The Saint
Page 92
Nico raised an eyebrow, arched it high. She wished she had a ruler with her. Wonder who could do that eyebrow arch better—Kingsley or Nico?
“Case in point—my first training dinner with Søren the night I got my collar.”
“What happened?”
“Well, we were at Kingsley’s.”
“A good start.”
“Dinner was served.”
“Keep going.”
“And I was bare-ass naked.”
26
Eleanor
A DATE.
A real date.
A normal date.
Dinner. Dressing up. Making out. Finally at age eighteen, Eleanor was going on the first real date of her life.
With her priest.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a normal date, after all. But she had a new dress—a short white strappy number—and they would have Kingsley’s town house all to themselves since the king was not in residence this week. Close enough to a real date. Søren even promised he wouldn’t wear his collar tonight, but the suit she loved on him so much. After he’d made the promise he said something cryptic that had her pondering his words all day long. Only one of us will be in a collar tonight. I promise it won’t be me.
Kingsley’s dining room was illuminated by dozens of candles and the flickering light from the fireplace. Søren was there. Food was there. And yet all she could see was the white box that sat by her plate.
As she stared at the box, Søren came up behind her, kissed the back of her neck, and pulled down the zipper on her dress.
“Whoa, what’s going on? We’re not eating?”
“You are.”
“And you’re taking my dress off because …?”
“I want you naked,” he said, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world, so obvious she shouldn’t have even asked the question.
“This is a naked dinner?”
“For you, Little One. I’ll keep my clothes on.”
Søren started to pull the straps of her dress down and Eleanor stiffened. He paused.
“Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing. Except you’re making me eat dinner completely naked.”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“Incredibly uncomfortable.”
“Understandable,” he said and started sliding the straps of her dress down again.
“But we’re doing it anyway?”
“Eleanor,” Søren said, turning her to face him. “Tonight is a special night for us. You’re old enough now to begin learning what I expect from you if we’re going to be together. This is how it will be if you belong to me. I will own you. It’s not a metaphor or romantic hyperbole. It’s a statement of fact. I should be able to take your clothes off you at any time and whenever I please. Taking off your clothes should require as little explanation or planning as taking off my own collar. I do it when it pleases me to do it and for no other reason.”
“Yes, sir.” She clenched her hands into nervous fists as she stood in the center of the candlelit dining room and let Søren undress her. She felt ridiculous standing completely naked with her hair piled on her head in a fancy updo and high heels on her feet. Søren didn’t touch her other than to slide her panties down her legs. He laid her dress and underwear over the back of the fainting couch that sat near the fireplace.
He pulled her chair out for her and she sat down, wincing as her bare skin connected with the cool wood.
Søren picked up the white box and put it in her hands.
“What is it?” she asked, eyeing the elegant black-and-white wrapping.
“Open it.”
She carefully removed the black ribbon and tore off the white paper. She lifted the lid and stared at the object in the box. So Kingsley hadn’t been kidding, hadn’t been exaggerating, hadn’t been trying to piss her off last year during their first Rolls-Royce ride together.
“Like it?” Søren asked.
Eleanor answered with only one word.
“Woof.”
Søren laughed and picked up the white leather collar and unbuckled it.
“A dog collar?”
“A slave collar. You belong to me always, no matter where we are or what we are doing. But when I put the collar on you, you’ll know that you must give me your complete obedience and your undivided attention. You will call me ‘sir’ while in your collar and nothing else.”
“It’s white.” She looked up at him.
“I wonder why.”
“You know, wearing a dog collar … slave collar,” she corrected, “is a little humiliating.”
“And that is why I want you to wear it.”
She gazed at the collar in his hands.
“Is your collar humiliating, sir?”
“Yes,” he said simply. That hadn’t been the answer she expected, but she understood it. He wrapped the collar around her neck and fastened it into place with a small silver lock.
“Don’t worry, I have the key,” he said. “The only key.”
“Good.”
“Too tight?”
She swallowed easily, breathed easily.
“No.”
Søren took a seat in the chair at her side. “You’re smiling, Little One.”
“I’m totally naked and wearing a dog collar, sir. It was either laugh or cry.”
“Both would have been acceptable. How does it make you feel?”
“Case in point—my first training dinner with Søren the night I got my collar.”
“What happened?”
“Well, we were at Kingsley’s.”
“A good start.”
“Dinner was served.”
“Keep going.”
“And I was bare-ass naked.”
26
Eleanor
A DATE.
A real date.
A normal date.
Dinner. Dressing up. Making out. Finally at age eighteen, Eleanor was going on the first real date of her life.
With her priest.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a normal date, after all. But she had a new dress—a short white strappy number—and they would have Kingsley’s town house all to themselves since the king was not in residence this week. Close enough to a real date. Søren even promised he wouldn’t wear his collar tonight, but the suit she loved on him so much. After he’d made the promise he said something cryptic that had her pondering his words all day long. Only one of us will be in a collar tonight. I promise it won’t be me.
Kingsley’s dining room was illuminated by dozens of candles and the flickering light from the fireplace. Søren was there. Food was there. And yet all she could see was the white box that sat by her plate.
As she stared at the box, Søren came up behind her, kissed the back of her neck, and pulled down the zipper on her dress.
“Whoa, what’s going on? We’re not eating?”
“You are.”
“And you’re taking my dress off because …?”
“I want you naked,” he said, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world, so obvious she shouldn’t have even asked the question.
“This is a naked dinner?”
“For you, Little One. I’ll keep my clothes on.”
Søren started to pull the straps of her dress down and Eleanor stiffened. He paused.
“Something wrong?”
“No. Nothing. Except you’re making me eat dinner completely naked.”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?”
“Incredibly uncomfortable.”
“Understandable,” he said and started sliding the straps of her dress down again.
“But we’re doing it anyway?”
“Eleanor,” Søren said, turning her to face him. “Tonight is a special night for us. You’re old enough now to begin learning what I expect from you if we’re going to be together. This is how it will be if you belong to me. I will own you. It’s not a metaphor or romantic hyperbole. It’s a statement of fact. I should be able to take your clothes off you at any time and whenever I please. Taking off your clothes should require as little explanation or planning as taking off my own collar. I do it when it pleases me to do it and for no other reason.”
“Yes, sir.” She clenched her hands into nervous fists as she stood in the center of the candlelit dining room and let Søren undress her. She felt ridiculous standing completely naked with her hair piled on her head in a fancy updo and high heels on her feet. Søren didn’t touch her other than to slide her panties down her legs. He laid her dress and underwear over the back of the fainting couch that sat near the fireplace.
He pulled her chair out for her and she sat down, wincing as her bare skin connected with the cool wood.
Søren picked up the white box and put it in her hands.
“What is it?” she asked, eyeing the elegant black-and-white wrapping.
“Open it.”
She carefully removed the black ribbon and tore off the white paper. She lifted the lid and stared at the object in the box. So Kingsley hadn’t been kidding, hadn’t been exaggerating, hadn’t been trying to piss her off last year during their first Rolls-Royce ride together.
“Like it?” Søren asked.
Eleanor answered with only one word.
“Woof.”
Søren laughed and picked up the white leather collar and unbuckled it.
“A dog collar?”
“A slave collar. You belong to me always, no matter where we are or what we are doing. But when I put the collar on you, you’ll know that you must give me your complete obedience and your undivided attention. You will call me ‘sir’ while in your collar and nothing else.”
“It’s white.” She looked up at him.
“I wonder why.”
“You know, wearing a dog collar … slave collar,” she corrected, “is a little humiliating.”
“And that is why I want you to wear it.”
She gazed at the collar in his hands.
“Is your collar humiliating, sir?”
“Yes,” he said simply. That hadn’t been the answer she expected, but she understood it. He wrapped the collar around her neck and fastened it into place with a small silver lock.
“Don’t worry, I have the key,” he said. “The only key.”
“Good.”
“Too tight?”
She swallowed easily, breathed easily.
“No.”
Søren took a seat in the chair at her side. “You’re smiling, Little One.”
“I’m totally naked and wearing a dog collar, sir. It was either laugh or cry.”
“Both would have been acceptable. How does it make you feel?”
