Rebecca's Lost Journals, Volume 4: My Master (Inside Out #1.4)(6)

And I should be thinking about the event, calling customers to confirm they are attending, rather than focusing on the fact that “he” hasn’t called me, and what that means. I should go get coffee and clear my head. Yes. I’m going to get coffee, and not next door. I’m sticking to the kitchen and the gallery.





3:00 p.m.

C

ontrol. He has it. I do not. I want it back. He thinks I already have it back, and now he’s punishing me for it. He still hasn’t called me. He’s reminding me that he has the power to make me need him, to crave the sound of his voice. And I do. Damn it, I do. I never doubted his power over me, though I keep reminding myself that his actions say he is doubting it. He’s the one trying to prove something that I already know: I need him. And he’s worried that I don’t. That has to mean something. Staying at my apartment has been the smart thing to do. And I’m off tomorrow, with lots of time to myself to think. It’s not only given me space to think but also spawned some in him. Maybe, just maybe, it can be a catalyst for something different for us.

Oh, God. Amanda just told me I have company. Master Two is here, claiming he wants to talk about a painting I’ve been helping him with. But I know that’s not why he’s here.





10:00 p.m.

My apartment

I

’m on my couch with a pizza box open on my coffee table. I ate half of a large cheese, plus one extra slice. And some double-stuffed Oreos, though I mostly licked the cream out of them. Funny how stress makes me eat one minute and the opposite the next. Apparently tonight was “feed the problem” night. Does the fact that it was all junk food have any meaning? Oh, yeah. You betcha.

But now that I am stuffed, I have no more excuses left for not writing this entry. Tonight it is clear to me why I’ve withdrawn from my writing in my journals. Creating the entries really does force me to face feelings I’d rather not face. The same reason I’ve ignored my Master’s calls. I’m not ready to face where things are going, or not going, between us.

So, let’s see. Where should I start writing? This afternoon, which I consider the beginning of the end with my Master. I need to think of the event I’m about to describe that way. I need to remember that this relationship I am in is not the one I want, nor is it what I ever set out to develop. I have to remember this when I see my Master again.

No, when I see “him” again—when I ensure he is no longer my Master. Because today was unacceptable. Today was the final straw that broke the camel’s back, as my mother would have said.

Master Two came into my office, dressed in a suit and looking his usual handsome, debonair self, his eyes hot with an intent that told me I was right to be worried. The laptop in his hand, free of a case, was the next indicator.

He shut the door. I stood up, my spine stiffening. “We don’t meet when he’s not here.” My heart was thundering like a hard, heavy drum and I thought it might break my breastbone.

“He wants me here,” he assured me, stalking forward, and coming behind the desk before flipping open the screen and watching the system boot up. He hit a few keys and began to dial up a video program that I knew better than I wanted to.

Master Two stared down at me with so much primal heat, I cut my gaze to the computer. “He” appeared on the screen and my thundering heart sputtered a moment. “You know how I feel about my job and personal life being mixed,” I hissed at Master.

“This does nothing to hurt your job,” Master assured me. “You are simply meeting with a legitimate customer.”

Master Two wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against his hard body. “I’ll make sure no one suspects anything but business happened when I leave.” His hand glided over my backside and he turned to pull me flush to him, letting me feel his hard cock against my stomach.

“No,” I panted at him and, damn it, I was aroused. My body (or maybe it’s my mind) is programmed by my Master, with the help of Master Two (far too often for my happiness), to react automatically to them.

But I was at work, and that had me clinging to sanity. My fingers dug into his arms. “Not here. Later. When I’m home.”

“Right now,” Master said softly. “Here. Do it because it pleases me.” He paused. “Or don’t. This is your decision. It’s always your decision.”

I hated how aroused I was, how easily I could say “yes” and forget the important barrier I’d put in place. And once I forgot it, he’d forget it. I’d be headed down a path I didn’t want to go. In some corner of my mind, I knew that’s how I’d ended up here. I had let myself go places just to please him, places I wasn’t comfortable going that led to darker and darker places.

Master Two leaned in and whispered in my ear. “I’d like to set you down in that chair, spread you wide, and lick you into oblivion. Just say the word.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and my thighs together. This was part of the power play. This was my Master proving to me he still had this kind of power over me. Or maybe he was proving it to himself.

I fought to remember the journal entries, and the reasons why I should or shouldn’t do this. He needed this. He needed to feel he still had this hold on me. Didn’t loving him mean giving that to him?

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes. Okay.”