Deconstructing Delilah, page 19
I am not those women, even if I play one here tonight.
“Good evening, Delilah,” Halston says to me. I look up at Pope, who raises an eyebrow.
“Good evening, Halston.”
“Well done. Thank you for the drink,” Pope leans down to whisper in my ear.
“You’re welcome, Mr. Blackwell.”
“I don’t know what this asshole did to get your attention, but if he fucks it up, you come see me.”
“He’s very sweet to me, but I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell Halston, who laughs at Pope’s pursed lips.
I look back to the room and see Shanna glaring at me. She’s only a few feet away and obviously very upset that I’m the one at Pope’s knee tonight. He’s mine for as long as I can have him, her bad feelings don’t make me feel anything but annoyed that she’s putting them on display for everyone in the club to see. It’s not the sort of drama we encourage. I send her a sweet smile. It makes her scowl worse, but it’s worth letting her know I see what she’s doing. My workday is done, but the care for my workplace never ends.
Pope’s hand strokes down my head a few times before settling at the nape of my neck. The men continue to talk about business. Stocks, specifically. I listen quietly for the first few minutes, until Halston brings up a tech company based in North Carolina.
“I would pass on that one if I were you,” I say, dropping my chin to rest on Pope’s thigh. “I can email you the data I have on them.”
“How old are you?” he asks.
“Twenty-three. My current return on investment for the club is eight percent. It’s higher for my personal portfolio because I tend to take more risks with my own money.”
“Delilah may not know her place, but she knows her investments.” Pope’s words come out harsh, but I’ll take a little punishment if it saves Halston some money.
“Sorry, Mr. Blackwell,” I playfully pout, making Halston laugh.
“Send me what you have, I’ll take a look.”
“You’ll have it before the market opens tomorrow,” I say, keeping my head down. I do it for Pope, trying to keep up with the preferences he’s told me he has. We spoke about it at length yesterday when he expressed his desire for me to accompany him in this way. If I’m his pet for the night, I’m to follow his lead. Ask permissions I wouldn’t normally. Speak when spoken to, etc.
It isn’t hard, I just have to revert to my childhood behavior, really. What’s difficult is setting aside the hard-earned attitude, abilities, and pride I possess now that I never did then. I suppose it’s a good thing I like his punishments, since I’m likely to get them often.
Their conversation turns when a woman I’ve never met enters the Salon. Tall, curvy, dressed in a demurely sexual way with enough covered to keep it a mystery while still being alluring. Of course, she has long blonde, wavy hair.
“I didn’t realize Tabitha was back in town, did you?”
“No,” Pope says. He sounds, I don’t know, wistful maybe. The thumb that’s been rubbing back and forth on the column of my neck stills.
Who is this woman?
She circles the room, speaking with various people. All the while the two men in my company watch.
“Maybe tonight is my night,” Halston muses. “You wouldn’t mind, surely?”
“I have no hold over her,” Pope responds coldly.
“No, that was a long time ago. But out of respect…” Halston lets his words fall into the void.
“She’s the best I’ve ever had, Halston. Count yourself lucky if she lets you in her cunt.”
Halston stands, leaving us to pursue his quest. Goosebumps cover my flesh, suddenly cold and apprehensive for reasons I don’t fully know. There’s a sharp pain in my chest, dull but noticeable. Is this jealousy? It wasn’t there before he said she was the best he’d had. Maybe it’s just bruised ego, because I want to be that for him. It’s hard to label the things I’ve never had experience with.
My palms sweat. I move them from my thighs to cross over my hips, lightly grasping the silk of my dress. Trying to work through the prompts Dr. Price has given me to check on myself. I am safe. I am safe.
“What’s my name?” he whispers in my ear, tickling the hair around my neck.
“Pope.”
“Good girl.” Instantly, my body begins to relax. “Give me a kiss.”
I am safe.
The kiss is small and soft, not the usual hungry one. No less pleasurable. He repeats it a few more times, the thumb at my pulse picking up movement again.
“If you’re a weakness, it will be exploited. Understand?” he whispers. I nod, but no… no, I don’t understand what he means.
Until he pulls away and I see Tabitha walking our way.
“It’s good to see you, Blackwell.” Even her voice is beautiful, deep with a sexy rasp to it.
“Tabby.”
Her eyes narrow on him, not liking the nickname. Or maybe not liking the familiarity of it.
“I’m in town for a few weeks. I thought I might find you here,” she says. She doesn’t look at him, opting to instead watch the swirling red liquid in her wine glass.
“You know I’m a creature of habit. I’ve never been hard to find.” The bite in his tone grabs her attention. They stare at each other for a few long moments. Equally awkward and fascinated, I do my best to not study the silent showdown. It’s difficult, but I keep my chin tipped down and only my eyes stretch up to watch every few seconds.
“That was deserved,” Tabitha finally says. “I was hoping we could speak.”
“Not tonight. Contact Lucinda, she’ll let you know when I can fit you in.”
“Of course,” the woman drawls, as if she was expecting that exact reaction. The lie of it is written all over her face. “Who’s your pet?”
“Just a new kitten,” Pope says more blandly than I knew him capable of.
It burns, so keenly and deeply. For eighteen years, I was nothing but currency to men. This feels too familiar; only now I’m currency in a match of wills I know nothing about. The only thing keeping me from standing and fleeing is the thumb still gently massaging. Serving as reminder to not be a weakness.
The game is something I don’t understand, but the rules are clear.
“Does she play well with others?” Tabitha says with a hint of a hiss, kneeling in front of me and tipping my chin up with her long fingernail.
“No, I tend to bite,” I say in a gut reaction. Pope’s fingers press down into my skin, a warning that comes too late.
Tabitha smiles, and it’s anything but friendly. “Mouthy, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but you know how I enjoy punishing the new ones.”
“Mmm, can I watch?”
“Of course, go find a room. We’ll be along after I finish my drink.”
She saunters off with a natural sway that I doubt I’ll ever possess, looping her arm through Halston’s as she does.
“Damn it, Delilah,” Pope curses.
“I’m sorry,” I say on a sigh. “Who is she?”
“Someone who will know if I take it easy on you.”
“Then don’t,” I say simply.
“You don’t yet know what that means.”
“You must not know me at all,” I say, fire of my own in my voice. “Whatever you have to do to save face in front of that woman, will not be worse than what I’ve already endured.”
“I won’t show you kindness in there, Delilah. You’ll be alone in your pain.”
“I’ve been alone with it my whole life.” He flinches back an inch or so. Pope doesn’t know what to expect of me any more than I know what to expect in whatever room Tabitha waits. He roughly grabs either side of my face, bringing his so close. Close enough to kiss.
“Don’t push me in there. Please,” he pleads.
“I’ll do my best.”
“Fuck me.” He’s gentle as he pulls me behind him. Until we walk through to the hallway. Thankfully, Tabitha hasn’t picked the white room. We find the couple across the hall in a room equipped with a couple benches that remind me of something a gymnast would vault over. I haven’t yet learned the terminology for everything. The walls are equipped with tethers, and a case in the corner is stocked with various toys.
Pope leads me to the case, first to buckle cuffs on my wrist. Then he picks up a small ball gag. He contemplates it in his hands until I grab it from him and open my mouth. Again, he’s shocked. I see it, thankfully his back is to Tabitha and Halston, so they miss his hesitation.
“Remember who you’re with,” he says, barely audible, as he buckles the gag.
I am safe.
My wrists are hooked to either end of the bench in front of where the woman watches intently. My only choices are to look directly at her, or to rest my cheek. I’m too stubborn to look away.
“You took your time,” she coos at Pope, her hand on Halston’s knee. He looks near boredom next to her greedy eyes.
“My pet needed to understand her offense.” Pope removes my mask, weaving the strings of it into my fingers. “Don’t let it drop.”
“Does she understand now?” Tabitha directs the question at me, even if she’s not addressing me. I nod, trying my best to seem contrite. I’m not at all. I don’t like this woman, which is a very rare reaction from me. Everyone gets a chance, the benefit of the doubt. Not Tabitha. If it takes being chained and my ass beaten raw to get rid of her, it’s an easy price to pay.
“She knows why she’s being punished.” He words it so I know it’s more because of her than it is because of my behavior. Still, I’d like to know what power this woman has over him that it’s led to this.
Pope enters my field of vision, once again over at the cabinet. He picks up a flogger, weighs it in his hand before he disappears again. The tassels of the flogger brush my bottom as he lifts the hem of my dress over my hips. Snapping the thin strap of my nude panties, he leaves them in place.
Then the sting comes, the blow landing on the tender flesh just above my thigh. I suck in air around the ball in my mouth, the feel of the flogger vastly different than Pope’s hand.
Tabitha’s sea blue eyes narrow on mine. Determined to not give her any satisfaction, I wink at her. My experiences in this room aren’t for her pleasure. They’re mine. Partly, they are for Pope, but I wouldn’t have walked here with him if I didn’t get something out of it that I want, too.
I want to learn about this world. And I want to learn it by Pope’s hand. If at the end of the night I decide I hated this, then I’ll know to never let it happen again.
Halston smiles at me knowingly. Tabitha may have walked in here with one game in mind, but I’m here to play my own.
Pope starts a lazy rhythm, as if playfully twirling the flogger in a circle and my ass just happens to be in the way. It smarts each time it lands. On its own, it wouldn’t be too much to handle, it’s the repetitiveness on the same spot that causes the eventual throbbing. My toes curl and fists clench as my muscles start to tense in defense of the next slap.
It’s not until my vision clears on the woman in front of me that the pain of the flogger takes a backseat. Tabitha is enjoying what she sees. While she never takes her eyes off Pope, her hands pull her own dress ever higher. She hitches a leg over Halston’s lap, taking his hand and placing it between her thighs.
She throws her head back on a moan and Pope’s flogger hits harder. Still, I take it, not making a sound.
All four of us are locked in a game of stares. If I had been born with eyes on the back of my head, I’m sure they’d show me that Pope’s watching her.
It’s the only detail in this room that causes me offense.
He isn’t doing anything that he hasn’t already laid out as a possibility. He is not a monogamous man, I know this. Our time together is tenuous and temporary. I know this.
Tabitha pulls her dress over her head, her bare breasts bouncing with the effort. The flogger hits minutely harder.
The problem isn’t that Pope is reacting to Tabitha, the problem is that he isn’t here in this moment with me. The problem is that I don’t think I’d be here at all if it wasn’t for wanting to be with him. That’s the thought that breaks through my defenses, no matter how many times I remind myself that he told me this would happen.
Halston undoes his pants; I watch it numbly. Then he slides on a condom, and with ease, he lifts Tabitha onto his dick, and I watch it exactly like Pope said I would. Alone. My punishment was supposed to take center stage, but Tabitha is the real star attraction here.
Pope lets the flogger fall to the floor. It thuds and bounces a few feet away from us. His hands find my panties, and I flinch at the touch, at the thought of what it is he wants to do. Pausing at my reaction, I use the moment to force my legs closer together. A clear signal that I don’t want what he’s offering. My mouth can’t speak the words, all I can hope is that he understands my body language.
It screams at him that I will not be the vessel for his pleasure that is derived from her.
His hands leave me as he takes a step back. The rustling of his movements is distinctly heard behind me. He’s undoing his own pants now.
Alone.
I am safe.
I know, I know, I know.
I repeat the chants over and over as I let my mask fall from my fingertips and finally turn my head away, resting my cheek on the cold, hard surface, as I try to block out the sounds around me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Time passes indistinctly when you lose yourself inside your own mind. Maybe only five short moments have passed, though it feels far greater by the time the room quiets. Two bodies leave, I assume Tabitha and Halston. The buckle of my gag is loosened, but I don’t open my eyes to confirm it’s Pope. I’m exhausted and the effort seems too costly a price to pay.
One of my hands is uncuffed, and I grip the edge of the bench to steady myself as the other one gets unbuckled. Hands touch to lift me…
“No,” I say softly.
“You’re spent, let me carry you.”
“No. I’ll walk out of here on my own.” I do just that. Not stopping until we’ve reached the reception area and Hattie gets my coat and handbag from the closet. “Thanks, Hattie, see you tomorrow.”
Hopefully, my feigned cheerfulness fools her. Pope leads me to his car, opening the door for me as I sit as carefully as possible. My skin burned the entire way out here, but I tried so hard not to let it show.
“I’ll take you to my house,” he says when he enters the driver’s side.
“My place is closer.”
“You aren’t likely to have what I would like to treat your skin with,” he argues.
“Take me to my house, please.”
He ceases talking for the short drive from one end of the Quarter to the other. Pope helps me out of the car and up the stairs to my apartment and waits while I unlock the door and open it to a dark space. Cookie must be out with Logan.
“You don’t need to stay,” I tell Pope who tries to follow me inside.
“The fuck I don’t,” he curses, flipping the light switch just inside the door. “Where’s the bathroom?”
I lead the way, still too tired to fight with him about it. My bathroom is tiny, as is most everything about our apartment. Pope has to rub against my backside to get to the shower-bathtub combo. I hiss and he sighs reaching for the tap.
“No bath.” It’s the last thing I want. Besides, I did nothing to soil my skin tonight.
“Why?” he asks. It’s how we always end our nights, after all.
“I don’t need one,” I say. “I have this cream, it should help.” I take cooling gel out of the medicine cabinet and hand it to him.
“Fine. Show me your bedroom.”
Turning, I walk out and to the next door in the hallway that leads to my cramped bedroom. It doesn’t fit more than my full-size bed and a dresser. But it’s my own space, decorated with furnishings I picked out and bought myself. That makes it my favorite place in the world.
“Lie down on your stomach.”
The gel doesn’t cool me under the fiery touch of his fingers.
“Talk to me,” he says.
“I’m fine, Pope.”
“I didn’t say lie to me.”
“It’s not a lie.”
Pope finishes with the gel and lies next to me, side by side, face to face.
“Is this because of what happened at the end?” His brow furrows.
“That she helped you jerk off onto her chest? No, it’s not about that.” I was despondent and done with the situation long before that moment.
“You’ve always known I would be with others, Delilah,” he argues. “That served a purpose you don’t understand.”
“It’s not about sharing, Pope. I was born to do that. I was bred for just that.”
Horrified, his jaw tenses so hard I wonder if he’ll crack a molar.
“You weren’t,” he says with such conviction that I could almost believe.
“I was.” Pope stares at me like he might be able to change my mind by his will alone. It’s the truth, though. He knows it, I’ve known it since I was old enough to understand. I was never meant to be ‘the one’ for anyone. I’m supposed to be one of many, un-special, and insignificant.
“Then what happened?” His hand pushes away the hair falling over my cheek.
“You did what anyone expected you would have done, Pope. You took the pleasure you wanted from where you wanted to take it from,” I say with a sad smile. “I want my pleasure to come from you, but be because of me. Does that make sense?”
“You think I wanted her.”
“It’s not about what I think. It’s about what I know and what I feel. It didn’t need to be me in that room tonight. Any body would have done. I had a lifetime of that feeling; it’s not something I’m eager to experience again.”
“It was you I wanted with me tonight, Delilah.” His thumb traces my jawline.
“I was with you.” I don’t say the rest. No need to remind him that it was he who wasn’t with me. “I’m tired, Pope. You should go.”
“That doesn’t sit well with me; leaving you like this. There’s a lot you don’t understand.”
