Submission (13 page)

He wondered what Joanna thought of
how he’d left her.

He wondered whether she would
follow the clue back to him.

Then he wondered how he would
endure the suspense.

***

Joanna started her article,
“My
Night at the Plume
”, as soon as she got
home. She sat at her desk, her silk kimono bathrobe hiding the ribbons that
trussed her, keeping her shoes and stockings on. She felt half in the
experience as she wrote about it. She could smell the Master’s skin on hers,
practically feel his strength inside her.

She’d lost track of how many
pictures he’d taken. That was terrifying. She had no doubt that he’d keep his
word if he was displeased with the media coverage.

She didn’t dare imagine Mike’s
reaction to those images.

Joanna ensured that she dwelt on
the pleasure she’d felt. She underscored that all activities were consensual
and that safe sex was practiced. (He must have put a condom on the last time.
Maybe a thinner one. Maybe lambskin. That would be why she hadn’t felt it.) She
declared that the Plume was a safe place to explore fantasy and role-playing.
She mentioned that the experience had opened her mind to new possibilities.

It seemed preachy and pretentious,
so she went over it again and again. Joanna was fussy about her prose, revising
it multiple times, editing more than she usually did.

She stopped at intervals to touch
herself, to remember the Master’s caress, to think about the balance of tough
and tender.

Joanna worked for two hours that
first night, then carefully unpeeled her stockings and removed her shoes to go
to bed. The next morning, she put them back on, declining to get dressed as
usual. She did the same on Sunday. Louise was away for the weekend so she could
do what she wanted without having to explain herself. She spent the weekend in
a haze of desire.

She couldn’t bear to remove her
bonds. On Monday, she washed carefully, not wanting to shower because it would
mark the ribbons. Louise complained about how long she was in the bathroom, but
Joanna loved the sensation of going to work, secretly trussed and tied.

She wore pantyhose in a plain
brown color instead of the stockings but no underwear, which left her with the
sense of having a wicked secret. What had she become at the Plume, beneath the
Master’s touch? Maybe a woman more confident in her sexuality. One in touch
with her desires. Joanna’s outward appearance was as conservative as usual, but
she knew there was a new radiance in her complexion.

She watched Mike across the table
at their editorial meeting, barely listening, consumed with the possibilities
that could result from showing him her purple bonds.

Mike matched his step to hers as
they left the meeting, as if he’d read her thoughts. She dared to hope, the
smell of his skin and the heat of his proximity making her heart leap.

“Disappointed?” he asked and she
looked up in surprise. “He’s going to run your article under a pen name. I
thought you’d be disappointed.”

Joanna shrugged. “It doesn’t
matter.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled
with concern. “I thought you wanted the credit.”

She smiled at him. “So did I.”

His gaze danced over her and she
wished… “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Joanna forced a
smile, saw that Mike wasn’t convinced, but knew she couldn’t tell him the
truth. Now she had the confidence to ask him for that coffee, but she wasn’t
sure what she wanted anymore.

Could she be happy with sweet
kisses, now that she’d had tough and tender?

She didn’t know.

She did know that she couldn’t
leave those pictures in the Master’s possession, leave them where they could be
revealed at any point in time. She wasn’t sure about her own romantic future,
but she knew that those pictures could jeopardize anything.

She had to get them back.

“So, how was the Plume, really?”
Mike asked, his gaze searching hers. “Your article makes it sound as if it
changed your life.”

“It was different than I
expected,” Joanna said with care.

He grinned. “Don’t tell me they
converted you.”

She shook her head, blushing as he
watched. “That’s not what you’d expect, is it?”

Their gazes clung as Mike shook
his head. “Lots of things are not the way we expect them to be,” he said
softly, his eyes bright. Joanna sensed that he was going to say more, but Kevin
shouted from down the hall and Mike gave her a brisk nod before he turned away.

She watched him go and wished with
all her heart, knowing it would make no difference to anything. There was no
point in confessing the truth to him. There was no point in pretending that
fantasies could come true.

Joanna turned back to her cubicle,
knowing that she had to get rid of the ribbons.

***

That night, Joanna stood before
the mirror in her bedroom, filled with regret, then cut down with heavy shears
through the purple satin. The ribbons cascaded to the floor, a shining pile of
discarded plumage. The shears were cold against her skin and she was
disappointed with the sensation of being released.

The feather drawn on her skin was
fading, too, as if the whole interval had been a dream. She’d been careful to
wash around it in an attempt to preserve it, but it was still wearing away from
brushing against her clothes.

She remembered the hood in her
purse and got the purse from the pocket of her raincoat, removing the hood and
smoothing it in her hands. The rest of the ribbon was in there and she pulled
it out, coiling it around her hands, wondering how she would persuade the
Master to not only take her back but surrender the pictures of her.

She still didn’t know where to
find the Plume.

That was when Joanna spotted the
peacock feather, nestled into the bottom of her bag.

And a notecard.

The Dungeon

Minimum stay: two
weeks

Below that was an email address.
Joanna read the card over and over, her hands trembling. The Master had put
this card in her purse, an invitation in case she wanted more. He liked her to
submit when the stakes were raised, was probably still cautious of her being a
journalist.

But the article she’d written
couldn’t displease him.

If it did, she knew he wouldn’t
reply to any email she sent.

The Dungeon.
She recalled his vow to train her to come only for
him and only on his command and her mouth went dry.

That was what she’d learn at the
Dungeon. That’s what would take at least two weeks. She had vacation due, a lot
of it, and Joanna knew with sudden conviction exactly where she’d be spending
at least two weeks of it.

As the Master’s personal toy.

If she surrendered completely to
him, would he give her a reward? Could she get the pictures from him by playing
along?

There was only one way to find
out.

Look for

SURRENDER

Second in the
Plume Series

To learn more about
Ella Ardent’s books, please visit her website at

http://ellaardent.com