A Controlled Descent Ch. 06

"How could I forget," Jack says, shaking Linda's hand. "How are you tonight?"

"Always good to see you, Jack." There's a weight to the way she says his name, and I know for sure there's history between them.

"Looking forward to the opera?" he asks.

"Apparently it's not performed often, but The Post gave it such a glowing review."

Robert clearly did not come over to discuss the merits of the production and cuts them off. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Jack looks like he'd rather dip his hand in battery acid. "Of course, where are my manners. Robert, this is Jane. Jane, this is Robert Arrowsmith."

He shakes my hand but talks to Jack. "Beautiful girl. New?"

"Jane works at the EPA," Jack answers, defecting the question.

Jane? The EPA? Either Jack is embarrassed of me, or he's shielding me from Robert Arrowsmith. Consider me curious. I keep a straight face and nod along politely to Jack's misinformation campaign.

"Oh, the EPA," Robert says looking me up and down. "Well, at least our tax dollars are doing some good. Fighting the good fight, are we?"

"I do my best," I reply, extracting my hand from his. People are beginning to migrate back inside - the performance must be close to starting.

"No doubt," Robert says. "We should have a drink afterwards. What do you say, Jack?"

"Let's see how we feel then. Sound good?"

Robert agrees, and we watch them disappear through the doors. Jack tosses back the rest of his drink like his throat is on fire.

"Jane at the EPA?" I ask.

"I'm sorry about that. Was not expecting to run into anyone, but that was probably foolish of me. DC can be a very small town when you least expect it to be. I thought you were entitled to a little privacy, but if you want me to correct myself I'll chase him down before we the show starts."

"No, that's okay. I appreciate it. Who is he?"

"A friend. No, that's not exactly right. Robert is a...colleague."

"Like from work? Or do you mean he's a Dom like you?"

Jack looks at me thoughtfully. "A Dom, yes. Like me? I hope not."

"Do we have to have a drink with him?"

"Was he that bad?" Jack asks, leading me back inside.

"No, I don't care about him. I just want you to fuck me as soon as possible."

"That's a fantastic answer," Jack says, taking my hand to lead me back inside. "And no we definitely do not."

#

The Opera House is gorgeous, decorated all in a deep, velvety red. We find our seats just as the lights dim. The opera itself is fine although I've never been before so have nothing to compare it against. With a name like Vittorio Giannini, I expect everything to be in Italian, but it's in English, and the program says The Taming of the Shrew premiered in Cincinnati in 1953. It's about a hardheaded, independent girl named Katharina quite literally tamed by a suitor named Petruchio. We're an hour in before I realize it's the same plot as 10 Things I Hate About You and feel really lame that my cultural touchstone is a Julia Stiles romcom. I keep that revelation to myself and bask in the simple pleasure of sitting next to Jack. He exudes this warm, masculine aura that feels safe and dangerous all at once. His hand rests on my leg atop my dress, but his index finger finds a patch of bare skin and caresses the inside of my thigh. It's not a bad way to pass an evening.

At intermission, I desperately need to use the ladies' room, and Jack whisks me out to beat the rush. He tells me to meet him at the pillar by the stairs and goes in search of refreshments. I'm not too far back in line and miraculously it doesn't take forever. When I emerge, Jack is already at the pillar with Robert locked in what looks to be an intense discussion. Jack doesn't have drinks in his hands, so I'm guessing he never made it to the bar. Linda is nowhere to be seen.

As I approach, I hear Jack say, "She's not ready for that."

"All the better," Robert counters.

"She's not even collared."

Collared - I flash back to the silver collar around Linda's the neck, knowing I was right in my guess.

"Could have fooled me. The way she looks at you? That girl is on a leash and just doesn't know it yet," Robert says and catches my eye over Jack's shoulder. He knew I was there and wanted me to hear him.

I stop beside Jack and look to him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Jack says. "Just a difference of opinion."

"About me?"

"She's a smart girl," Robert says. "We should put it to her."

"No," Jack says. "Out of the question."

"Put what to me?" That's curiosity sneaking up behind the cat and putting it in a chokehold.

Jack shakes his head firmly. "Leave it alone."

"I'm just trying to make good on a debt Jack owes," Robert explains. "He doesn't care for my terms."

"We should get back to our seats," Jack says.

"Have it your own way," Robert says. "But a no will accrue interest. You do understand that?"

A great, unspoken current passes between them that I feel but cannot decipher.

"I understand," Jack replies coldly. "Ask for something else."

"But that's what I want."

"Which is what?" I ask.

"The opera is boring me to death," Robert says sounding like Jeremy Irons in Lion King. "I want to be entertained."

"By me?"

"I knew she was a clever girl," he says waggling a finger in my face.

"Where?" I ask.

"Up in my box."

I picture myself up in Robert's box servicing him while the performance goes on. The scenario is intoxicating in a twisted sort of way. This is what I am, after all - an object to be bartered between men to settle their debts. I can't decide whether I want Jack's to be very large or very small and which would be hotter. Part of me wishes he would just tell me to do it and stop trying to protect me. I'm not made of glass.

"What would I have to do?"

"Use your imagination," Robert smirks. "But Jack here doesn't think you're ready."

Jack looks like he's ready to snap Robert's neck. I take his hand and squeeze. After a moment, he squeezes back and takes a deep breath.

"Give us a moment," Jack says and guides me over to the railing. "I'm sorry we ran into him. We're just going to go."

"I'll can do it."

"No, it's too soon. Let's get some dinner and a strong drink. How does a steak sound?"

"There you go again," I say. "Being nice to me."

Jack frowns. "This has nothing to do with being nice. It's just too soon."

"Will it be bad if you say no to him?"

Jack glances over my head at Robert. "It wouldn't be ideal."

"Then I'll do it," I insist.

"I know you would do it," Jack says matter-of-factly. "You're a whore."

His words sting but are accompanied by a thrill of excitement. "Then why not? It would be for a good cause."

"Because you wouldn't do it well."

My hands curl into fists at my side. "Excuse me?"

"He expects a submissive. You're not one, remember?"

I don't see what that has to do with anything. "So?"

"You and I have an unorthodox arrangement. I believe you're a submissive who just needs time to figure that out. You think you're just a tourist here, playing along until the game stops being fun. Thing is though, Mackenzie, this isn't a game to me. Being a dominant isn't a mask I slip on and off. This is who I am, and that means something to me. I've never had any interest in sightseers before now. The girls I take on, even if they're brand new to this world, know what they are down to their bedrock. I definitely don't bend my rules for someone as deep in denial as you."

"So why are you?" I say defiantly.

"Because you inspire me."

That takes my breath away, my instinct to fight dying on the vine. "I inspire you?"

"I've never met a girl like you," he says.

"I've never met anyone like you period." I have to look away to get the words out. "It scares me."

"I know and that's why I won't let you go with Robert," Jack says. "There won't be any room for fear up in his box. There's no bending of rules with him. He won't cut you the slack I am. You need to be all in before I let you represent me to another Dominant much less Robert Arrowsmith."

"Then I'm all in."

"No," he says with smile. "You're just a stubborn girl who don't like to be told no."

That's all too true, but it's more than just my intractable nature at play here. "I'll do everything he says. I promise."

"Maybe someday," Jack says consolingly.

"Please?" I say. "Please? Jack, please. Please? Let me do this for you. I won't disappoint you."

"I'm sorry, Mackenzie. Let's just get some dinner. We can still have a great night."

No, that's not good enough. The idea that Jack will pay for my inadequacies fills me with self-loathing. He has to let me do this. He has to believe in me. I feel myself getting down on my knees at his feet, right there on the plush carpet of the Kennedy Center. Why? I don't know. Maybe I think that's what a real submissive would do. I'm probably making a scene, as my mother likes to say, but I really don't give a damn. Patrons stream around us on the back to their seats, but all I see is Jack. Everything and everyone else is blotted out.

"What are you doing?" he asks gently, offering me a hand to help me up.

"Begging," I say, not taking it. "Let me do this. I'll make you proud of me."

Jack chuckles despite himself and touches my cheek where he slapped me yesterday. "You really are something special."

"No," I remind him. "I'm nothing."

His expression changes then, and he looks down at me intently like a jeweler looking for the flaw in a cheap diamond.

"Please Jack? I need to."

Grudgingly, he nods in agreement. "Whose?"

"Yours."

"Settle my debt."

"Yes Jack," I answer, filling with a complex and giddy swirl of emotions that will take me years to unravel.

He lifts me to my feet. "What's your safeword?"

"Red."

"Don't be afraid to use it. You'll have my full support if you do. Understood?"

"Yes Jack." Now that he's agreed, I'm all nerves.

"And meet me right here after the final curtain."

"Yes Jack."

Robert is waiting for us with a Cheshire Cat smile. "All settled?"

Jack nods. "All settled."

"Good. So what are her limits?" Robert asks Jack.

"She's perfectly capable of answering for herself."

Robert rolls his eyes. "What are your limits, girl?"

"No hitting me. That's only for Jack."

"Disappointing, but fine. Anything else?"

"No, that's it," I say even though this is exactly how I wound up getting slapped in the face last night.

"Oh, this one's a keeper," Robert says and looks approvingly at Jack.

"I'm well aware. She's to be returned immediately after the show. In one piece, Robert. I mean it."

Wait, what?

"Of course," Robert agrees amenably.

"Be a good girl," Jack tells me.

"Yes Jack." I feel like I'm saying goodbye before a long journey to an unfamiliar land.

Robert shakes his head ruefully. "You let her call you by your name? You're too soft on these girls."

"Are we really having this conversation again?"

"I just keep hoping that eventually you'll listen to reason," Robert replies with an insouciant shrug.

"As always, I appreciate your concern."

"Well...enjoy the second act," Robert says casually and strolls away, leaving me to scurry after him. When I look back from the top of the stairs, Jack is still standing by the pillar watching after me. I give him a private wave and follow Robert. Literally. Not once does Robert look back to check that I'm there, trotting to keep up. It's arrogant, disrespectful, and I start to see the vast potential of Jack's world. I've spent years finding men to treat me badly, but they were rarely any good at it. Most men are just run of the mill, entitled assholes. But Robert here is an entitled asshole by design. There's nothing run of the mill about his presumption, and I can feel my body reacting needily to it.

He holds open the door to his private box and ushers me inside where Linda is sitting reading a program. She doesn't seem remotely surprised to see me. The box is smaller than I expect with a small antechamber by the door, but there's no divider between the boxes down by the seats. I don't understand what Robert thinks is going to happen here. The box to the left might be vacant, but if he tries anything, the three old ladies in the box to our right are going to get an entirely different kind of show. Robert seems unconcerned though and takes his seat beside Linda, beckoning me to join him by patting the empty chair beside him. I sit like a good girl should.

There are a few minutes before the opera resumes. To pass the time, Robert talks quietly with Linda. I can't pick out their conversation, but I am intently aware of being ignored. He doesn't touch me, look at me, or even acknowledge my presence. It feels like being a child again, seen but not heard while the grownups talk. As the houselights dim, Linda leans forward to look at me across Robert. A faint smile plays across her lips as if at some private joke. I wonder if I might be the punchline.

A burst of applause greets the conductor as he returns to the orchestra pit. Nodding curtly to the audience, he raises his baton, silencing musician and patron alike. The overture begins. I sit forward expectantly as if I'm one of the musicians awaiting my cue. My personal conductor, however, continues to watch the opera. I become more and more anxious; the way I get waiting to be vaccinated. Shots don't actually hurt that much, but the anticipation kills me. I'm not so sure that will be true in this case.

As the overture ends, Robert stands silently. There are two rows of seats in our box. I watch him take one from the back and set it against the door then adjust the positioning of a second.

"Eyes front," Linda hisses at me, showing me the whites of hers to let me know I am playing with fire.

I force myself to watch the opera although my brain isn't processing anything it's seeing on stage. Robert returns and snaps a finger beside my ear for me to follow him. When I rise, Linda doesn't move or even look my way. Robert goes back to his seat by the door. He points at the floor between his feet and open knees. Approaching him, I realize he's built himself a little blind back here. Even if the old ladies looked this way, their line of sight is blocked by the second chair. They'd have to get up and lean into Robert's box to see anything. I'm surrounded by two thousand people, but I might as well be on the dark side of the moon. The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.

"You consent to pay Jack's debt?" Robert asks.

I nod.

He shakes his head. "Let me hear you say it."

"I consent."

"But no hitting."

"Yes."

"Yes Sir," he says icily.

"Yes Sir," I repeat.

"Jack might have gone soft, but you'll do things correctly or his debt stands. Understood?"

I don't like him talking about Jack that way. "Yes Sir."

"Take off your dress."

I reach behind my back for the zipper. I want to be smooth with it, but my hands are shaking with adrenaline, and it takes me a couple of tries. With a shimmy, the dress slips to my waist where I catch it in the crooks of my arms and carefully step out of it. I'm naked other than my heels just as Jack instructed. Robert has no outward reaction to my body and throws my dress in the corner.

"Acknowledge an instruction when it's given," he says. "Understood?"

And here I thought I was doing so well just complying. "Yes Sir."

"Shoes off, too."

"Yes Sir," I say and kick my heels in the direction of my dress.

He puts the palm of his hands on the outside of my thighs and caresses them lightly. "How long have you been Jack's submissive?"

That's a complicated question. "Five days."

"Like a newborn. And he's your first Dominant?"

"Yes Sir."

He studies me appraisingly and twirls a finger for me to turn in a circle. His hands following the contours of my body as I make a slow three-sixty for him.

"You're well made, I'll give you that. But are you durable is the question."

"I don't break easily," I say, completing my spin.

"Can't break what's already broken, hmm?" he says and fires off a series of instructions. "Feet apart, shoulder width. Hands behind your back, grasp your elbows."

I do as I'm told, feeling like an Army private standing at attention. He presses a finger to my pussy, and I let out a gasp as it slips in with embarrassing ease. I look down to see him glaring at me.

"Chin up. Eyes straight ahead."

My head snaps up, and I stare at the red door behind him while he works his finger inside me. My hips tilt forward automatically to offer a better angle.

He chuckles cruelly at my whorishness. "First Dominant, but not your first man is he? Far from it."

"No Sir."

"You don't like me, do you?"

I don't know how to answer that so stick to the truth. "No Sir."

That does not appear to concern him. "Still very, very wet though. You always respond so strongly to humiliation?"

"Yes Sir."

"So just another internet slut with low self-esteem. I assume that's where he found you anyway," he says, continuing when I confirm his suspicion. "A little dull but that's the age we live in. Squeeze."

I clench, tightening my grip around his finger. I may or may not groan.

He nods like he's just checking the oil in his car. "Still reasonably tight despite what an industrious little whore we both know you've been. I assume you have no idea how many men have fucked that hole."

"No Sir."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

"And they say the younger generation has no work ethic," he chuckles and slips a second finger into me, curling both so the tips press into the front wall of my pussy.

I don't want it to feel good, but it fucking does. He knows it, too.

"So what drives you to be a whore, Jane? And please don't say Daddy issues." He sees it on my face and sighs tiredly. "Jesus Christ, it is isn't it? Daddy issues. What a cliché. You'd think Jack would have higher standards."

I feel my temper struggling to get loose. My elbows slip from my hands. A barbed "fuck you" rises to my lips when I remember literally getting down on my knees and begging Jack to let me do this. How I swore I wouldn't embarrass or let him down. Somehow I'm pretty sure gouging out Robert's eyes would qualify as both. My hands grasp my elbows again. I will not allow myself to be baited by this man.

"Aw, does that make you mad? Am I hurting your feelings?" Robert goads, fingers working diabolical circles inside me.

"No Sir."

"Don't lie to me, whore. Did that hurt your feelings?"

"Yes Sir. A little bit," I say although my mind is beginning to wander. His hand is unbelievable and moves expertly inside me like he's been fingering me longer than I have. It's disconcerting to be this angry and embarrassed, but still turned on.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it."

"Yes Sir."

"Listen to me carefully, 'Jane,' or whatever you're really called. Jack's had better, much better, and will again. Grief does funny things to a man. I know how badly you want to matter to him, but there's just nothing special about you that I see. You're not designer, you're off the rack. Nothing but a skid mark on his sexual history. A distraction. A stray he found rummaging through his trash."

"Yes Sir," I feel myself swaying on my heels, his words like haymakers. This is like being conscious for my own autopsy, and I feel an orgasm building around his fingers of profound size and pressure.

"I've known so many stupid little girls just like you. Broken by men but looking for a man to fix them. You think Jack is that man for you?"

"I don't know," I admit.

"Well let me ruin the suspense for you. He's not. No one can fix what's broken in you, but you already know that don't you?"

"Yes Sir." My face contorts trying to fight back my tears. Yet I still need to cum.