Page 16 of Surrender

"Vivek, this is Ms. Jones." I stand; suddenly very shy wearing next to nothing. Keeping my eyes cast down, I reach a hand out and shake one of his.

"Serenity, this is Vivek, my personal shopper." my

I take a step backward, releasing his hand. Personal shopper? What the hell does that mean?

I squirm uncomfortably as I can feel Vivek scrutinizing me. "She brought nothing with her, so she'll need a full wardrobe.I'm thinking at least two formal events, some comfortable lounge clothes, exercise clothes, personal care items, you know, the works." My heart rate ratchets up again at the idea he's spendingmoremoney on me, but I bite my tongue. "Oh, and she'll need a laptop and cell phone."

"What's your style, darling?" he asks, circling me like I'm a fascinating art piece.

"Style?"

"Yes. Of course. Everyone has a style."

I look to Declan who raises his eyebrows at me. "I... I don't think I do? I buy what I can afford... which isn't much."

A silent conversation passes between Vivek and Declan, but Vivek claps his hands together loudly, causing me to jump.

"This will be so much fun," Vivek says to himself quickly, before disappearing again and taking the air in the room with him.

I stand in the awkwardness that Vivek's visit left behind him. I have so many thoughts and words I want to say, but they play like a loop in my head, and I can't organize them enough to figure out if I should say something or not.

Declan's lost his patience with me, though.

"Speak," he barks at me, causing me to jump.

"I... uh... I... um..."

"I didn't know you had a stutter."

I blow out a frustrated breath through my nostrils. He goes from yelling at me and scaring me, to being patient and sweet with me. Back to a barking asshole. I don't know what to expect from him and his fancy house and his personal shopper. Is this how all rich people act? Like they have enough money they don't have to be polite? Does everyone just cater to their every whim? And how much money does that take? A hundred thousand? A million? Where is the 'I can be an asshole' line? I'm glad I'llnever know. And do I want to put up with it? Do I have much of a choice?

All of my racing thoughts fade to the background as I grab the simplest one and say it out loud. "I don't like the idea of you spending a lot of money on me."

There. There's so much more I want to say, but this man literally holds my life in the palm of his hands, so I also want to pick my words carefully. Which is really fucking hard.

"Doesn't seem like you have much a choice, though, does it?"

I bristle at the insinuation. But it's not really an insinuation, is it? He's stating facts. The only things I own are my dirty clothes from last night, holes and all, and a borrowed work outfit from Madame.

I don't have a choice. Shame washes away the irritation, and I sit again lamely on the bench in his office, hands clasped between my knees. I stare at a spot on the floor in front of me and mentally go over every day, every month, every year that led me here. I don’t have any control over a lot of it. I didn't make my dad leave my mom. I didn't make my mom choose Gary. I didn't make my mom choose alcohol over reality.

But could I have done things differently? Cut them off before things got this bad? Figured another way out?

Declan must feel bad for his earlier rudeness, because before too long, he closes his laptop and stands. "Come on. Go get dressed. We'll head to The Envelope early."

I nod numbly. Whatever fight I had in me is gone. I do as I'm told and wonder.

I didn't have a lot of choice before, and now I have none.

Will I ever get any choices back?

Chapter eleven

Declan

My eyes follow Serenity as she serves a female domme and her female sub. The blonde is currently on her knees next to her domme, as she lovingly strokes her hair. This couple is a powerful professional combo outside of The Envelope. The domme is a lawyer, I believe, and the sub a pediatric surgeon. But here, they're free to be exactly themselves.

They like to share sometimes, but it's clear they're always the center of the show.

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