Brie's Submission (4-6) (Brie's Submission Boxed Set Book 2)

  “What you are talking about are the preconceived notions I hope to dispel with this documentar—” Brie stopped midsentence. She found herself staring into the eyes of Sir’s mother, who was standing directly behind the reporter. Ruth wore a malicious grin on her perfect face.

  From within the crowd a woman emerged, shouting, “Fucking whore!” The stranger threw something at Brie’s face.

  It crashed into Brie’s skull when she tried to duck, the impact hard and painful. Sir immediately moved between her and the attacker, using his body to protect her as several people rushed up, pelting them with what she thought were rocks and shouting hateful words.

  Time slowed down to a crawl for Brie. All the shouting and commotion became silent in the chaos. She glanced over and saw her father shouting angrily, but her mother stood frozen in place with a look of sheer panic.

  Then Brie felt the ooze of blood from her forehead and down her cheek. She felt for the wound and was confused when she looked at her hand and saw yellow instead of red. A piece of eggshell that had been stuck to her hair fell to the crimson carpet at her feet.

  Brie felt the sting of humiliation. Rocks would have been preferable.

  Sir tightened his grip on her. “It’s going to be all right. Marquis Gray is taking care of it.”

  She looked up and saw that a small army of staff members from the Training Center had descended upon the attackers and were ‘escorting’ them to police waiting nearby.

  Now that the initial shock had passed, Brie was crushed by a wave of shame. She had just been egged in public and her beautiful dress was ruined. To make her humiliation complete, she heard the sound of hundreds of camera clicks. Brie pulled against Sir in the direction of the limousine, wanting to escape.

  “No, babygirl,” he said firmly.

  She looked up at her Master—her hair matted with yolk, the tears ready to fall.

  Sir pulled the decorative handkerchief from his pocket and smiled charmingly as he cleaned the egg from her face. He did it with such tenderness that Brie momentarily forgot the world.

  After he was satisfied, he stuffed the dirty handkerchief back in his pocket and lifted her chin to kiss her. The kiss infused her with courage, reminding her that nothing else mattered.

  Brie whispered when he let go, “Only you, Sir.”

  He nodded and held out his arm for her. She took a deep breath before holding up her head and smiling at the cameras.

  Brie’s mother came up and blurted out, “Wait just a second.” She licked her fingers before rubbing them against Brie’s temple. It was an action that Brie had hated as a child—mother-spit used to clean her face—but tonight it took on emotional significance.

  Her mother stood back and looked her over. “Yes, all better.”

  “Thank you, Mom,” Brie whispered.

  She gave Brie a tight squeeze before stepping back to stand with her father.

  Brie looked back and saw her dad nonchalantly brushing eggshell off Sir’s shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but one that meant the world to Brie. It was the first sign of acceptance.

  She mouthed the words, “Thanks, Dad.”

  He gave her a brief smile and then wrapped his arm around her mother’s waist. “Shall we?”

  They avoided the rest of the reporters, making their way directly into the theater. Brie could only imagine what the headlines would read in the morning.

  “Why don’t we both freshen up, Brie?” Sir said. “Your father can wait here for you, should you have need.”

  Brie liked the protective sound of that. She kissed her dad on the cheek before following her mom into the restroom. Although she had a dress polka-dotted with wet spots, Brie looked and felt tons better when her mother had finished cleaning her off.

  Sir was standing beside her father, already waiting for her when the two emerged from the restroom.

  “Beautiful,” he complimented, kissing the back of Brie’s hand tenderly.

  “Well done, Marcy,” her father praised after looking Brie over. “It appears we were needed tonight, after all.”

  Their small party was led to the reserved area, where she was greeted by Mr. Holloway, Lea and Mary. Lea rushed up to Brie, wanting to dish about what had happened outside, but Sir shook his head. “Tonight is about celebrating Brie’s achievement, Ms. Taylor.”

  Lea reluctantly sat back down. “Can I at least tell a joke?”

  Sir and Brie both answered, “No!”

  Lea huffed and slouched in her seat. Tono gave her a gentle nudge.

  She immediately sat up, her blooming blush coloring her ample chest a bright shade of red. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to Tono, loud enough for others to hear as the lights began to dim.

  It made Brie giggle. Even without her jokes, Lea was good for a laugh.

  Brie eagerly watched the audience and listened for their collective responses once the film started. She loved every giggle and chortle, but cherished even more the lustful gasps when Marquis and Lea filled the screen. She noticed several audience members swiping at their eyes when Mary confessed her feelings of brokenness. To Brie’s delight, as the credits rolled, the entire theater broke out in applause.

  When the lights came back up, both Brie and Mr. Holloway were asked to stand and take a bow together. The theater roared with a second round of applause as people gave them a standing ovation.

  Brie felt embarrassed by the focused attention and tried to sit back down, but Sir would not allow it. “This applause is for you. Accept it gracefully, Brie.”

  She faced the audience again and smiled, but she knew the applause was for everyone involved in the film, not just her. Brie gestured for Lea and Mary to stand with her. Mr. Holloway did the same with the film crew. It felt right, all of them standing together as one.

  Finally, she convinced Sir to stand up beside her. Brie laid her head against his shoulder with a smile so wide it hurt and a heart that was completely and utterly content.

  The Aftershock

  Brie’s parents left later that evening. Her father said it was imperative they control the damage the film would cause in their close-knit community. Brie didn’t mind. Her father had watched the film and had not spoken of it since. She figured he needed time to process it. So she spent a restless night in Sir’s arms, worrying what the newspapers would say in the morning.

  What she woke up to both astonished and pleased her. The front page of the LA Times read ‘The Strength of a Dominant’ and had a picture of Sir thoughtfully cleaning Brie’s face after the attack. The same picture was plastered on the national news that morning. Instead of focusing on the film or even the protestors, all the news centered on was the unusual relationship between Sir and Brie.

  Brie found out from the morning show that Sir now had a following of female fans, from young girls to grandmothers. Twitter was going crazy speculating about him and Facebook pages had been set up in his honor. Everyone wanted to know more about the man who’d defended Brie so gallantly.

  Overnight, D/s went from being an obscure term used by kinky deviants to being something sweet and romantic. The morning news had ‘experts’ answering questions and a psychologist explaining in clinical terms the reasons why they thought people practiced BDSM. It was quite amusing, if not a little insulting.

  Sir turned off the TV and folded the paper before putting it in the trash. “The firestorm has begun.” Brie looked at the trash can, deciding to ask Lea later to save her a copy as a memento.

  Brie smiled as she crawled onto the lap Sir offered. “Well, at least people are talking about it, Sir.”

  “I, for one, do not care to see my face everywhere.”

  Brie brushed her fingers over his jawline, which was rough with morning stubble. “But it’s such a handsome face, Sir. I don’t mind one bit.”

  He huffed in irritation. “It has serious repercussions, Brie. I doubt I will be taken seriously in the business world now.”

  Brie frowned, suddenly feeling nauseous. “I never co
nsidered that, Sir.”

  Sir chuckled at her statement. “Why am I not surprised?” He pulled her head back and gently kissed her throat before biting it. His lips moved up to her ear. “I understood the consequences, but never considered they would belittle my lifestyle in this way.” He shook his head in disgust. “Facebook pages?”

  “It’s kind of sweet, Sir,” Brie told him, kissing his chin.

  “What it does is diminish my authority, Brie. We are not a sideshow to be gawked at and thereby dismissed.”

  She finally understood the gravity of the situation. “What do you suggest I do, Sir?”

  “Only respond to serious inquiries and ignore frivolous issues meant to distract. Your duty is more than simply garnering press for the documentary—it is also about being respectful to the community we are a part of. Whether or not Mr. Holloway agrees, I believe that takes precedence over the film.”

  She understood his point and acquiesced. “I will do as you suggest, Sir.”

  The positive attention they had enjoyed quickly turned dark when rumors spread that Sir had abandoned his dying mother. As quickly as people had embraced him, they turned and crucified him.

  ‘Woman-hater’ became Sir’s new title in the press. Clients he had worked with for years ended their association within hours of the accusations being released. The financial impact was terrible and swift.

  Ruth had done her job well. She’d accomplished exactly what she’d promised. It broke Brie’s heart to see his reputation decimated, but Sir seemed unruffled. In fact, he smiled when she asked why he was so calm.

  “This is a litmus test, Brie. Any client who would react to such a rumor is not worth my time.”

  The next morning, everything changed yet again. Brie was watching the news with Lea and Mary. It amazed the girls how fickle the public could be and Lea was about to make a joke when Brie heard, “Next up, how you can help support Ruth Davis in her fight against cancer.”

  Brie called Sir immediately.

  His answer surprised her. “Good. It’s time the beast was flayed.”

  The girls continued to watch the television and were soon rewarded with a newsflash. Under Sir’s orders, his lawyer had sent evidence of her falsified medical history to the major media outlets. It didn’t take long before the news that Ruth Davis was cancer-free spread like wildfire and all donations were halted.

  Reporters then set out to discover the real story behind Ruth Davis and left no stone unturned in their pursuit. Within days, the murky state of her financial affairs came to light, as well as issues in her past—including her infidelity and the death of her husband, Alonzo Davis.

  The negative press quickly transferred from Sir to Ruth and, in the aftermath, droves of women naïvely flocked to the documentary to find out more about the tragic hero they knew as Sir Thane Davis.

  What they found instead was the power of submission.

  Farewell and Good Riddance

  Brie was on her knees, back straight, breasts out, her hands behind her back. The clock was ticking in the kitchen, marking each second until Master’s return.

  She was startled by heavy pounding at the door. Brie cautiously approached it and peeked through the peephole, terrified it might be Sir’s mother.

  She was shocked to find it was Ms. Clark.

  “Open up! Open up now—I demand to have answers!”

  Brie ran down the hallway and threw on a summer dress before returning to the door. “Sir’s not here, Ms. Clark, but I expect him in a few minutes.”

  Ms. Clark answered in a condescending tone, “Then let me in to wait for him.”

  “I have to get permission first,” Brie called through the door. She texted Sir and was told to let the fuming Domme in.

  Brie unlocked the door, quelling her unease as she allowed Ms. Clark to enter. Her ex-trainer brushed past her as if she didn’t exist and headed straight for the couch. When Brie asked if there was anything she needed, Ms. Clark held up her hand and barked, “Do not speak to me.”

  Brie backed away slowly and returned to the door to kneel in the proper position until Sir’s return.

  The clock ticked loudly in the kitchen as the two waited. It was an unbearable silence, at least for Brie. Ms. Clark’s anger was palpable and her contempt for Brie equally apparent. So she closed her eyes and entertained happy thoughts of being tied down by Sir, and of being tortured by his cock.

  “Get that smirk off your face,” Ms. Clark snapped.

  Brie instantly frowned for the Domme’s benefit, but in her head she begged, Hurry home, Sir!

  Relief came when she heard his keys in the door. Sir dropped them on the counter and patted her head as he passed, letting her know she could stand up and join him.

  “What are you doing here, Samantha?”

  “Why? Why, Thane? Why do you hate me?”

  “Calm down and explain,” he ordered. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  “Tell your sub to leave,” Ms. Clark demanded.

  “No.”

  Ms. Clark looked first shocked and then dismayed. In a subtle act of defiance, she turned her back on Brie before explaining, “You told them to let me go and now I’m no longer working for the Center.”

  “Ah…” Sir took off his jacket and hung it up before joining her on the couch. “That had nothing to do with me, Samantha. That was your own fault.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” Ms. Clark demanded.

  “Did you really think your stunt at Brie’s party would have no consequences? All of the trainers were there, including the headmaster. With that one action, you demonstrated your utter lack of control. We’d seen it before with Brie, but unfortunately you never recovered, even after she’d left. The trainers must have decided it was time to give you the freedom you need to overcome that weakness.”

  “But you know I am a damn good trainer. How could you let them do this to me?!”

  “I was not involved. But truthfully, I am in agreement with their decision. You need to move forward. It is time you break from the past that has held you down.”

  “What are you saying?” she said, her voice trembling as if she was about to cry.

  “You have stuck by my side all these years with the mistaken hope that one day Durov would change his mind. I am telling you now—that will never happen.”

  “But… I don’t believe it. Rytsar didn’t press charges that night. I know he did that for me. He cared enough to protect me, despite everything. It was a horrible mistake and I’ve done my penance with unfailing determination. I’ve been waiting patiently all these years for his forgiveness. I’ve learned my lesson and am ready for him to grant it.”

  Sir shook his head. “Samantha, you are gravely mistaken. The reason he didn’t press charges had nothing to do with protecting you. What you did to him was so degrading he could not stomach bringing it before a judge. To this day, you’ve never owned up to the damage you caused him.”

  “That’s not true! I went to counseling; I quit drinking. Hell, I even became a submissive to another woman for him. Everything I did, everything, has been for him.”

  Sir’s voice was harsh when he replied, “Everything you did has been for you, and you alone. You wanted him back, so you did those things in the hope that he would return to you. It’s never been about him.”

  Ms. Clark glared at Sir, as if she hated his version of the truth.

  He continued, indifferent to her wrath, “Samantha, it’s possible to make a mistake so great you can never know closure with the person you have wronged. You can’t undo the damage and you can’t change the past. It’s time to move on.”

  “But…” Her voice dropped down to a whisper. “Oh, God… “A tear fell down her cheek when she confessed, “I still love him.”

  Sir’s response was stern but clear. “If you love him, you will move on.”

  Ms. Clark slumped on the couch, sounding hollow and weak when she asked, “How can I face a future without him?”


  “Durov was never a part of your future.”

  It seemed surreal to Brie when Ms. Clark moved over and laid her head on Sir’s shoulder. It was weird to see the woman underneath that hard exterior—like seeing a turtle without its shell.

  Sir was gentle with her. He put his arm around Ms. Clark, saying, “You are an exceptional trainer and a skilled Mistress. There is no reason not to move forward with confidence. Claim the life you have put on hold.”

  She mumbled into his shoulder, “But the Center was my life.”

  “I understand, but trust me when I say you’ll get used to it. It’s a hard adjustment in the beginning. However, other things will take its place. My advice? If it gets to be too much, you can always visit. I know it’s helped me.”

  Ms. Clark sat still in his arms for a few moments longer before sitting up and moving away from him, her hard persona back in place. “So that’s it then. My time at the Training Center is officially over.” She stood up and walked over to the window. “I have never felt so out of control of my own life before,” she said as she gazed at the city below.

  “That is only an illusion, Samantha. You were never in control, not until this very moment.”

  The Domme gasped. She closed her eyes and let it sink in. When she finally turned to face Sir, she stated, “I will miss your wisdom, Sir Davis.” She glanced at Brie and her eyes narrowed briefly.

  She focused her attention back on Sir. “Master Anderson is planning to move back to Colorado to start up a Training Center there. He’s invited me to join him, along with Baron.”

  Sir put his hands behind his head and sat back on the couch, looking a bit stunned. “I’d actually forgotten that was Brad’s original plan.”

  Brie wondered what Sir was thinking. Was he sad to lose his friend?

  The stunned look was replaced with cool assurance. He stood up, telling her, “This will be a good opportunity for the three of you. I’m confident you will work well as a team.”