Taking a step back and to the side, he gestured toward the table he’d been sitting at. “Please, come have a seat and join me.” When she hesitated, he knew he was going to have to spell out every request or command to her. “If I want you to walk behind me, little one, I’ll make that clear. However, we have much to talk about before we start with any rules. For now, please walk in front of me to our table.”
“Yes, Mas—yes, Cor-Cordell.”
As he followed her, she glanced back at him several times, as if making certain she was walking correctly. When they reached their table, he pulled out a chair for her. “Please, sit.” When she complied, he asked, “What would you like to drink and eat, little one?”
Her eyes grew wide. “I-I don’t need anything, Sir.”
He stared down at her. “That wasn’t what I asked you, Tiffany. Did you eat before you came here?”
“No-no, Mas—” She shook her head. “No, I didn’t. I was too—too nervous.”
The corners of his mouth ticked upward. “Thank you for your honesty. Now, I asked you here to have lunch with me, so we could talk in a neutral setting. Eating and drinking were included in that. I also prefer not to eat alone when in the company of a beautiful woman, so I’ll ask you once more. What can I order you for lunch?”
“Um, I’m—I’m not picky.” Her shoulders lifted up and then dropped. “And I like all their salads, so I’ll have whatever you order for me.”
Not exactly the answer he wanted, but it was a start. “And what would you like to drink?”
Tiffany let out a shaky breath. “Uh, water or an iced tea is fine. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. I’ll be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, please try to relax.” Yeah, that was probably like telling a chicken to relax while it was surrounded by a dozen foxes. At least Tiffany nodded in response. “Good girl.”
As Cordell stood in line at the counter, he studied his new recovery project. That’s how he had to think of the women he helped, to keep from growing too close to them. He often compared himself to a person who fostered stray dogs or cats, socializing them until they could be adopted into their forever homes. Yes, it was sad to say goodbye to them, but knowing they were in good hands made the heartache a little easier.
Each of Cordell’s projects had been different—unique in their personal backgrounds and the hell they’d gone through at the hands of someone who’d been supposed to cherish them, not abuse them. It could take him a few hours, days, or weeks before he could get into their minds so he could figure out what his plan of action needed to be. In the meantime, he’d take one step at a time, gaining their trust and submission. Today started step one for Ms. Tiffany Armstrong.
All Tiffany wanted to do was throw up—well, that and run out of there. Thankfully, her stomach was empty. As for hightailing it, she didn’t think her knees would support her if she tried to stand up again. She just had to get her nerves under control before Master—no—before Cordell returned. She’d recognized him right away from the photo he’d texted her after they’d made arrangements to meet. When Mitch had given her the police lieutenant’s number and told her he was expecting her call, she’d just assumed Cordell would talk to her and negotiate a contract with her over the phone. Instead, their conversation had been brief, mostly pertaining to their current public meeting.
Her palms were sweating, and she rubbed them on her thighs. She hoped she was dressed okay. It’d taken her over an hour to settle on a navy-blue skort, an emerald-green, short-sleeved, V-neck top, and navy and white sandals. Her clothing was appropriate for both the weather and the venue, but she didn’t care about either of those things. Instead, she was worried about what Master Cordell thought of her outfit. Was it too revealing? Not revealing enough? And, damn it, stop calling him Master. Do as he told you to do and just call him Cordell. At least in public like this.
“Here you go, pet.”
Tiffany startled when he set two glasses of iced tea on the table, one directly in front of her. She hadn’t realized he’d placed the order and returned. She must have zoned out for a moment, and that wasn’t a good thing. Not in a Dom’s presence. Inattentiveness was a sure way to earn a punishment, and she didn’t think she was ready for that yet with a new Dom.
“Thank you, M—Cordell.” When he just eyed her as he took the seat across from her, she added, “I’m sorry—it’s habit Ma—” She huffed loudly, irritated with herself. “It’s a habit Mitch said I needed to break.”
“Okay, we can work on that.” He set a little card with the number fifteen on it into a silver holder on the table, so when their food was ready, a server would know which customers it belonged too. “Would you be more comfortable calling me Sir instead of my given name?”
Relief shot through her, and she gave him a small smile. “Yes, Sir, I would, very much, but . . .”
“But what, pet?
Her honesty had clearly pleased him a few minutes ago, so she answered truthfully. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to call you Master, aside from us being in public?”
There was a pause, as if he hadn’t expected the question and was weighing his response. “Yes, there is. I never ask my submissives to refer to me as Master until we both feel I’ve earned the title. You’ll find I’m not like most of the Doms you’ve known before now. I have my own rules I follow in addition to the rules I’ll expect you to follow if we negotiate an agreement and sign a contract. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
The grin on his face gave her the warm fuzzies inside. It also eased the harsh features of his face and the nausea in her stomach. “Good,” he said. “Now, while we’re waiting for our food, I have some questions I want you to answer. I will warn you that a few of them may be uncomfortable for you, but I expect honesty from you. My intent is not to embarrass you, but your answers will help me decide if I think I can help you. Understood?”
She took a deep breath and let it out. This is what she’d expected to do over the phone, which she would’ve found easier. Having his eyes on her made her nervous, but she needed to do this. Bruce had mind-fucked her for too long. She recognized that now, after several conversations with Mitch, Tori, and Mistress Rayanna. It was time to take back her control, but to do that, she needed to willingly give this Dom her submission. If, by the end of their meeting, either of them didn’t think a D/s relationship would work between them, then she’d have to call Mitch and ask him to find another Dom to help her. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Let’s start off with an easy question. How long have you been in the lifestyle?”
“Almost three years, Sir.”
“How did you discover it?”
“Through Tori, Sir. She came to visit and accidentally let it slip that she was a submissive. I’d read a lot of fictional books in the lifestyle genre and found it intriguing.”
He frowned. “Those books have their pros and cons. Many submissives finally found the lifestyle does exist, but others who don’t belong in D/s relationships joined clubs because suddenly kink was fashionable. However, after speaking with Mitch, I do believe you fall in the former group. Continue.”