Raising Lucy Read online

  I stare at him for a moment, uncertain about how I feel. Part of me is grateful. Most of me is unnerved. I need this job. If Master Roman decides the burden of getting me to his home isn’t worth it, he will fire me.

  Finally, I shuffle across the room toward my office. The door is standing open. I leave it that way. Master Roman has never insinuated that I should close it. In fact, I’m confident he prefers to be able to keep an eye on me, and he likes to be able to call out to me easily.

  I find a pile of folders and loose papers stacked in the center of my desk. A handwritten note is on top instructing me to spend some time familiarizing myself with his filing system. He’s also left me a folder of things that need to be added to files that are already in the drawers.

  I’m grateful to pick up the stack and move to the wall of cabinets. It puts me out of Master Roman’s direct line of sight. I take the time to carefully open every drawer and ensure that I know how his system is set up and where everything is. In the future, hopefully when he requests something, I will be able to easily grab it without opening ten drawers first.

  “Lucy.” When he calls out my name, I jump in my spot. “It’s time for breakfast.”

  I glance at my watch and realize more than an hour has passed. I close the last drawer, return the stack of papers in my hand to my desk, and then step into the main office. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He lifts his gaze. “Tell Evelyn I’ll be in shortly to grab a cup of coffee. And, Lucy…”

  “Yes, Sir?”

  “I don’t want to find you arguing with anyone about what you’re served. Evelyn will provide you with healthy, nutritious meals every day. I expect you to eat what’s in front of you without complaint.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I gulp as I turn to leave. I know without a doubt I’m about to find a glass of milk at my spot. Sure enough, when I enter the kitchen, I see the milk first thing, and then I pray that I only have to choke it down in the mornings.

  “Good morning, Lucy,” Evelyn chirps as I take my seat.

  “Thank you for making my breakfast, ma’am,” I respond. “Master Roman says he’ll be in shortly for coffee.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  I eye the milk and decide to get it over with first. It will probably taste better while it’s cold, and then the rest of the meal will wash it away. Pancakes this morning. And sausage. I haven’t had either in a long time. My mouth waters.

  I hold my breath while I down the stupid, disgusting milk and then pick up my fork and take a large bite of fluffy pancake before I inhale again. It works. I don’t taste the milk. I’ve lived.

  When Master Roman enters the kitchen several minutes later, he eyes my food and my empty glass and almost smiles before leaving without a word.

  I sit up straighter and squeeze my legs together as I turn my head to watch him stride from the room. I’ve pleased him. It sends butterflies to my belly and makes my nipples stiffen.

  I’m shocked by my reaction, though I shouldn’t be. His intense dominance is heady every time. Even without words, he has dominated me.

  It’s hard to finish my food because my stomach is still fluttering as I am unable to shake the visual of his approval from my mind. Somehow, I manage, and then I set my dishes in the sink, thank Evelyn again, and head for the hallway restroom to brush my teeth.

  When I return to Master Roman’s office, he isn’t there. The room is quiet. This is probably a good thing after the way my body has reacted to him just a few minutes ago.

  I hurry across to my side door and resume filing. When I’ve finished, I open the next folder and see that he has left me several letters, correspondences, that need to be mailed out. I busy myself with that.

  Chapter 17

  Lucy

  * * *

  An hour later, I hear Master Roman’s footsteps before he calls my name. “Lucy.”

  Just as I’m about to rise from my desk, he fills the doorway with his enormous presence and wanders inside. “Stay there,” he instructs. He glances around the room, probably to ensure I haven’t made a mess of things.

  Finally, he saunters to the large picture window behind me and leans against it casually, arms crossed. “Tell me about your childhood.”

  His question startles me. My childhood? Again? Why is he so inquisitive about my childhood? “Sir?” I don’t see how my upbringing has anything to do with how I do my job. I’m concerned. Again. And on edge. I sit up straighter and fold my hands in my lap. My palms are sweating, but I don’t dare wipe them on my skirt.

  He sighs. “You are a unique girl, Lucy. I want to understand you better.”

  I lick my lips. I’m trembling slightly now. He notably doesn’t call me a woman, but a girl. It makes me feel something deep inside that I can’t put my finger on. It’s not a bad thing. Just a curiosity.

  “You aren’t in trouble, Lucy. Relax. Tell me about your childhood,” he repeats.

  “Um, okay. Well, I was born in rural Missouri. You already know that. And I lived on a small farm with my parents until my dad died.”

  “How did he die?” Master Roman interrupts.

  “He had a heart attack.”

  “Wow. I assume he was young.”

  I shrug. I don’t really know how old he was. He seemed old to me at the time, but then again, I was ten. “I guess so.”

  “And your mom. Was she devastated? I bet it was hard for her.”

  I find myself shaking my head unintentionally, and then wish I could take the action back. This is not something I want to discuss with anyone, let alone my nosy, dominant, new boss.

  “Did your parents not get along?” he asks.

  My shoulders lower and so does my gaze. “My father wasn’t a nice man. He probably died because his stress level was so high his heart couldn’t take it.” That’s the truth.

  Master Roman hesitates. “Was he abusive?”

  “Emotionally, I suppose. He was always shouting. My mother could not please him. I don’t think I ever heard him speak in a normal voice.”

  Master Roman’s voice is lower and kind when he speaks again. “I’m sorry, Lucy. That must have been rough. How did your mother handle him?”

  “She didn’t. She never fought back. She just listened and then tried to fix whatever he was ranting about.”

  “What about you? Did he yell at you too?”

  I lift my gaze, feeling stronger. This isn’t so bad. Who cares if Master Roman knows my stupid secrets? “I’m not sure he even knew I was alive, to be honest. He rarely looked at me. I learned at a young age to keep quiet and not draw attention to myself. I don’t think he wanted kids, so he ignored me. It was like he pretended I didn’t exist.”

  Master Roman’s face widens in shock. He opens his mouth, but it takes him a moment to speak. “Did you have friends? Did you go to other homes and see how other children lived?”

  I shake my head. “Rarely. I was introverted and shy. I still am. I didn’t care if I had friends. I went to school on the bus and came home and went to my room. I did my homework and read most of the time.”

  Master Roman stops frowning. His expression is one of genuine curiosity. “Did your parents have enough money? Did you at least have dolls and toys to play with?”

  “No. I had very little. I had a crib when I was a baby, and then my mother took it apart when I got too old for it. She put the small mattress on the floor and told me one day when she could afford it, she would buy me a regular bed. That day never came.” I suck in a breath and glance away, unsure why I’ve revealed so much.

  “You lived in that house on that small mattress until you were eleven?” His voice is stunned, but also a little angry.

  “Yes.” I force a wan smile. “I was smaller than most girls. It’s not as if I was hanging off the edge of the baby mattress. When I went to live with my grandmother in Chicago, I finally had a regular twin bed. It wasn’t pretty or anything, but it was an improvement.”

  “Did you know this grandmother?”

&nbs
p; I shake my head. “No. Never met her. I don’t think she and my mother got along. I didn’t even know she existed until my mother died and a social worker came and got me. I’m not surprised. The woman was cold and distant.”

  Master Roman’s eyes draw together, and he runs a hand through his dark hair. “Jesus.”

  “I’ve said too much. I’m sorry, Sir.” I lower my gaze, my legs shaking.

  He shoves off the window and comes to me, extending his hand in front of me.

  I stare at it.

  He shakes it. “Come.”

  I lift my smaller hand and set it in his, fully aware of our size difference. The warmth of his touch is immediate. I calm slightly as I rise to my feet. I’m shivering. It’s not cold. I’m nervous.

  Master Roman leads me to his office and then he releases me when we reach his desk. He sits on his chair, opens the bottom drawer of his desk, and then pulls out a pillow.

  I’m so confused as he sets it on the floor at his feet and points to it. “Kneel.”

  I can’t breathe as I lower to my knees at his feet. My heart is pounding. My hands are shaking so badly that the only way I can stop them I to clasp them together. Instinctively I do so at the small of my back. I keep my face tipped toward the floor.

  “Good girl. Don’t move.” He rises and pads across the room.

  I think he’s going to leave me there with my uncertainty and doubts, and then I hear the door snick shut and the lock engage. I’m so relieved that I blow out a breath. I would have been mortified if Nancy or Evelyn or Weston walked in to find me on my knees.

  Master Roman returns to his seat, facing me, but I don’t meet his gaze. I keep mine lowered. I can’t stop the shaking. His voice is low and full of command and understanding at the same time. “Pull your shoulders back, Lucy. Straighten your spine.”

  I follow his instructions.

  “Spread your knees wider.”

  It’s hard to obey that instruction on the wobbly pillow, and it’s awkward, but I manage. Instantly, I feel exposed. I realize my panties are damp. My boss has managed to arouse me in short order. I hope he doesn’t know it. Just because he has me on my knees does not mean he’s thinking anything sexual about me. He’s a Dom. They dominate. Not always for sexual purposes. I know this.

  He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. His face is inches from mine. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

  I do as he says. I can’t not. My heart rate slows.

  “Good. Again. Keep breathing.”

  For several minutes I do just that. I’m still shaking, but I’m calmer.

  “Can you feel yourself relaxing?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Submitting can help lower your stress. It’s soothing.” His voice is so gentle. “Just follow my instructions, and you’ll feel the tension ebbing.”

  I say nothing, concentrating on breathing and the tone of his voice.

  “You haven’t told many people about your childhood, have you, Lucy?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “In fact, you didn’t really have a childhood, did you?”

  “I guess not, Sir.” I’ve never thought about it that way, but he’s right.

  “Don’t let it embarrass you. It’s not your fault.”

  He’s right again, but I still wouldn’t want to run around whining about my past to random people. It’s part of the reason why I don’t have friends. I don’t have to talk about my painful past if I never get close to anyone. And though I’ve considered making something up over the years to gloss over my life, I’m not good at lying. So I’ve chosen to remain introverted and unreachable.

  Until now.

  Until Master Roman.

  “I want you to stay in this position for a while longer, until I tell you to move. You’ll feel much better afterward.” He turns toward his desk and grabs his mouse, his gaze landing on the screen.

  I can’t see it because it’s angled away from me. Besides, I’m keeping my gaze on the floor. “Yes, Sir.” This I can do. This is the first time I’ve submitted to anyone. I’ve watched at the club. I’ve read about it. But I’ve never participated.

  I like it. I’m relaxing with every passing moment. I should feel weird submitting to my boss when I’m supposed to be working. But it’s kind of his fault. He’s the one who asked me all those personal questions. He’s also the one who brought me in here to kneel at his feet.

  He doesn’t seem upset. In fact, if I had to guess, I would say he’s content. Less stiff than I’ve usually witnessed. Perhaps he gets just as much out of dominating me as I do out of submitting to him. Of course he does.

  Finally, he turns to me and cups my face. The warmth of his hand makes me tip my cheek into his touch. I sigh. “Such a good girl. I’m proud of you. Is this your first experience with submission?”

  “Yes, Sir.” My voice is steadier. I lift my gaze to find him smiling. He’s a conundrum. The stern man who always seems to be almost angry is nowhere to be found. He’s staring at me with kindness and affection and…pride. He’s made me feel better, and he knows it.

  “It’s time for lunch. I want you to go wash up and catch your breath and then head for the kitchen. After lunch, you can get back to work.” He’s gripping my chin now. “But Lucy, this was a breakthrough for you. You’re submissive. Your entire outlook on life will be better if you regularly submit yourself to someone else.”

  I don’t move. My eyes are wide. Who does he think I would possibly submit to besides him?

  Stupid question. He answers my thoughts immediately. “I’m going to work with you. Help you find yourself. Consider it part of your job. I’ll start small and keep it simple at first. Your job is to do as you’re told. I promise you’ll feel better with every passing day. Every aspect of your life will improve if you get the release you need.”

  “Yes, Sir.” My voice is breathy. My entire body is on fire beneath his touch. Does he have any idea how many butterflies are accumulating in my stomach? How heavy my breasts feel under the blouse and bra he essentially provided.

  I wonder if Nancy chooses my clothing each day or if he has a hand in it. Does he know exactly what I’m wearing under my skirt? Did he touch the panties?

  My thoughts are rambling and absurd, but I shiver at the thought that he might have fondled my underwear before I put them on. My eyes slide closed at the visual.

  “I’m not going to ask you what you’re thinking right now. Because I know it would embarrass you. But keep in mind that in the near future I will insist you share the thoughts that go with the flush on your face and the way you’re chewing on your bottom lip.” To emphasize his point, he plucks my lip from between my teeth with his thumb, rubbing it soothingly.

  I gasp.

  He smiles. “Go eat your lunch before I change my mind and insist you share your thoughts.” He releases me.

  I scramble to my feet, feeling almost drunk as I hurry from the room. There is no way I could possibly have told him what I was thinking. And yet, there was also no way I would ever be able to lie to him or deny him anything.

  I need to be aware of this problem. It’s going to bite me in the butt very soon.

  Chapter 18

  Master Roman

  * * *

  “There are no words to describe how perfect she is.” It’s Sunday evening. I’m sitting in my library in one of the enormous leather arm chairs that flanks the fireplace, swirling the scotch around the edge of my glass and staring at Julius.

  Julius smiles. “I’m not surprised. You always were a good judge of character. Of course she’s exactly what you expected.”

  “And then some.” I take a sip. “Thanks for handling the club for me this weekend. There is no way I could have come in.”

  “I’m surprised you let her have Saturday off, to be honest.”

  “It was hard, but I pushed her this week. She’s only been with me three days. I made it until late on her second day to get her on her knees. She was a natural.
She was nervous, but she never balked.”

  “Be careful, man. She’s so green. You’ll hurt her if you move too fast. Or lose her.”

  “I know. You sound just like Claudia. I don’t need an intervention.”

  Julius laughs. “Thank God.”

  “Besides, that’s why I gave her Saturday off. I also left her alone for the rest of the day on Thursday. I didn’t command her to kneel in front of me again until Friday afternoon. You can’t know how many hours I have spent pretending to concentrate on my computer screen.”

  Julius chuckles. “You’re whipped, man.”

  “She’s the one.”

  “I hope so.” He takes another sip from his own glass. “Are you still convinced she’s a little?”

  “Probably a middle. I don’t think she’ll be suited for single-digit ages, but I’ll give her options. I pulled every detail about her childhood out of her. Made her tell me about the first ten years on Thursday and then her teenage years on Friday.”

  “And?”

  “It was hard to keep from reacting. Her dad was an asshole. Her mother was weak. And then her grandmother was a cold bitch. She had no one. For eighteen years she had no one in her court. She kept her head down and worked hard in school and then moved to Seattle the minute she became an adult. Four years ago.”

  “That’s rough. It explains a lot.”

  “Yeah, and in her case, I think the reason she gravitates toward age play is because she essentially missed out on her childhood. It’s like it never happened. I don’t think she was sexually assaulted or even physically abused. She was neglected. I bet she never had a doll or pretty clothes. And worse, I don’t think anyone hugged her or told her she was good and pretty and perfect.”

  “Not even her mom?” Julius asks. His brow is furrowed in sorrow. Not concern this time.

  “Maybe. When she was younger. Certainly not her grandmother. What Lucy craves is love. Approval.”

  “A Daddy,” Julius points out.

  I sigh. “Maybe, but I wouldn’t dare use that term in front of her. Ever. If she figures that out eventually or comes up with it on her own, fine. If not, I won’t harp on the semantics.”