Chapter 19 – Bianca
In all of my tears and confusion, I’m not sure how I made it back to my room. Or how I managed not to bawl my eyes out in front of everyone I passed on the way. But the moment I sag into my door, I slide to the floor. I sit there and sob. Lament my horrible luck.
My stupid belief that Jordan was different from the rest. You stupid, woman, you chose the wrong guy as a sub, I yell at myself. You fell for a pretty face and a dirty mouth.
I did it again.
There's no fool like an old fool.
My mind wanders to all the times Jordan said he was my good boy. Promised he would be. You lied! You made me think you were different. You made me think you were brave and proud of being with me. That you loved being dominated by me, but you didn’t. I gave parts of me to you that I’ve never given anyone ever. Parts of me I can never reclaim.
With these thoughts, I get up and start packing. Not just my pink bag, but my suitcase, too. As I pack, I do my best to catch my breath. To breathe through my tears and hiccups, but it’s hard. I barely manage.
“You were just ashamed of the whole thing. Ashamed of me.” I grit my teeth, remembering how I let him fuck me. Take my virginity. “You just did it to get in my holes, didn’t you? It wasn’t really about serving me or being a ‘good boy.’”
I pack the rest of my stuff, angrily jamming pieces of clothing into corners, pouches. I don’t fucking care where any of it goes. I’m so done with everything and everyone. With believing anything good will ever come to me and be for real.
“It was all about serving yourself. Your own selfish needs and kinks.” As I say this, I cry too hard to speak or move. I fall against my packed bags, wondering why Cupid has to be such a profound dick to me.
It’s around then I hear what I’ve been dreading and pining for. The sound of urgent, pained pounding on my door. It’s followed by Jordan’s equally pained and urgent voice.
“Bianca! Bianca, please open up!” He pounds on the door again. “Please let me talk to you. Let me explain. Let me make it right.” Despite hearing tears in his voice, I’m too angry and hurt to care.
“No!” I bellow, “go away, Jordan! Save your sob story for someone else.”
“Please, Bianca.” The crack in his voice makes him sound as though he’s about to be sentenced to death. Have his head chopped off. I know which one of his heads he deserves to have chopped off.
“Please! Just open the door.” He sobs. Choking on emotion. “Please, Bianca! Please let me explain. Let me make it right.”
Somewhere in his pitiful pleading, I find myself leaning against the door.
Without thinking, I open it and see his sad and sorry display. But only to chew him out to his face. For being a liar and a fraud.
My heart skids to a full stop. Ceases to beat for a few seconds.
The moment I open the door, he drops right to his knees in front of me. In front of a hallway full of people, including his friends.
More tears burn the edges of my eyes.
But I hold them back. I refuse to unravel in front of him. Refuse to show him what he’s done.
Shamelessly, he kneels at my door sobbing. His shoulders hunched. His head bowed. His hands face up on his thighs.
The moment he sees my shoes on the floor next to him, he shuffles forward. Bows even lower, kissing my feet. Crying into them.
“I’m sorry, Mistress. Whatever I did — whatever I didn’t say back there that you needed me to say — I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being such a coward. I’m sorry for not defending you the way you defended me.” He stares up at me, tears leaking out of his eyes like his spirit liquefied.
My traitorous heart reaches out to him, aching to go to him, but I snatch it back. I can’t allow him to hurt me again. I can’t fall for his lies. But his contrite words and actions begin to thaw my anger. My frustration. My disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Mistress. Please let me be your good boy again. Let me be good for you today and every day after this.” He brings his lips and face down to my shoes, drowning them in kisses.
“Punish me again, Mistress.” People’s mouths fall open at the word ‘punish’ but that doesn’t stop Jordan. He continues speaking, begging, pleading as if he and I are the only ones here. “Punish me for my bad behavior, so I can be the good boy I was.”
His eyes find mine. “Please, Bianca!” He sobs pitifully, like a little boy without his mother. “Without you, I’m nothing. I don’t care if I lose all my money tomorrow, along with my business. I can’t live life without you in it.” He gestures helplessly. “I love you.”
His words hit me like an atomic bomb of love. I take a few staggering steps back. Shocked by his declaration.
Dare I take a chance on him? Dare I believe him? Dare I trust him?
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you, I swear.”
He turns to face our audience.
“I love this woman. This strong, dominant, beautiful woman. She could tell me to ski naked, and I would. She could tell me to eat my food from a dog bowl, and I would. She could spank me and whip me with all her might and I would love her even more.”
The women in the group look visibly moved while the men look perplexed and bemused.
Jane delicately dabs her eyes and Alex hugs her close. Paul opens his mouth to say something, but Mariah grabs his hand and tells him to hush.
Jordan lifts his face to mine. The distraught sadness in his eyes shows me he’s throwing all he has and all he is into this moment.
My boy. My good, good boy.
I’ll make him pay dearly but for now, I take his hands and pull him to standing, then I smother his face in kisses.
“Come here, Jordan.” I hug him tightly soothing him. Quieting his tears, even as people still watch us from the hallway. “I love you too, you silly boy!” Now I’m the one who’s crying my eyes out. But not from anger this time. From pure joy. “I’m never letting you go after this.” With that, I kiss him again and run my fingers through his hair. “I don’t care if I have to put a collar and leash on you.”
“Please do,” Jordan says meekly.
I take him inside and close the door.
“Though you don’t have to worry," he promises, "I’m not leaving you. I’m never leaving you.” He kisses my hand the same way he did when we first met. “Even without a leash, I’d stay right by your side forever.”
“And I yours, sweet, sweet Jordan.”