Behind His Eyes

Chapter 1 Tardiness has Consequences - April 2010 (Consequences - Chapter 5)

To know the rules of the game, you have to be educated.

—L.L. Cool J.

Mindlessly, the pad of Anthony’s thumb ran laps around the smooth rim of the crystal tumbler. He wasn’t thinking about the glass in his hand or even the Evan Williams bourbon swirling near the bottom. No, Anthony’s thoughts were centered on the monitors above his grand desk. From multiple, well-placed cameras, he could watch Claire move about the S.E suite.

During his time in Europe, the appeal of the woman held captive in his home had begun to fade. In all honesty, having acquired his goal, his return home seemed somewhat anticlimactic. After all, the hunt had taken years, and with each bit of new information, and each time he manipulated fate, Anthony felt invigorated. For a long time, Anthony had known that one day his target would be his.

The capture was all that he’d imagined and more—the true climax! From the moment he stepped into the Red Wing, Anthony knew he’d succeed. He was, first and foremost, a businessman with an impeccable record of success, especially when an endeavor had his full commitment. Whether in business or in pleasure, Anthony understood that planning and patience were essential elements for success. Before embarking on any deal, Anthony Rawlings thoroughly assessed the situation, eliminated the risks, and accentuated the assets.

This acquisition was different. Unlike the average acquisition, such as one of a company, this acquisition had risks that he couldn’t avoid. Sometimes that happened in the game of chance. The first risk was his public interaction with Claire; sitting with her in the Red Wing and taking her out to dinner were undoubtedly perilous. After all, he’s well-known, and the possibility of being associated, even coincidentally, with a missing person wouldn’t fit his perfect persona.

In all reality, he could have paid for Claire Nichols’ disappearance—only to have her reappear in his home—but that would’ve increased the number of people privy to his plan. With her ultimate future unsure, Anthony felt the fewer number of people on that list, the better. Most importantly, if he’d paid someone to bring her to Iowa, he would’ve missed out on the euphoria that came with finalizing the big deal. Anthony had experienced that feeling over and over in business, but that was nothing like the sensation of slipping the GHB into Claire’s wine glass. At that moment, he knew that there was no turning back—he didn’t want to.

Being a professional businessman with an image to maintain, Anthony worked out every possible scenario and created believable contingency plans. The time and energy he’d put into Claire Nichols’ acquisition could have been billed in millions—literally. Anthony Rawlings’ time was incredibly valuable. Suddenly, his lips twitched upward. Perhaps he should add his billable hours in planning and executing Claire’s acquisition to Claire’s bill? But, wouldn’t that be like a jail sentence of ‘life’ plus 1000 years? Her first debt was practically insurmountable; adding more to it was truly adding insult to injury.

Movement on the screen caused him to refocus. He watched as Claire unsuccessfully tried to open a bottle of water. After a few attempts she wiped her hands on the arms of the chair and finally removed the cap. If he’d have zoomed closer, he would’ve seen her complexion pale as she forced herself to swallow the refreshing liquid. Satisfaction filled his chest; his delay was working—Claire knew he was coming to her, and her anxiety was obviously growing with each passing minute.

Maybe—just maybe—he’d been wrong to think the fun was over. Perhaps there’d be more opportunities to enjoy the woman in the black dress and heels he was watching. He reminded himself, it wasn’t all about enjoyment, well at least not hers. No, Claire Nichols had a bill to pay and lessons to learn.

Anthony was in a place he’d never been. Metaphorically, he was entering virgin territory. After all, he’d never before held a woman captive. There’d never been a need—or a desire. Women were a nice accessory and a necessary complement for many occasions, and through the years, more women than he could remember were willing to fulfill that role, as well as be attentive to his physical needs. Of course, he treated each one with respect. Anthony Rawlings couldn’t have disgruntled women running around talking about him in a negative way. Each separation was his fault—his plate was too full, he had too many responsibilities. The fact that he usually dated high-profile women helped. They, too, had lives, responsibilities, and reputations that required discretion. If he tried to remember half of the gorgeous women he’d dated, Anthony believed that all of his separations had ended amicably.

Thankfully, he had people like Shelly, his publicist, and Patricia, his private assistant, to remind him when he’d be encountering an old flame. It even seemed that at times, Patricia found his lack of sincerity regarding these women amusing. After all, many of them, at one time or another, considered him a boyfriend. The reality couldn’t be farther from the truth. Never in forty-five years had Anthony Rawlings considered himself someone’s boyfriend. The concept was laughable.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the company of women; it was that, in the game of life, women were a liability, a risk that he wasn’t willing to take. He was a master at appearances. Accepting a woman as anything more than an accessory for an evening or as an outlet for physical needs would be to allow that woman to be part of his persona—part of his life. That had never happened, nor did Anthony Rawlings foresee it happening in the future. He had too much at stake.

Bringing his thoughts back to Claire, he felt a renewed sense of anticipation. New experiences were rare for him. Viewing the monitors as Claire pretended to read—since she hadn’t turned the page in over ten minutes, he knew she wasn’t concentrating—he conceded that undoubtedly this would be a brand-new experience. He just had to figure out exactly what he would do with it—and with her. His grin reemerged.

Oh, he knew what he would do with her—whatever he wanted. The question that loomed in his mind was how she would respond. Although she’d willingly engaged in vanilla sex in Atlanta, since coming to Iowa, she’d been considerably less compliant; however, Anthony reminded himself, that was before—before her nearly two week time-out. After watching the short interaction between Catherine and Claire on the video recording, when Catherine informed her of his impending arrival, Anthony believed Claire had experienced an attitude adjustment.

Truly, he didn’t know how he wanted her to react when he entered the suite. The fact she was dressed appropriately held potential. Perhaps she could be trained to work off not only her bill, but the un-payable invoice that included the life of his grandfather—and perhaps some of his own billable time.

Briefly, Anthony changed a section of the screen to the Atlanta news. He’d been watching and scanning it daily during his travels in Europe. After over two weeks in his possession, he was happy to see that there hadn’t been any news reports or voiced concerns about the disappearance of Claire Nichols. It appeared as though Anthony’s efforts had paid off—emails, text messages, and Facebook messages all accomplished their goal. Claire’s friends and family believed she’d left town to pursue a new job opportunity—Anthony grinned as he switched the screen back to the S.E. suite—and their beliefs were in essence true. This was and would be her new job. Momentarily, he closed his eyes, as mental images of Claire’s growing list of job responsibilities filled his thoughts. Perhaps he should compile a written list?

A knock at his office door pulled Anthony from his sinister thoughts.

With a click of his mouse, the screens turned from the monitors in the S.E. suite to the closing stock market results for Rawlings Industries and its plethora of subsidiaries. Without inquiring, Anthony hit the button to allow access to his domain. It was after 9:00 PM and this was his home. He didn’t need to inquire as to who was about to enter his inner sanctuary; there were few possibilities.

“Mr. Rawlings, did you want to see me?” Catherine’s voice echoed as she stepped into Anthony’s office. Once the door was shut, she lifted a brow. “I would’ve thought you’d have investigated yourself, Anton.”

“I plan to. First, I want to know a few things.”

Catherine perched herself on the edge of a chair near his desk. “You weren’t watching from your trip?”

“I was, but there are some things you can’t decipher from a video feed—such as attitude. Tell me about the last two weeks; how have they been?”

Catherine smiled. “Educational. I happened to look inside the suite a few minutes ago. Did you see what she’s wearing?”

“I did. Did you tell her what to wear?”

“No, I told her that it was up to her.”

Anthony nodded as he sat back against his leather chair. “So, she seems to understand the importance of appearance—that’s good. What about interaction?”

“Until today, since you left, she’s only had access to Carlos. He delivered all her meals and returned for the dishes. The rest of the staff entered only when she was occupied with her showers.”

Anthony grinned. “Carlos—Carlos doesn’t speak English, at least not well.”

“I know.”

“Very good, Catherine, I applaud your resourcefulness.”

“Thank you, Anton. I may not agree with your plan; however, I told you I’d do my part. Now, what do you expect when you enter the suite?”

“What do I expect? I expect respect for the authority I obviously hold over every aspect of her life. At this moment, I expect her to have the good sense to recognize the magnitude of her current situation.”

Catherine leaned forward, her voice held the tone of a warning. “Caged animals fight. I saw the scratches on your arms when she first arrived.”

“That won’t happen again.”

“And you’re sure of this?”

Anthony nodded confidently. “I am.” He wondered if Catherine would ask for more clarification. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d share his plans. After all, those plans were why his excitement at their reunion was once again growing. Anthony glanced at his watch. “Did you tell her I’d be there at 10:00 PM?”

“I told her between 9:00 PM and 10:00 PM. She seemed desperate for me to stay and talk. I believe she’s lonely.”

“I saw that on the video.” The woman he’d observed in Atlanta was both social in her work and her private life. Perhaps this time away from others was beneficial. He planned to emphasize how he controlled her interactions. His grin broke through his facade with the realization—there wouldn’t be anything he didn’t control.

“Thank you, Catherine. I think I can handle this from here.”

She stood. “This was very risky for a man of your—”

“Thank you, Catherine,” he interrupted. “It’s a roll of the dice. High risks yield the best results. It’s about time I learn if your manipulation has added to my yields.”

Before stepping from the room, Catherine smiled. “I’m sure you’ll capitalize on your investment … Mr. Rawlings.”

Anthony looked at his watch again, 9:51 PM. One last click of his mouse and he saw Claire, up on the screen, pacing near the fireplace in her suite. There wasn’t anything he didn’t know about her, from her family to her medical history. He knew that she and her sister were all that remained of the Sherman Nichols line. He also knew that she liked her coffee with cream, and that about six months ago, Claire had had the birth control device inserted. During his observations, he didn’t find her to be promiscuous; the doctor’s notations stated something about convenience. Grinning toward the screen, Anthony agreed: the insert was convenient.

Standing, Anthony put on and buttoned his double-breasted suit jacket. No, he’d been wrong when he thought the actual acquisition had been the climax—there would definitely be many more to come!

Anthony depressed the button on the side of the doorframe while simultaneously hearing the beep and opening the door. Claire’s eyes opened wide while she remained seated in the chair near the fireplace. The last time he’d seen her—in person—she’d looked like hell, wearing a robe, her hair a mess, and her face discolored. Tonight was definitely an improvement. It wasn’t just her appearance, although Anthony approved; it was her demeanor. That morning, nearly two weeks ago, Claire had been out of control—demanding, yelling, and crying. It wasn’t that she was in control now; Anthony saw the fear in her eyes. It was that she was … composed.

“Good evening, Claire.”

She stood and replied, “Good evening, Anthony. Shall we sit?”

When he stepped toward her, he noticed her quick intake of air. Confidently, he sat on the sofa, leaned back, and unbuttoned his jacket. He watched intently as she sat on the edge of the chair with her back straight. The hum of the fireplace fan filled the room as he considered the woman before him. Without a doubt, she was an improvement over the one he’d left on the floor of the same suite.

He waited to see if she would ramble. When only the fireplace blower prevailed, Anthony spoke, “Do you think you’re ready to continue with our agreement? Or do you need some more time alone to consider the situation?”

“After consulting my attorney, I feel I have no choice but to continue with our agreement.”

Anthony felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. What the hell? He glared toward the woman who had the audacity to sound trite. “Claire, I know you’re joking, but do you really think it’s a good idea? Considering your circumstances?”

“I’ve had a lot of time to think; joviality has sustained me.”

He tilted his head. The woman had nerve—he’d give her that. “I must say your demeanor impresses me. I’ll need to deliberate on this new personality.”

He sat silently and contemplated this petite woman who had the fortitude to maintain eye contact, and answer his questions with a hint of bravado, all while knowing she was at his mercy. Or did she know? Did she think this was some kind of sick reality TV show and any minute it would be over? He stared. “Tell me what you’ve learned during your reflection time.”

She rambled about clothes and food, truly inconsequential things. Anthony interrupted, “That’s all very nice, but what have you discovered about your situation?” He couldn’t contain his condescending tone, perhaps he didn’t want to. After all, she needed to know who held the answers. “Do you even know where you are?”

After only a moment’s hesitation, she said, “I’m in Iowa, or at least somewhere near Iowa City.”

How the hell? He’d scanned hours of video—did someone pass her a note of some kind? Anthony couldn’t imagine that they’d disrespect him like that. “And … you learned this … from whom?”

“I learned it from the Weather Channel—Local on the Eights. The local weather for this area comes from Iowa City, Iowa.”

Anthony exhaled. Damn, he was on edge. Her flippant attitude needed readjustment. “Very well, that will spare me telling you. For the sake of clarity, since that seemed to be a problem in the past, you’re aware that your indebtedness to me can only be determined paid by me?”

Her smile appeared pained, yet she managed to keep it in place as she nodded. Anthony waited for an answer. When she didn’t speak, he proclaimed, “I prefer verbal confirmation.”

“I am aware that you are the only one who can decide when my debt is paid in full.” Though her words sounded too calm, her hands remained clenched. She’d never know how that unconscious act helped to calm her captor. He wanted—no needed—to know that she understood his authority.

He continued, “You are also aware that your duties require you to be available to me whenever, wherever, and however I demand?” His eyes never left hers.

“I am aware.”

He reiterated for clarification. “You’re aware that you must at all times obey my rules?”

“I’m aware that I must do as I’m told.”

She was good. He didn’t believe a damn word she said, but he had to admit, she was good. Oh, he considered demonstrating more of his authority, but perhaps Catherine had been right. Claire Nichols was lonely, and she was grasping at the straws of any interaction. Perhaps no interaction would prove to be the most educational tool. Besides, he had plenty of time—as much as he wanted—for interaction. Finally, he spoke, “Very well.” He stood and walked toward the door.

Before he reached his destination, Claire’s determined tone rang throughout the suite. “Wait.”

Anthony turned, unable to hide the shock at her demand, his eyes locked onto hers.

Apparently, she had the good sense to realize her breach of station. Immediately, her tone softened, “I’m sorry … but may I leave this suite?”

Apologetic and requesting permission—yes, Anthony could deal with that. “As long as we are certain on the terms of our agreement, and you follow the rules and orders given, I see no problem with your roaming the house.” He reached for the door handle. “It’s rather large. I’ll be working from home tomorrow. Your services will be utilized then, so be prepared for my call. When I have a chance, I’ll give you a tour of the house and define your limitations. I think it’s best that you don’t roam tonight. I don’t want you getting lost.” Within his pocket, he depressed the sensor, causing the beep to sound once again. Anthony reached for the handle.

“Anthony?” The earlier strength he’d heard in her tone was gone. “I don’t have any … duties tonight?”

“I’ve recently arrived from a series of meetings in Europe and am quite tired. I’m glad to know we have a mutual understanding. Goodnight, Claire.”

As he shut her door, he heard her say goodnight.

Walking toward his office, he thought about the bourbon he’d left sitting on his desk—there were about fifty emails that needed reading and probably responses to be written—and he had at least two web conferences tomorrow. He’d need to check to see if Patricia had sent him his schedule.

Oh, yes, and apparently his acquisition was adapting to her new reality—that was good. Anthony Rawlings had too many things to think about other than to be concerned with the woman upstairs. Hell, Catherine had been spot-on with the isolation. Perhaps he should allow her to deal with the day-to-day maintenance; he’d utilize Claire when it fit his schedule. Besides, a little alone time seemed to be just what the doctor ordered.

Damn, in a week and a half the proposal from Arkansas was coming in. Did he have that preliminary report? There were too many other things to think about besides Claire Nichols; however, it was comforting to know she’d adapted. Tomorrow, Anthony decided he’d take that theory to the next level. Would her actions be as accommodating as her words?

The morning light had yet to penetrate the heavy drapes of his suite when Anthony turned toward the red numbers. It was only 4:42 AM, yet he was wide awake. The woman—about whom, he reminded himself, he didn’t give a damn—was inside his house. She was undoubtedly sleeping soundly under his roof. How many nights had he imagined what it would be like to have her where he could watch her, train her, and control her? Now she was here and he was a floor away. If he went upstairs and took what his body obviously wanted, what difference would it make? This wasn’t a normal dating scenario. Claire wasn’t going to go to the press and proclaim his actions. She wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, this wasn’t about sex, although he was painfully erect. It was about power. Everything about her existence was his to determine. If he wanted her to sleep, she would sleep. If he wanted to use her, he would use her.

Though the thought of entering her suite—no, not her suite, the S.E. suite—and asserting his dominance while assessing her reaction appealed to him, Anthony reconsidered: the more accommodating he made her, the better. He didn’t relish the idea of continued daily battles. Yes, he liked things his way; however, his energies could be better utilized if she were more compliant.

Catherine was right. Showing up to the office with scratches on his face or arms would instigate questions. Making his way out of bed, Anthony walked to his bureau, opened the top drawer, and found what he’d purchased in Europe. Running the long lengths of black satin across his palm, his mind considered the possibilities of their use. It wasn’t that he was into the kinky shit; this was more about self-preservation. He could even consider it a favor. Claire’s fighting hadn’t worked well for her in the past, and he wouldn’t allow it in the future. With the use of satin restraints, he would assure that when he exited the S.E. suite, he’d be scathe-free, and with her cooperation, albeit forced, Claire would be able to boast the same.

In his mind, he was giving her a choice. She would accommodate him; how much independence she had while doing that would be up to her.

A little after 7:00 AM, Anthony scaled the grand staircase. He hadn’t acted upon his earlier thoughts of Claire; instead, he’d gone to the pool, swam laps, and lifted weights for an hour. After a shower and breakfast, he decided to spend some time preparing for his web conferences. As he read, each sentence disappeared into the memories of the innocent emerald-green gaze from last night, the one that asked, I’m sorry … but may I leave this suite?

He wasn’t concerned about fulfilling her desires. It was basic psychology: operant conditioning—positive consequences for positive behavior, negative consequences for negative behavior. Her respectful tone, her demeanor, and her appearance—they all deserved a positive consequence. After all, wasn’t that what he wanted to do—to promote the positive and rebuke the negative?

He also remembered telling her to be ready in the morning. Would she be? Did she truly deserve a positive consequence?

The beep sounded as he moved silently into the S.E suite. Scanning the room, Claire was nowhere to be found. His first thought was the bathroom, but the door was ajar and no one was there. Before he could look further, he heard movement from the closet/dressing room. Staring in that direction, he waited for her to emerge. When she did, the startled yelp, accompanied by the dropping of her shoes, made his cheeks rise. “Good morning, Claire.” She was ready—another reason for a positive consequence.

“Good morning, Anthony; I didn’t hear you come in.”

Amused, he watched as she picked up her shoes and feigned calmness. It was then he noticed her uneaten breakfast on the table. “Are you ready for your tour? Did you plan to eat first? I have a web conference in forty-five minutes.”

She asked him about a web conference. As he answered, he had difficulty suppressing his amusement at her behavior. It was as if carrying on a mundane conversation with the man who held her future in his hands was an everyday occurrence. Snickering to himself, he reasoned, it will be from now on. Maybe she was working from her years as a bartender. Whatever the cause, her ability to converse effortlessly was a welcome surprise. Before long, Anthony found himself leading her down corridors and describing the estate. As he discussed pieces of furniture and fine works of art, he knew that there was no way Claire could know the items he pointed out were originally owned by his grandfather. She didn’t know that it had taken Anthony years to track down significant pieces of his history, after they’d been auctioned off to undeserving bidders. She also couldn’t know how the mention of each item fortified his resolve for restitution; instead, Claire walked beside him, blissfully unaware. A saying about a spider and a fly came to mind.

They were in the library when she asked something about computers. He didn’t know if she were joking about the size of the library and the magnitude of books, yet her comment hit him wrong. Suddenly, Anthony felt the need to remind her of her status. She may be receiving a tour that few others had experienced, but she wasn’t a guest, and he wanted to make that clear. “I think it would be best for you to not have access to computers, the Internet, or telephones.” Oh, he wanted a verbal response; however, the unspoken acknowledgement of his authority that flooded her eyes momentarily satisfied that need. He silently vowed that they would discuss the need for verbal responses in the future.

She didn’t speak again until they entered the indoor pool. Anthony never gave the room much thought—it was a pool. There were windows, tile, and water. Yet as they entered, Claire gasped. He responded before he had a chance to think. “Do you like to swim?”

“Oh, yes. This is amazing.”

“You shall have bathing suits tomorrow.” As soon as the words left his lips, Anthony wondered why he’d been so forthcoming. She hadn’t asked and that was his rule—requests must be made before they can be granted; nevertheless, he’d approved an unspoken request. He would follow through, because he was a man of his word, but he didn’t intend to offer more. The tour and bathing suits—her positive rewards were outnumbering her behaviors.

At the entrance to his office, Anthony realized the time and proclaimed, “I have business I must do. It’s 7:25 AM. I want you back at my office at 10:30 AM. You have some debt to pay.” He watched for her reaction. It wasn’t overt, but her eyes momentarily drifted toward the wall. To her credit she recovered quickly. He asked, “Do you think you can find your way back to your suite?”

It was then that she did it again. Her voice softened as she asked permission to go to the library. As long as she stayed in the library and returned to his office at 10:30 AM, what harm was there in allowing her request? Besides, it was a request—well worded. While reiterating the importance of her returning at the appropriate time, he apprehensively acquiesced; however, before he dismissed her, he reminded her of his control. “We have not discussed all of the rules pertaining to the house. At this point, do not go outside. Permission for going out on the grounds will be contingent upon your ability to follow rules within the house.”

Anthony liked how she bristled at the mention of her restrictions. Yes, he had thousands of jobs and people’s livelihoods in his hands, but never had he had one person’s life completely in his grasp. He had to admit, the power was intense and even erotic.

Anthony watched the clock as the web conference dragged on. When he finally disconnected, he looked at the time. Claire was due in his office in six minutes. Anthony clicked a few times with his mouse and entered a code. His screen filled with a view of the library. It didn’t take long to find Claire wandering about, pulling out books, and reading the backs. He waited and watched as she opened a book and leaned against a bookcase. The numbers on the clock changed. Didn’t she realize the size of his house? There was no possible way, unless she ran, that she would make it to his office in time. Did she think he was joking about returning on time? She didn’t even have the good sense to turn toward the library clock.

At 10:37 AM he entered the library. This time, Anthony found no humor in the fact he’d again startled her. She was stupid to even think that she could blatantly disobey him. He’d provided positive consequences—obviously it wasn’t enough to mold the appropriate behavior. When her eyes met his, he saw the remorse.

“Oh, Anthony, I’m so sorry. I was just engrossed in all you have—”

Excuses! He didn’t make them and he didn’t listen to them. His hand struck her cheek. Before she could look away, Anthony seized the back of her neck and pulled her eyes toward his. “Simple instructions, which are what I gave you—perhaps you’re not ready to leave your suite quite yet.”

He heard her plea—telling him that she could follow instructions. Her words didn’t match her actions, and he didn’t have the time or the patience for coddling.

“Follow me to my office—now.” Not waiting for her to respond, he took off through the library and down the corridor. With each step he contemplated his next move, reminding himself that this was a critical time in Claire’s training. If he didn’t demonstrate his dominance now, he couldn’t guarantee her compliance later. Didn’t she understand that this was for her own good? This arrangement would never last if she didn’t cooperate, and then what would his options be? She needed to recognize his authority!

By the time they reached the grand doors to his office, red infiltrated his vision. It wasn’t intense, but the world had a crimson hue. Catherine had told him that he was wrong to take Claire. Nathaniel’s plan had been clear, yet there was something about Claire that fascinated him. He wouldn’t fail and prove Catherine right. He would make Claire behave appropriately—this would work.

Shoving her inside his office, Anthony reeled in the red and spoke in his most even tone. “So, you say you can follow instructions. We’ll see.” He watched as she stood before him trembling. He wondered how she could be trembling—his anger warmed him to an uncomfortable heat. Then he realized, it wasn’t cold: it was fear. That was good. Fear was an excellent motivator. He continued, “Let’s start with you taking off your clothes.”

Though her hands shook as she unfastened the clasps, she didn’t argue. Whenever she looked away, he reached for her chin and redirected her eyes. There was so much he could see in her eyes; he refused to allow her to hide that emotion. After he redirected her the second time, she maintained eye contact. Once she was nude, he assessed. There was nothing wrong with her body. She’d even seemed to have lost some weight since she first arrived. Her earlier markings were gone, and her skin tone was lighter—probably due to staying inside. After all, she wasn’t in the warm Georgia sun any longer.

“Lie down on the floor,” he directed.

She didn’t speak, yet he saw her indecision. Anthony Rawlings wouldn’t make the same request twice. Just as he was about to assist, Claire knelt on the carpet.

“Lie on your stomach and keep your face and eyes down.”

He didn’t know if it was his imagination or if time was indeed moving slowly; nevertheless, each of her movements seemed to occur painfully slow. At least they were occurring. Despite the fact that she was still trembling, she eventually lay down, totally nude, and prone on the carpet.

Anthony had had his fair share of experiences in life; however, this was once again entering the world of new and untested territory. He’d accepted the responsibility to train this woman, to make her into a compliant soul. Catherine said it couldn’t be done. She said that women today were too independent. Watching Claire lie as still as possible, Anthony almost laughed—independent indeed. Claire Nichols would learn to behave.

Perhaps it was a childhood memory, or maybe something he’d read; regardless of the source, physical negative reinforcement was often very effective in molding behavior. Even Pavlov’s dog learned to stop responding to the bell once the reinforcement turned from food to an electrical shock. Claire Nichols would learn to listen to Anthony. When she replied appropriately, she earned house tours and time in the library. When she disappointed him, she earned negative reinforcement.

Slowly, Anthony unbuckled his belt. It wasn’t the fulfillment of the punishment he sought. No, it was Claire’s reaction. He needed to hear her response. When his belt contacted her back for the first blow, she let out a satisfying scream. It was his reinforcement, confirming her understanding of his control. That scream told Anthony that she understood her behavior was unacceptable. He wanted more.

He listened as the belt contacted her skin—again and again—however, his reinforcement was gone. Claire remained silent. Moving his eyes from the growing welts, Anthony noticed Claire’s fist at her lips. He felt the red return with the realization that she was refusing to give him his satisfaction.

Crimson flooded the room. Damn her! She would learn that he was in control. She would learn to behave. She said she could follow directions—then by God, he had directions for her to follow. Reaching for her shoulder, he turned her over. Maintaining eye contact, Anthony began to undress. He didn’t give instructions—at first. His intent was obvious.

With time, he began to direct her movements. His desired positions required her compliance and manipulation. Sometimes he told her what to do, other times he moved her as he saw fit. There were times he heard her ragged breaths or tasted her salty tears; nevertheless, Claire never argued nor told him to stop. At least she seemed to comprehend their arrangement—this was consensual.

By the time he finished, Claire seemed incapable of complete sentences. Her eyes no longer revealed her emotions; they were momentarily void and puffy and her cheeks were wet. Anthony refused to be affected by her demeanor. It reminded him of the woman he’d left two weeks ago in the suite and he didn’t like it.

When he returned from the bathroom, Claire was still sitting on the floor holding her clothes. He walked toward her. Her disheveled appearance and vacant look disgusted him. More than anything, he wanted her out of his office. “You may go to your suite, clean yourself up, and get ready to demonstrate to me again your ability to follow directions.” It was as if his words unlocked the invisible bonds that held her in place and allowed her to move. While she mechanically dressed, he did his best to ignore her occasional ragged breaths. Before she left, he callously added, “Do not leave your suite until I decide. Your pass to roam has been revoked.”

When she reached for the door handle, Claire turned back toward Anthony. Her lips incapable of words, her eyes questioned. Only after he nodded did she open the door and walk away. He listened to her shoes on the marble corridor. Out of mere curiosity, he went to his computer and found the camera’s view of the foyer. When Claire started to walk past the stairs toward the outside doors, Anthony shook his head and began walking toward the front of the house. He didn’t need to hurry. There was no way that she could escape the grounds; nevertheless, he’d just told her to stay in her suite. Going outside was definitely forbidden. By the time he made it to the foyer, she was halfway up the stairs. Though he stood near the banister and watched, she never turned toward him.

Satisfied, he went back to his office and resumed his work. Although he had a lot to accomplish, every now and then he would utilize the cameras and look into her suite. He had difficulty hiding the anticipation as he saw her on the sofa, freshly showered and redressed. A grin emerged from time to time as she sat and obediently waited for him.

Anthony Rawlings did not fail. Catherine was wrong. He would teach Claire that there were consequences.

Later that night, Anthony tested Claire’s reflexes as he rolled her hard nipple between his fingers. Their perspiration, combined with his recent oral assault, left the dark red nub slippery under his grasp. Though it appeared that she tried to anticipate his next move, her bristling and flinching indicated that she was unable. It wasn’t as though she could see what he was doing; her eyes were completely covered by the satin material. He imagined the green that lay beneath. Brushing away long, damp strands of hair from her blindfolded face, his thumb traced her swollen lips. Anthony was mesmerized by their color. It was almost as if she were still wearing lipstick, though he knew that hours earlier it had been worn away. Nearing his mouth to her ear, his warm breath bathed her skin, as goose bumps proclaimed their presence over her arms and legs. Though she had spoken earlier in their training, more recently only sounds had been offered. Anthony whispered in his most seductive voice, “I’ll be right back.”

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.”