Embracing My Submission (5 page)

I exhaled heavily and closed my eyes, nodding as a rebellious avalanche of despair consumed me. Drake’s sigh blasted over my face as he released my hair with a harsh snap of his wrist.

“Look at me, Emerald,” he hissed between clenched teeth, pinching my jaw soundly.

Hesitant but obeying, I opened my eyes and was met with far too much clarity. The gut-wrenching degree of Drake’s anger blazed in his gray eyes. Guilt inducing disappointment was carved on his face.

“Cover yourself and leave immediately. Go sit at the bar. Do not speak to a soul. I’ll be out to talk to you shortly. I am thoroughly ashamed of you at the moment.”

His scornful look coupled with his harsh words crushed me. I wanted to scream but instead I cast my eyes toward the floor, stuffed my breasts back into my corset, and ran from the room.

Fighting back tears of humiliation, I snuck behind the bar and grabbed my purse, thankful that Mistress Sammie was busy and oblivious to my presence. Trying not to draw attention to myself, I kept my eyes cast downward and walked steadfast toward the exit. Snagging my coat, I jammed my arms through the sleeves and raced out of the building.

Embarrassed.

Humiliated.

Crushed.

The entire night was a complete debacle, and now I was paying the ultimate price. I’d been sentenced to submissive “time-out.” Drake had no right to punish me like that. Damn him...He’d wheedled and promised blissful release and because of one ill-timed comment from Jordon, he’d taken it all away.

“I’m not a yo-yo!” I felt like I’d been manipulated to the nth degree as I pulled out of the parking lot.

Hungry hormones raced through my body, while humiliation, like black tar, pumped thick through my veins. Drake was going to be pissed to the gills when he realized I’d run off. I’d never disobeyed him before. Guilt expanded like a murky cloak of despair, glazing over my throbbing frustration.

“Why does something like this always happen to me?” Pondering all the ways I’d messed up in the past, I pulled into the parking lot of Maurizio’s, a quaint little Italian restaurant and bar. I needed a drink to soothe my frazzled nerves and attempt to sort out all that had transpired. Somehow I’d find a way to make amends with Drake, later...much, much later.

Sliding up to the bar, I fastened the top button of my trench coat. It wasn’t raining, in fact the night was warm, but I was wearing fetish wear in a vanilla restaurant. I had no desire to be ogled like some high-priced call girl.

“Shot of Crown,” I demanded. Scotty the bartender quirked one brow high on his forehead, then without saying a word, filled the small glass.

I couldn’t begin to count the number of times Drake, Trevor, and I had sat at this bar laughing and telling bad jokes with Scotty. But tonight it was just me and my thorny emotions.

Tipping back the amber liquid, I welcomed the burn as it warmed my throat and stomach. Tapping the rim, I nodded for another. Scotty’s brows drew together as he pursed his lips then refilled the glass. I slammed the shot and damn near choked.

“Rough night?” Scotty asked in a slightly dry, sarcastic tone.

I nodded and tapped the rim.

“Where’s Drake?” Studying me through narrow eyes, he hesitated then filled the glass.

Tossing back the shot, my eyes watered from the acrid liquor. “Back at the club,” I croaked out in a hoarse whisper then impatiently tapped my glass once again.

“You driving tonight honey?”

I simply nodded.

“Last one, then I take your keys.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Scotty. A few shots won’t
impair
me.”

“I think tonight, you do.” He flashed a lazy grin then winked. “Don’t worry, I don’t charge by the hour. Let’s talk.”

“No,” I replied in a sullen mumble.

“Suit yourself. But I’ve got strong shoulders and a big ear.” With a gentle pat on my hand, he filled the shot glass.

“Thanks.” I nodded as a wave of anger flooded my veins. He patted my hand in pity. I loathed pity. Biting my tongue and the urge to snatch my hand back, I tipped the glass, cringing as the fiery burn skulked toward my stomach.

It had been a disastrous night, one I hoped never to repeat again. I needed to resign myself to the fact that I wasn’t meant to have an owner. I sure as hell didn’t deserve one, not the way I’d behaved. But how could I let go of my desires? Was there a way to slough off the basic nature of my being?

“Shit!” I cursed beneath my breath. “One more, Scotty.”

“No.” The bartender adamantly shook his head.

I wrapped my hand around his and forced him to lift the bottle. Pouring a double shot into the glass, I looked at him in defiance.

“I thought you were a submissive. Aren’t you supposed to do as you’re told?” Scotty whispered low.

“On a good day.” I lifted the glass to my lips and gulped every drop from the glass. “Guess this isn’t one of them.”

“Hell!” Scotty growled and walked away, taking the bottle with him.

I couldn’t scrub Drake’s angry disappointment from my mind. I’d never seen him so mad, not even at Trevor for some of the antics he’d pulled over the years. No, I was in for a thorough ass chewing, at the very least, when Drake got his hands on me.

“Hey sweetcakes. Can I buy you a drink?”

I looked up and tried not to roll my eyes in revulsion. A man stood before me, with a sexually confident gleam in his eyes. Not only did he look like a throwback from the seventies, he was old enough to be my dad. His jet-black dyed hair was slicked back with some ungodly gooey gel, and he wore a dizzying print silk shirt unbuttoned to his navel. And if that weren’t bad enough, sprouting forth with unabashed pride was a thick gray carpet of chest hair. I wanted to retch. He was quite a package, but it was undoubtedly the gold Mr.
T
chains that thoroughly iced the whole revolting cake.

“Go away.” I turned my back to him, hoping the Bee Gees wannabe would take my not-so-subtle hint.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it, you fucking whore.” Disco Dip Shit spat and then took his leave.

Gritting my teeth to keep the caustic comeback from rolling off my tongue, I was vaguely aware of Scotty talking on the phone. Raising my eyes, I glared at him. A guilty expression flashed across his face as he realized I was listening to the conversation.

“She’s had five, and I won’t give her anymore, not without confiscating her keys.”

“Is that Drake?” I demanded.

Scotty frowned and curtly nodded.

“I am outta here!” I tossed two twenties on the bar. As I stood and turned, I heard Scotty relay my departure to Drake. I knew he wasn’t being a snitch to hurt me and was no doubt disturbed by my unusual solo visit, but I couldn’t help but feel betrayed. Hell, I’d been betrayed by just about everyone I’d ever allowed inside my walls. All except Trevor. He’d never betrayed me.

I reached my car and pulled out of the parking lot. Rage bolstered my wits and sobriety until I was safely home. Once inside my familiar four walls, the floodgates burst open like a crumbling dam. Blubbering like a fool, I stumbled to my bedroom and stripped off my fetish wear. Even naked I couldn’t peel off the feeling that I was destined to wear a neon sign flashing “Loser” for the rest of my life.

Humiliation and rejection laminated my every pore. There was absolutely no way I could ever face Jordon again. I wasn’t even sure I could face Drake again. Humiliation settled in the pit of my stomach.

I paced my room, thinking about all the years I’d dedicated to the lifestyle and the club, and wondering what the hell I was going to do. Hours upon hours learning, and even more spent teaching new subs, donating my time to greet guests, working behind the bar, and cleaning equipment. Hell, every free moment of my time had been spent trying to make Genesis a comfortable home, not just for me, but for everyone. And now what was I left with besides a heavy cloak of shame and a dark, ugly hollowness scoring my heart? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing.

Feeling numb, I stepped into a hot shower and sat on the floor. The stinging water bit my face while I cried in self-pity, self-loathing, self-destruction.

It was a long time before the tears stopped. The hot water had long turned cold, but it didn’t matter...I was numb inside and out. Turning off the shower, I stepped out and roughed a towel over my cold flesh, sniffed, and then turned to face the mirror.

The image staring back at me was stark. Haunted. Lifeless. No light twinkled in my eyes. I was met with a dull, flat reflection. My nose was red and my eyes were swollen. My cheeks were blotched, red, and ugly.

“Whatever possessed you to think you were a sub?” I sniffed, questioning my own reflection. It was a discussion I’d had with myself numerous times. Needing to know the reason, or at least an excuse for my submissive desires, I stared at myself, waiting for an epiphany...one that never came.

There was no enlightened recollection of some pivotal moment or Freudian-type trauma in my life that would explain why every fiber of my being ached to please a Dom. There was no defining line around my eyes or lips that could pinpoint the elusive reason.

As I climbed into bed, hopelessness settled deep in my bones. I
was
hopeless. Hopelessly jaded and envious as night after night I watched other subs fulfill their dreams. Hopelessly empty, alone, and tired of battling the arresting desires constantly raging within.

I wanted to be rid of the relentless frustration, exorcise it from my being. There was never going to be a Dominant who would take a chance with me. I was inexperienced and a total embarrassment. Thankfully my night with Jordon was over, but with it went any chance of finding my contentment. I always managed to screw things up, never consciously, but still...I ended up sabotaging every potential opportunity, like tonight.

I’d overheard Nick, a regular at the club, discussing me with Drake once, but he was quickly ushered away. Was I an embarrassment even to Drake? What if I’d
wanted
to be used by Nick? He was an incredibly handsome Dominant. Gentle. Patient. But now, after so much time, even Nick had a submissive. I would have loved an opportunity back then to at least try to get to know the Native American man on a submissive level. But Drake didn’t even discuss it with me. And why would he? I’m only the submissive. It’s not like I get to call the shots. He did...err, used to...or might still? Oh, hell...I had no clue where I stood with Drake anymore.

I had to let it go, stop thinking about it. I was only going in circles, and I was getting nowhere fast. I needed to shut off my brain and go to sleep.

Expelling a heavy sigh, I closed my eyes, promising to analyze my submissive-suicidal behavior in the morning. Maybe then I’d find some answers. Maybe I’d wake up and find the entire night was simply a bad dream. Well, I could wish anyway.

Tossing and turning, I was still unable to switch off my brain. The clock on my nightstand, with its eerie green glow, revealed two o’clock.

Suddenly there she was...Fanny-Frustration, wearing a smile so warm and loving, I couldn’t help but smile back. Graceful and floating with an ethereal white light, she was breathtaking. So glorious and beautiful.
“Stop doubting. You’re only making this harder on yourself. You’re close. Closer than you’ve ever been. Don’t be afraid! He’ll reveal himself to you, but you must be strong. You have to be brave. You’ll have to pay a terrible price, but he’s worth it. I promise!”

I was suddenly afraid. She had never spoken such an ominous warning in my dreams before. As I opened my mouth to demand she explain the cryptic message, she brushed a slender hand over my cheek and smiled. Then with the wave of her other hand, the image of the gorgeous black man appeared. His eyes sparkled and that mischievous half-smile curled on his sensual mouth.

“He may not be ready, but you are. Never doubt what you are. He’ll eventually find his way, too. But you must be confident in your quest. Don’t falter and don’t hide. You’ll have to be willing to risk it all to find happiness. Don’t be afraid. You both need each other so desperately.”
Her soft lips caressed my forehead, and she vanished as she always did, but this time Sir Drool’s image remained.

I couldn’t stop myself. I reached out and brushed my fingertips over his full bottom lip. He blinked as if he could see me, too. His eyes grew wide in an expression of shock.

“You’re here. I’ve been waiting so long for you,”
he whispered.
“I never thought...You have no idea how much I want you.”
His eyes were filled with love.

“Me?” I asked in stunned surprise. Just touching his warm, exotic lip infused a potent ache that stung me to the bone. He felt so real. So alive. His warm breath caressed the pads of my fingers as I stood before him, trembling.

“Yes, you.”
He nodded, swiping his tongue over my fingers, his saliva slick and hot.
“If only I could touch you like this, I’d shower you with all the magic you deserve, and I’d never let you go.”

“Please...I need...I want. Take me, I’m yours,” I begged.