Page 42 of Delicious Surrender
Brynne:OK, true. But in my vulnerable state, I might have tried to seduce you. It’s best that I saved us both from that embarrassment.
Unknown:Good submissives don’t seduce. They do as they are told.
Brynne:Whoever said I was good?
It was easy to be cheeky when he wasn’t in the same room. She could imagine his shock when he found her gone. God help her, she loved provoking him. Pushing his buttons was the only way to get him to drop his resting dick face and reveal some of his true self.
When the taxi driver pulled up to her flat, he asked if she was okay. She laughed and assured him that life was grand. Once inside, she made herself a tea and ran a bath with Epsom salts. She sank into the hot water and hissed at the sting. She would be tender for a few days, but it was worth it.
Brynne closed her eyes and smiled, feeling incredibly proud of herself. She had not only witnessed a private scene that shocked her to her core, but also survived a public spanking without using her safe word! Gage wasn’t willing to admit she was tough, but it didn’t matter. She had endured it and barely cried…well, not until the white-hot sting of the cane. That searing pain shocked her, but it soon gave way to a warmth that radiated straight to her core. The key to letting go was seeing Gage right beside her and knowing she was safe. Even if he didn’t like her, he took his duty seriously and wouldn’t allow any harm to come to her.
Reading about it or seeing it happen to someone else would never have given her the insight she now possessed. Being strapped down and helpless was so erotic. Those same tantalizing sensations assailed her during the scene with Mistress Patricia. She felt ashamed of these dark and disturbing desires. But that didn’t stop her from wanting to explore more. He’d opened a Pandora’s box of deviant thoughts, and there was no way to lock them back up. Maybe she needed someone to show her because she wanted to know everything.
She reached for her new vibrator. The clerk promised Mr. Boss was waterproof, and she hoped so because it had a job to do.
Three exhilarating orgasms later, Brynne was certain she had exorcised Gage. For the moment. She donned her pink flannel nightdress, crawled under the covers, and fell immediately to sleep.
The jarring ring of her cell phone woke her the next morning. It wasn’t on the bedside table, so where did she leave it? She stumbled bleary-eyed into the bathroom to pee and found it on the edge of the sink. The missed call from Aunt Josie brought on a wave of guilt. It had been more than a week since they last spoke. Brynne made it a point to call her every three or four days. She was from the era of handwritten cards and the telephone, so she hated email and texting. Even after Brynne set up her iPhone so they could FaceTime, she refused to turn the thing on, insisting the cell signal on Skye was too weak. She was fiercely independent and stubborn, but Brynne admired that more than anyone.
She turned the thermostat up and jumped under the covers to call her back.
“Helloo!”
“Auntie Josie, it’s me Brynne. How are you?”
“Brynnie, my love, it’s so good to hear your voice! I’ve missed you.”
“Me too! I’m sorry I didn’t call this week. I took a second job in the evenings and I’m finally getting noticed at the paper for more than finding typos.”
“That’s wonderful, darling. But a second job? If you need money, you only have to ask.”
“It isn’t for the money, Auntie, it’s actually for research.” She paused and took a deep breath. “You know how devastated I was when your agent told me the book just wasn’t realistic enough.”
“Yes, but I was rejected many times before someone took a chance on me. You are a talented writer, and I know you won’t give up on your dream.”
Brynne smiled, feeling buoyed by her aunt’s unyielding belief in her. “True, I’m not giving up, but I figured out a way to understand my subject matter a little better.”
“Oh, that sounds intriguing, do tell!”
Brynne giggled, happy to hear a liveliness in her voice that had been missing the last few times they spoke. She told her a little about Gage, the tall, dark, and disagreeable bastard who owned the club. “I’m getting quite an education, Auntie. I got to witness a woman get spanked in front of a crowd.”
Josie whistled into the phone. “Too bad it wasn’t you in the hot seat! That would give you fuel for the book!”
“Yes, well, if I get on the bad side of the boss, it just might be me one of these days.”
They talked for a while until Brynne could sense she was getting tired. Josie assured her that everything was good,and she wanted for nothing. A housekeeper visited every week and Declan, one of her many old flames, had gourmet meals delivered to her almost every night of the week when he wasn’t there cooking them himself. She told Brynne not to worry—she was being pampered. The only thing she complained about was not being able to drive her ’66 MGB Roadster. The doctor hadn’t cleared her to drive the stick shift since she broke her hip last fall. Thankfully, she’d recovered from the surgery, and things were finally getting back to normal.
Maybe Brynne could take a break from work and visit. She hung up and went to brew a pot of coffee. She didn’t feel human without a few cups in her. A quick glance in the fridge confirmed her suspicions. Half a loaf of bread, one old egg and some coffee creamer. While toast and marmalade would sustain her, she needed to get to the market soon.
Jared had texted two more times, demanding to know that she was okay. She assured him she and her “sorry ass” were fine—albeit a bit tender—and that her night had been unbelievable and eye-opening. She promised to call him later.
After breakfast, she curled up on the couch and wrote her feelings about the night in her journal. Then she spent the balance of her afternoon editing her manuscript and completely lost track of time. If only she could call in sick and spend the afternoon writing.
Forget it. The ornery master of the club would read that as weakness.
Brynne arrived ten minutes late, winded from running from the train. She got changed, freshened up her hair and face, and ran up the steps to the lounge. Thank goodness Sunday was traditionally slow, and Bettie had three tables well undercontrol. They met at the side station.
“Hi Tink, how did your night go? I overheard some fellas complimenting you on how well you did—and the cuteness of your butt!”