Reveal Me Read online

  Reveal Me

  The Atlas Series (Book 3)

  Sappharia Mayer

  © 2020 by Eidyllio Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-64893-006-5

  Audiobook ISBN: 978-1-64893-008-9

  Print ISBN: 978-1-64893-007-2

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Plea from the Author

  Submit to Me- Chapter 1

  Submit to Me (The Atlas Collection Book 4)

  Also by Sappharia Mayer

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  "Throughout human history, there have been exchanges of power. These exchanges are conceptual and physical, both consensual and non-consensual, but those aren't the terms we use for them on a macro scale. The more recognizable terms are family, clan, community or repression, oppression, oligarchy, dictatorships. Each of these represents an exchange of power. Usually that exchange, in a societal concept, is used for safety, security, or to ensure certain needs are met in our own personal hierarchy. Over time they are encoded into the general societal contract and we forget the nature of the power exchange, translating it to the idea of tradition.

  "When we take this exact same concept down to the micro, individual and specific community level, we can see the same situations forming. Two, or more, entities in which basic power is inferred, choosing to exchange it by personal agreement." Professor Dominick Dawes pontificates from the stage in the mid-size lecture hall, which is currently full for his Sexuality Studies graduate seminar.

  I find a seat in the crowded room, on the back row, when a male student stands up and motions me over.

  The hall smells of a combination of coffee, perfume, and a crowd of bodies. The auditorium style hall's seats curve stadium style, rising from the small stage in the center.

  A student's hand shoots up to answer Dominick's question.

  "Yes, Angela?" Dominick acknowledges the girl.

  "Professor, why would anyone give up power?"

  "Good question, Angela. Would you like the answer at a macro or a micro level?"

  She sits there for a moment thinking. "A micro one."

  "Why are you paying money to be in this class?"

  "Because I need a degree and they told me I had to take this one or something like it."

  "And why do you need a degree, Angela?"

  "To get a better job and make more money."

  "And why do you need money?"

  "To survive. To pay for food, shelter, clothes."

  "And the designer handbags your parents won't buy you if you don’t go to class?” He nods to the Gucci bag on the floor.

  Her head nods lightly.

  "So you have entered into a power exchange agreement with your parents and negotiated the continued supply of the lifestyle to which you've become accustomed for as long as you go to school, maintain the appropriate grade, and ultimately get a degree. Correct?"

  "Well, when you put it like that," she huffs.

  "And who has the power in this exchange, Angela?"

  "My parents do. If they cut me off, I'll be lost."

  A smile crosses Dominick's face and he looks out across the room.

  "Now we understand how the basic concept of a power exchange is applied in the reality of our worlds. There is no exception in the most primal idea of sex. Often people find it very gratifying to overtly exchange power in a sexual relationship. It is the most personal form of trust and intimacy you can share with other human beings.

  “To actually exchange power conceptually, both parties must come to the table with their own power. So what exactly does that mean?"

  The room falls silent as Dominick's eyes search each person. His eyes land on me, his face clouding with a mixture of concern and irritation.

  "You, in the very back with the hat. Alexandra, I believe it is." He stares at me for a long minute, as if his eyes are deceiving him. The silence causes the entire class to turn toward me to see what has captivated the attention of their professor.

  "Sir, it means that all parties involved must actually know and understand themselves and the nature of the power exchange. In layman's terms, the dominant is driving the car while the submissive navigates. If they do not work in tandem and harmony, then at best, they will get nowhere fast and at worst they will irreparably damage the physical body or relationship. It's not about the abuse of power, which is non-consensual at its very base, but rather about the illusion of control, a place where one readily gives and one readily receives an action. The exchange, as in all exchanges, is in the allowing and participation by both parties."

  "Long winded as always, but a very accurate analogy." Dominick nods but his face grows sterner.

  The class continues to stare openly at me. The fascinator veil falls dark and low, creating a shadow over half my face. My tailored suit fits my body perfectly, presenting an out of place impeccable image.

  The interruption is a curiosity and the obvious personal knowledge between Dominick and me piques the interest of the entire class.

  "How does this power exchange change our understanding within the concept of sexuality studies?" He works to bring the class back forward, but I know what is coming next. Dominick could never resist walking the line, playing with his young class' curiosity in sexual studies.

  "It depends on the individuals involved," I comment aloud. "It could be that it is a fight for the right to participate in a desired activity. In other places, it could be the interruption of gender roles to provide more fluidity outside of the gender normative world. Then again, we could talk about feminist concepts of equality and gender rights, in what some would identify as a lack of power exchange. Or what about the reverse of 'traditional' power, the most common face of which is the Dominatrix and the submissive male or female," I say, inwardly cringing at the term that aroused stereotypes of women in lingerie and leather, impossibly high heels and wielding a whip, which ultimately has little to do with actually being a professional of the craft.

  Frustration crosses Dominick's face. I'm not the same controllable student I was when he took on my mentorship, outside the classroom, while I attended Boston University. It is also quite evident that something is wrong. He hasn't seen me dressed this way since I worked for him on the side, and even then I wouldn't dare go out in public.

  "I think that's enough for today. Due next class, find a power exchange and defend it or
refute it. Typed. Double spaced. APA styling," he says over the rustle of papers.

  I sit quietly, watching the students leave the lecture hall. It hasn't been all that long ago that I'd graced these same hallowed halls daily, in pursuit of a greater life. The turns and directions since were amazing and harrowing at times. Even I have to admit I'm not the same girl that left here. Yet I still feel there's something missing.

  The click of the phone's camera is barely audible when I look up, causing everything in me to freeze. This is the exact reason I'd worn this outfit. Just in case the constant click of cameras or video, which everyone seems to want to post for some inane reason, does show up, it won't alert anyone of my location.

  Everyone seems to have a camera these days. I hope with half my face in shadow the picture will not reveal who I am when it gets posted. There is no debate on "if" because no matter what, it will always be posted. Unfortunately, I'd not been able to prevent Dominick from calling my name. At least he'd called the one to match the outfit.

  Sitting in his class is a dumb risk. I needed something to give me comfort, and listening to Dominick's lecture always gave me solace. It was something about his baritone voice that made me feel secure.

  Dominick was my first dominant and trained me in the mental, physical, and emotional techniques of the trade. He was the father figure who gave me the ability to truly understand the underlying movements of the world, making all of my successes possible. In some ways, it also made my fall inevitable.

  For the last several weeks I was off the grid completely. No contact with my staff, my friends, or Reece. It's the only way I could ensure their safety on the heels of being stalked by a client and falling in love with a Dominant, causing an internal war of epic portions.

  Nothing in my life felt like my own, but I knew if Kade and Samantha hadn't yet tracked me down, then there was no way for Edmund to do it.

  I watch the hall clear. Students lingering in clusters, periodically looking my way and then conversing in low whispers. On the lecture stage, Dominick fields questions from several students, mostly female, who are all vying for his attention. Periodically his eyes lift, looking to make sure I am still waiting. The look in his eyes glues me to my seat. I remember the look. The one he always gave me when I crossed a line or broke a rule. Taking a deep breath, I wonder for the hundredth time if this is the most intelligent decision I’ve made today.

  When the room is cleared, except for a couple of small clusters of students loitering in the back corners of the hall, Dominick motions me to the stage. We stare at each other for a long moment. His eyebrow quirks in a question, and I know I've pushed my luck a bit too far.

  Deliberately I stand, smoothing invisible wrinkles in my suit to fortify my resolve. Everything in me is running on empty. Dominick is the one place where I hope I can hide quietly and recharge.

  Straightening up to my full height, I step purposefully and gracefully down each row. I look up to the stage when I reach the bottom. Dominick's eyes bore a hole right through me like my sins are open for his full examination. In every possible way, I've been analyzed and evaluated.

  "Come," he commands, motioning to the stage with his hand.

  My head drops slightly in practiced deference, and I make my way up the short staircase.

  He openly looks me up and down, as if he's calculating his next move, taking in all the information currently provided to him.

  "Something's wrong," he states.

  "Can't I just come visit? I was in the neighborhood..."

  "Stop. You can speak again when you can be honest with me," he says, turning on his heel.

  I follow. I know what is expected.

  We walk in silence across the stage, stepping out of the door from the lecture hall and down the long corridor toward his office.

  He unlocks the door and steps inside. The walls of his office are neatly arranged, with boxes marking their contents above the dark mahogany desk set against the wall of large windows. Shelves line two of the walls, full of books from floor to ceiling. I note the marks going down one leg of the desk. They were placed there for each strike I received when I didn't follow directions, broke a rule or generally needed an attitude adjustment. The line of marks runs from the top of the front of the leg to its bottom. My small initials are barely visible under the lip of the desktop.

  "Andrea, cancel my office hours. Something's come up unexpectedly and needs my immediate attention," he says into the phone. "I'll need you to cover the lecture on Thursday."

  He listens intently to the reply, turning his stern gaze in my direction. It is the same look he gave me right before I made one of the marks going down his desk leg.

  "Thank you, Andrea," he says cordially, placing the receiver down.

  Cautiously he turns to me, like I'll spook and run away if he moves too fast.

  "Does Kade know you're here?"

  "No."

  His eyebrow raises.

  "No, Sir," I amend.

  "Does Samantha know you’re here?"

  "No, Sir."

  "Does anyone know you’re here?"

  I shake my head, letting it fall forward.

  "No, Sir."

  Dominick runs a hand through his unruly salt and pepper hair in frustration. There is no doubt he is confused at my sudden presence and angry because he doesn't know why. He hates being out of control or outside the circle of knowledge, and in one fell swoop I've created both.

  "Did you pilot yourself?" He continues with the interrogation.

  "No, Sir."

  "Did you take a leave of absence from the PR firm and the club?"

  I shake my head, remembering how I’d set my phone on my desk and simply walked away. Guilt washes over me, but it was the only way I knew how to keep everyone safe. I'd already caused Reece's sister's campaign irreparable damage by keeping my secrets. At least this way Edmund couldn't stalk me here, and there'd be no reason for him to attack anyone else I loved.

  "I simply walked away without explanation," I admit, blowing out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

  Dominick nods. "I see."

  He grabs a couple of stacks of papers and places them in the leather messenger bag I'd given him when I decided to leave for Washington DC. The sight of it leaves me sentimentally torn.

  "Come on, girl. Let's get you home. It looks like we've got quite a bit to talk about," he says, walking out of his office. I follow without the need for a command.

  We are quiet on the drive from Boston University to Waltham. Each of us is lost in our own thoughts. Periodically he looks over at me, as if he's trying to figure out an enigmatic puzzle. When he parks outside his apartment, it's six in the evening. Lights blaze in the windows, and I feel like I've suddenly interrupted something. He switches off the engine, sitting quietly for a long moment before turning to me.

  "Why are you here, Atlas?"

  I stare down at my hands, just like I did when I was in school. My fingers knot together, and the emotions I've held down suddenly feel like they will volcanically erupt if I'm not careful.

  "I don't know. Right now I just feel scared and lost. After quite a long wander alone in the wilderness, the only place I wanted to go was home," I admit quietly.

  Dominick reaches over, taking one of my hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  "This isn't home, Atlas. Home is in DC, where your entire world can surround you and give you whatever you need. There's something big you’re not telling me, girl, but then again, you’re not telling anyone. Whatever it is, we'll figure it out together."

  I smile softly. Everything in me wants to believe him. Unfortunately, I am long past the moments where I think he's superhuman. Today, the world actually sits completely on my shoulders.

  "Before we go inside, I want to remind you the rules didn't change in your absence. Here, you are not my equal. You may stay under my roof, but you know the price," he states simply. "Do you agree to step back into that place?"

  "Yes, Sir."
>
  "Do you remember the signals and commands?"

  "I believe so," I reply honestly.

  "Then my home is open to you. Do you wish to proceed?"

  "Yes, Sir. Thank you," I say simply and watch him get out of the car and walk around to my door.

  Chapter Two

  When the door opens, I step out. My eyes look up at the large brownstone. This place is both familiar and nightmarish. Need drove me here, but I lack the internal understanding of why.

  Ahead of me, Dominick strides to the front door. There is no need for further conversation. I know I am to follow, and he knows I will. The surroundings penetrate my senses and I stand still for too long. At the top of the stairs, he looks down at me and raises an eyebrow. It is all I need to get moving.

  The heels of my shoes tap against the stairs as I rise toward the front door. He holds it open, I enter, and he steps in behind me. With unpracticed movements, I slip my shoes off beside the doorframe. Once the door closes behind me, I fall to my knees. Head up, eyes slightly cast down. Just enough to show deference and not too much that I would miss a silent command.

  "You dress as a Dominant. A place you relinquished when you entered my household on your knees. A house uniform sits on the bench beside you."

  The words are a statement of fact. In this place, I bow to the Master of the house. That is the way here. In many ways, he is still Master. Maybe a part of me still seeks it or maybe I've come to bury the skeletons. The thoughts run rampant through my head.