Striking a Balance (Thalia Book 2) (The Thalia Series) Read online

  She had a framework to function inside. And where Marcus had never really stuck to his, James was consistent. Twice in their first week she had grown frustrated when he asked her questions that she wasn’t sure how to answer and she had shouted at him that he should ‘stop making her answer him’. Giving him a command? Not a good idea. He had clearly been irritated, but in full control. The spankings he’d given her both times had left her ass red and had her sleeping on her stomach for a night each. But after each punishment, she was forgiven completely.

  No lingering anger, no threats, no fear.

  She knew they were okay, and after the second punishment she realized she felt better that he’d addressed it instantly. It didn’t hang over her as if he would suddenly bring it up again or hold it against her.

  He was also never immune to her distress; he cared and he showed it. The nightmares started after the first week. She would wake up in the night unable to breathe, having dreamt of Marcus on top of her, of being unable to move while he hurt her and shouted at her, over and over. In the nightmares she couldn’t speak. There was no safe word. There was no escape. The first time she’d woken up screaming James had reached to comfort her and she had screamed again and tried to push him away. Instead of pressing it he had moved to give her space and turned on the light so she could see where she was, and he had spoken softly to her reminding her of what had happened. After a few minutes he had opened his arms and she had curled against his side and cried until she was worn out and fell back to sleep.

  Their first month was as ‘vanilla’ as he could manage, or so he said, because he wanted her healed before their first session. He still pulled her hair and made her ask permission to come, sometimes he pinned her – and the nights she earned discipline she could see his struggle not to do more. Even when she told him she was ready to submit with him, to go further, he would trace a fading bruise on her skin, or push her back to lift her feet and check the almost healed cuts there, before firmly telling her, “No.”

  It was the second month when he finally gave her the news she’d been waiting for.

  “You’re all healed, pet.” He grinned down at her as he finished running his hands down her sides, and she smiled back. She was on her back on their bed as he looked for every mark he’d memorized from her time with Marcus. All gone now like they’d never happened. Except for the faint lines of healing skin on the soles of her feet and the tattoo that would never go away. None of that bothered her though, because they were just part of her history; a history that the tattoo would permanently remind her of. Something she could look at and remember that she had survived it. A rush of energy flooded her, her mind lighting up with ideas.

  “A session?! Does that mean we’ll have a session, Master?” The excitement in her voice may have come across as a little desperate. While he had absolutely fucked her wonderfully hard over and over in their first four weeks together, and she had come often and loudly, it wasn’t a Dominant with his submissive – or at least based on what she knew it wasn’t. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much. She did know for sure that other than setting limits and following his rules they hadn’t addressed what she supposedly was: sexually submissive. He had promised he would plan a session when she was healed, and when he could control the marks on her skin.

  She’d spent hours running in his gym, moving through long memorized sun salutations, and thinking about what the idea of being submissive meant. What had it been about the things Marcus had done that she liked? Why had he called her responsive, and why had James had echoed that phrase? The memory of the belt on her skin, of being tied down, of the rope and the nipple clamps, of him keeping her on edge for hours until she begged and pleaded for him to fuck her, to help her come – all of it ran through her mind. When she thought of Marcus doing it she felt sick, but when she imagined James she was instantly wet.

  She wanted to know what it was like with him. What it was like when she consented.

  His mouth came down over hers and snapped her back as she listened to the low rumble of laughter in his chest. She moaned as he kissed her, her excitement building, wondering what he had planned for her. “Yes, pet, we will have a session, I promise you, but something else first.” Her excitement soared, and then stuttered. She pulled her brows together as she looked up at him.

  “What’s first, Master?” Her voice came out with more whine than she meant it to. Weeks before he’d had them both tested at a local clinic and they were clean. She hadn’t even thought of it with Marcus, and she was relieved James had taken care of it. So, with that out of the way what else could there be? She almost resorted to begging when he started talking.

  “Most women wouldn’t look so distressed about being taken shopping.” He smiled at her but her jaw just dropped open.

  “Master! Shopping?!” She asked a little loudly, exasperated and still solely focused on identifying what being a submissive meant. That was what she wanted to do, she wanted to figure out if Marcus had been right, if that was what she was, and James had promised to help her, to show her! She’d been waiting for weeks for him to agree she was healed. Each time he’d taken her to bed and he held her firmly, or he bit her nipple or her skin, or his hand wound in her hair she had felt her body respond. That is what she wanted to explore. She didn’t want to go shopping.

  “Yes, shopping, Thalia.” His voice was stern and it instantly chastened her urge to beg. “You need clothes for when we go out and I’ve had to guess at what you’d like and your sizes because I couldn’t very well take you somewhere where they might see you covered in his marks.” James’ voice had the edge of anger it always did whenever he referred to Marcus’ hands on her.

  “Yes, Master.” She mumbled, but his fingers lifted her chin to bring her eyes back to his.

  “And once we’ve gone shopping, then I can give you some marks of my own in a session, pet.” A wicked smile tugged at his mouth and she grinned.

  “Prom-”

  “I promise.” He interrupted her, and quickly leaned back, rolled her over and delivered a sharp swat to her ass that made her yelp in surprise. “Now stop questioning me, and get dressed to go.”

  She smiled into the sheets, but wiped it off her face as she sat up and responded, “Yes, Master.” Then she rushed to get ready. The sooner the shopping was over, the sooner she could have her first session that would be, as he said, SSC - safe, sane, and consensual.

  Three things that had never been true with Marcus.

  Thalia always tried to look good when she went out with him. It had been rare so far, quick trips just to get her outside and around people, but he always looked so nice. It made her nervous just in deciding what to wear. She pulled on a blue blouse he liked and a white skirt that skimmed her knees. She slipped her feet into a pair of sandals and walked into the living room. She was about to slide into a kneel when his hand caught her elbow, “No, Thalia, don’t ruin your skirt.” He stepped around her and traced his thumb just below her lip, his voice gentle. “What are the rules when we go out?”

  “I have to act normal.” She said it flatly, bitterly. Because she never felt right when they were out and he knew it.

  “Are you wanting to earn a punishment, pet?” His tone held an edge to it and there was no confusion that if she kept up the smart responses he’d make her regret it.

  “No, Master. I’m sorry, Master.” She took a breath, “I must refer to you as sir, or leave off the address completely. I must look at you, and others, normally. I am not to display submissive behavior that would draw attention. I’m supposed to act like myself.” The last line he had told her so many times – but it just didn’t work. She was hyper aware of herself now, of how she stood in relation to him and anyone else. Other times her mind was so focused on him that it became difficult to be aware of others. With the opportunity to observe him acting naturally, it’s all she wanted to do. The way he talked to people, smooth and charismatic, his confidence drawing people like moths to a flame. She couldn’t te
ar her eyes away. She was so distracted she could barely form a sentence around him at times.

  If she was honest, Thalia had never been great at being normal before. She was fucking terrible at acting normal now.

  “Good girl, Thalia. If you make it through today without causing any scenes, we’ll have a session this evening.” His voice was still strong and direct, but the end held a hint of his smile. Her spirits lifted instantly. She could buy a few outfits and be back soon to finally see what being with James, the Dominant, would be like.

  Soon? She couldn’t have been more wrong.

  James spent the next six hours taking her to designer stores all over London. He bought her dresses, casual clothes, shoes and accessories. He basically let the people who worked at the shops dress her like a doll and then he said yes or no and swiped a card.

  Thalia got in trouble with him early on in the day when she approached him outside a shop she was supposed to be in, and quietly asked him if he had planned the day around the movie Pretty Woman. He had gritted his teeth, reminded her very quietly that she was not a whore and that if she didn’t want to earn a punishment as his submissive, she’d better go back inside and select some clothes. She had obeyed, but couldn’t keep herself from laughing at her own joke as she did. It was ridiculous not to see the connection. Handsome wealthy gentleman? Check. Female, purchased, sexual object totally out of her depth socially? Check. Very expensive shopping trip? Check. When she’d turned around in the shop she’d found him smiling to himself as he stared down at his phone outside the front window. James had agreed with her whether or not he wanted to admit it.

  However, that was the last entertaining moment of the trip for her.

  Only a few times did Thalia like something enough to mention it, but he always added it to the yes list. She’d never cared much about clothes, and the longer they spent shopping the more anxious she grew. But it made sense she needed more than the handful of items he’d previously bought for her. He had mentioned they’d be traveling for his work soon, so the shopping wasn’t optional. It also made sense why he’d waited until the marks on her skin had faded, because the women working at the shops constantly ‘peeked in’ to see if an item fit, or if they liked it on her. It would have been a great way for James to be answering some awkward questions with the employees, or the police.

  The women surrounded her and asked her so many questions about James every time he stepped out of the shops to take calls or send emails. Each time it happened, the panic would creep in. They’d surround her or tap on the changing room door, speaking brashly in giggling voices. How did they meet? Where in America was she from? Had they met here, there? Then they talked about how handsome he was, made comments and asked about how he was in bed – it all left Thalia tongue-tied and blushing and wanting to hide from them. She couldn’t even explain it to James, couldn’t form the words to beg him not to leave her alone in a store again. They mocked her for her inability to answer their questions, asking why she was being so modest, so shy, why wouldn’t she talk with them, ‘just with the girls’.

  But James caught on after a few hours that she wasn’t doing well.

  She wouldn’t eat lunch, and she finally started shaking at the last shop when one of the girls brazenly asked what she was willing to do in bed to nab a guy like him. He had come back in and seen she was about to cry so he finally ended the trip. He held her tightly in a hug for the briefest of moments outside the store and whispered that he was there for her, he wasn’t going anywhere, and that they would head home immediately – and they did.

  Once they had all of the boxes and bags inside, Thalia slid into a kneel and felt an easing to the tightness in her chest. The cool, quiet of his flat and being alone with him again did a lot to soothe her. She felt herself sliding into the calm of what he referred to as her submissive mindset. Any time he caught her relaxing into an aspect of submission, he had tried to make her aware of the change in herself. She was aware, she felt it, she enjoyed it. And she wondered if he’d notice now.

  “Strip.” James said as he walked past her to their bedroom. She took a step after him and he added, “Stay there.” His voice was already different, his posture strong and confident. After the anxiety of the day, she was grateful for him giving her clear direction. Her body was wound so tight she couldn’t even think straight as she slid the clothes off and folded them against the wall.

  Naked and back in the kneel she was able to breathe better, her lungs filling more deeply.

  Then her breath stopped completely when he walked back into the living room. Everything about him had changed like a switch had been flipped. He wore loose black pants low on his hips, revealing the incredible V inside his hipbones. Her eyes moved up his smooth stomach, over his chest and the clean lines of his collarbones. His arms were relaxed at his sides, but everything about him drew her attention. He seemed even taller than usual, and although she hadn’t dared to look at his eyes yet, she could feel them on her like she had the night of the party. His glance brushed her skin and made her shiver. “Master?” Her voice wavered.

  “Yes.” His response both answered her and accepted the title. It sent a chill down her back. Even his voice was different. Low and steady and serious. He pointed at the floor in front of him, “Crawl to me, pet.”

  Her stomach did an excited little flip. This wasn’t the James that teased her about coffee, or the James that gently kissed her when he woke her in the mornings. This was James the Dominant, her Master, the one she’d chosen to go with, and it seemed she’d finally be allowed to be his submissive. “Yes, Master.” She crawled to him slowly, aware of the way her breasts swayed with each movement. When her knees were close to his feet she sat back into a kneel. His thumb traced her jaw line, and then he tilted her head back until she looked up at him.

  His eyes were dark, bottle glass green, and there wasn’t a hint of playfulness in his expression. “Tell me your safe word so I know you remember it.”

  “My safe word is chair, Master.” Her voice was breathy quiet, her heart beat racing in her ears.

  “Use it if you have to. I won’t stop until the session is over for anything other than the safe word, but I will stop immediately and unbind you if you say it, do you understand?” He said it with an urgency to his voice.

  “Yes, Master, I understand that I should say the safe word if I need to and that if I do you will stop and release me if I’m bound.” Thalia repeated it so he would know she understood. She felt the need to add, “I’m submitting willingly, Master, I want this.”

  His firm grip on her chin relaxed and a smile flashed across his lips, “I want this too, pet, and I think we’ve been very patient. Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Master.” She said it excitedly. Butterflies filled her stomach and made her skin hum as his eyes scalded her with the heated look he gave her body.

  “Then follow me, stay on your knees.” He turned down the hall and stopped at the one door that had always been locked. It was maybe fifteen feet but in crawling after him she felt her whole body tensing in anticipation. He took a key out of his pocket and opened the door. It was a room similar to the one in Marcus’ house but on a much smaller scale. She moved through the doorway and knelt just inside near the wall, her eyes wide as she looked around. Her mind was racing with what he had planned. What items in the room would he use? There was so much to look at. A large cabinet that she knew would hold a variety of toys, a large X installed against one wall. A table in one corner, a full-sized bed in the other, a wide padded bench at the foot of the bed. In the center of the room was something like a gymnastics horse, but he stepped in front of her and blocked her view of it. Out of reflex she almost looked up at him, but caught herself.

  “Thalia, our sessions will always begin when this door shuts, and end when I open it again. Understand?” His voice held that edge to it that sent thrilling shivers down her back. “The room is soundproofed on all sides, so in this space there is no need to be quiet, and I
don’t want you to be. You’re free to scream if you need to.” Her heart thundered in her ears, a heady mixture of fear at what he might do to make her scream, and excitement for the same reason, sent her head spinning.

  “Yes, Master,” she spoke in a shaky voice.

  His finger touched under her chin and tilted her head back so she was looking at him. The expression on his face was dark and hungry, “You are mine, beautiful.” His words left her mind blank, and she only nodded. He let go of her chin and the door slammed at the same time making her jump, her body surging with adrenaline that only served to put her more on edge.

  Her first session was starting.

  James walked to the center of the room and pushed the horse back towards the wall. His steps brought him back to her and his fingers slid under the thin collar around her neck to draw her to her feet. He didn’t speak as he moved her to the middle of the room and turned her to face the door. His hands ran down her arms and then he slid a wide cuff around each wrist, tightening them firmly. With a quick movement he linked the cuffs together in front of her with a clink. Then he smoothly drew them over her head to connect the cuffs to a carabiner at the end of a chain that went into the large tiles that covered the ceiling and the walls and the floor. He stepped back from her and she felt a blush flood up her chest, as his eyes devoured her pale skin.