Release Me

Part 24

"Strip." The command sliced through the cavernous silence like a knife, its sharp echo piercing the shadows as my foot disrupted the solitary halo of light.

Every muscle in my body tensed, freezing me mid-stride, a marionette held taut by invisible strings. Blinking, my eyes bore into the impenetrable darkness, the afterglow from the path's illumination long since consumed by the ravenous black void.

"The order is immutable, and so are the expectations. You're no longer an initiate or an apprentice. Your obstinacy may have its appeal for some, but I find it entirely devoid of charm." The voice was as firm as cold iron, allowing no room for rebellion.

My hands, moist with a sheen of anxious perspiration, glided hesitantly down the smooth fabric of my skirt. Taking a step into the pitiless glare of the spotlight, I forced my gaze downward, committing myself to a self-inflicted act of contrition. My attention riveted to the floor, my trembling fingers fumbled with each clasp and zipper, gradually discarding my garments. Without further prompting, I sank to my knees, my posture the epitome of submission: back erect, palms raised, chin level, and eyes demurely averted.

"She is perfection in movement when she listens."

"True," Dominick voice agreed, his affirmation causing my breath to hitch in my chest. "When her focus is captivated, she is enticing, motivated and driven, though it takes much to keep her in the perfect headspace. It is her intelligence that is inspiring. Her unique perspective, modern yet respectful of our age-old principles, sets her apart. Not many could embrace the concept of female empowerment and know how to translate it into power through dominance or submission."

Their conversation hurled me back to my first year in the Society. More than once I'd knelt in various stages of undress or service, surrounded by various people in power. Some were from the soft world governments, while others were from other regions within the organization. It took me a long time to learn the power of silence and the value of being a beautiful object. Now they were discussing me like nothing in my status had changed.

"That is why they chose her."

"Yes," Dominick confirmed and stepped into the circle of light. I didn't need to look up to know the weight of his disappointed stare. "Unfortunately, she never developed a predator's instinct. Perhaps I was wrong in believing it existed within her. When overwhelmed, she tends to flee rather than confront. It's a nasty trait I thought we'd erased. When her father wanted to make her part of his company, she ran away to Boston to pursue a degree. Before that, I understand she begged him to go to boarding school after her mother's death. Given the opportunity to be the best in the Regent pool, she lifted others and made it seem as if she faltered. Even when many saw through this ill-crafted facade, she ran from me. Perhaps you were right. Some individuals are diamonds in the rough, yet the immense pressure needed to hone them into perfection can lead to irreparable damage."

"What do you believe needs to be done to mold her into the perfect specimen for the job?"

Dominick moved forward, straddling my legs. He leaned over me, his fist coiling tight in my hair. As he pulled my head back, I was forced to meet his gaze.

"This one needs pleasure and pain like none I've known. When the world overwhelms her, the physical endurance gives her something to latch onto rather than allowing the thoughts to spin out of control. On the other hands, forcing her body to accept pleasure places her mind in contrasting pain as she processes the emotions she refuses to face. Her worst enemy to her mind is her body, and the worst enemy to her body is her mind. Harness and control both aspects to perfection, and she could become one of the most formidable Regents of our future."

"Yet you said she doesn't possess the instinct for the hunt. Such a position requires one to know when to growl, when to bow and when to bite."

"Indeed, but perhaps it can be crafted with time and the weight of responsibilities placed upon her. Maybe what cracked was a flawed ill-formed trait that pressure and time will resolve," he said, tightening his grip and staring down at me.