“Can you find your way back to your room?”
“Definitely.”
“Great. I will meet you in the dining room in thirty minutes. Don’t feel bad about not remembering everything on the schedule. We are training and I expect things to be rocky. I will correct what is wrong, and I am not doing it to be mean. Just know that you’re pleasing me no matter what you do, but it will be even better, for both of us, if you’re doing things the way I like.”
“Okay,” he says, his voice raspy. He clears it, then takes a few steps toward the door.
“Cassius?” I call after him. He turns to face me from the doorway. I know what we are about to get into, and part of me is worried he’s going to run for the hills. But I won’t water down what I want. And it’s possible he surprises me. This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “I know the touches and words may be awkward at first, but I do hope you grow to enjoy them the way I do. I already adore you for what you’re giving me.”
The smile he gives me almost has me on my knees.
Chapter Eleven
Cassius
I get turned around only once, ending up in the dining room and not down the other hall to where the bedrooms are. Once I pass through the foyer, I know where I am and find my room easily.
A whole room to myself? It’s… unbelievable. Just like everything else that’s happened to me since meeting him. I understand this is all temporary. I’m borrowing all of these things while I’m employed, but it’s still amazing. Every day here will feel like a vacation.
I sit on the bed and practically moan. It’s so soft. I lay back, and my head lands on a paper. I pull it out and read through the schedule.
It’s just for today, listed out by time.
6:00 - 6:45 - Tour and getting acclimated
7:00 - 7:45 - Dinner
8:00 - 8:30 - Reading
8:45 - 9:00 - Prepare for bed
9:10 - 10:00 - Exposure Practice
10:10 - 10:30 - Reflection
10:30 - 11:00 - Dismissal
It’s self-explanatory, except for the exposure practice.
Exposure to what? I assume it has something to do with all those things I checked off—or didn’t check off—on his list. Like the butt plugs and nipple clamps.
I’ve done enough kinky things in my life to not care about wearing a butt plug if he wants me to. He said no sex, and I was willing to do that anyway, so anything else he wants me to do will be fine. Seriously, I’m open to just about anything this guy wants me to do for five grand a week. I did the math. That’s over $830 a day. In two days, I’m already making more than what I made in a month at the burger place.
I put the paper down, going over what he told me to do for dinner. It’s simple enough. I’m basically serving him a meal. I can do that. Though, what else he’s going to want from me is what’s making me nervous. It’s not the act of doing it, I have no shame, it’s making sure I’m doing it right. Doing it wrong has never been an option. It costs too much to get things wrong. Because as much as this is for the money, there is a part of me that wants to do this right for me. I want to be good at it. I wantto prove to myself that I am not a loser, that I can do what needs to be done to take care of my family.
There have been too many times in my life that I’ve failed. I won’t do it again.
Holding my arm over my face, I look at the watch he gave me—no, not just gave me, but put on my wrist. It felt almost binding. Like a collar, but for my wrist. Maybe to him it is, since he’s the CEO of a watch company and all. I don’t hate the idea of belonging to him. I’d be taken care of… and the thought of that? It’s indescribable.
The watch is silver, the face square with rounded edges that are outlined in black. The hands are thin, also black, the rest of the face a light grey, almost white, while the numbers are there as little tick marks and not written out. It’s a beautiful watch. Not quite what I’d pick for myself, I think, but something makes me like it because he likes it. Because he chose it for me. Because it somehow fit perfectly.
I catch the time and sit up. Fifteen minutes have already gone by, and I haven’t done a thing. I hop to my feet and look around the room for the uniform I’m supposed to wear. He did tell me change, but where the hell did he put it?
Then I spot it. On the bed. It’s hard to see because it’s so fucking small. I pick it up, holding it out in two hands.
“Wow,” I mutter, shaking my head.
He really must know what he likes. I get undressed, folding my clothes neatly and putting them on the chair beside thebureau across from the bed. Then I tug on the mini shorts, unsure if they’re even going to fit because they’re so small.