everyone to get in
their places.

I watched with interest as the groups split apart, some
heading to the center of the room in front of the stage, others to the
bleachers and the remaining few up onto the stage itself.

Gibson explained that those on the floor were the students
and the people coming over to the bleachers were dominants attending with the
trainees. Two women and another man joined Master Porter on the stage. Gibson
told me the man was an instructor in training, while one woman was an
instructor and the other was Master Porter’s sub, who was used as an example
for the trainees.

When everyone was where they should be, Master Porter called
the room to order. “Okay trainees. Class begins now. What’s the first thing
expected of you?”

A male sub raised his hand. Master Porter pointed at him.

“Clothes, Sir,” the sub answered.

“That’s correct. Proceed.”

My eyebrows shot up as I watched all eight people quickly
strip off their clothes as if they were in the privacy of their own bedrooms. I
glanced at Gibson who was blatantly watching my reaction.

“You’re kidding, right?” I whispered.

“Keep an open mind,” was his quiet response.

“Seriously? That’s what you have to say?”

“Shh. Watch.”

When the subs were thoroughly naked, including the example
sub on the stage, the instructors stepped off the platform and strolled among
their students.

“Inspection position one,” Master Porter called out.

The subs shuffled around. A few of them appeared to have no
clue what to do, and looked to the example sub on the stage. They mimicked her
stance, upright and tall, feet spread shoulder-width apart, hands locked behind
necks, chests stuck out.

The instructors murmured to their charges, made corrections
to their stances with nudges and an occasional prod from the crops they
carried.

For the next ten minutes, the instructors called out
different positions and the submissives struggled to remember and hold the
poses properly. When they got to inspection pose number eight, I had a serious
suspicion this stuff wasn’t for me.

Inspection pose number eight involved bending down and
grabbing your ankles while holding your head up and out, arching your back if
you could. Here was a pose that left nothing to the imagination, and I
remembered Gibson having me stand in a similar pose a long time ago. The
thought of assuming this position in front of so many people was mortifying.

“There’s no way I’m doing that,” I said in a low hiss.

“Why not?”

“It was bad enough when you had me do it in front of you. No
way I could do it in here.”

“I thought it would excite you.”

“Ridiculous.”

“You enjoyed the auction didn’t you? And what about the
Hoytes’ play? You were naked in front of strangers then.”

Well damn. He had me there. He was right. But that was
before. Before I learned there were consequences to flashing my naked self
around willy nilly.

“It’s safe here,” Gibson said. “Everyone has the same
vulnerability. No one would be focused exclusively on you in a group like
this.”

“Okay, I can see that,” I admitted. “But that’s beside the
point. It isn’t turning me on.”

“Think about how it would feel to have others see you out
there. How it would feel to have the instructors inspect you so minutely.”

I tried. Nope. I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“What if I told you it would excite me to see you in the
class, out there exposed with the others?”

I looked at the trainees trying to hold the revealing stance
while the instructors poked at them. I imagined myself in their positions,
pictured Gibson sitting in the stands, watching me, watching the instructors
correct me. I gave a good deal of consideration to the likelihood of Gibson
having a raging hard-on the entire while.

I had to admit that I got a little kick down below with that
thought, the beginnings of a little something.

“Well, that could make a difference,” I said. “Might get me
going.”

“Might?”

“Okay, would.”

He smiled. “There’s no reason to stay then. Shall we go?”

“No. Wait. What?”

“I’m sorry. I told you I thought this might excite you. If
it doesn’t, then there’s no point wasting time here.”

“What about you, though? You said you’d like to see me out
there.”

“I didn’t say that. I only wondered if your feelings would
change if it was sexy to me. And it’s not sexy to me, by the way. Or I should
say, no sexier than anything else you might do that involves you being naked
and bent over. Might as well bend you over doing something that you actually
like to do.”

A sharp spike zinged through my heart. I leaned forward and
kissed him on the cheek. “In that case, I want to stay.”

He gave me a look which informed me he thought I was a
little crazy. “If you want.”