The Submissive's Last Word (The Power to Please #4) (3 page)

“You’re not, though. You’re in limbo. You won’t be able to
move on until you understand what happened, until you face it head on.”

“That’s ridiculous! I know what it was.”

“What was it?”

I swallowed hard past the lump in my throat. “Don’t make me
say it.”

“You have to say it. Not saying it gives it power.”

“Fine then. It’s betrayal, Gibson. That’s what it was. It’s
shame. Degradation. Humiliation. Is that enough? Have I said enough?”

“Yes, that’s plenty,” and he tried to hug me.

I held up my free hand to stop him. I couldn’t be hugged
right then. He didn’t push me, but he still wouldn’t let go of my hand.

“I don’t want to do this,” I said.

“I know, but it’s important. It’s not just about betrayal
and humiliation, Nonnie. Yes, it’s what you’re focused on, but you need to see
what else it was if you’re ever to get beyond it.”

I didn’t respond.

“It’s time,” he said, “that we watch your video together.”

With one swift pull, I yanked my hand out of his hold. Then
I was on my feet and walking away from him. I didn’t know where I was going,
just away. “No. I won’t do it. I won’t watch that video. Not with you, not
alone, not ever. I’ve told you that before.”

“I know,” he said, his voice calm, a masculine attempt to
soothe that only served to grate on my nerves. “You don’t want to. You need to,
though. I don’t see how there’s any other way. You’ve got to know what
happened. What went wrong. How and why it did.”

I stood behind a chair and gripped the backrest. I glared
across the room at him. “I know all of that already.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You don’t. You can’t. You’re not experienced enough. You
weren’t then and you aren’t now. Whatever conclusions you’ve come to, they’re
likely wrong.”

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t wrong. I knew what happened.
Gibson wasn’t making any sense. “I won’t watch that video with you. Period.
Don’t ask me again.”

“Let’s find a compromise. Why don’t you take the night?
Think about it. Think about what I’ve said. Maybe you could talk about it with
Xavier or Paulina tomorrow. Get their thoughts on it. Or Elaine. Talk to her or
Ron.”

I continued to shake my head, but I was beginning to suspect
that I was behaving unreasonably. After all, he was only asking me to think
about it, to possibly talk about it with Xavier or Elaine.

He took a deep breath. “Just consider the idea of it for
now. We can talk more about it tomorrow.”

I looked down at my hands, the way I was digging my
fingernails against the wood of the chair back. That wasn’t right, was it? I
shouldn’t be so worked up by this conversation that I was on the verge of
snapping off all my fingernails. I closed my eyes. Willed myself to find calm.

I opened my eyes and looked at Gibson. He watched me with
concern, a sympathy on his handsome features that made me blink back an influx
of emotion, a push of self-pity.

“I’ll think about it,” I said.

He smiled then, a smile of released tension.

“It’s late,” I said. “Time for me to go.”

I turned to leave and heard Gibson rise behind me and
follow.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“That’s not necessary. It’s perfectly safe, as you know.”

“I do. But I’ll walk you anyway.”

I shrugged. If that’s what he wanted, fine. It wasn’t worth
arguing over, not when there were much larger issues in contention.

It was little more than a quarter mile between the big house
and my cottage. We walked in silence. The chirping insects and tree frogs, a
hoot from a lone owl, and our footsteps falling on grass, stone and even
gravel, were the only sounds accompanying our journey.

We stopped in front of my door, stood under the yellow porch
light.

I reached for the doorknob. “Thank you for dinner. It was
delicious.”

“Thank you for catching it.”

But I had no lingering playfulness to share with him. It had
dried up with talk of Kamun and Michael and the damnable video.

Any other time, I would have wanted Gibson to kiss me. It
was a beautiful night, and he was so appealing standing there, his hands in his
pockets, looking awkward for a change, and this would have made me want him.
Would have.

He took a long look at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Really. Good night.”

“Good night,” he said, though he looked like he wanted to
say something else.

It didn’t matter. I opened the door and slipped inside,
quickly closing the door behind me as if it shut off any options I had for how
this evening might otherwise end. As if anything other than loneliness were in
the offing.

I locked the door and leaned against it, listened to the
sounds of Gibson’s footsteps fading away.

I went to my bathroom and took a quick shower, followed my
usual nightly rituals. It wasn’t even ten o’clock when I crawled into bed.

I was exhausted. I couldn’t think about what Gibson wanted
me to think about. I was too tired. I needed sleep. I was worn out, that was
all. I couldn’t be expected to go over all that crap when I was so exhausted.

Excuses. That’s all it was. I knew it. Knew there was no
reason for me to be so tired, knew I hadn’t done anything that day to warrant
the bone deep swell of fatigue that was spreading a foggy veil over my
thoughts.

Tomorrow. I wouldn’t be tired tomorrow. That was the excuse.

I couldn’t fight it. I let it have its way with me, let it
float me off into safety, even if that safety were an illusion. The escape of
sleep.

At least my dreams were kind. Too kind, perhaps.

I was back in the condo with Gibson, the last night I spent
with him. I lay naked on the big bed, on my stomach, hips raised by pillows,
arms and legs stretched to the four corners of the bed, secured in place with
lengths of white, nylon rope.

He was going to give me a choice, he said, but then he
couldn’t go through with it. He had to have it all. And so I was tied to the
bed, the rope pulling my limbs taut, leaving me little room to do more than
wriggle in place.

And he held a long, thin dildo, an anal probe, he called it.
He wanted to adjust me to deeper penetration.

And he said he must spank me, thoroughly. Said he’d been
needing it for a long time.

So no choice. All three. The ropes, the probe, his hand. His
desire was mine, and when he spoke of what he would do, it was as if he were
already doing it.

He straddled my bound body and slipped his hands between my
chest and the mattress. He palmed my breasts, squeezed my nipples between his
fingers, nipples that were over-sensitized from a weekend of sweet abuse.

My breath quickened when he leaned down over my shoulder and
I felt the fall of his warm breath on my ear.

“I want you,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, a threat
I feared and craved. “All of you. You don’t know what I would take, if I could,
if you were ready.”

I shuddered, tremors flitting down my body. I might have
spoken, but knew he wanted no words from me.

Words belonged to him, and again they came, warm and
resonant against my ear. “You don’t know how completely you can surrender. You
can’t yet imagine what you will offer up some day. But I know, and I can
imagine.”

His arms tightened around me, and one hand slid up between
my breasts, up to my neck, where he grasped my jaw and held my head tightly.
His teeth closed over my ear lobe and he nipped the flesh until I gasped.

He kissed where he had bitten. “I’m your guide into
yourself, Nonnie. I can’t wait to show you where you can go, what you can
feel.”

And then he rose up off of me, his motions smooth and
controlled, like everything he did. He stroked down my back with a gentle touch
and then trailed on down over the curve of my buttocks to the tops of my
thighs.

He rubbed his palm over my ass, around and around. I tensed
in anticipation, knowing he was readying me for spanking. His other hand left
feathered shivers in its wake as it traveled up the inside of my thighs,
fingers playing at the bare flesh of my labia, the tips dipping into my slit
and teasing past my clitoris.

I relaxed, sighed. He squeezed my ass, his fingers tenderly
spread me and slowly sunk inside my pussy and I groaned I was so ready for him
to take me.

“Mmm, you know this feeling well,” he said. “Know exactly
what it is. If I touched your clit right now, you’d come within moments.”

I had no doubt that he was right. I tightened and released
myself around his fingers, silently invited his invasion.

“But what about this?” he asked.

He raised his other hand and swiftly landed a sharp smack on
my ass. I cried out mostly in surprise, which is not to say that it didn’t
sting. It most assuredly stung.

“That feeling,” he said, “you don’t know very well.”

Then something cold and firm pressed against my asshole. The
probe.

I heard his arousal in his voice. “You don’t know this
feeling very well either, yet.”

I whimpered.

He chuckled lightly. “Just think, after tonight, you’ll be
much better acquainted with these sensations.”

I shivered.

“Get ready, beautiful girl,” he said with a hint of menace
and promise. “This is only the beginning.”

And then, he began.

I woke up, sweaty and breathing fast. Damn. How many times
had I dreamt of that night with him? Too many. And how often did I wake up at
the exact wrong moment? Every single time. It was maddening.

I looked at the clock. After midnight.

I briefly considered getting dressed and going to the big
house, waking up Gibson and telling him I had needs that he should attend to.
For the craziest of seconds, I believed I might actually do it. But then reason
returned and reminded me that I wasn’t an overwrought nymphomaniac. At least, I
didn’t think I was.

I imagined what Gibson’s response might be if I actually did
go accost him. Well, technically speaking, I had already accosted him once, and
his response had been to oblige me, more or less. Would he oblige me again?

It didn’t matter, all the speculation. I wasn’t going to do
it, so I told myself to quit thinking about it. I stomped into the bathroom and
got a drink of water. By the time I settled back into bed, I had myself under
control, was in no danger of throwing myself at Gibson’s feet.

Gibson’s big, sexy feet, that were attached to his long,
muscular legs, that led to his narrow hips and firm ass and toned, defined
stomach and ...

I yanked the pillow down over my head. No more. This was
ridiculous. Stupid dreams. Stupider memories. Stupidest ... me.

It took a long time to fall asleep.

Chapter 3

I had to remove my sunglasses when I entered the building.
It was dark inside, even now at noon. Elaine Hoyte loved her dive bars, I
thought, as I waited for my eyes to adjust.

I heard her before I saw her.

“Nonnie! Over here!” she called out, her voice carrying
easily through the joint.

I felt a brief surge of panic at her calling public
attention to me. I nearly crammed my sunglasses back on my face and raced out
the door. But I took a deep breath. I told myself no one in the place had seen
my videos, and if they had, they wouldn’t recognize me with my new short hair.

It helped, too, once I was able to see clearly, that the bar
wasn’t crowded. Elaine sat in a booth about halfway down the long, narrow room.
She leaned out into the aisle and merrily waved an arm at me. I gave her a
quick nod, acknowledging that she was seen in the hopes that she wouldn’t shout
again.

I kept my eyes on the booth as I walked what felt like a
gauntlet. I had tried to convince Elaine to come to the estate for lunch, but
she’d said she didn’t have the time for the trip. Hence, her selection of
meeting place, another vaguely skeezy bar that still smelled faintly of the cigarettes
that were once smoked here, a plus for the ex-smoking Elaine, or so she said.

I slipped into the booth with no small relief that nothing
happened, that no one recognized me or said, “Hey, look, there’s that slut who
was in that filthy porno.” Always a good day when that didn’t happen.

Of course, that had never happened, and it wasn’t likely
that it ever would. Yet I couldn’t stop fearing it, dreading its eventuality.

Elaine smiled and greeted me. She looked expensive that day,
her shining brown hair twisted up into an immaculate do, her petite full figure
tucked snugly into a tailored suit and silk blouse. She had come from work.

She patted my hand. “Isn’t this fun? Girl’s lunch out.”

I smiled and agreed. The waitress was on the ball that day,
and handed me a menu before I had a chance to find a place for my purse.

“Just order the cheeseburger and chili fries,” Elaine said.
“It’s what they do best here.”

What the hell. I’d been eating so healthy of late I could
afford the splurge. I nodded to the waitress and added a beer to the tab.

“So, how are things on the fancy-pants estate?” Elaine asked
after the waitress left.

“Fancy.”

She laughed. “And how’s Xavier?”

“He’s fine. We went fishing together yesterday.”

“That’s good.” She studied one of her manicured nails. “And
Mistress Paulina?”

“She’s fine. I saw her right before I left to meet you.”

“Did you now?” Elaine futzed pointlessly with her nail. “And
what was she doin’?”

“It’s actually a good story. I was walking to my car when I
heard something strange behind me. I turned around and you’ll never guess what
was coming down the gravel path in front of my house.”

“You’re right. I won’t. Just tell.”

I grinned. “Okay. It was Paulina and she was driving the
cutest little cart I’ve ever seen. She was perched on top of this bench seat
and cracking the reins like nobody’s business.”

“Was she? What was she wearing?”

I stared at her. “Seriously? That’s what you want to know?”

“Just tell me what she was wearing.”

Well now. Elaine’s strange interest was setting off warning
bells. And what was with the “Mistress Paulina” thing?

“I don’t remember exactly,” I said. “She had on one of those
long, flowing skirts she likes to wear. It was dark blue, or purple maybe. And
she was wearing a thin blouse that was loose over a fitted corset kind of top
thing. I don’t know, Elaine. She looked like her usual self. Except for one
thing. She was wearing a hat. A ladies hat, like back in the day when women
rode around in carriages and wore white gloves and hid under parasols.”

Elaine looked a little dreamy. “Mmm. I can picture it.”

My eyebrows shot up a full inch. “Can you?”

“Just go on. Tell me what she did next.”

“All right. So there was Paulina driving this little
two-seater pony cart, and it wasn’t just that it was odd to see Paulina driving
the thing. It was the oddity of what was pulling it. Or I should say,” I paused
for dramatic effect, “
who
was pulling it.”

Elaine didn’t seem to grasp what I was going for. She looked
at me blankly.

I held my hands out. “Toy! Toy was harnessed up and pulling
the cart. I thought I was going to lose it.”

She didn’t react how I expected. She frowned. “Toy, huh?”

“Yeah. It was a hoot. And he was smiling like crazy, proud
as anything. Paulina told me she special-ordered the cart and had the tack custom-made
to fit Toy. I don’t know how I managed to keep a straight face.”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, that’s it. You don’t hear a story about a man
harnessed up like a pony and your only reaction is ‘hmm.’ What’s going on? She
wasn’t hurting Toy, if that’s what you’re thinking. He loved it.”

“No, I’m not worried about him. I’m sure he loved it.”

It was the way she said “him” that made things click into
place of a sudden, especially when contrasted with the way she said “Mistress”
earlier.

I think my mouth fell open a little with the realization.
“Elaine — have you got a thing for Paulina?”

Naturally, the waitress chose that moment to deliver our
beers. I wasn’t about to let Elaine off the hook, though, and as soon as we
were alone again, I repeated my question about Paulina.

Elaine shrugged, tried unsuccessfully to look casual. “I
find her attractive, I guess.”

“I had no idea you, you know, went that way.”

“I don’t, actually. Or, at least, I haven’t. Not until now.”

“Wow. That’s crazy.”

“Not really.”

“You’d think at your age you’d already know if you ... went
that way.”

“It might shock you, Miss Young Thing, to learn that we
older folk do have a few surprises left in us.”

I laughed. “I can’t believe it. You’ve got a thing for
Paulina.”

Elaine actually blushed a little. This was too precious.

“Oh my God,” I said, “Have you told Ron? What did he say?”

She took a long drink of her beer. “No, I haven’t told him.
No reason to. Paulina’s not interested in me. She’s got Xavier and Toy. I don’t
even think she’s interested in women.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I drank my beer and
gave the situation some thought. Elaine and Ron had been out to the estate
three or four times since I moved out of their house and into Gibson’s cottage.
They had met with Xavier and Paulina each time.

Ron had gone fishing with Xavier a few times, and Elaine had
talked gardening with Paulina more than once. I hadn’t noticed any sizzle
between my submissive friend and the platinum-haired switch, but then, I hadn’t
been looking for it, probably hadn’t been paying any attention.

“Well, anyway,” I said, “Paulina kept me standing out there
next to her carriage talking for a long time. I wanted to get away because the
sun was hot and I didn’t want to be late to meet you, but she didn’t care. You
know how bossy she gets when she’s on a mission. She wouldn’t stop going on
about the picnic she’s having on Sunday.”

“She’s having a picnic on Sunday. What fun,” Elaine said, a
lame tone in her voice.

“I don’t know about that. She wouldn’t quit listing the preparations
that need to be done, and you can bet she’s got me roped into helping. It’ll be
a lot of work, but I guess that’s okay. She invited a lot of friends.”

“Oh, I see.”

“She’s calling it an Indian Summer Fete. She loves old
fashioned words.”

“She does,” Elaine said, kind of goofy.

It was hard not to laugh. “Oh, and I almost forgot. She told
me to invite you and Ron. She said to tell you she wouldn’t take no for an
answer.”

“Did she?”

“She did.”

“Oh boy.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if you should read too much into
it.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t.”

Elaine stared off into the distance behind me, obviously
lost in contemplation of what Paulina’s invitation might or might not mean,
undoubtedly reading too much into it.

I could only sit and wonder if I had walked into bizarro
world that morning. Elaine with a crush on Paulina? And jealous of the
muscle-bound Toy? Beyond bizarre.

I couldn’t help myself. “Maybe on Sunday if you play your
cards right, Paulina will harness you up next to Toy and the both of you can
pull her cart. Not exactly a matched set, but ...”

Elaine looked confused for a moment, then she smiled,
laughed and smacked at my hand. “You’re a bad girl, Nonnie Crawford. You know
I’m not into that sort of thing.”

“I don’t know anything right now, Elaine.”

She chuckled, and I shook my head.

The waitress delivered our food and we tucked in. The
cheeseburger was horrifically greasy and the chili fries could have burned
their way through cast iron. In all, a pretty fabulous plate of food.

During the meal, we chatted about lighter topics than
Elaine’s current crush. Near the end, though, she asked about Gibson, and I
told her he had arrived home the night before.

“What’s up with Gibson?” Elaine asked. “I’m betting he’s why
you asked me out to lunch.”

“No, I wanted to see you, too.”

“I know. So tell me what’s going on.”

I took a final few bites and pushed the plate away. “He says
I’m not facing what happened. He wants me to do something that I don’t want to
do.”

“What is it?”

“Watch my videos with him. He says I need to, in order to
understand what happened. But it doesn’t make sense. I know what happened.”

She sent her own plate off with the waitress who stopped to
pick up mine. “Tell me exactly what he said.”

“He said I only think I know what happened that night, and that
I’m wrong about it. He said I don’t have the experience to understand, but that
he can help me understand it.”

“I’m not sure I’m following, honey. What happened that night
is in the video, right? So, I’m not clear on how you see it one way and he sees
it another.”

“Me either. I don’t get it. I mean, this is all about
Michael’s betrayal and how he ... did what he did.”

She patted my hand gently. “There must be more to it than
that. Maybe Gibson’s talking about the things that Michael did in the video. Could
that be it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“You should talk about it with him. This could be important.
He wouldn’t ask you to do something like this if it weren’t.”

She was right, but I wasn’t ready to admit defeat yet. “I
can’t watch that video with him. I’ve never watched it all the way through.”

“Oh, honey. I wish I could take it all away. I’m so sorry
Michael did that terrible thing to you ... I just ...” tears gathered in the
corners of her gentle eyes.

“No, don’t do it, Elaine. If you start, I’ll start, and
then, ugh.”

She sat up straight and blinked a few times. “You’re right.
The bottom line is this — Gibson Reeves is a smart man, and if he says you need
to understand somethin’ about that night in order to move on, he’s probably
right.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Find a way to compromise. Maybe you two can just talk about
it, talk about what happened together instead of watching the video.”

“Maybe. It’s a possibility.”

“Ask him. Explain that you want help, but there are some
things you can’t do. He wants you to heal, so he’ll listen and work with you.”

I gave her a little smile. “I doubt Gibson knows how often
you’ve spoken for him.”

“No reason why he should. Let him help. I can’t say that
often enough.”

“Okay. Thanks. I feel better. It’s a good idea, talking instead
of watching.”

“You’re welcome, honey. Now what time’s that picnic on
Sunday?”

We finished our beers, me thinking of Gibson, and picnics
and how someone could suddenly become a lesbian in middle age. What Elaine was
thinking, I wouldn’t have dared to guess.

Later that afternoon, I hid out in my cottage, trying to
avoid meeting Paulina, who was currently terrorizing nearly everyone on the
estate. From what I could tell, when I dared a quick peek out my windows, only
Xavier and Gibson had escaped being drafted into her service.

I assumed Gibson was at work, which gave him an easy out.
Xavier, I knew, would be the only person in residence who would tell Paulina
no. Lord knew, I wasn’t up to it. Hence, the hiding out.

I read for a while, then did a bit of housework. While
putting some things away in my closet, I noticed I’d never sorted through a
pile of boxes I brought with me when I moved in. No time like the present, I
thought, and sat on the floor in the middle of the walk-in and began digging
through my stuff.

Most of it was papers and keepsakes I hadn’t wanted to leave
in my old apartment in case someone broke in while I was gone. I still had many
things in the apartment, mostly furniture and kitchen stuff. Rent was due soon,
and I needed to decide if I would pay another month’s rent, or move my
belongings into storage.

My savings would last longer if I let the apartment go. It
wasn’t like I ever planned on moving back there, regardless of what I
eventually wound up doing. I made a promise to myself that I would call my
landlord Monday morning and give notice. Then I wondered if I would actually do
it.

I pawed through a box of assorted accessories, handbags,
scarves, a few winter caps ... and there, on the bottom, folded neatly, a blue
striped necktie. The Businessman’s tie.

I held the slinky silk in my hand and let it drape over my
fingers. I didn’t remember putting it in that box, and wondered what possessed
me. I stared at the thing as if there were some secret to it, as if it were
more than an expensive piece of clothing.