A gift crafted especially for you. Enjoy its character, pearl.
Sincerest regards, Marquis
“I wonder where it is,” she mused, realizing that he had been limited by what could be placed on her tray.
“I believe Marquis left a package behind when he left.”
“Oh, I can’t wait to feel it! Well, maybe I can. I love opening gifts too much,” Brie picked up another envelope. She found a wondrous variety of treasures within the cards, from a certificate for a designer leash from Captain to a weekend getaway compliments of Baron. Mr. Gallant had given her a formal dinner invitation, while Headmaster Coen had arranged a private play session for two at the newest club soon to open in Los Angeles. But Brie’s personal favorite was a small framed picture of Sir standing beside Mr. Reynolds and his wife. It had been taken the night of the collaring.
Master Anderson’s gift, however, tickled her because it had a humorous element:
Inside your Master’s car—on his seat, in fact—sits an indoor herb garden. This gift will benefit you in two ways, young Brie. Your Master can experience the tranquility of gardening, albeit on a smaller scale, and you can use the fruits of his labors to flavor your ever-improving culinary attempts.
Yours truly, Master Anderson
Brie snickered as she handed over the card for Sir to read.
The last one on the tray was from Mary. Brie was extremely curious as to what Mary would consider an appropriate gift.
This is my home phone number. I give you permission to call me, night or day. I don’t normally give it out, and never to women. Consider yourself privileged, bitch.
~Mary
Brie giggled, but understood how huge the gift was. Although she already had her cell phone number, giving Brie access to her home phone was the closest Mary had ever come to treating her like a real friend. She looked at Sir and smiled. “Mary gave me her number.”
“Good. I think it’s important you two keep in close contact, especially with the documentary coming out. You may need each other’s support.”
Brie put down the card and stared at him. “Do you really believe my work will be received badly, Sir?”
He played with a lock of her hair. “I believe that you will create polar reactions with it. Some will celebrate you for introducing them to the world of BDSM, while others will revile you for the debauchery you have unleashed on the world. Both reactions will be a challenge, and I want you surrounded by people who will keep you grounded. Miss Wilson is one such person.”
Brie realized the gift might not be as personal as she first thought. “Did you suggest that she give me her number, Sir?”
“No, Brie. The only influence I had was in reminding her of your unique journey together. It was her decision to come to the party, as well as the type of gift to bring.”
Brie kissed the phone number on the card. “It means a lot that I am the first girlfriend she’s ever given her number to. But I must admit I’m tempted to call her at all hours of the night, just to test her resolve.”
Sir frowned.
She kissed his downturned lips. “I’m just kidding, Sir. I would never be so immature.” She made a mental note not to joke about Mary around him, but she knew Lea would have totally thought that was funny.
Picking up the photo of Sir, Brie stared at his serious, but gorgeous face. “You look so handsome, Master. I love this picture because it captures that moment before you collared me. You had no idea what was headed your way that night.”
He took the photo from her and examined it critically.
Brie traced the outline of his face in the picture. “This is the look of a handsome condor, Sir. One about to claim his mate.”
He tickled her ribs, causing her to squeal and squirm. “Such a disobedient little thing she was, too. What the hell was I thinking?”
Condor Devotion
Brie smiled as she listened to the sound of his steady heartbeat. With his arms wrapped around her, she was safe to revel in the afterglow of his lovemaking. These moments were a little taste of heaven on earth.
Sir stirred beneath her. “Let me get up to turn out the lights. Stay here.”
Brie’s heart started racing when he got up and left the room. This was the opportunity she had been waiting for. She headed directly for the closet and got on her tiptoes to reach for the thin wooden box.
She carried it out and laid it on the bedside table. Taking a deep breath, she undid the latch and opened the lid, then took out the branding iron. In a fluid motion, she turned and knelt facing the door, her head bowed and the iron rod held up in petition.
She bit her lip as she waited for Sir’s return, her heart beating like a hummingbird’s wings. There was no fear in the offer, simply the deep-seated need to be marked as Sir’s.
He entered the room and stopped in his tracks. “Téa.”
She looked up at him from her kneeling position and begged earnestly, “Please…”
He stepped forward and took the brand from her hands. “The pain will be significant, téa. This is not a simple tattoo and cannot be covered up later should you dislike the results.”
“I understand, Master.”
He knelt down beside her and placed the rod back in her hands. “I cannot guarantee how the brand will heal, or what it will look like afterwards. It may not be pretty.”
“Before I made any decisions, I googled it, Sir. I understand the risks.” She touched his cheek, which was rough with five o’clock shadow. “I need to feel your mark on my skin. I want it to hurt.”
“Why?”
She lowered her eyes, unsure if she could clearly explain the desire in her heart. “So that it counts. This brand will mark a profound point in my life…on my body and in my mind. A rite of passage. It will require both strength and courage to receive this brand of yours, but I’ve never wanted something as much.”
Brie felt so strongly that she couldn’t bear the thought of him denying her request, so she braved calling Sir by his given name. “Thane, my skin tingles with need of it; my soul cries out for it.”
His eyes flashed with an emotion she could not identify. He cleared his throat and said huskily, “You should know I will not be the one to do it. Master Coen is the only one I trust to brand you.”
She looked down to hide her smile, pleased her request had been granted.
Sir helped Brie to her feet. “This is as significant as a collaring, téa. I leave it up to you whether you want witnesses.”
Brie wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. “Sir, I would like it to be just us, under the stars.”
He crushed her against him, but said nothing for several moments. Sir’s voice was gruff with emotion when he spoke again. “I will give you a week to reconsider, téa. The passion you feel now may lose its luster as the date approaches.”
“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think that will happen.”
His fingers lightly caressed the small of her back—the area to be branded. His touch left her lightheaded and tingly all over. Brie sighed in contentment. “I love you, Master.”
The night of the branding, Brie felt nothing but peace. There was no question in her mind that this was what she wanted. She’d been curious as to whether the fear of the hot iron would deter her from going through with it, but the reality was that the pain was what attracted her to the act. It wasn’t a case of needing the pain for pain’s sake; it was the challenge it presented. She wanted to make a great sacrifice to Sir. Even though she was not a masochist, if the act wasn’t painful, it would cheapen the gift.
Brie felt akin to a Native American warrior as they drove out to meet Master Coen. She was out to prove her worth by way of a trial she had willingly accepted. It was both thrilling and terrifying.
Sir took her to a secluded beach under the stars where the muscle-bound Headmaster Coen stood waiting for them beside a fire ring with red-hot coals.
Brie briefly glanced at the flames and saw the i
ron rod nestled in the coals. For the first time she felt a quiver of fear and found it strangely exhilarating.
“Good evening, Davis.” He nodded to Brie. “Miss Bennett.”
Sir held out his hand. “Thank you for coming tonight.”
“I am honored to be part of such a sacred event.”
“Yes, thank you, Headmaster Coen,” Brie echoed. “It eases my mind, as you and I have been through this once before.”
He chuckled lightly. “Unlike last time, Miss Bennett, there will be no mind-fuck. If you get cold feet, you have only to say the word up until the moment the hot iron touches your skin. After that point, I will be committed to giving you a proper brand.”
Brie took a nervous breath, the weight of what she was about to do hitting her full force. “I will do everything in my power not to move when that time comes, Master Coen.”
“The branding itself is a quick process, but you’ll find the challenge comes in the healing afterwards. It will take months for the burns to settle down and up to a year for the brand to heal. You also run the risk of infection. Do you understand what you are committing to?”
“I do, Master Coen. I understand and accept the risks.”
“Fine.” Master Coen turned to Sir. “I’m satisfied.”
“Good.” Sir then asked Brie, “Would you like to have a drink in honor of your courage before or after your branding?”
Hearing the word ‘branding’ spoken so casually caused her loins to contract in fearful pleasure.
I’m really going to do this…
“Afterwards, Sir. I want to be fully aware. I need to embrace this experience, body and soul.”
Sir pulled a gag from his pocket. Brie had requested it, feeling it would give her a sense of control to be able to bite down on the cloth and muffle any screams she might make.
Brie turned and opened her mouth, allowing him to tie it securely in place. Afterwards, Sir turned her back to face him, cupping her cheeks in his warm palms. He stared deep into her eyes, caressing her soul with his intense gaze. When he seemed satisfied with her resolve, he commanded, “Undress for me, téa.”
Numbness took over as she slowly undressed before the two men. The moment became surreal when she folded her clothes. Master Coen directed her to press her torso against the smooth trunk of a huge tree that had washed ashore. Even lying on its side, the log came up to Brie’s waist.
“It will give you the support you need during the branding,” he stated. “If you concentrate on leaning into the trunk, you will avoid flinching and possibly ruining the brand.”
Brie pressed her waist against the smooth trunk, surprised that she would not be bound as she had been at the Training Center. Instead, Sir moved around to the other side of the trunk and took hold of both of her hands, his confident smile giving her courage.
She took a moment to glance around her, soaking in the beauty of their surroundings: the small crescent moon, the ghostly white foam of the waves constantly hitting the beach, and the night sky sprinkled with stars. All of it added to this unique moment in time. Brie felt connected to the universe; humans throughout history had performed rituals such as this to mark moments of deep spiritual significance.
“Look into my eyes, téa.”
Brie focused her gaze solely on Sir.
He stroked her cheek with one hand while still holding tightly onto her wrists with the other, not breaking their bond. “I brand you tonight not only to mark you as mine, téa, but to celebrate your devotion and courage as my submissive. To others it may symbolize my ownership over you, but to me it announces my undying commitment. There will be no other in my life. Even death will not stand in the way of my commitment to you.”
Brie sighed contentedly. She looked into his eyes again, noting the burning flames from the fire reflected in them. I desire no other man to be Master over me.
“Are you ready?” Master Coen asked from behind her.
Brie closed her eyes for a moment. Up until now, it had been a mental surrender. Now it would become a physical one. Still…the peace she felt gave her the courage to nod her head.
The headmaster meticulously cleaned off the area to limit the risk of infection before leaving her side to get the hot iron from the fire.
Sir squeezed her hands tightly and commanded, “Look at me, téa. Do not look away.”
Brie opened her eyes, her gag preventing a verbal answer. She hoped to take her brand in brave silence, but was unsure if she would have the strength.
She felt Master Coen approach and held her breath. She stared at Sir, repeating in her head, This is my outward expression of the love beating inside my heart.
“It is good you have an expert doing this, Miss Bennett,” Headmaster Coen informed her, his voice calm and reassuring. “I know what’s needed to provide the desired result without causing excess damage.” Coen placed his beefy hand on her small waist and barked, “Do not move.”
Brie trembled involuntarily just before he pressed the red-hot metal firmly against the area just above her tailbone. She shrieked into the gag as a white-hot current of pain exploded from her back into her entire body. Despite the extreme pain, Brie kept her eyes open, not wanting to lose contact with Sir—even when the sickening sound of burning skin filled her ears.
Sir’s grip kept her grounded and his eyes conveyed pride and courage. It gave her the ability to remain still. When Master Coen removed the brand, Brie was surprised to feel instant relief. As he carefully put the iron down, the Headmaster informed her, “Your body is in shock. However, it won’t take long for the pain to return. Before it does, I’m going to dress the area to keep it free from infection.”
He placed a cool cloth on her back and Brie groaned in appreciation, but he soon took it away, explaining as he worked, “I’m placing a special bandage on your skin. It has been soaked in a silver solution to provide an extra layer of protection against infection. As per your Master’s request, I will also add compression to the burn. It will help minimize the scarring.” While he wrapped a stocking-like garment around her waist, Sir untied her gag.
The lack of pain and the special care being taken had her worried, and she naïvely asked, “I will still have a scar, won’t I?”
Master Coen’s laughter filled the night air. “You cannot avoid it, Miss Bennett.”
Sir gathered her gingerly in his arms, explaining, “Although I want to admire your mark, téa, I would like it to heal as cleanly as possible.”
Brie rested her head on his chest, suddenly overtaken by a case of uncontrollable shivering. Shortly after, the pain came back with a vengeance. She began to pant, fighting back the urge to cry at the intensity of it.
Master Coen came to her with ibuprofen and a canteen of water. “It will help with the inflammation, as well as the pain.” Brie looked at it warily, unsure whether she should suffer a little longer to prove her devotion.
“Take it, téa,” Sir ordered.
That immediately ended any questions she had on the subject. Brie closed her eyes as Sir lifted the canteen and she swallowed the cold water, letting it ease her parched throat.
“It is important you keep hydrated, Miss Bennett,” Master Coen instructed. “It will aid the healing process.”
Brie bit her lip and nodded, a whimper almost escaping. With each passing minute, she was finding the pain increasingly unbearable.
“Are you ready?” Master Coen asked Sir.
Brie was shocked to see Sir begin unbuttoning his shirt, exposing his handsome chest to the cold night air. “Sir?”
He positioned her to his right as he braced himself against the thickest part of the log.
Brie gasped when she saw Master Coen clean off the area above Sir’s heart before picking up a second brand from the fire.
Sir smiled down at Brie. “Why are you surprised? I would never ask you to do something that I was unwilling to do myself.”
All the pain she’d been suffering melted away momentarily as she watched Headmast
er Coen approach Sir with the new brand. Instead of a capital ‘T’, it was lowercase to represent Sir’s name for her.
“Can I hold your hand, Master?” Brie whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion.
“Yes, téa.”
She took his right hand and cradled it in both of hers. He gazed down at Brie with an aura of calm. “I wear this brand as a reminder to you of your place.”
“Brace yourself,” Master Coen ordered, just before he positioned the brand over Sir’s chest muscle and pressed the metal onto the skin above his heart. Sir squeezed Brie’s hand hard, but his gaze did not waver and no sound escaped his lips.
The smell of burning hair and skin greeted Brie’s nostrils, making her feel woozy. When Master Coen pulled away, Sir let out an energetic grunt and roared, “Fuuuuck!”
He grabbed the back of Brie’s neck with his right hand and sought out her lips. He kissed her deeply, stealing the breath from her lungs with his passion.
“Davis, I need to dress the area,” Master Coen stated, interrupting their impassioned embrace.
Sir reluctantly pulled away and grinned down at her, his eyes flashing with lustful excitement. “Always the caretaker, isn’t he?”
As he cooled the area before placing on the bandage, Master Coen said dryly, “It’s what makes me the perfect headmaster. I don’t let my emotions get in the way of my duty.”
Sir snorted. “Although you may be right in some instances, it does make you a stick-in-the-mud. You might want to loosen up a bit, Headmaster Coen.”
Master Coen shook his head as he handed Sir the ibuprofen and water. “Says the man who was forced to quit the position because he let his emotions get the better of him.”
Sir stated emphatically, “Smartest thing I ever did, Coen.”
His lips met Brie’s again. She closed her eyes and let herself fly through the swirling emotions of love and agony, proud of the fact she now carried the mark of her Master.
Exchanging Places