Page 25 of Candy Cane Chains

She steps inside, the bells singing with each movement. The sound helps unknot some of the tension in my shoulders. Her concerned expression as she approaches my desk does even more.

"You look stressed." She rounds my desk, coming to stand beside my chair.

I turn to face her, loosening my tie further. "Nothing I can't handle. Though you could make it better."

"Oh?" She tilts her head, the motion creating another chime from her anklet. "How's that?"

I reach out, gripping her hip to pull her closer. "I can think of a few ways."

Standing, I lead Ivy into a spare room I've converted into a play space. It's bare, save for a plush black rug and a few key pieces of furniture. She looks around, curiosity shining in those amber-brown eyes, and I feel the tension starting to bleed out of me already.

"What are we doing here, Julian?"

I circle her, my voice steady and commanding. "Teaching you proper submission, Ivy."

She shivers, her breath hitching slightly. I can see the pulse in her neck quicken. "Submission?"

"Yes," I confirm, stopping in front of her. "There are rules, positions. Ways to please me. I want you to learn them."

She bites her lip, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "And what happens if I don't follow them?"

I lean in, my breath whispering against her ear. "Oh, sweet girl. You already know that obedience means punishment."

Her eyes brighten as she bites down on her bottom lip, looking almost excited, but she nods, understanding. Good. I step back, beginning the lesson.

I teach her different ways to please me, different things I expect from her. How if she's wronged me, I want her bent over and expecting punishment, asking for it. How to kneel before me when she wants to please me.

The next hour continues like this, a dance of command and obedience, praise and denial. She learns quickly, her body responding to my commands like a well-tuned instrument. Each time she obeys, I praise her, the words falling from my lips like honey. Each time she disobeys, I step back, denying her the touch she craves.

By the end of it, she's a panting, writhing mess on the rug, her body trembling with need. But she's learned. She's learned to submit, to obey, to offer herself to me completely. And in doing so, she's given me a power no one else ever has.

I stand over her, watching her chest rise and fall with each ragged breath. "You've done well, Ivy," I praise, my voice soft. "Very well."

Her eyes meet mine, a small smile playing at her lips. "Thank you, Julian."

I nod, satisfaction coursing through me. And then I reward her for listening so well.

The dig of the elevator signals Xander's arrival. The familiar cadence of his footsteps approaches, already making his way to the study like he knows he should.

"Morning, boss." Xander drops into one of the leather chairs across from my desk, loosening his tie. "Got those reports you wanted."

The soft tinkle of bells catches my attention before Ivy appears in the doorway. My breath catches at the sight of her in a cream silk negligee that falls mid-thigh, covered by a matching robe that trails behind her. The fabric clings to her curves while still leaving enough to the imagination that I don't have to kill Xander

She carries a silver tray with scotch and crystal glasses, her movements graceful as the bells at her ankle chime with each step.

"Good morning, Xander." She sets the tray on my desk, bending to pour the drinks.

Xander's eyebrows raise slightly at her attire, but he keeps his eyes respectfully averted. Smart man.

I reach out, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her onto my lap. She settles against me naturally, like she belongs there. The silk of her robe slides beneath my palm as I stroke her hip.

"The Morgan situation?" I ask Xander, accepting the glass Ivy hands me. My other hand remains possessively curved around her waist.

"Handled." Xander takes a sip of his scotch. "Though there were some... complications."

As he details the operation, I feel Ivy relax against my chest, her head coming to rest on my shoulder. The gentle weight of her, the soft chime of bells when she shifts - it centers me. Grounds me.

My thumb traces idle patterns on her hip as Xander continues his report. When she shivers slightly, I pull her closer, enjoying how perfectly she fits against me.

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