The Virgin

Nora sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I had a feeling this would happen. I’ll be right there.”

Groaning dramatically, she walked back into the room and slammed the door behind her. Søren was no longer on the bed, which meant this was shaping up to be the worst day ever.

“Michael won’t come out of his room.”

“Yes, I heard that,” Søren said. “Whose idea was it to throw a million-dollar wedding for a groom with social anxiety disorder?”

“The other groom.”

“Griffin should be flogged.”

“He will be. By me. And hard. But after I go get Michael out of his room,” she said, trying to figure out a plan of attack. “I’ll see you at the wedding. And after the wedding. And all night tonight.”

“Let me know if you need me.”

“You’re here,” she said. “That’s everything I need from you.”

She kissed him, which was a mistake because now she was really furious about not getting to fuck Søren into the ground. Later, she reminded herself. Plenty of time to fuck him and be fucked by him tonight.

Nora started out the door again but stopped, turned around and walked back into the room. She grabbed her toy bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Pray for me,” she said.

“Always, mistress,” Søren said. “And God speed.” She made it to Michael’s room and a small crowd that included his mother, his sister Erin, two of Griffin’s sisters-in-law, his cousin Claudia, and Juliette. They were pleading at the door, begging him to open it.

“Out of the way,” Nora said, snapping her fingers. The crowd parted like the Red Sea for her.

“We’ve been trying for an hour. He won’t come out,” Juliette said.

“Then I’ll go in.” Nora took a deep breath and slammed the side of her fist against the door so hard it shook on its hinges. “Michael Dimir, open this door for your mistress right now, or so help me God, I will pick the lock and use my entire shiny new set of scalpels on you, and there won’t be a safe word in the world that will save you.”

She paused. Everyone was silent. Then she heard soft footsteps. The door clicked open an inch.

Nora looked at the crowd gathered around the door and rolled her eyes.

Amateurs.

She slipped through the door, shutting and locking it behind her. She looked at Michael standing with his back to the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore flannel pajama pants and a blue-and-white Yorke College T-shirt. His hair was shaggy and touched his ears and his silver eyes were shadowed by the dark circles from a night of no sleep. Six weeks ago he’d turned twenty-one and ten days ago he’d graduated from college with honors. But right now he looked as young and as scared as he did the day she’d met him when he was a few days shy of sixteen with still-healing scars on his wrists.

“I can’t do it, Nora. I can’t handle all those people staring at me. Please don’t make me go out there.”

“My Angel.” Nora sighed. She took his handsome face in her hands and kissed him. Michael could do it and would do it. He was one of the bravest young men she’d ever known and loved. She simply needed to remind him of that. With her new riding crop, if necessary. Something told her it might be necessary.

She glanced at the clock. Griffin and Michael’s wedding was T-minus six hours and fifteen minutes. She had to get Groom A calmed down, bathed and dressed, herself bathed and dressed and an entire wedding party corralled.

But Michael was her top priority at the moment. Even higher than getting under Søren’s kilt, which was a close second.

Busy day ahead. Things to do. People to beat.

A Dominatrix’s work was never done.