It took a second to remember where she’d left off. “Um . . . oh, so Tori and I discussed it, and she advised me to find a munch so I could talk to other subs and some Doms to see if I was truly a submissive. She also gave me some websites and chatrooms to join. After a munch, I started taking sub classes at Indigo.” Although the club was a public one, all play was closely monitored there. The Dungeon Masters had no issues interrupting scenes if they thought a sub was in danger, mentally or physically. They offered classes in various types of play for both Doms and subs. Tiffany had taken every class available for subs and had honestly thought she’d learned enough and had been cautious enough to weed through the wanna-be Doms and sadists. She’d done a good job up until she’d met Bruce and fallen for his magnetism. However, she now knew that’d all been a farce. One that many domestic violence victims fall victim to.
“Indigo is a good club, despite being a public one. How many Doms did you play with before you met this last one?”
“Before Ma—” She shook her head. “Before I met Bruce, I’d played with six or seven Doms, but I only had sex . . .” Her voice had dropped to a whisper for that one word, since she didn’t want anyone around them to comprehend what she was talking about. Although, no one seemed to be paying any attention to them. “. . . with two of them, and I’d known them for a few months before agreeing to that during negotiations.”
Cordell’s lips had twitched when she’d said, “sex” in a hushed tone, but a full smile hadn’t appeared. He did, however, lower his voice a little when he spoke again. “As for Bruce, Mitch said you were with him for two years, is that correct?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“In a Master/slave relationship?”
Tiffany’s gaze dropped to the table as her cheeks heated in embarrassment. Why, oh, why had she let Bruce talk her into being a slave instead of a submissive? As a slave, she’d handed over all aspects of her life for him to control—what she did, what she wore, what she ate, who her friends were, and so much more. Now she found she was lost without someone making those decisions for her, and she hated it. She wanted her freedom, yet she also wanted a Dom to satisfy her submissive nature. Could she find a Dom who could handle both?
“Pet, eyes on me.” When she met his gaze again, he continued. “I asked you a question. Please answer it.”
“Yes, Sir. It was a Master/slave relationship.”
“Is there a reason you agreed to be a slave?”
Shit, she should have known that question was coming. What should she say? She’d been stupid? She’d fallen for his charm? She’d thought he’d loved her? “I-I don’t know, Sir. The only answer I believe I can give you is I was gullible.”
The Dom tilted his head and stared at her, as if contemplating her answer. The silence stretched a moment, and Tiffany was grateful when a male server stopped at their table with a tray. “Fuji apple salad with chicken?”
Cordell pointed at the empty spot on the table in front of Tiffany. “That’s for the lady.”
“Okay, that means you get steak and arugula sandwich, correct?”
“Yes, thank you.”
After the server left them with their meals, Cordell said, “I hope that was a good choice.” He indicated her salad with a jut of his chin.
Tiffany smiled, relieved they were off the difficult questions, at least for the moment. “Yes, it is. I love all their salads, but this is one of my favorites. Thank you.”
She’d expected him to dig right into his sandwich, but he just sat there waiting. After several seconds ticked by, he said, “Tiffany, rule number one about meals. I will not start eating until the woman I’m with takes her first bite.”
Understanding the prompt, she picked up her fork and speared a piece of apple. “May I ask why?”
His lips twitched again. “Because it’s a gentlemanly thing to do. Now, please start eating because I’m quite hungry.”
Present . . .
Cordell closed the file in front of him and leaned back in his desk chair. Well, between his disability retirement being officially approved and reading the Sawyers’ proposal for the resort, it looked like he was going to be moving to the Florida Keys in about a month. First thing he had to do was contact a realtor friend to list his house on the outskirts of Vegas to rent. It didn’t matter if he didn’t get someone to move in right away, since he was going to be living at the resort for free—one of the perks of the manager’s job description. Packing was the second thing he needed to do. Whatever he didn’t have room for down there he’d put into storage in case things didn’t work out with the Master Key Resort. That was also the reason he was not selling the house right away. In law enforcement, he learned to always have a Plan B in case shit went sideways and upside down.
He snorted. Yup, the Sawyers had come up with a great name for the place. The play on words was not only amusing but catchy. They’d even filed paperwork with the state of Florida to have the small, private island officially renamed Master Key.
Since Cordell’s parents were deceased, and his two brothers and a sister lived in other states, there was nothing binding him to Vegas, other than his circle of friends, but they all had their own families. In fact, before being shot, he’d been thinking about where he’d eventually want to retire after his twenty years in the department were up. Florida had been one choice. Arizona the other. The job offer had helped make the decision for him, and he didn’t have a problem with it.
A knock on the open door drew his attention. Tiffany was standing there, wearing nothing but a pink bra and matching thong. His cock twitched as it did every time she responded like this to a summons from him. He tried to convince himself it was the same reaction he’d gotten to any of the other submissives he’d retrained over the past several years, but it wasn’t true. Well, it was partially true. He did have the same reaction to all those other women when they’d worn nothing but underwear in his house, as per his rules. He was a healthy, heterosexual guy in his midthirties. Of course, his cock noticed any woman in sexy lingerie. However, he could honestly say he’d never had a reaction to any of the other submissives when they’d been fully dressed, no matter what they’d been wearing. He had a feeling Tiffany could be wearing a house frock, four sizes too big, and his body would still respond to her the moment she came into view.
“Enter.”
Wordlessly, she did as ordered and kneeled on the pillow in the middle of the room, assuming a perfect present position. Standing, Cordell rounded the desk and took a seat in one of the two guest chairs, swiveling it until he was facing her. “How was your day, pet?”
“Work was busy, but nothing out of the ordinary, Sir. How was your day?”
He smiled. It’d taken her about two months of being his submissive before she’d started asking him questions about his day, instead of just responding to his queries. It’d been another month or two before she’d seemed comfortable with the new routine. “It went very well, thank you. In fact, I’ve made my decision on the job Mitch offered me.”
Her gaze shot up to his as he’d expected it would. He purposely kept his face blank. He could tell she wanted to ask whether he was taking the job or not, but she held her tongue.