Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Sixty-eight

I nearly retaliate to her patronizing tone of voice, but my inner wisdom cools me down. I force a smile and sit down elegantly, reminding myself that when you're in Rome, you gotta do what the Romans do.

"Arabella. Is that your name?" she asks even though I'm sure she knows the answer already.

Sly one.

"Ara, please," I remark.

Her long manicured fingers tap on her knees as she studies me tentatively. What's her deal, honestly? Mentally I frown, I growl, and she finally releases a breath while unfolding her legs to sit straight.

She leans over toward me, still gauging me as if I'm five and errant. "You're not really a sub, are you? You don't know much about him either, do you?" Her questions feel like a pile of judgmental scripts prepared for me.

Maliciously.

I let out an insufferable sniff and bite my bottom lip, roiled inside. "Depends on who's asking. Is it an old friend of his, or simply a Dominatrix trying to exercise her power over an unintended subordinate?" I quiz.

Her brown eyes narrow in a displeased fashion but she doesn't respond as quickly as I imagine she should have.

I sigh and continue, "Because it's the latter, with all due respect as this is your dominion, I'd have absolutely nothing to say. And If it's the former, I'd kindly tell you that I know him well enough and that's all I can say."

Darkness pours through her eyes like an eerie, stormy cloud in the sky. Yuck! Here comes the warning about getting on the Masters' bad sides. Did I overdo it? Was I supposed to cower and let her intimidate me with unnecessary female innuendos?

A laugh of disbelief leaves her lips before she says, "You're right. It is my dominion and he is more than an old friend to me. His happiness matters and I can tell you are incapable of giving him that! You don't know anything about our world. Do you think you can live with that? Are you sure that you can provide him the satisfaction all these dominant and sadistic men come to this place to have? Do you think you're enough for him, Arabella?"

"Ara!" I snap. Rage unfurls inside me until my skin crawls with goosebumps. "Don't call me Arabella!" I add sternly and I hate it when she calls my name that way.

Nonchalantly, she lifts her hands in the air. "Whatever you wish. Ara."

I scoff, searching for my lost composure from wherever it is. I take a deep breath and utter, "I may be a stranger to your incredible kinky world, a person who doesn't fit in, per your judgment as I can see, but let me remind you that it's not your place to decide whether I belong or not. It's between Adrian and me and you're not involved in any way, I assure you!" I grit my teeth, failing miserably to keep it cool.

Who does she think she is?

"Listen, little girl, I'm trying to—"

"I'm not a little girl, Francesca!" I snap, almost loudly. My anger retracts instantly as I notice some attention. In a trimmed voice, I add, "And Adrian is not a little boy who needs your protection or whatever that is, either. I don't give a damn about what sort of a relationship you two share now, or shared in the past to give you such authority over his private affairs, but I won't let you bruise my confidence as you're strenuously trying to do. My relationship with Adrian is none of your business, Madam. Whether I'm capable of satisfying his needs, or how I go on about it, is something between us so stay out of it!"

With that I get up, unable to mask how upset I am. I can't stand her.

Her audacity makes me furious.

Who is she to Adrian to ask me such questions, huh?