HisIndecentBoxSetpub (42 page)

“
Put
your hands behind your back. I'll let you know when the time is up,”
he told me.

I dropped the ball
for the first time five minutes in when my nose started itching. My
heart sank as it landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Ten more
minutes was added to my punishment time.

Damien sat on the
sofa for a while, reading something on his phone and watching me in
his peripheral vision. Eventually, he left to take a shower, warning
me that he'd know if I cheated. That's when the ball dropped a second
time thanks to me scowling. He had to have cameras planted in the
room if he was making that threat. And I didn't put it past him to
watch them after I left.

The happiness from
my swooning at his loving words faded away with my continued
submission to his punishment. Damien entered and left the room
several times, and I could have sworn he was purposely trying to make
me mess up. While the thought brought me even more discontent, I
didn't dare to show it, lest the ball drop again.

Minutes felt like
hours standing as still as a statue. I tried to imagine watching a
movie from start to finish while I waited, though my brain seemed to
have the fast-forward button pressed. Then I repeated the words 'Yes,
Sir' in my head about two dozen times. After that, I decided to count
to pass the time, having nothing better to do. Every time I dropped
the ball, the count started over.

My feet ached, and I
shifted my weight. The ball fell. Damien entered the room. The ball
fell. My nose got a twitch. The ball fell. A random shiver rolled
down my spine. The ball fell.

I was quickly
becoming tired. How long had I stood there? How much longer would I
have to stand there? How many more times would the ball fall? I was
beginning to think Damien was serious about keeping me there all
night. His kindness had turned into cruelty. Instead of standing
against the wall for only thirty minutes, I was certain I had been
there for well over an hour.

Finally, Damien
walked into the room and announced that my punishment was over. I
sighed in relief, stepping back and catching the ball in my hand as
it fell a final time.

“
Now
what must you do?” he asked me.

“
Thank
you for my punishment, Sir. I was punished because I continued to
forget to call you Sir. I will do my best not to make the same
mistake again.”

“
Good
girl. It's late. Bring me your definitions and then you can go home.
Oh, and you have a second set of definitions to write that I want
turned in tomorrow afternoon. Do you remember the term you forgot?”

“
Yes,
Sir. Black sheet party. It's an orgy between those within the BDSM
lifestyle.”

“
Excellent.
You are dismissed.”

Exhausted, I quickly
hurried to my car to retrieve my vocabulary homework. When I turned
it into Damien, he looked at it with no hint of approval. It must
have satisfied him well enough though, because he didn't say anything
further.

Afterward, he led me
to the door. All hints of perversion that had been in my mind before
my punishment had faded away. The only thing I was thinking about now
was going home and relaxing for the rest of the afternoon in a less
stuffy environment. For as much as I wanted to be by Damien's side,
moments like this made me doubt myself. I hated his punishments, even
though he made me lie and say I was thankful for them. It was all
part of my training though. Hopefully, someday he wouldn't need to
punish me anymore.

MUNCH

My stomach twisted
nervously as I got ready for the munch the following day. Even though
Damien told me I could dress casually, I still wasn't sure what to
wear. Would my normal style be looked at as too conservative? I could
only imagine that most of the other submissives, if not all of them,
would probably be in sexy attire to please their Masters.

That made me wonder
if Damien actually liked how I dressed. While the formal contract
contained a clause about him being able to choose clothing for me, he
had never spoken on the subject. He was pretty straight forward, so I
imagined that if my wardrobe displeased him, he would have said
something about it by now.

With a sigh, I
picked a black blouse and matching pencil skirt from my closest. If I
wasn't going to dress sexy, the least I could do was dress in all
black. Isn't that what most BDSM people wore? I wasn't sure. Most of
the time, Damien just sported jeans and a T-shirt.
Bah, whatever.
I was done thinking about it.

Once I was dressed,
I fastened my public collar around my neck and checked myself out in
the mirror. My fingers lightly grazed the rhinestones, admiring how
they shimmered in the lamplight.
Infinity. He wants to be with me
for infinity.
It was an endearing thought, one of the few things
that kept me going after the previous afternoon's punishment.
I
will never forget to call him Sir again. I will try harder, to be a
better submissive, to please him and avoid punishment.

Damien looked ready
to go when I arrived at his door. He opened it with a smile, which
was unusual.
He's excited about this,
I realized.
Maybe
he's excited about showing me off. Or perhaps he's just happy for us
to be going out in public together, the same that I am.

Like a perfect
gentleman, he led me to his Corvette, and then opened the door for me
to step inside.

“
Are
you nervous?” he asked as we pulled out of the driveway.

“
I'm
not really sure how to act around these people,” I admitted.

“
Just
act as you normally would. This is a very causal event. There's
nothing to worry about.”

“
If
you say so.”

“
You
look beautiful, by the way.” The words sounded awkward coming
from his lips, as if he wasn't sure if he should say them or not.

“
Thank
you, Sir.” I smiled.

The rest of the
drive was spent in silence. Part of me wanted to turn his radio on so
we'd have noise to fill the void, but I was too afraid of punishment.

We pulled up at the
location, which looked like a mix between a bar and a restaurant. I
had heard of the place before, but had never been. It was downtown,
and I very rarely ventured downtown.

Tension built inside
my chest as we got out of the car and walked to the restaurant door.
Though Damien had told me that these people would be normal, I still
wasn't quite sure what to expect. An image of leather-clad fetishists
insisted on invading my mind, but I knew that wasn't right.

Damien asked the
hostess if our party had arrived. I stuck to his side as we were
guided through the building and into a room that was partially closed
off from the rest of the restaurant. Several tables had been pushed
together to accommodate our group. It was a small gathering, much
smaller than I had anticipated.

As expected,
everyone was older than me. Instead of being the leather-bound crowd
I had imagined, they were all dressed in normal attire, and they all
wore smiles, greeting us brightly. Most of them seemed to know
Damien, standing up to shake his hand or give him a hug. He
introduced me as his submissive in training, and I bowed my head
respectfully, only answering questions that were asked of me, too
nervous to engage in further conversation.

We seated ourselves
at the end of the table, and I listened to Damien make idle chitchat
while we waited for the rest of the party to arrive. The conversation
was just as casual as the dress code, mainly involving talk about
what had been going on in their lives since the last time they had
all seen each other. I kept my eyes to the table, somehow feeling
anxious despite all the friendly faces around me.

“
Damien
Reed,” a woman's voice said as if the name amazed her. “Isn't
this a pleasant surprise?”

When I looked up, a
cold chill stabbed at my heart. I knew this woman, had seen her
before—in his sex video.

The way she looked
at Damien spoke volumes about her desire, and when she embraced him,
she held onto him too tightly, for too long. In my mind, I was prying
them apart, pushing her away from him, telling her she already had
her chance. For whatever reason, they weren't together anymore. He
belonged to me now—to me and me alone, and I didn't share.

“
Danica,
this is Cheyenne, my submissive in training,” Damien told her
as he broke away from her inappropriate hug and gestured to me.

I stood, though I
wasn't sure why. Maybe I thought it was the respectful thing to do.
Or perhaps I purposely wanted to wedge my body between them. Whatever
the case, it seemed to work. They took a step back from one another
as Danica reached out to shake my hand.

“
My
replacement,” she said, sounding only the slightest hint
bitter. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“
Likewise,”
was all I could think of to say.

“
Looks
like you're doing some major cradle robbing,” the woman told
Damien while she looked me up and down. “Has she even bled
yet?”

A blush crept up my
neck, though I wasn't sure if it was from embarrassment or anger at
her bold words.

“
She's
perfectly legal, I assure you. Cheyenne, this is Danica. She was my
submissive before you. I'm sure you remember her from—”

“
The
video. Yes, I remember,” I cut him off.

“
Now
she's a Dominatrix,” the word hissed off his lips with a
smile—a smile I didn't like.

“
How
does that happen?” I asked. “Going from a submissive to a
Dominatrix?”

“
Ol'
Reed here couldn't tame me.” She took a step forward and poked
his stomach.

Don't touch him.
He's not yours anymore. That ship has sailed. Stay away.

“
It
had nothing to do with me not being able to tame you. You didn't want
to be a submissive.” His smile sank into a frown.

“
And
now I'm not,” she told him and then went to find a seat.
Thankfully, the only two left were a good distance away from us. I
didn't want her anywhere near him.

We ordered food, and
eventually the conversation turned from casual everyday things to the
lifestyle. One of the men asked how Damien and I had met. When he
told the story, they all hooted with laughter, teasing him about how
he needed to stop fucking his students. That didn't sit well with me
either. Was he really such a whore? Had my lust for him blinded me of
his true nature? It was a good reminder that there was so much about
him that I still didn't know, like what he did during his free time
when I wasn't around. I wondered if the blonde woman knew.

For the most part, I
remained quiet, listening to everyone around me. Occasionally,
someone would try to engage me in conversation, asking me how I liked
the lifestyle or how Damien was treating me. I liked it well enough,
I told them, though I was still trying to adapt to a lot of things.
And my relationship with Damien was as good as it could be, given the
circumstances. Or was it? I didn't know anymore. Mixed emotions were
blurring rational thinking.

Throughout the
entire munch, I continuously caught the blonde woman staring at
Damien. It was like I wasn't even there. She flirted with him when
she could. At least, it seemed like she was trying to flirt with him.

The most
provocatively dressed person in the room, I could see why he had gone
for her. She was beautiful, with honey blonde hair, blue eyes, pale
skin, and breasts that could rival my own. They were displayed
proudly in a tight-fitting leather corset, showing more skin than
what was left to the imagination. Her cleavage went on for miles,
seducing every man in the room. Even Damien wasn't immune to it. I
saw him glance over once or twice, though he tried not to be obvious.
It never ceased to amaze me the spell that breasts could place on a
man. He had even had those breasts before. Why he felt the need to
look at them now was beyond me?

The munch couldn't
be over soon enough. While everyone had been pleasant, being in the
presence of the blonde woman was about to drive me insane. I couldn't
help but feel like there was still something between them, though I
knew I was probably just being paranoid.