Docile Read online

  Feet pound up the stairs. I stand, supplies in hand, as Javier crosses the threshold. What’s he doing here at—I glance at the wall clock—midnight? But I don’t ask. I just pledged five hundred times not to be rude to guests. I won’t embarrass Alex twice in one night.

  Javier eyes me. “Head down,” he says. “Hands behind your back.”

  My breath catches in my throat. He’s so casual with Alex, the confidence of his tone surprises me. My skin prickles; I can only obey. I drop my eyes to the floor in front of me and clasp my hands behind my back.

  I can hear Javier rooting through Alex’s now-immaculate closet. I only hope he isn’t messing my work up so much that Alex thinks I didn’t finish cleaning. Drawers slide open and shut. Javier walks around to the bedside and digs through another.

  He moves behind me and pulls the chain out from my cuff. I hold still while he wraps it around my right wrist and secures it. The click makes my heart jump.

  The only time Alex has restrained me in the past six months was the other night, at the hotel, and that was because he wanted to, not because he needed to.

  Javier moves in front of me. “We won’t have you interrupting us again. Open your mouth.”

  Is Alex angry with me? I wrote the lines he told me to. He doesn’t usually get mad, afterwards. It’s discipline; it’s not personal.

  As soon as I part my lips, Javier forces a hard rubber bit between them. He pulls it tight between my teeth, trapping my tongue. Another lock clicks behind my head.

  What did I do wrong? I recount the past twenty-four hours, searching for any detail—any order I could have skimped on, any breach in my obedience. Wouldn’t Alex have lumped my punishment in with the five hundred lines? What’s so bad that he’s sent Javier to administer discipline, instead?

  Javier leads me over to the closet.

  Alex can’t even face me, himself. Probably because I interrupted him and Javier, earlier. How stupid of me. After all these months—after he’s taken such good care of me, after he took me to that beautiful hotel—I can’t even respect his personal life.

  “In here. Go.” Javier helps me into the confinement space.

  Alex has never bound me in here, before. And he always gives me the emergency button. Does Javier know? Does it matter?

  Heat rushes through my face, swelling at the corners of my eyes as I sink to my knees on the tile. Javier forces me down by the hair. My kneecaps dig into the floor. He pulls the top down, blotting out the remaining light. I barely fit in this position, and without my hands, my head bears the weight of my chest and shoulders.

  Javier gives a final shove above me and I wince. A lock clicks, holding the lid and me in place. A string of drool slides down the corner of my gagged mouth.

  “Alex!” Javier calls.

  Feet run up the steps. They exchange muffled conversation and laugh at jokes I can’t make out.

  I close my eyes in the dark and try to shift positions. I can’t. The dull pain in my face spreads throughout my head, slowly.

  Why did I play that note? Why didn’t I hold back? I only ever want Alex to be happy. He was happy with Javier. I interrupted his happiness, but I won’t again. Not after this.

  I deserve this.

  26

  ELISHA

  Cries and moans interrupt the silence—the first sounds in at least an hour.

  Wood creaks above me.

  I’m only his Docile. I have no right to comfort or attention. This punishment will make me remember that; Alex knows I need it. He always knows what’s best for me.

  27

  ELISHA

  I can’t resist the pressure on my bladder. Hot piss slides between my legs and runs a path to the little drain. After I just cleaned. I hope Alex doesn’t notice the smell.

  28

  ELISHA

  Heat sears my throat. My breath cracks my lips. I try to swallow, but my only saliva’s dried to the side of my face. Shouldn’t be much longer, now. Alex never leaves me in here for long. Then again, I’m usually better behaved.

  29

  ALEX

  Lips kiss up my chest. I run my hands through sleek hair, then bring soft lips to mine. They’re not Elisha’s.

  “Morning, sexy.”

  I open my eyes to Javier. Right, he spent the night. At least Tom will see him leaving. Unfortunately, he respects my privacy too much to tell the press. I sigh and stretch.

  Javier changes directions. His tongue darts out, flicking over my cock.

  “Mmm…” I relax back and let him suck me like one of Mariah’s Dociles.

  His head bobs up and down. He hums around my length, coaxing my morning arousal to its climax. I grip his hair and bend my knees, thrusting up to meet his pace.

  It’s not long before I come. Javier licks his lips and smiles up at me—not the light, happy smile I’m used to. It’s mischievous and dirty, like he wants to ravish me. But I have no intention of letting that happen.

  “How about some breakfast,” he says. “I’m starving.”

  I sit up, but he lays a hand on my chest. “Don’t get up. Doesn’t your Docile cook?”

  “Yeah, he does.” I look down: no trundle bed. And he certainly didn’t sleep in mine. “Elisha!” I call. He usually wakes up when I do, if not before. Come to think of it, I didn’t see him last night when we got home, either. I grab my phone off the nightstand and open his microchip app.

  I don’t even realize how fast my heart’s beating until his vitals show up normal. The GPS says he’s here. I plant my feet on the floor, pull on my underwear, and head for the stairs. He must’ve slept on the couch. Maybe he’s still asleep.

  “Elisha!” I hold the railing, overlooking the first floor. No sign.

  Javier rolls out of bed and joins me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He kisses the back of my shoulder and I jerk away. Something about the embrace makes my fingers flinch into fists. Just for a moment.

  “I’ll get him,” Javier says, still holding me. “Why don’t you get back in bed.”

  I stiffen. “How do you know where he is?”

  Javier slides his hand up the back of my thigh. I grab his wrist before he can reach my ass.

  “Easy, lover.” He holds his hands up in surrender.

  We are not lovers. This was our first date in almost a year, and just because we had sex doesn’t mean I feel close to him. Sure, he’s smart and attractive and wealthy, but he is quickly losing points for personality.

  “Where’s Elisha?” I release Javier’s hand.

  “If you get back in bed, I’ll get him.”

  I am not bargaining with this man in my own home regarding my own Docile. “How about you get him now, and then”—once I know where he is—“I’ll relax.” I give Javier my best fake smile.

  “Okay, okay.” He walks back into my room, still naked, holding his hands up so I know I’ve won. “I just put him away for the night. It’s no big deal.”

  I follow Javier. Put him away? Where’s away? There is no away. This is not Mariah’s house; I do not have Docile quarters.

  Javier walks over to my closet and slides the door aside.

  My bones are icicles.

  He kneels down and fidgets with the lock. “How do you get this thing open? Is there a key, or…”

  “Move.” I push Javier out of the way.

  This can’t be right. Please let this be a joke.

  30

  ELISHA

  A loud rapping sound wakes me. I shouldn’t have let myself sleep. It hurts more when I’m awake.

  Dim light floods the space. A lock clicks behind me.

  “Elisha, it’s me. It’s Alex.”

  Alex. How can I face him, after what I did? He must be furious. I’m such a disappointment.

  Pain shoots through my back as my arms fall to my sides. Pins prick my fingers back to life. The strap on my bit slackens, but the rubber sticks to my chapped lips. My skin rips, as it pulls from between my teeth. I shudder and groan.

 
“Into my arms, come on.”

  But my legs are cold and dead beneath me. Useless. Alex lifts me out of the cubby and carries me past Javier, to the bathroom.

  My arms are too stiff to hold on to him, so I press my face into the warmth of his bare chest. I’ll be anything Alex wants, even if that’s invisible.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “No, stop that.” Alex lowers me into the white ceramic tub, clothes and all. Warm water rushes down over my feet. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  I have to be honest with Alex, tell him how childish it was for me to interrupt his date. “I—” But dry coughs scrape my throat.

  “Shh, just relax.”

  The cold rim of a glass presses between my lips.

  “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

  I can’t swallow fast enough. Water dribbles over my chin and cools the bathwater around me. I gasp and wipe my mouth. “I wrote my lines. I didn’t get to show you, but I did.”

  “I told you to stop that.” Alex leans over the tub and presses a warm hand to my cheek. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

  I don’t know what to say. He never needs to apologize to me. It’s I who can’t live up to his expectations. It’s not his fault; it’s mine.

  31

  ALEX

  Javier leans against the bathroom door. “Guess we’re making our own breakfast.”

  I guide Elisha’s hands to the glass. “Hold this. Finish the whole thing.” As soon as I trust he won’t drop it, I stand and face Javier. “We are not making anything. You are lucky I don’t report you to the ODR for cruelty.”

  “For putting your Docile in his cage?”

  “I don’t keep him in a cage. He’s not a wild animal.”

  “Then where does he sleep?”

  I clench my jaw, glancing past Javier at my bed. The bed that has become our bed—mine and Elisha’s—until last night. Changing the sheets won’t erase that. I need a whole new fucking frame and mattress.

  “Holy shit.” Javier laughs. “You let him sleep in your bed, don’t you?”

  I don’t have to justify myself to him. Just because the Board approved his GenEcs, a year ago, doesn’t mean he’s someone, and I’m still Alexander Bishop III. I can do whatever the fuck I want with my own Docile.

  “What is that little cage even for?” he asks.

  “It’s not—” I lower my voice. “It’s not a cage. It’s a confinement space, and it’s for discipline.” It’s no use. My whole body flushes with rage. “Did you even look at the dimensions before you crammed him in there?’

  “I didn’t cram him; he went on his own.”

  “Probably because he’s trained to obey!” I lose control, shouting so loudly that Javier takes a few steps back. “How could he know you’d leave him in there overnight, when the most he’s spent inside is an hour?”

  “This is—I’d heard you were a little too into your Docile, but this…” Javier pulls his underwear and pants on.

  “Do you have any experience with Dociles? You must not. Especially not an off-med. Elisha must think he’s done something horrible to deserve eight hours in confinement. Fuck!”

  “I don’t have to work with Dociles to know they’re not my equals.”

  “No, Elisha’s better than you.”

  Javier rolls his eyes and slips his shoes on. “To think I was flattered when you called me again. The Dr. Alexander Bishop the Third giving me a second chance after he’d rejected so many others. I thought I might be the one to break through to you. But now…” He huffs a laugh. “Now, I know why you’re still single. You treat your Docile like your goddamn boyfriend.” Javier brushes past me, snatching up his tie and jacket.

  “I treat him however I want. He’s mine to do with as I please.”

  “That logic may work on the general public, but don’t insult my intelligence; we’re both men of science. It’s obvious what’s going on, here.”

  “That’s enough.” I do not need Javier to analyze my life. I’m perfectly capable.

  Javier runs his hands down his jacket, perking his pocket square. “You tried to train an off-med. And you gave it a good go; you did.”

  “I said that’s enough.”

  “But you failed. He’s trained you.”

  “Enough!” I slam my fist against the wall monitor. Shards of glass grind into my skin, where I hold the web of cracks together.

  Javier laughs.

  I drop my hand to my side. Pieces clatter to the floor. A big triangle of glass swings free and crashes.

  “If you’re half as smart as I think you are, you’ll send him off to your lab to live out the rest of his term. Forget about him before he—before you ruin your life.”

  I close my eyes.

  Javier’s feet pound down the steps. The elevator dings, opens, and closes.

  And I still can’t open my eyes. I want every cell that Javier’s left behind gone from this place. I hear his words as clear as if he’s here, still, feel them filling the room and pressing against my skin. Feel the weight of truth.

  32

  ELISHA

  Alex erupts into the bathroom and turns the faucet to full blast, washing red from his hand. He’s bleeding. Not so much that I need to rush for help. If he wants my help, he’ll ask. I am right where Alex wants me.

  “Elisha.”

  I turn my attention to where he kneels beside me. He has all of my attention for the rest of my life. “Yes?”

  “Were you listening to that?”

  The greatest thing I can give him is the truth. “It sounded like you were fighting, but I didn’t pay attention to your words—they’re not my business. I only heard something break.”

  “Okay.” Alex warms his hands, then holds them out to help me. “Let’s get you out of there.”

  When I stand, water rushes from where it soaked into my clothes. Alex peels them off with nimble fingers, one layer at a time, until I’m naked, then wraps a thick cotton towel around me. The pressure of his arms and the warmth of the towel comfort me. He dries my hair, examining it. His thumb grazes my brow.

  When I catch his eyes, they’re soft. Maybe a little sad. I don’t like when Alex is sad.

  Then, he whispers, “I can’t.”

  33

  ALEX

  When I was growing up, my parents taught me what was acceptable to say and do, and where, and with whom. I learned from my teachers and classmates, my friends and coworkers. I was trained to go from a Board meeting to Preakness to Mariah’s annual theme party in one day and not miss a beat. For thirty fucking years, I’ve banked acceptable behavior in my memory to pull from as required.

  So, I know it’s not my fault that I haven’t realized it until now—the words I can never think, much less say aloud.

  They’re unacceptable. Elisha and the truth cannot coexist in my life as I know it. And what’s more—fuck.

  What’s more, I’ve turned Elisha from a person who could return those words—those feelings—into a Docile who is incapable of doing so. The truth is moot. The words don’t even matter.

  “I can’t do this.” My fingers tremble as they smooth his hair. “I’m taking you back to your family.”

  Calmly, Elisha says, “I don’t get another visit for six months.”

  “You’re not visiting.” I fear if I utter another sound, I’ll be sick. I swallow, forcing down the rising lump in my throat. “You’re going home to stay. To live.”

  I can’t look at him. I press the towel into his hands and cross to my closet. Throwing the doors open, I scour for something to wear besides last night’s underwear.

  Behind me, Elisha doesn’t move.

  34

  ELISHA

  I take the knotted towel when he presses it into my grip. Somehow, I hold it. The air is too thick to pull into my lungs. Light-headedness settles and spreads until my skin tingles.

  Alex rummages through his closet. Picks out clothes. He’s getting dressed so he can take me
back to my family. What about my contract? My debt?

  Doesn’t he want me, anymore?

  “I don’t understand,” I say.

  But Alex doesn’t answer. He continues putting on his boots like I’m not even here. I won’t be, soon.

  I won’t be here.

  No.

  “Alex, please.”

  All he says is, “Get dressed.”

  “What should I wear?”

  “I don’t care.”

  Every day, Alex picks my clothes for me. If he doesn’t have time, he gives guidelines. Something tight, long sleeved, yellow, warm.

  I unravel the towel and fold it into a square. My stomach feels like I’ve drunk sour milk. If I move, I’ll throw up. If I speak—I open my mouth, but immediately close it. Alex doesn’t want me. Am I that much of a disappointment?

  “Please tell me what I’ve done wrong,” I say. “Please, and I’ll fix it. I will.”

  Alex removes a small leather suitcase from his closet and starts packing my clothes inside. He tosses a pair of underwear at me.

  “Put those on.”

  I slide the fabric slowly over my legs, drawing out every chance I have to please him.

  “And these.” Alex fires jeans and a tee shirt at me.

  I barely catch them.

  “Hurry up.” He robs me of my time. “Get your things; we’re going. Dial front desk.” He addresses me and the phone in the same breath. “I need a car. Five minutes.” He pauses. “End call.”

  I can’t. I can’t do this. My limbs stiffen and cramp. Pain slices through my chest. I can’t breathe. I’m going to pass out.

  I speak the one word that is supposed to stop the pain. “Midnight!”

  35

  ALEX

  It takes me a moment to realize he’s not referring to the time. He’s using his safeword. He’s never used it before. Doubt he would even if he should—not that I would ever hurt him. Probably just doesn’t understand. “I’m not touching you; why are you using your safeword?”