Help Wanted [*Complete*]

13

"A submissive should never fail to take note of their Sir's tone when following an order. A good submissive will be able to read the urgency of their Sir's request by paying attention to both vocal cues and body language."

Consciousness returned with a groggy haze and the harsh bite of ammonia in my nostrils. Mr. Emery still wore that horrifying golden mask as he held me in his arms with a soft cashmere blanket wrapped around my sweat slickened body. My limbs moved sluggishly, my sex still tingled. I could feel my hair sticking to my skin. Mr. Emery seemed beyond content as he gazed down at me.

"Did I win, Sir?"

"Mhm. How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted, Sir."

"Would you like to stop?"

"No, Sir." My words won me a quick kiss on my throat.

"Good Girl." He purred cupping my breasts before twisting off the fake rings. A cry broke my lips as the blood rushed back to my nipples. He teased them gently, lightly squeezing and rolling them between his fingertips to get the circulation flowing again. "But I think we're done for the evening." He kissed the top of my head. Looking around the room I found us alone.

"Where'd they go?"

"Mr. G went to punish Belinda for losing."

"Is she really coming back with us?"

He picked up his glass of scotch from the side table and sipped it.

"Yes."

Part of me wanted to struggle from his arms and throw a tantrum, instead I trialed my fingers through the wet tangled ends of my hair.

"Are you going to..." I couldn't finish what I was asking—it was none of my business. He was my Dom, not my boyfriend.

"Yes." The word was cool and void of emotion.

"Oh." I swallowed. "What time is it?"

"A bit after one, we'll head home shortly. And don't think that I didn't catch what you just did."

My jaw clenched as I nodded. I'd forgotten to call him Sir. It was intentional, a passive form of lashing out because I didn't want Belinda to come back with us. I could have asked for him not to have sex with her, but I didn't because I wanted him to not want to.

"You won't be punished tonight, but I will make an example out of you in the morning, or perhaps the day after." He stroked my bottom lip with his thumb while unwrapping me from the cashmere cocoon. I shivered in the cool of the room as he removed me from his lap. I stood and looked down at the PROPERTY OF MR. E mehndi tattoo.

In the few hours since getting it the stain had darkened, contrasting prominently against my skin. He reached out skimming those words with a fingertip. His eyes and mouth ever unreadable but that gesture of tracing what marked me as his—even though it was temporary—made me think he only agreed to take Belinda to re-cement the boundaries. He rose from the chair and clipped the thin lead to my collar prior to our exit.

Mr. Emery walked me back to the entryway once again handed my lead to the attendant from before. I was led back to the locker room where I was roughly washed then clothed before being returned to Mr. Emery in the atrium. I don't know what I was expecting but the mehndi didn't fade with the quick shower.

Belinda was there still wearing a collar and cuffs, though the gold was more yellow. Mr. Emery held her leash and the sight of it made my lips twist with impotent emotion. Beside Belinda in her sheer blue off the shoulder chiffon dress with her careful white blonde curls I felt like an ugly duckling. They looked like a matching pair, even as he took my lead and led us through the doors into the night. The Bentley was waiting for us at the end of the walk way.

As the three of us got in the back-seat Mr. Emery sat in the middle. He removed his mask then mine. Belinda undid her own and without it she was even prettier. Given her looks and build I guessed she was a model.

Getting comfortable seemed an impossibility I found myself constantly shifting in the seat all the way back to the building.