Page 24 of Savage SEAL's Virgin
“I never thought about that. I’m not a liar, though. Hiding feels like lying to me. If you don’t mind, I’d rather not hide behind a mask.”
“I don’t mind at all. I don’t openly talk about what I do in the summer months to my family or friends, but if I’m pinned down about it, I don’t mind saying what I dabble in.” He kissed my hand as he looked into my eyes. “And if things go the way I want them to, I won’t care who knows what we do.”
“My savage Dom has no worries, huh?” I’d given him that little nickname as he and I experimented with the whole punishment thing. He was anything but savage, with me, anyway. I was hoping being inside the club with all the testosterone would pull that savage beast up in him. I wanted to see that beast I knew was buried inside. He thought he should keep that part of him away from me, his fragile little woman. I wanted to feel his wildness, though. I was working for that time when he let himself be free with me, something I desired more and more each day.
Troy
Grant, Blyss, and I had been chatting away when the lights went down and everyone got quiet to watch what was about to happen on stage. Classical music began to drift through the room. It sounded ghostly, haunting me already.
Blyss put her hand on my leg, leaning into me. She whispered, “This seems surreal.”
I kissed the side of her head and wrapped my arm around her. “Yes, it does,” I agreed.
Blyss asked me often if we could come up with a scene to play out in front of the other club members. I was against it, still worried about how fragile she was, even though she kept assuring me she wasn’t as breakable as I thought she was. I wasn’t about to take any chances with her. My heart beat just for her, it seemed. She consumed me in more ways than one.
Lilacs in a crystal vase took center stage as a spotlight hit them. The scene was anything but typical, in my opinion. Most of the scenes I had watched had been more on the dark side. This one already seemed sweet.
Grant placed his ever-present glass of Scotch on the table and leaned back in his seat. His attention was fully focused, then he leaned in to tell us, “The Sub who’s in this has asked about me several times. She’s been what I call a hopper, going from Dom to Dom. I’m interested in her, only to try to tame her and stop her endless roving from person to another. I’d love it if you could see if you can get a read on her, to let me know if that would even be possible, Miss Danner.”
Blyss gave him a smile. “I can try.” She patted his hand. “Maybe she will be the one for you. You’re a Sub hopper, yourself. Perhaps you could tame each other.”
“Blyss, it’s okay for a Dom to take as many Subs as he wants to. Don’t refer to Mr. J. as a hopper,” I corrected her.
“I apologize, Mr. J.” Then she turned her attention to me. “As for you, your hopping days are through.”
Grant chuckled, and I felt heat fill my face. Blyss had no filter and she needed to get one. “Blyss, we’ll talk later about how you speak to me. Now, get quiet and watch the show.”
She nodded and bowed her head a bit, “Yes, master.”
I gave her shoulders a squeeze and kissed the side of her head. “Good girl.”
The spotlight pulled out, enveloping the stage with light. In a chair made out of brown leather, the Sub sat, reading a book and wearing a knee-length, baby blue dress with white heels and a string of pearls around her neck. Reading glasses were perched on her nose and she had her legs crossed, bouncing the top one casually.
Smoke began to billow out from the left side of the stage, but the woman seemed oblivious to it as she read the book. The sound of a door creaking came from the speakers, then there was a man standing at the right side of the stage. A black coat and hat were what he wore. The couple looked like something out of a sixties television show. He tossed his hat and it landed perfectly on the table the vase of flowers was on. “Is dinner ready, pet?”
The Sub finally looked up from the book, seeing her Dom had arrived. “I have no idea. I got lost in this story.” The smoke moved in a large puff across the stage.
“There’s a fire in the kitchen!” the man shouted and ran off to the left, while the woman didn’t bother to get up. Instead, she used a book marker to keep her place in the book, then sat it on the table along with the flowers and the man’s hat. Uncrossing her legs, she sighed and waited.
The man came back, his coat gone, wearing a singed white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A scowl was on his face as he shook his finger at the woman and yelled, “That’s the fourth time this week you’ve burned supper and nearly burned down our home, pet. We’ll be having cold bologna sandwiches yet again, thanks to your errant ways. What am I to do with you to get you to remember what your job is here at our home?”
“I don’t know.” She got up and ran her arms around his neck, being flirty with him. “We don’t have to eat sandwiches again, sir. We can go out for a nice meal. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
He growled with anger, “Pet, you have a mess to clean up in the kitchen. Not only do the burnt remains of the meal in the oven need to be cleaned out, but you also haven’t cleaned any of the dishes you used to create the now-charred meal. And I will not be rewarding your behavior. As a matter of fact, I think you need to be punished.”
She let him go and put her hands on her cheeks as her mouth made an ‘O’ shape. “Punished?”
He took her by the hand and led her back to the chair she’d sat in while dinner had burned. She pulled back, trying to fight him about what he was about to do, but he sat down and pulled her to him as he looked at her. “Pet, do you realize that food you keep burning is costing us money?”
“It’s not that much. Please don’t punish me, sir.” She batted her long eyelashes at him, trying to persuade him to let her go.
“Do you not think I work hard for our money, pet? I have to stay on bended knee all day long, selling shoes. And for that hard work, you take the food we buy and ruin it. So far, this week alone, I calculate you’ve cost us fifty dollars. That’s three days’ work for me. With all we’ve been put out, do you still agree that you don’t need to be punished to make you remember you are to be cooking, not reading or doing anything other than making our evening meal?”
“I’ll remember from now on. You don’t have to punish me. I promise I’ll remember. And I’ll go clean the kitchen right now. No, I’ll bring you a sandwich and even a pickle slice first, then I’ll clean the kitchen. Oh! And how about a nice glass of Scotch? I’ll go fetch that really quickly while you relax. You’ve had a terrible day. I’ll make it all better. You’ll see. If you let me go and put this silly punishment stuff aside.”
The man’s face went red as he held tightly to her hand. “The time for all that has passed. You should’ve met me at the door with a drink. You should’ve kissed my cheek and led me to this chair. You should’ve rubbed my shoulders to loosen my sore muscles—muscles I will now have to use to administer your punishment.” He made an irritated growl and pulled her over his lap.
She kicked her legs in protest and flailed her arms as he held her down with one arm across her back. “No! No, sir! I’ll remember to do all those things from now on! Please!”
