Marlene introduces them as Caitlin, Harlow, and Brenna. I’m told they’re from accounting, but they look as if they sashayed straight off a Parisian runway. I’m guessing smiling Brenna is the halfway decent one of the bunch. The others keep their distance, not saying much of anything as they grip their mugs and bide their time before I carry on my merry way.
They’ve got to know.
I’m sure the second I leave, they’re going to discuss the new company courtesan.
It’s okay, I’m not here to make friends. I’m here to make money so I can move on with my life. This’ll all be a distant memory someday, mean girls and all.
I amble down the hallway, toward the mahogany double doors, which house my master’s office. I giggle at the word master. It’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. I can’t possibly take it seriously.
But for twenty thousand dollars a month? I’ll at least pretend like I take it extremely seriously.
When I reach my office, I slip inside expecting something more along the lines of a janitorial closet. The buckling of my knees in response to the sweeping view of the city, the polished mahogany desk, and the crystal sconces on dimmers was the last thing I expected. Wallpaper covered walls in a shade of cream give off a luxurious sheen fit for a palace-dwelling queen, and a brand new laptop and cell phone rest in the center of it all.
My finger traces along the dust-free ledge of my desk before trailing up to the silver laptop. I crack the lid and take a seat at my desk. The screen prompts me to create a password, but before I do, I pick up the shiny, white cell phone sitting to my right.
I’ve never owned a cell phone in my life. They’re strictly prohibited in the Miller family.
Except, of course, for my father. He gets one for emergency purposes, he says, since he works outside of the home.
But no one else.
I’ll have to fight tooth and nail and explain that this is a work phone, and even then I’m looking at slim chances. But it’s worth a shot.
While I ransack my drawers in search of a pen, a quick rap at my door ushers in Dane. I lose my breath for a second until I force ice water through my veins and try to regroup.
“That was a quick conference call,” I say as he takes the seat across from me. He pulls two pens from the interior breast pocket of his suit and places one in front of me. It reminds me of a polished silver bullet. Upon examination, I see his monogram along the barrel.
His palm runs the length of his slim, black tie. “My brother isn’t one to be long winded.”
“What’s his name?”
Dane’s head tilts as if he’s bothered by this small talk. “Beckham. Beckham King. He runs the east coast division.”
Different last names. I want to ask why, but it’s none of my business.
“Have you had a chance to go over the paperwork?”
“I’m just getting settled. Was looking for a pen when you walked in.”
“Why don’t you start with the consent form? My time is limited, and I’d like to get that out of the way.”
I lick the pad of my middle finger and page through the stack of paperwork until I come across a consent form. It’s on personal stationery with the logo of a legal firm at the bottom along with an attorney’s signature.
“I have some questions first.” I peer across the desk at him. “If that’s okay.”
“And what are your questions?”
“It’s just, I didn’t know this type of job existed. I guess I’m more curious than anything else. Is this legal?”
He smirks. “You’re not a prostitute, Bellamy. If that’s your concern.”
“I guess I just don’t understand why you need someone here all day, every day for this? Not that I’m complaining. Like I said, I’m just curious. I’m not judging you.”
“I don’t expect you to understand.” He holds still, his gaze steady and unwavering. He’s certainly not apologizing for his preferences. “When the entire world is at your fingertips, you can be more frivolous with your whims. Some people might like a fancy coffee maker in their kitchen, knowing they can have their favorite coffee drink whenever the mood strikes them. They’re addicted to coffee. They need it every day. The machine is there for their convenience.”
“You’re comparing me to a coffee maker?”
“I’m just saying, we all have our vices. Mine just happens to be beautiful, submissive women. If I can afford to have one exclusively on stand-by for me, then I certainly won’t deny myself that luxury.”
“So I’m a luxury?”
“You are absolutely a luxury.”
“And what exactly will I be consenting to?” I bring the paper closer, inspecting it and reading from the top.
“Read, Bellamy.”
I, _______________, declare under penalty of perjury that I am above the age of eighteen.
I, ________________, declare that I am participating in this sexual relationship of my own free will and that I have not been coerced, threatened, manipulated, or harmed into doing so.
Both parties agree that this agreement is to be private and not disclosed to third parties for any reason. Doing so shall result in legal punishment including sexual misconduct and invasion of privacy.
My initials next to the listed items below indicate that I am consenting to those acts:
___ Fondling and kissing intended to cause sexual arousal
___ Oral sex (giving and receiving)
___ Sexual intercourse with a condom
___ Spanking
___ Paddling
___ Sensory deprivation (blindfolds, etc)
___ Ball gags
___ Rope arrangements
___ Cuffs, ties, shackles, and other forms of bondage
___ Nipple clamps
___ Biting
___ Vibrators and forced masturbation
___ Orgasm denial
___ Public play
___ Sex club accompaniments
___ Dirty talk
___ Punishment in various forms (physical, verbal, sexual)
I, _____________, declare that I am drug, alcohol, and infection free, and I am consenting to have sexual intercourse and participate in a D/s relationship with _____________. I also agree to have a complete medical examination done at my earliest convenience and to release the records to _____________.
It is understood that when I say the word STOP at any time, before or after, my partner agrees to cease all activity immediately.
Party 1________________________ Date_________
Party 2 ________________________Date_________
“You’re blushing, Miss Miller.” Of course he points out the obvious.
“Will we be doing all these things?”
“Not necessarily. Some of them I’ve grown quite bored of to be honest. We’ll do whatever strikes my fancy when the mood hits.”
Our stares lock for a moment.
“Do these things scare you?” he asks.
“No,” I half-fib.
“Good,” he says. “You shouldn’t be scared. I would never hurt you, Bellamy. You should know that. This relationship isn’t pleasurable for me if it’s not, at least in some way, pleasurable to you.”
That’s a relief.
“That’s good to hear, because looking at all of these things makes me think you just want to hurt me.” It’s the most honest thing I’ve said in a while.