Bought: Highest Bidder(30)

We came here weekly when we were married. We were known to be a pair.  And when our marriage crumbled, I'm ashamed to admit, I was embarrassed  to come back.

It took time, and I finally gave it another chance. But it's not the  same. I don't feel …  welcomed. It's as though they're watching and sizing  me up. Wondering why my Submissive left me. Wondering how I failed.         

     



 

My own insecurities have kept me from bringing my sweet treasure here.  But I'm willing to offer her this. I think it will help her. Not only to  learn how a true Submissive and Dominant interact, but also to watch  various erotic encounters. She needs the experience. I know it will help  her.

"Where's your Submissive?" Dahlia asks Isaac as a waitress brings the  menus and sets them in front of each of us. The easiness from the other  night is finally starting to creep back into Dahlia's demeanor. Dahlia  doesn't move to take hers. Good girl. I want to pick for her. I want  something divine for her tonight.

"Could I get you anything to drink, sirs?" the waitress asks.

"A whiskey on the rocks for me," I answer easily. The waitress nods her head and then looks back to Isaac.

"I think just a water for now," he says. Club X has a three-drink  maximum. Any more and you aren't able to enter the club. Only the dining  hall.

"What's your favorite drink?" I lean down and ask Dahlia. The waitress  is waiting, and I know she won't write anything down until I agree to  whatever it is that Dahlia says.

"My favorite?" she asks, and then hums as she thinks of her answer. "A margarita, but I don't-"

Isaac laughs in his seat, interrupting her and I take the opportunity to tell the waitress, "A margarita, please."

"Frozen, or on ice?" she asks.

I look to my Submissive and she answers the waitress, "Frozen, with salt, please."

"Salt?" Isaac asks, "Is there any other way?"

"Some of my friends like sugar." Isaac makes a face that mirrors my distaste.

"So?" Dahlia looks at Isaac, "your Submissive?"

"I haven't got one," Isaac says with a smile that's plastered on. It's  not meant to be there. Isaac has been soft lately. Ever since his last  Submissive. He's been unwilling to take another.

"Oh, are you going to … " Dahlia stops talking as we both watch her,  waiting for what's next. In my time with her, she's seemed so confident  and poised. But she's not in this atmosphere. I need to fix that. Yet  one more instance in which I've failed her.

"Buy one?" he asks.

Dahlia nods her head. "Yes, at auction?"

Isaac frowns and shakes his head. "I doubt it. I'm just enjoying the company and helping where I can."

I grunt a laugh. He doesn't want the responsibility anymore. He's  missing out, and he knows it. But I can't blame him when I did the same  thing.

At least I didn't come here though.

"Oh, how do you help?" Dahlia asks with genuine curiosity.

"Shows and demonstrations."

"Isaac is an expert with the whip." Dahlia shifts slightly at my mention of the whip. And it forces a smirk to my lips.

As the waitress comes and gently sets our drinks down one at a time from  a large silver tray, Dahlia's phone rings. Her eyes dart to mine, and I  nod slightly.

"I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for. If I didn't want your phone on, I would have  made that clear." I lean closer to her, cupping her chin in my hand. "I  think you should be in the habit of listening for your phone though, my  sweet treasure." Her face brightens with a beautiful pink as I quickly  kiss her lips and release her.

The uneasiness of the day settles against my chest as I lift my whiskey  to my lips, the scent filling my lungs. I throw it back, knowing she's  not alright. We aren't alright. This isn't an easy fix, and I'm going to  have to be slow and patient. Two things I've never been very good at.

I lock eyes with Isaac as Dahlia busies herself looking in her purse.  Isaac's worked in security for so long and dealt with a number of  victims. I'm sure he has an opinion of my sweet treasure. He's a good  man, and he hated to tell me what happened to her. I haven't talked to  him since earlier, and I can see the questions in his eyes.

I give him an imperceptible nod. I know she's going to be alright. I'll make damn sure of it.

His shoulders relax slightly, and his relief is evident. I wrap my arm  around Dahlia's shoulders, consumed by the need to touch her and protect  her, my desire just to have her close.

A soft noise from behind us gains Isaac's attention.

"I'll be right back," he says with his eyes on the sweet little thing  who just walked into the room, her hand gently settling on the  bannister, bracing herself. Her eyes are large and full of shock and  wonder. There's no collar around her neck and she's walking aimlessly in  the room, searching for where she belongs. Her short jumper looks out  of place, further making her stand apart from the crowd. But what  captures my attention are the thin silver scars on her back. So thin,  they wouldn't be visible if not for the exact placement of the sconces  in the dining hall.         

     



 

I watch as Isaac approaches her and she falls slowly to the floor, never  looking him in the eyes. It's obvious she's been trained before. But  not by anyone here.

"It's all so overwhelming," Dahlia's soft voice brings me back to her.  My sweet treasure. She doesn't belong here, but not because she doesn't  fit in. She does, so well. She doesn't belong here because she should be  home with me. Healing and working on feeling whole. I hate that I ever  acted in a way that contributed to her pain.

No matter what she says, I did.

I took her in a way that resulted in her being in pain. It's  unacceptable. I need to make this right. But there are only weeks left.

I need more time.

"You're coming back with me, and I want you to stay with me." I say the  words as a command although it toes the line of the freedom I've given  her thus far into the contract. I can see her protests in her eyes,  although she remains quiet. She's thinking that I think less of her.  That I think she's broken. That I pity her. But I don't. She's strong  and capable, just like she was yesterday. But I can offer her solace.  And I want to. I desperately crave to fill those needs that she's  ignored.

"I'm your Dom. I need to fix this so you can better serve me." It's easy  to make it sound selfish. I am a selfish man. And I'm pushing her. But  that's what I'm supposed to do. My role is to push her to her limits.  She can handle this. She's strong enough.

She hesitates and looks around the dining hall, as if only now realizing  where we are. Her beautiful eyes raise to meet mine and she softly  agrees, "Yes, sir."





Chapter 20





Dahlia





I'm your Dom. I need to fix this so you can better serve me.

Sitting at my desk at work, I mindlessly finger the necklace, a gift  from Lucian, at my throat. I have emails piling up that I need to  respond to, but I can't get my mind off my current dilemma; I think I'm  falling for Lucian. I know I shouldn't be, given our complicated pasts,  but I feel like he's the first person to ever truly understand me. I'm  still in shock that he didn't call off our contract after learning my  secret. Or that he didn't shy away from my claims of being broken. It  seemed to only make him more determined to help me.

I can't believe that he's willing to take on my emotional baggage when  he can just walk away and find himself another Sub who doesn't have the  same hang-ups. He doesn't have to waste his time with me, he can have  any woman he wants. But it shows that he cares. And I want his help. I  need his help. Even if it makes me seem weak. I don't care.

Still, I'm worried that I'm setting myself up for disappointment. I can  feel myself being weak for him. I'm relying on him, and that's something  I don't do. I feel there's a good chance Lucian won't be able to help  me and I'll end up with an aching heart. To add to my insecurities, last  night definitely gave me doubts about our future.

I suck in a heavy breath at the memory.

I'd tried to give Lucian a blowjob when it was time for bed, but he  claimed he was tired and needed to sleep. He gently brushed my hair away  from my face and told me to lie down. I did as I was told, but I hated  it. I wanted to accept him at his word, but I couldn't stop thinking he  just didn't want me because of my problem. Because I'm broken. It took a  lot for me to hold myself together and my self-esteem took a blow. I  started to think I wasn't good enough. That he thought I wasn't good  enough for him. And that he's only trying to help me because he pities  me.

I can only hope that it's all in my head.

Breaking out of my dark thoughts, I let out a soft sigh of frustration  as I look at the tons of emails on my computer screen. I'm never gonna  get any work done.

Trying to push my situation from my mind, I begin to go about answering  emails, starting with the most important ones first. By midday I'm  halfway through my workload and I've taken a break to type a message to  my therapist when Carla nearly breaks her neck bursting into my office.  She's holding a newspaper clutched to her chest, her expression animated  and excited. As usual, she's dressed stylishly today in a black  pantsuit and cream camisole peeking out from underneath, her hair pulled  back into a single braid, bangs covering her forehead, rosy rouge  coloring her cheeks and purple shadow frosting her eyelids.