name. There’s only a pair of boots and socks inside. Add those to it, please.”
“Of course, Master Colin,” she smiled at them both and disappeared carrying Angel’s clothing.
“Finish your drink and we’ll continue,” he said quietly, wandering casually around her as she did as she was told. Plain and simple black underwear. Hip clinging bikinis and a satiny bra. He definitely wanted her decked out in lace and ribbons. His gaze landed on the large bruises over her shoulders and Bailey’s story returned in a stormy rush. He made a mental note of a few tasks for Monday morning regarding both her father, her brothers and the bastard who gave her the bruises. He stopped behind her, one hand up and fingers tracing the small silver lines across her back and shoulders. “What caused these?”
“A riding crop,” she whispered shakily, her eyes squeezed closed.
“Your father?”
“And step-mother,” she shivered at the gentle touch of his fingers against her skin.
“How old were you when it began, Angel?”
“Seven,” she remembered the incident, the images playing themselves out in her mind. “I…they tried teaching me to ride…but the horse was so big,” she whispered, sounding like the little girl who had tried hiding to avoid the lessons. “I was afraid…”
Colin felt her body grow colder. “Did you believe that’s what I would do to you?”
“I saw someone…using one of them…”
“That person enjoys it; you didn’t. That person is old enough to make the choice, you weren’t, Angel,” he told her firmly. “There’s a very big difference.”
“Is this what you think you’re supposed to do?” Angel knew she was taking a step outside what he considered acceptable but pushed anyway. “Try and fix me?”
“I don’t think you’re broken,” he answered honestly. “I think you’ve been brainwashed as a child by a man who should know better. I think you can choose to step away from it, if you want, Angel. You came to the club for a reason. So I think a big part of you has come to that same conclusion. It’s time. You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I don’t think it was just for the sex. You told me you have a difficult time masturbating.”
“I…” Color filled her cheeks.
“And no, there are no secrets between a dom and his sub. I have to have information so I know where and when to take you along the right course,” Colin took the bottle from her and aimed it into one of the recycle bins. Then he covered the links between her hands with one of his palms, leading her along the wide corridor. “I think we need to tour more of the floor.”
“Why without clothing?” She asked and realized it was just a little on the sharp side. “Sir.”
“That doesn’t help cushion the attitude, Angelica. As for the clothing, now you appear more like you should, submissive.” He grinned at her. “At least in attire.”
That didn’t help the attitude, she thought, glancing around at people as they walked through the various scenes. Even some of the dom’s clothing was far less than street legal, she noticed, her gaze on people being led around with chains and collars.
“It’s like…like a pet show,” she murmured to herself. “Is that…is that how you see subs? As pets?” Her feet dragged slightly, unsure how she was feeling at the moment with her observation.
“I do not consider you my poodle or Siamese cat, if that’s what you’re asking. The terminology used in Dom/sub relationships is as specialized as any other sub-culture, Angelica. Even in personal relationships without the flavor of play, you have terms of endearment that evolve,” Colin kept her close, watching what they talked about and how it was received by her. “If you notice the people around you, without the clothing, you blend in more.”
“And your excuse?” She bit her lip when she realized the words came out. “The monitors…”
“Everyone has their own style.
“Of course, Master Colin,” she smiled at them both and disappeared carrying Angel’s clothing.
“Finish your drink and we’ll continue,” he said quietly, wandering casually around her as she did as she was told. Plain and simple black underwear. Hip clinging bikinis and a satiny bra. He definitely wanted her decked out in lace and ribbons. His gaze landed on the large bruises over her shoulders and Bailey’s story returned in a stormy rush. He made a mental note of a few tasks for Monday morning regarding both her father, her brothers and the bastard who gave her the bruises. He stopped behind her, one hand up and fingers tracing the small silver lines across her back and shoulders. “What caused these?”
“A riding crop,” she whispered shakily, her eyes squeezed closed.
“Your father?”
“And step-mother,” she shivered at the gentle touch of his fingers against her skin.
“How old were you when it began, Angel?”
“Seven,” she remembered the incident, the images playing themselves out in her mind. “I…they tried teaching me to ride…but the horse was so big,” she whispered, sounding like the little girl who had tried hiding to avoid the lessons. “I was afraid…”
Colin felt her body grow colder. “Did you believe that’s what I would do to you?”
“I saw someone…using one of them…”
“That person enjoys it; you didn’t. That person is old enough to make the choice, you weren’t, Angel,” he told her firmly. “There’s a very big difference.”
“Is this what you think you’re supposed to do?” Angel knew she was taking a step outside what he considered acceptable but pushed anyway. “Try and fix me?”
“I don’t think you’re broken,” he answered honestly. “I think you’ve been brainwashed as a child by a man who should know better. I think you can choose to step away from it, if you want, Angel. You came to the club for a reason. So I think a big part of you has come to that same conclusion. It’s time. You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for. I don’t think it was just for the sex. You told me you have a difficult time masturbating.”
“I…” Color filled her cheeks.
“And no, there are no secrets between a dom and his sub. I have to have information so I know where and when to take you along the right course,” Colin took the bottle from her and aimed it into one of the recycle bins. Then he covered the links between her hands with one of his palms, leading her along the wide corridor. “I think we need to tour more of the floor.”
“Why without clothing?” She asked and realized it was just a little on the sharp side. “Sir.”
“That doesn’t help cushion the attitude, Angelica. As for the clothing, now you appear more like you should, submissive.” He grinned at her. “At least in attire.”
That didn’t help the attitude, she thought, glancing around at people as they walked through the various scenes. Even some of the dom’s clothing was far less than street legal, she noticed, her gaze on people being led around with chains and collars.
“It’s like…like a pet show,” she murmured to herself. “Is that…is that how you see subs? As pets?” Her feet dragged slightly, unsure how she was feeling at the moment with her observation.
“I do not consider you my poodle or Siamese cat, if that’s what you’re asking. The terminology used in Dom/sub relationships is as specialized as any other sub-culture, Angelica. Even in personal relationships without the flavor of play, you have terms of endearment that evolve,” Colin kept her close, watching what they talked about and how it was received by her. “If you notice the people around you, without the clothing, you blend in more.”
“And your excuse?” She bit her lip when she realized the words came out. “The monitors…”
“Everyone has their own style.
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