Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

She nodded and turned away from his voice.

Pulling her chin toward him, he asked, “Claire, what have I said about verbal responses?”

“Yes,” her words choked, “you’ll be back.”

Stroking her hair, his cheeks rose. “That’s a good girl. You’re learning.”

He lifted himself from the side of her bed and walked toward the bookcase. With each step, his muscles pulled, tight and defined by their recent exertion. The constant vibration of his phone suggested that something of the utmost importance required his attention. As he reached for his phone, he contemplated the woman before him. Truthfully, he didn’t mind the break. After what had transpired earlier in the day in his office, he was prepared for this night to go on for a long time; besides, he was beginning to enjoy the role of teacher. With Claire’s recent attitude adjustment, he must be doing well. Grinning ruthlessly toward his student, he watched as her legs twisted in a way as to try to conceal her exposed body. He could help her—lift a sheet and cover her; after all, with her hands bound to the headboard, she wasn’t going to succeed alone—but he didn’t. He liked the view. She had an attractive body. As his gaze reluctantly moved from the bed, he tapped the screen of his phone and words and icons appeared.

Instead of the urgent business on the screen, he recalled the beginning of this lesson. He wasn’t sure if the satin scarves were necessary or purely an exhibition of his control. Either way, Anthony knew he wasn’t going to tolerate her ridiculous fighting any longer. She would learn her place.

The afternoon must have been educational, because as he secured the satin around her wrists, she didn’t argue or beg. He asked her, “Do you know why I’m doing this?”

At first, due to her tears, her response was difficult to understand.

He continued, “A few weeks ago, I had scratches on my arms. That’s not going to happen again.”

Her eyes, yet to be covered by the satin, opened wide. “I’m sorry, Anthony; I won’t scratch, I promise.”

“You won’t, but you did. Behaviors have consequences. Can you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat what I just said.”

“Behaviors have consequences.”

“So, whose fault is it that your hands are bound?”

Again, the waterworks. “Mine—it’s my fault.”

He stroked her hair. “That’s right.”

“This morning, I told you to be in my office by 10:30 AM. Did you do as you were told?”

Her shoulders shuddered with her response. “No.”

“Say it … what is my number-one rule?”

Claire’s words were separated by exaggerated gasps of air. With each deep breath, her exposed breasts trembled. “Your rule … is to … do as you say.”

“Did you do that?”

“No, I didn’t do as I was told. I’m so sorry—i-it won’t happen again.”

He looked deeply into her eyes just before covering them with the satin. “No, Claire, it will not.” Securing the knot, careful to avoid her hair, he asked, “I’m going to tell you what to do right now. Will you follow my number-one rule?’

Her hands were now secured and her eyes were covered. He considered her ankles, but liked the possibilities available if he left them unbound.

“Y-yes,” she replied.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Anthony, I’ll do as you say.”

The screen of his phone brought him back to present and told him that he had two voice mails and three text messages. He looked past Claire to the clock. It was almost 7:00 PM and they hadn’t eaten. He checked the text messages first. One from his assistant, informing him of an important email she’d sent regarding an upcoming meeting. The next was a text message from Brent Simmons, head of Rawlings Industries’ legal department and Anthony’s closest friend. It, too, discussed the email.

Anthony could access the email in question from his phone, but perhaps both he and Claire could use a break. Besides, he may need to make a call or two if this truly was a big issue. Whatever was happening apparently had more than a few feathers ruffled. Looking toward the bed, he knew that calling from this room was too risky. What if Claire decided to make a noise? He walked over to the bed and leaned over her. As he neared, he watched her body grow still. Running his fingers slowly over her breasts and down her stomach, he said, “I have to make a few calls. I’m going to untie you.”

First, he untied the scarf, exposing her green eyes. Her makeup from earlier had smeared, and large black streaks covered her cheeks; nevertheless, from the moment he’d removed the blindfold, her eyes were fixed on his. She was learning the importance of eye contact. That was the first step of Anthony’s one step at a time training. He thought of the process as somewhat similar to what it must be like to break a wild horse. It took time and the correct balance of negative and positive reinforcement. Smiling, he continued, “When I untie your hands, are you going to behave?”

Her response was barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“As much as I appreciate verbal responses, I like them better if I could actually hear them, and I’d like them if they had more elaboration. Yes, what?”

Her lips trembled as she replied, “Yes, Anthony, I’ll behave.”

While he untied her wrists, he spoke, “I want you to take another shower and dress in a negligee—something black and long. I assume you remember my rules regarding attire? There’ll be nothing under that negligee.” Not waiting for an answer, he ran his thumb under her eye to smear more of the mascara. “You’ll also need to fix your makeup. Don’t take too long. I’ll be back soon.” Though she was no longer bound to the headboard, her hands were together over her chest as Anthony continued to release her wrists from the length of material. “You need to drink some water. I don’t want you to dehydrate, but do not go to sleep—I have plans. We have a long evening ahead.”

Claire didn’t speak. Once her hands were free, she rubbed her wrists, and her gaze searched for the robe she’d left lying near the bed. When she started to reach for it, Anthony corrected her. “No. I want to see you.”

He watched as she struggled with the decision to leave the robe and obey his command. Finally, she started to step away from the bed. As she did, Anthony noticed the ever so slight shake of her head and grasped her arm. She stilled where he held her. “What?” he asked. “Tell me why you shook your head.”

Claire stuttered. “I-I didn’t, or at least I don’t think I did.”

His grasp tightened. “Claire, you’ll be honest with me at all times. I saw you shake your head. What were you thinking?”

She closed her eyes and more tears cascaded down her cheeks. When she opened them, she said, “I was thinking.”

“Don’t make me ask you to elaborate—again.”

“I-I was thinking that this can’t be real. It’s some kind of nightmare. It can’t really be happening to me.”

Anthony let go of her arm and noticed the redness from his grasp. Claire’s hand immediately went to the spot and massaged. Standing, he looked down at her. “Oh, my dear, it’s real, and don’t pretend that you hate it. I can tell when someone enjoys herself and you,” he inclined his head and broadened his grin, taunting, “have enjoyed yourself more than once this evening.” When her eyes started to look away, he lifted her chin. “Haven’t you?”

“Please—I don’t want any of this.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.” He intensified his grasp. “I like my questions answered the first time. Do you understand?”

Her neck straightened. The sudden determination he saw in her expression surprised him as she replied, “I understand, and despite what you think you may have sensed, NO! I have not enjoyed myself.”

Oh, there was fire yet to tame.

When he didn’t release her chin, Claire’s tone softened, “Now, may I please go take another shower?”

Amused by her candor, he replied, “First, my dear, I don’t believe you; however, I believe that you believe you. Therefore, I’ll allow this little bit of dishonesty to go unpunished. I recommend that you remember for future reference, I will not tolerate lying or deception. When it is discovered, you will be sorry. Second, expressing gratitude for positive consequences is not only appreciated, it’s expected. So, Claire, what do you say when someone does something nice for you, like for example, untying your hands?”

He savored the moment as she comprehended his words. With her neck still straight, her words issued forth, saturated with a combination of rebellion and sarcasm. “Thank you, Anthony.”

He released her chin. “Very good—do you remember my instructions?”

“Yes, I remember.” She stayed still. When he didn’t speak, she added, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Then you may go.”

He watched appreciatively as she walked unclothed to the bathroom and closed the door. Yes, she would come around. It may be a slow and agonizing process, but he had all the time he wanted. After the bathroom door shut, he walked around the bed and pulled on his trousers. He, too, could use a shower. Momentarily, he considered joining Claire. The smile that emerged had more to do with her reaction than his actions. There would be plenty of time for that. He’d told her that he would leave and return, and he was curious to see if she’d follow his directions. If she didn’t, there would be consequences.

As he exited the suite, he called the kitchen. “Have dinner sent to Claire’s suite in an hour.”

In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments; there are consequences.

—Robert Green Ingersoll

From the speaker on Anthony’s desk, he listened to his assistant’s voice, “Shelly is on line three.”

Anthony’s thoughts went from the spreadsheet on his screen to his publicist. “Patricia, put her through.”

Immediately, he heard Shelly’s concern. “Mr. Rawlings, Jennifer McAdams is in Italy on a photo shoot, and it’s lasted longer than she planned.”

“And you’re telling me this because—”

“Because, sir, she’s supposed to accompany you this evening to the Quad City Symphony at the Adler Theater.”

Anthony ran his fingers through his hair. Damn—he’d forgotten all about that, and he actually enjoyed Jenny’s company, unlike many of the women he’s been seen with over the years. “Well, then I’ll cancel.”

“With all due respect, you can’t. The theater will remain open because of your donation. They’re planning on your attending, and there’s a long list of guests coming to see you …”

Shelly rambled about the importance of his presence, as Anthony thought more about the outing. Could this be an unplanned opportunity to test Claire outside the estate? His grin emerged—outside. She’d just recently earned her way outside of the house. Truthfully, she’d been doing much better than he imagined, and outside would’ve happened much sooner, if only she’d asked. He shifted slightly in his large leather chair. Even the slightest thought of his complete control over her life had an effect on his body.

Shelly’s voice brought him back to the subject at hand. The idea of a new test intrigued him. This would push her outside of her newly established comfort level. Besides, if she accompanied him and succeeded, she could earn more privileges. If she failed—well, they both knew what that could bring.

Shelly’s voice quieted. Anthony waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he asked, “What was that?”

“Do you want me to call Julia?”

“No.” Although, like Jenny, Julia too was a model, she was too high-maintenance for Anthony’s liking.

“Do you plan to attend alone?”

Anthony wrestled with his thoughts. If he took Claire out in public and she failed, wouldn’t Davenport, Iowa, be a better testing ground, than say Chicago or New York? He could manage damage control much better in his own backyard, and taking her out into the world would accomplish another goal. Anthony truly wasn’t convinced Claire contemplated the magnitude of his power. Oh, she saw his wealth regarding the estate, and her behavior had steadily improved over the last two months; however, did she really comprehend his reach? Did she truly understand that any attempts at escape could be quickly thwarted? Taking her to an event where he’s the man of honor would show her firsthand the depth and breadth of his power. Anthony made his decision: it was time. “I won’t be attending alone.”