Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. I've had technical issues since late last week uploading documents. Many thanks to those on facebook for your assistance and suggestions.
Chpt. 2 CPOV:
"It's her isn't it?" Mark asks the moment I approach the bar.
"Yes," I grimace part of me hating the fact that it's her but the other part of me loving that after 10 long years she's finally here. "You didn't know?"
"No," he shakes his head. "They didn't give me anything other than basic information on either agent. I know their full names, education level and aptitude testing results. I know nothing of their personal lives or their past."
"What made you ask then?"
"I didn't put two and two together until you both walked out of the room," he explains. "When Ms. Steele said you two had a history together it suddenly dawned on me who she was."
One incredibly drunk night a few years ago, I told Mark how I lost the best thing that ever happened to me. How I pushed the love of my life far away from me; how I gave everything up I ever wanted.
"I have to tell you man, I don't think this is a good idea," he continues. "If she can't trust Simpson, how the hell is she going to trust you when it's obvious she hates your guts?"
"She may hate me now, but she knows that I would never seriously hurt her."
"Did she tell you that? Have you talked to her about what happened?"
"I tried," I run my hands through my hair. "She won't let me. She says she wants to focus on the mission."
"Maybe it's for the best for now," he shrugs. "When this shit is all over, then talk to her. Tell her what happened 10 years ago and all the shit that's happened since."
"Maybe."
"If you can't work with her, you need to tell me right away. I won't jeopardize the mission because you don't want anyone else to touch her."
"I know. I'm not going to risk sending her in unprepared; we'll make it work."
"There's a lot riding on this mission."
"I thought you didn't know anything?"
"I know bits and pieces," he glances around before continuing ensuring we're alone. "Steele and Simpson are supposed to go in to get a lay of the land. They're supposed to be there for a week tops essentially developing blueprints of the entire place. Once they 're safely removed, the FBI will determine the safest way to go in based on the information they've provided."
"Do you…do you know what's really going on there? I mean, I'm sure there's more than just kinky sex going on or the FBI wouldn't be concerned."
"All I know, completely off the record, is that people have gone missing from the resort."
"Missing?" I gulp.
"It's a very small percentage, but every so often a young man or woman will go to spend the week at the resort and not return home. The FBI isn't sure if they're being sold or…"
"And this is where they want to send an FBI agent who's never been undercover before? Are they fucking nuts? It's not safe for her! It could be a fucking suicide mission!" I'm fuming; I want to demand she not go. I want to insist she's not ready. Hell part of me wants to train her so poorly that the FBI is forced to send someone else in. But I can't risk that; not after Sawyer said earlier that they're prepared to send in Ana and Simpson even if they're not fully ready.
"The role that Steele and Simpson have as I said is to simply gather information. They're documenting building layouts, entry and exit points, security patterns, etc… The people who have gone missing don't match Steele and Simpson at all. First off, the others were all single which is obviously the biggest difference. Beyond that, none were committed to another person once they arrived; they played with several different doms. The women all were also all blondes," he explains.
"This certainly sounds like you know more than bits and pieces," I'm still not happy with this but I'm somewhat relieved that at least someone has thought about why they're putting Ana into this fucking mess.
"Like I said, I have a buddy at the FBI who initially contacted me about training these agents. He's told me a little here and there, reluctantly after I, like you, questioned why they were sending in someone who has never been undercover before. If this was going to be some sort of a suicide mission, I wouldn't have agreed to train either of them."
"I still think the FBI doesn't know what they hell they're doing."
"I know you don't; I think there's something more we're not being told but I can't get any more out of my buddy," he pats me on the shoulder. "Just let me know if your…past with her becomes an issue. I can't let that fuck up their training."
"It won't," I get up from the bar stool before nodding at Mark.
I grab two water bottles from behind the bar before walking back to the room where I know Ana is waiting for me. When I reach the door for our room, I stand there for once having no fucking idea what I'm going to do when I walk through the door. With any other scene, I have everything planned out in advance. Rarely do I let things "just happen;" I prefer having control over the scene which means planning it out to every detail. Yet right now, I have fucking idea what I want to do. Part of me wants to open the door, pull Ana up against me and spend the rest of the day buried deep inside of her. I want to taste her again, to touch her again and to sink so deep into that she doesn't know where I end and she begins.
There's only two things stopping me.
One: this stupid fucking undercover mission she's decided to do.
Two: there's no way in hell she would allow me to touch her outside of our training. Not now…not until we talk about how I broke her heart ten years ago. And even once we have that conversation, because at some point we're going to, I doubt she'll let me touch her even then. I have no idea if she'll ever be able to forgive me for what I did to her and I wouldn't blame her if she never did. There's no way I would make love to her for the first time in a scene; it won't happen like that.
APOV:
I have no idea how long I've been kneeling here, but despite the soft floor my legs are starting to cramp. I assume this is some sort of a test by Christian to see how committed I am to being a sub or maybe he's left me here for so long because he thinks I won't be able to take it. Maybe he's just waited to deliver a punishment to me for fucking something up. Maybe-
The sound of a door opening has me focused back on our training. I hear the door click closed, recognizing the sound of the lock engaging but I feel him in the room before he even comes close enough for me to see his feet. I'm kneeling as he requested, completely naked in the center of the room. Even though I've wanted to, the moment he left the room I slipped out of my clothes, getting into position without looking around the new room. Initially I hated the idea of continuing my training without clothes on, but the more I thought about it the more I, reluctantly, realized that Christian was right. Of course I knew that I would be expected to be nude at times at the resort, and if I was wearing "clothes" it would likely be very minimal and very see through, but I guess I just assumed I could deal with that all once I arrived there. When I first took off my clothes in this empty room though and felt how uncomfortable it was, I knew Christian had a point even if I didn't want to admit it. I still cringe at the thought of Simpson seeing me naked, but if that's what has to be done I'll do it. I just need to keep my mind focused on the reason I'm asked to do this mission in the first place.
"Ana, stand," Christian's voice is different than it was earlier. It's hard, demanding and firm, leaving absolutely no room for argument.
I rise from my kneeling position, but my leg nearly gives out the moment I put any weight on it. Thankfully I quickly catch myself before I fall and look like a complete moron. My entire leg has fallen asleep, making it very uncomfortable but I don't say a word instead I take a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"Christian!" I gasp when he wraps his arm under my legs and another around my back, picking me up as if I weighed nothing and carrying me over to a large bed in the center of the room.
"I'm sorry," he mumbles as his hands gently message my leg. I'm lying in the center of the bed, with Christian at the end of the bed. The leg that he is messaging rests on his lap while the other is on the bed behind him. I'm keenly aware of the fact that I'm naked, the thought immediately making me blush and search for something to cover myself up with. Unfortunately there is nothing, not even a throw blanket on the bed.
"I didn't realize how long I was gone for, I'm sorry for causing you discomfort by leaving you kneeling for so long. I hope you believe me when I say it wasn't my intention," he says.
Despite everything that happened between us, somehow I believe him. Why? I have no idea, but my initial reaction was to believe what he was saying. Whether or not he's just playing me I have no fucking idea. He played me….big time 10 years ago so I shouldn't believe a word that comes out of his mouth now. I believed everything he said then and look where it got me.
"Does it feel better?" he asks softly.
"Yes…sir," I answer, the last part almost forgotten.
"Fuck Ana, you're even more beautiful than you were 10 years ago," my eyes open automatically at his words as I watch his eyes rake over my body. On instinct I bring my arms to cover my breasts, but he quickly grabs both wrists and place them on the bed next to me, holding them securely there.
"No, you don't get to cover your body up," he says sternly.
"You don't get to look at me like that any longer; you lost that right when you left me," I lash out the pain still right there despite the 10 years that have passed.
"You're right," he sighs.
I expected an argument; I expected him to tell me that while we're in here he can look at me however he wanted. That he was in charge in here and if he wanted to look at me he would do so. I expected anything…anything other than him saying I was right.
"Maybe we should talk," he says and I immediately tense. I don't know how else I can make it clear that I don't want to talk about what happened between us. God knows, I don't want to hear about the beautiful girl he met, the one he fell in love with and then one he had a child with. I don't want to hear how things didn't work out, how they decided to go their separate ways and how now that he's alone he suddenly regrets leaving me. I can't focus on that right now; I can't focus on that when I need to keep my head in the mission. I need to focus on why I'm doing this mission; that's more important than anything Christian could have to say right now. "I'm not sure what training you've had until now and what you still need training on. I don't know what types of toys you've been exposed to and what ones you haven't."
"Oh," I pull my leg off of his lap and awkwardly sit up with my knees against my chest. As my body slides over the silk sheets I'm reminded that I'm still naked and that Christian hasn't suggested I put on a robe for this discussion. I suppose all part of getting me used to being in naked around other people, although I don't know that I'll ever get used to this.
"I think we should also talk about expectations," he continues. "Our schedule is going to need to be somewhat flexible over the next two weeks; obviously I wasn't planning on taking time off of work so I need to schedule our sessions around my work calendar-"
"You don't work here?" I ask surprised.
"Here? No," he chuckles, the thought for some reason apparently amusing him. "I own a software development business based not far from here. My largest contract is with the United States government but I have many other contractors for large companies in and around the DC and Virginia regions. My vice president of operations will take over some of my responsibilities over the next two weeks when I need to be here, but there will be meetings and calls I will still need to be on. Our schedule will vary day to day but I'll try to give you as much notice as possible of any changes."
"I understand," the need for the scheduling changes yes but him owning a software development company….nope.
"I'm sorry to ask…but I need to know what your sexual history was prior to coming here."
"MY….what?" I stutter at the absurdity of his question.
"Your sexual history…I'm assuming until now your sexual history has been pretty vanilla?"
"Vanilla?"
"Uh…no frills, nothing kinky, no toys, that type of thing? Or was it somewhere in the middle? Some toys on occasion?"
"Um…."
Seriously? How about that's none of your fucking business!?
"I can tell from the look in your eyes, you want to tell me to fuck off," he says. "The reason for my asking is it gives me a better understanding of where you're coming from and where we need to go with your training. I'm in no way judging you for what type of experience you have had or what you enjoy."
"Vanilla…." I mumble still not convinced this is going to help us at all.
We spend the next hour reviewing the training that Mark has provided to Simpson and I until this point. We discuss the type of restraints we've used, the different punishments that have been demonstrated and other aspects of our training. We've watched countless videos and read books that Mark recommended, but I feel only slightly more prepared than I was when I first met Mark and Sawyer.
"Being able to name the equipment and the toys and knowing how they all work is one thing, but experiencing them is another. We're going to focus the next week and a half on that part," I gulp but keep in the back of my head the reason I agreed to do this. It would be so easy to back out now, to say fuck it all…but I know I can't do that. "I'm not going to lie, some of what we're going to do will push your boundaries but you'll hopefully experience pleasure in here. I know you don't trust me, and I haven't given you a reason to, but I want you to remember ten years ago-"
"Wh-" is he fucking crazy?!
"Let me finish," he says sternly cutting me off immediately. "I want you to remember ten years ago, who we were before I left. You knew me, hell you still know me, better than anyone else in the entire world does. I hope you can believe me when I tell you that I won't do anything to bring you significant pain. You'll experience pleasure, discomfort and sometimes a bite of pain but it'll never be anything beyond what you can handle. I promise you that, Ana. I promise to respect your hard limits."
Against my own will, my mind drifts back to who we were ten years ago. That Christian, the person he was back then, I know without a shadow of doubt would never hurt me. If anything, he was overly protective of me. He hated to even see me cry during a sad movie; he would never let anyone hurt me. Before I read that letter, I never would have thought he was capable of hurting me at all. The person who took my virginity in the back of his pick up truck in a field under the stars seems like a completely different person than the man standing in front of me now. The boy who made love to me that night, professing his love to me while he eased into me for the first time, seems like a stranger compared to the man who wrote the letter to me only a few months later professing his love for another woman.
It's been 10 years, I don't know the person sitting next to me on the bed at all despite what he says. At one time I did, but not any longer. But this isn't about what happened between us or who that boy was. This is about learning everything I need to learn so I can go with Simpson undercover and gather all the information the FBI needs to raid this resort and put an end to the women disappearing.
Christian's staring at me as if he's waiting for a response; I can't tell him I believe him because I don't know that I do. After a few minutes of us staring at each other, he finally sighs and stands up realizing that I'm not going to give him the words he wants.
"Lay in the center of the bed on your stomach with your arms above your head and legs spread," he says in a very different voice from the one he was just using to talk to me.
"What….what are you going to do?" I ask hesitantly.
"You need to trust," he says softly. "I know you don't want to trust me, but you need to trust that your dom, whoever he is, has your best interest in his mind. Your dom will be thinking of only your needs, not his own. The right dom will treat your submission as the precious gift it is and will do everything in his power to keep hold of the trust that you've placed in him. There may be times that you struggle to understand how what he is doing is in your best interest, but I assure you that any well trained dom has your best interest in mind. Your dom will always see that your needs are met before his own. Understanding that, you should never question your dom during a scene. If something is approaching your limits, then you use your safewords at which time the scene will stop and you can then discuss your concerns. But until you use your safewords, there are no questions. Today I'll give you a little leeway, but we're going to need to move quickly past this given that we don't have much time before you need to leave. When I can, I'll explain to you why I'm doing certain things today to help you get into the mindset. But remember this is today only since it's our first scene together. Understand?"
"Yes…"
He raises an eyebrow and waits.
"Yes sir."
"Now, lay on your stomach, arms above your head and legs spread wide," he instructs firmly.
I take a deep breath and slowly comply with his instruction; I lay completely spread out in the middle of the bed on the smoothest sheets I've ever felt. Without saying a word, Christian places a blindfold over my eyes. I start to panic and it takes everything in me not to tell him to stop. It's not that I haven't been blindfolded before; Simpson did it once when we were training with Mark. It's….I don't know.
A soft material is placed around my wrist before I hear a click; a slight tug with my arm confirms I'm restrained to the bed. The other wrist is quickly secured before I sense Christian moving to the end of the bed. Even though I already know in my mind what's coming, I still jump when he touches my ankle. I can't see what he's doing, but I immediately sense that he's not securing my ankles to the bedframe as he did my wrists. I feel metal around ankle as opposed to the soft fabric at my wrists, before I can think of what he's using the other ankle is secured. On reflex, I try to move my legs only to discover they're held open, something is preventing me from bringing my legs together. I want to say something; I want to ask him what he's doing and what his plan is but I force myself not to. If I'm going to be successful, and I have to be, I need to trust that Simpson isn't going to do anything to hurt me. Although it's Christian here with me now, when we're there, when people are watching us I need to act as if I trust him.
"Very good Ana, I know that was tough for you," he whispers softly. "Your legs are attached to a spreader bar, which as you probably realized is preventing you from closing your legs."
He doesn't give me any insight into what's going to come next, but again I force myself from asking. I try to ignore the image going through my head of how I probably look right now. I'm naked in front of a man who hasn't seen me naked in 10 years. I'm certainly not the thin little girl he knew back then; I've held onto a few pounds I would have preferred not to and have curves that I didn't have 10 years ago. I know I shouldn't care what he thinks but I can't help wondering if he's comparing my body now to what it was like the last time he saw it.
"Mmmm!" I jump when I feel warm liquid on my back which immediately pulls be back to the present.
I feel Christian's weight on the bed as he climbs on and before I can even think about what's coming next he straddles my ass. I can feel his rough jeans against my skin just before his hands glide on my back, through the warm oil that collected there. His hands move slowly, almost barely touching me, as he glides then up and down my back.
"I'm getting you used to my touch…again," he whispers his breath hot on my ear. "Just try to relax and focus on my touch."
I have no idea how much time passes as I focus on nothing but his touch. Initially my body was tense when he touched me, but as his hands glided over me the oil slowly warming me, I relaxed. He didn't touch me anywhere…intimately, yet his touch felt very intimate at the same time.
"Your skin is so soft," his voice is so faint I question whether or not he said anything.
When his hands glide up my legs, I'm so relax that I don't even flinch having him so close to my sex. His fingers don't stray, instead staying on my thighs gently massaging them before sliding back down to my calves. When he moves up to my arms, he stays over me rather than climbing off the bed or kneeling aside me. With one hand on each of my arms, when he slides them forward I feel his shirt touching my back and I know he's only inches above me. There's no mistaken the erection that presses against my ass but I'm too relaxed to give it a second thought before he suddenly gets off the bed.
"OH!" he takes me by complete surprise seconds later when he somehow flips me completely over using the spreader bar despite my wrists being secured to the bedframe above my head.
He pours the warm oil on me once again, before straddling my thighs. This time he starts where he left off, his hands on my arms slowly messaging the tension that threatened to return. My mind jumps from how relaxed is he making me feel to the fact that I'm lying completely naked with him on top of me (granted he has clothes on, but still I don't!). His hands move slowly to my shoulders, then to my chest before sliding down my slides to my stomach. I'm nearly so relaxed that I could fall asleep; I can't remember the last time I felt so…at peace. It's as if nothing else matters right now. There's no FBI, no undercover mission, no need to learn about BDSM….there's nothing.
"Christian?" I whisper when I feel his hands on my breasts.
"Shhhhh, just relax," he instructs.
He alternates his hands on my breasts, then down my sides, then to my stomach before returning to my breasts. I feel him take them in his hands, gently massaging them until he reaches my nipples. The first few times, he pays them no attention, just letting his fingers cascade over them. But after a few times, he pinches them lightly and I nearly jump off the bed at the unexpected feeling.
"So responsive…." He whispers although it's so quiet once again I find myself questioning if he said it at all.
I catch myself groaning when his hands leave my breasts; I immediately feel the heat rush to my face in embarrassment. Thankfully, Christian either didn't hear me or chose not to say anything about my reaction. More oil is dripped on my legs before his firm hands glide up and then down my thighs to my shins and finally to my feet. When his hands glide back up to my thighs, I notice his thumbs slowly inching closer and closer to my sex. I force myself not to react, not to tense, reminding myself this is necessary for the mission.
"I know you're not ready, but eventually I'm going to need to touch you here too," he whispers just as he runs a finger barely over my sex, the touch so light I can't tell if he actually touched me or if I imagined it.
"I know," I admit. Simpson didn't touch me there except with toys, but I've watched enough videos to know it's expected. I knew Simpson would eventually have to touch me there, it was just another part of the mission that I had hoped we could just wait until we were there to deal with. Though, now hearing Mark and Christian explain how my body's reaction could call us out, I know it can't wait until then. It doesn't mean I have to look forward to it.
With one final glide of his hands over my body, I feel Christian's weight shift before he kneels next to me on the bed.
"Hi," he softly says as he removes the blindfold from my eyes.
"Hi," I say shyly even more aware of my nakedness.
He releases both of my wrists from the restraint above my head, messaging each one before placing them on the bed next to me. I feel weak, almost tired even, despite it probably being the middle of the afternoon. I watch him move to the end of the bed, removing metal handcuffs from my ankles before softly messaging them the same way he did my wrists.
"Any redness from the restrains should fade within an hour at most," he says.
"Okay," I've only been restrained once before but it wasn't with the spreader bar.
"How do you feel?" he asks.
"Tired," I admit.
"That's normal," he assures me. "Most scenes will leave you feeling tired, some will leave you exhausted and hopefully most will leave you feeling satisfied."
He crosses the room to a closet and pulls out a flimsy, see through pink robe. It's not the heavy white one that I've been using for the last month, but I don't question it when he hands it to me knowing that this is probably similar to what I'll be wearing at the resort. He places his hand in mine and helps me off the bed, my legs are wobbly as I stand and he wraps his arm around my waist to hold me up. When he takes a step closer to me, I can feel his erection against my stomach. He makes no move though to do anything about it, to try to take things any further with me or to order me to help him with that. Although I had hoped he wouldn't, it was still in the back of my mind that he could. Instead, once he feels my legs are able to support me he leads me over to the loveseat and hands me a bottle of water.
"It's important to stay hydrated before and after a scene," he explains as he opens his own bottle of water. "Alcohol should be avoided during scenes at all costs; it can blur the lines and make recognizing limits harder on both parties. If you have to drink before a scene, find something that's watered down and nurse it for as long as possible. Stay away from hard liquor and shots-"
"Mark explained all of that too," I assure him.
"Oh, good," he says.
"Are we almost through or….?" I ask.
"No, that's it for today," he answers.
"I just need to arrange a ride home-"
"I can drive you," he offers immediately.
"That won't be necessary," I assure him. When the two weeks is over I don't plan on having further contact with him so there's no reason for him to know where I live. "The guy I'm seeing picks will pick me up."
"You don't drive?" he asks.
"My car is in the shop this week; this…we're close to his work so I've been driving in with Simpson but he's been picking me up when we're done for the day."
"Okay, if it becomes an issue let me know," he says firmly before handing me a piece of paper from his pocket. "This will be our schedule for the rest of the week. I'll text or call you with any changes, but they should be minimal. Plan to arrive five minutes before scheduled time; you should be in position when I arrive just like today. I won't keep you waiting but if I get delayed I will get word to you."
I text Kevin, asking him to pick me up in a few minutes before I finish my bottle of water. Christian shows me to a bathroom just off of the room where I quickly shower, washing off the oil that is all over me. I change back into the jeans and top I wore when I first arrived, shaking my head at how things have changed since then. When I arrived earlier, I assumed it was for just another session with Simpson. But then everything changed and the last person on earth I expected to see is the one who I hand his hands over me only a short time ago. I have no idea what to think about.
"I'll walk you out," Christian says once I've gathered the few belongings I have.
"That's not necessary," I assure him.
"It is," he insists his voice once again leaving no room for argument. "If you need anything or have questions, text me or call me. My numbers on the bottom of the schedule."
"I'll see you tomorrow," I say rather than arguing.
His hand is on my lower back as he opens the door and guides me through it, leading me out to the parking lot where I see Kevin's car waiting. As soon as he sees me, he steps out of the car. I see the question in his eyes before we're even close to him; he's obviously wondering who Christian is and why his hand is on my back. Simpson walked me out a couple times, but not always and never with his hand on me.
"Kevin, this is Christian…Christian is consulting with the bureau on this case," I introduce leaving out the part about Christian training me. I'll tell him about that later; I'm not having that conversation in the middle of the parking lot and definitely not with Christian present. The question in the back of my head though is whether or not I tell Kevin who Christian really is. "Christian this is Kevin."
The guys nod to each other and shake hands, neither saying anything though.
"I'll see you tomorrow Ana," Christian says before turning around and heading back to into the building.