Undercover Submission (13 page)

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was a new thing to her. Grace had started her on keeping lists, and now she could hardly live without them.

The week she’d spent in Cedric’s house had been the happiest week of her life, much happier than the seven years she’d spent with Jack. They’d discussed issues such as trust and communication and honesty, things Cedric said were paramount in making sure a relationship worked.

Jack had discussed those things with her, too, except with him it had seem to be just that, talk. She’d never really felt it. She’d been comfortable with Jack, never feeling half of what she felt every time Cedric had stopped her, no matter what she was doing, and lifted her chin so that her gaze was locked with his.

And when he’d say, “Who are you,” she’d shiver when responding, “Your slave, Master.”

The bond they shared made her feel whole. She’d never understood that until now.

Tonight was the final party, and she’d yet to figure out what the three couples, and the fourth one that wasn’t yet revealed to her, had in common.

All couples who had been immortalized in fictional works, all famous lovers, and all known by almost everyone. She wondered what the fourth one was, and if that would give her a clue to what linked them. As it was, she was stumped.

There was a link somewhere, or else Cedric would not have picked the couples. They weren’t even from the same region: one from eighth-century England, one from the Roman age, and one from the deep south during the Civil War. Where would tonight’s couple be from?

Of course, there might not be a note with this one. There just might be an outfit and she would have to try and decide who it was, and then try and figure out what that one had in common with the three others.

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It was frustrating, still she would try her hardest to figure it out. She’d tried several days this week to get Cedric to give her clues. Each time he’d given her “the look,” and declared it was time for punishment. His punishments were creative and consisted of things she’d never done before. For the first one, he’d made her don the corset she’d wore for the Scarlett scene, tying it so tight it was hard for her to breathe. Then she’d gotten on all fours beside him while he sat in a chair watching TV. At times he would play with her pussy, bringing her right to the edge, the excitement making her breathe harder and making the corset feel even tighter.

It had been an interesting experience that had made her rethink the corset. Another time, he’d tied her to a table outside, sat and read a book while she’d squirmed, then tortured her with a feather.

Each experience had made her wonder why she’d waited so long to open herself to him. She was glad now, though, that she had.

At precisely 2:58 she put on her clothes to await the costume delivery guy. She took off the larger training collar her Master had given her and slipped on the smaller one, which looked as if it could be a choker.

The bell on the gate rang at three and she buzzed him up. After she’d made sure he’d left through the gate, she carried her package upstairs, stripped, and changed back to the training collar.

She carefully unzipped the bag, then stared at the costume. She had no clue who she was supposed to be, or what country the costume was from. It was a long dress, with a low-cut bodice that laced up the front. The bell sleeves gave her no clue, and neither did the color of the dress, deep purple. A black cloak completed the outfit.

Kennedy stared at it, wondering what to make of it. She might place it in the sixteenth or seventeenth century. Country of origin? She had no clue.

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What sort of punishment would he decide on if she couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell her? Something she would enjoy, like spanking, or something like the feather, which had driven her insane with the light touches that aroused her, and left her begging for more.

She took a long, hot bath at seven, then donned her outfit, making sure the bodice was laced tightly. Her breasts felt squished together, displayed just like her Master would like them. He’d instructed her to sit on the couch, head down, hands clasped behind her back until it was time to leave.

This position always aroused her, and it did it more so now with Cedric than it ever had -- a wonderful feeling. The bell dinged at eight, indicating the gate was opening. Perhaps Cedric’s outfit would give her some clue.

The front door opened, and she waited impatiently for him to arrive. When Toffer’s voice rang out, she sucked in her breath.

“Your Master will be happy to hear you were in position, and at the correct time. Very good.”

“Thank you, um, Sir?”

“Sir is fine.” He motioned for her to stand. “We have a full house already, and your Master wants his sub, very badly.”

His words made her blush. She looked over his outfit, then laughed. A colonial suit complete with buckle shoes. “Benjamin Franklin, I presume?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. Grace is dressed as a kite, so I can fly her or make her fly, anytime I want.”

During the trip, Kennedy wondered if Cedric would be in the main house, or the pool house, or the guesthouse for that matter. He hadn’t done a role-playing scene in the same room since this started, so there was no telling what would happen tonight.

When Toffer parked the car, he turned to her and winked. “Inside.”

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“Yes, Sir.” She opened the door and walked toward the stairs, jumping back when a man in a blue suit jumped out at her. The suit had tight pants, a shirt with lace around the collar. He wore a vest and a jacket and a cape much like hers. He also had a hat with a large plume on it.

That’s not what let her know who he was. It was the mask, complete with the extra large nose that made her smile.

“Cyrano?”

He nodded, then held out his hand. She laughed as she took it. When she touched him she realized this wasn’t Cedric. What was the story she should be remembering? Cyrano loved Roxane, but thought she wouldn’t love him because he was not handsome enough. So he wrote the words for letters sent by Christian, professing his love for Roxane. Roxane fell in love with Christian, not realizing it was really Cyrano who was wooing her.

A second Cyrano came down the stairs and Kennedy’s eyes widened. Obviously, she was going to have to figure out which Cyrano was Cedric. Her heart beat just a little more when a third one, and then a fourth appeared.

Soon there were six of them standing near the car. Would there be more inside? One of them had to be Cedric, she knew that now. They were all dressed exactly the same, though, and whereas the first one had taken her hand, none of the others ones had. They all stood the same height, and the masks covered their faces completely.

The idea of the test was easy, of course. Roxane didn’t know it was Cyrano she loved.

Suddenly, with beautiful clarity, the common thread of the couples all came together. All of them desperately in love, and all of them had tragic endings, most because they didn’t realize soon enough they were in love.

Scarlett realizing too late she loved Rhett; Isolde not being able to be with Tristan until his death; Antony and Cleopatra dying alone, and in love; and now, Cyrano, thinking he was Undercover Submission

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not good enough for the woman he loved, using someone else to tell her how he felt. And, of course, they had a tragic ending too.

No tragedy for us, Kennedy thought as she stared at men, wondering which one was her Master, her Cedric, the man she knew she had to have in her life.

She glanced from man to man, all of them staring at her, hats in hand. She looked at the hats, at the hands holding them in place. Which set of hands had given her such pleasure this past month? Whose hands had wielded a flogger with such expertise, had stroked her clit until she thought she would die, had tied expert knots on ropes to keep her in place while he teased her to orgasm again and again?

The hands would be the telling part. She looked back at Toffer, who indicated she should choose one man. Kennedy started to walk through, her eyes down as she examined each one. One set of hands looked close, but they lacked the truly strong fingers Cedric had.

She made it through five of them and was just approaching the sixth when excitement raced through her belly.

Without looking at the hands she knew this was Cedric, could tell by the set of his wide shoulders. She looked up into his green eyes, which stared back with amusement.

“Cyrano,” she said softly. “It is you I love.”

He peeled back the mask, revealing a smile that made her heart race. “And I love you, Roxane. Are you certain? Very, very certain?”

“With all my heart.” A look of smoldering passion came across his face. He dropped the mask and gathered her in his arms, pressing his lips against hers, his tongue diving into her mouth as if seeking to join them forever.

Her head whirled with passion as she wrapped her arms around him. Cedric gathered her close, his arms around her waist. “Upstairs with you, slave.”

The words made her shiver. “Here? Now?” The other sessions had been away from the main house, and Kennedy could tell the house was packed with people. Surely if they used 110

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the main house for a session, someone would hear them. She wasn’t sure she was ready for the world to know.

“Right now.” He stroked her cheek and that single movement let her know that, while she might be hesitant about becoming possible gossip fodder, he had no such compunctions.

That right there let her know how much he cared, and how he would take care of her.

Kennedy kissed his chin, then started for the house. She saw Grace on the stairs, wearing a black outfit with a gold lightning bolt blazoned from shoulder to calf. When Kennedy walked past, she reached out her hand and grasped the other woman’s, squeezing it in thanks, knowing if she hadn’t met Grace this never would have happened.

Once inside the house she stopped. Cedric came up behind her, his hands placed possessively on her hips. She knew people noticed and heard the click of a few camera phones. The photo of him in the coffee shop had never shown up in the tabloids. She was sure this one would. He leaned over and turned her face to his, his hands gentle on her chin.

Another whirl of cameras. And then he kissed her, his tongue once again delving inside, slower this time, as if he was deliberately posing for the cameras, his touch lingering so they would get the best shot possible.

There were a few sighs from the assembled women, and then a gasp when he smacked her bottom, the sound muffled by the cape. “Second floor. The first room I topped you in.

Now.”

The crowd seemed to part for them as they headed toward the stairs. By the time they reached the second floor, Kennedy’s body was on fire, not from exertion from climbing the stairs, but from complete and utter need to have Cedric inside her, now, to kneel in front of him and feel his hands in her hair as he praised her.

He slammed the door as soon as they were inside, then came up behind her and reached around her neck to undo the cape.

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It fell to the floor and, when she started to move away from it, he put his hands on her shoulder.

“Stay in place.” His fingers were on the lacings of her bodice now, making short work of undoing what had taken her so long to fasten. When it was partially undone he pushed the material off her shoulders, down far enough to free her breasts, the costume effectively holding her arms in place.

“Mine,” he growled in her ear. “Say it.”

“I’m yours, Master Cedric.”

His growl deepened and she shivered. “Knees.” When she was in position, her head bowed, arms behind her back, he walked around her, as if trying to decide the best way to take her.

“The first time I saw you, I knew you were submissive. I told Toffer I wasn’t going to fuck you, not going to push it. I’ve been burned too.”

Her body stiffened at his words. She’d never thought of that, never considered that he hadn’t wanted the story of the starlet he’d topped to make the papers. Of course he wouldn’t, would he? Who would want their sex life splashed around for everyone to see and talk about?

“After having you just once, I knew you were my perfect submissive. The one woman who I could keep in my life forever, who would never betray me and what we shared.”

This time his words cut into her. “I’m sorry it took me so long, Master.”

He crouched down so they were face to face. “No, you misunderstand what I’m saying.

Yes, I’m sorry about that too. I’m thrilled that I’ve found you, that we’ve found each other. I never want you to leave me, Kennedy. I want to collar you tonight, here, just the two of us.

And then, later, I want you to marry me, to be my wife. Do you want that too?”

Her lips trembled as she nodded. “Yes, Master, I want to be your wife, and your collared sub.”

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Cedric stood and walked to the desk. He was back seconds later, holding out a golden collar that made her heart beat even faster. He held it between his hands, stretching it out for her to see the small, golden links, perfect for clipping things on if her Master so desired.

“Kiss it for me, slave.”

The metal was warm against her lips. Cedric dropped one end and stroked her hair as she kissed it again. “That’s my girl. So beautiful.” He crossed behind her and attached the collar quickly, the jewelry snug around her neck.

“I claim you, Kennedy, as mine forever. I promise to care for you and to never harm you in any permanent way. You’re mine now.”

“Master, I think I’ve always been yours.” She nuzzled her cheek against his hand.

“Forgive me for doubting it.”

“Maybe.” The humor in his voice made her giggle softly. “Perhaps I need to reinforce the fact. On all fours.”

He lifted her skirt over her hips, stroking her bare buttocks. “No underwear. What a bad girl you are.”

“Forgive me, Master. I thought it would be easier this way.”