Dawn was just beginning to light the sky when the heavy mahogany doors opened, and a small woman with elfin features and a matching pixie cut of her white-blonde hair appeared on the sill. She wore a filmy green gown, and Sara immediately thought of her as a sprite, a Tinkerbelle come to life. The woman smiled and opened the door wider.

“Please come in, Lady Heather has been expecting you,” came the invitation. Grissom stepped forward first, ahead of her, and for a moment Sara hesitated but remembered in time that his role made it natural for him to do so. She followed him into the wide wood-paneled foyer and stood at his side, looking around discreetly as the sprite spoke again.

“I’m Ariel, Lady Heather’s Major-domo. This way to the lunarium, please—“ so saying, she led the way across the foyer to a door off the side of one staircase. Sara once again let Grissom lead the way, happy to do nothing more for the moment than follow. The Dominion was slightly intimidating but beautiful with its wood paneling and rich antiques; Sara shifted her suitcase from one hand to the other and tried not to let it bump into anything. They moved to the back of the mansion, finally reaching a pair of glass paneled doors.

The lunarium was on the ground floor; an airy room of tinted glass walls with a glass ceiling that opened onto the fading night sky. The furniture carried the night motif further; dark blue with silver stars on jacquard fabric, and the ornaments were in polished sterling silver. In the center of the room was a tea service set for four on matching midnight blue velvet; the dishes had silver stars along the rims. Candles lit the room.

A man and a woman were already in the room; the woman lounged on a sofa and was laughing softly, while the man stood near her, hands crossed behind his back, his smile deep and dimpled. Sara noticed the man was in a plain white shirt open at the neck to reveal a chain collar and black jeans. He was barefoot. The woman was striking in a floor-length off-grey cotton lace dress and a ruby stone rosary around her neck.

Grissom cleared his throat, and Sara watched as the woman rose to greet him, holding out her hands. Her expression was serious, and she rested her fingers against his for only a moment.

“Mr. Grissom,” she acknowledged gently. “I’m glad you came.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admitted softly. Sara watched them with a hot twist of something ugly deep in her stomach, and hated herself for it. Then the woman turned her gaze from Grissom to her so quickly that Sara flushed, feeling caught with the emotion on her face.

The woman drank her in, those mercilessly bright blue eyes taking stock of Sara from the top of her head to the toes of her sandals, sweeping over her long lines in careful consideration before coming back to meet Sara’s gaze. Lady Heather reached out her hands and automatically Sara held her own out, feeling it momentarily sandwiched between the other woman’s palms. Lady Heather’s touch was warm and strong.

“I have wanted to meet you for a very long time, Miss Sidle,” she purred gently. “I’m honored you accepted my invitation. Welcome to the Dominion.”

Sara glanced at Grissom, who nodded fractionally, then she cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

Lady Heather smiled again, and gestured to the table graciously. “We have much to discuss, so let me offer you tea while we do so. James?” This last was to the man, who shifted to pull out chairs.

Lady Heather sat and Sara noted that the man, James, remained standing behind their hostess and a little to her right, his hands still crossed behind him at the small of his back. 

Sara murmured her thanks and waited until Grissom was seated, then carefully sat herself at his right side. It felt odd to have someone standing instead of joining them at the table, but Sara understood and waited quietly as Grissom spoke up.

“Zara is here because she chooses to accept your invitation to learn more. I am pleased that she desires to do this and accept your offer on her behalf with two stipulations, Lady Heather.”

Lady Heather nodded, as if she’d expected this, and thoughtfully sipped her tea before speaking up. “Of course. Please tell me the provisos you need to make this a comfortable arrangement.”

Grissom’s jaw tightened fractionally under his beard and he paused a moment as he looked from Sara to Lady Heather. “First of all, if Zara chooses to stop and leave the Dominion, she may do so unimpeded and with no shame or regret. This lifestyle, while rewarding can have phases that are difficult and frightening and I insist that the mental and emotional welfare of my pet be your foremost consideration.”

For a moment no one spoke; Sara felt a hint of exasperation at Grissom’s over-protectiveness, but there was an answering serious expression on Lady Heather’s face as she set her tea down again. “Promised and pledged, Mr. Grissom. At any moment including this one, your lovely Zara is free to leave of her own choice.”

Grissom relaxed slightly and pushed his cup forward; automatically Sara took the small silver tongs and added two cubes in, then picked up the spoon and stirred it for him. She was proud of her own grace and unobtrusiveness in serving him; of demonstrating how perfect she could be at making Grissom look his best. Lady Heather smiled in acknowledgement, impressed. She leaned back a little. “And your second condition, Mr. Grissom?”

“That for the duration of her stay with you, Zara is to be treated with respect. Her submission is a chosen gift, not an assumption. No one shall touch her without permission from Zara herself.” Grissom replied, and although his tone was soft it was reinforced with steel. Sara looked at his hard expression and shivered, feeling that a command been given, not a request. Grissom looked more distant now, aloof and she felt the power of his personality rising through his normally calm demeanor. Lady Heather nodded again, this time with a slight frown on her face.

“Naturally. Zara is here to learn, not to serve . . . unless she chooses to do so.” her words were spoken lightly, but they too carried an implication, and this time Grissom nodded. Sara wasn’t sure what the underlying inference meant, but knew she had no way of asking at this point. Lady Heather looked at her directly, focusing on her to the exclusion of the two men in the room and Sara was struck a how similar the blue of her eyes was to Grissom’s.

“Miss Sidle, for the next two days you will be under my care and supervision; a responsibility I do not take lightly. How would you prefer to be addressed during our time together?”

Sara paused, aware that this choice would make an impact on the next two days. She considered the matter for a moment then spoke firmly. “Miss Zara. I would like to be called Miss Zara.”

“Very well then. Please allow James to take your bag up to your room and help you settle in.” Although her tone was mild Sara understood it was a directive and not a suggestion; she looked a Grissom who gave her a slight nod of affirmation. James picked up the suitcase and waited; Sara looked to him and then back to Grissom. Lady Heather spoke in a softer voice and they all rose from the table.

“You will have time to say your goodbyes in a few minutes.”

Once James and Sara left the room, Lady Heather turned her glance back to Grissom and tilted her head, letting her expression say a great deal. He met that gaze squarely, lifting his own chin a little in return.

“You never fail to surprise me, Mr. Grissom. Out of all the choices open to you, all the warm willing bodies ready to kneel down and kiss your shoes—and you select a tigress,” came her bemused observation.

“The heart knows when the search is over,” he quoted easily, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want easy, Lady Heather. I want her.”

“I can see that,” she countered, a softness coming into her steady stare, “It’s what you want of her that intrigues me.”

He said nothing, his silence eloquent. Lady Heather gave a slow shake of her head, and for once her smile was tinged with a little hurt. Carefully she circled around Grissom, finally returning to stand before him. “Just when I think I know you—I don’t. Who is this woman? Why does sending her here even for two days leave you looking like fish hooks are embedded into your skin?” She leaned closer, her voice dropping into the slow seductive whisper. “How hungry ARE you for the pain you want her to inflict?”

Grissom kept his gaze level, but the sudden chill over his expression made Lady Heather pull back cautiously. He looked past her to the door, and his voice was low. “Teach her what she wants. Let her choose. Two days. That’s all I can spare her.”

“Very well. I’ll have her until the night of the Cotillion, and return her to you then.” Lady Heather paused, “Mr. Grissom—“

He turned his gaze back to her and she gave a tiny sigh. “I can’t force the flower to bloom. At best I can tend the seed you’ve planted and let her own dark nature blossom.”

Grissom cocked his head in acknowledgement.

Lady Heather moved to one of the little carved ebony tables and picked up a house phone, speaking into it quietly. “Please bring Miss Zara down for her goodbyes now.” Hanging up, she walked to the door and looked over her shoulder at him, and this time her smile reached her eyes. “Love becomes you, Mr. Grissom.”

*** *** ***

Sara slipped in to the lunarium once more, feeling a little anxious despite her brave face. It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of anything particular thing here—she’d processed enough in her time as a CSI that nothing much truly shocked her anymore—but knowing she’d be facing the next few days alone in an alien environment made her a little jumpy.

Grissom looked up from the book he was examining as she moved towards him, his gaze so full of assurance and serenity that Sara paused, letting it settle over her like a blanket on her shoulders. She smiled. He set the book down and came over to her, flexing his shoulders for a moment, then sighed. “So I suppose this is goodbye, for a while.”

“A few days, yeah.” Sara cocked her head, but didn’t move to touch him; somehow it seemed important that she let him get used to the idea. Grissom shifted, brushing his cheek against hers in a slow gesture, intimate and gentle, and Sara savored the feel, the scent of him. She pressed her own cheek to his, turning to catch the corner of his mouth against hers.

Grissom stayed very still. When the moment passed, he straightened up again and took her shoulders into his hands, squeezing them very gently. “You are free, Zara. Stay or leave; the choice is yours. I will be waiting for you.”

Not trusting her voice, Sara nodded. She took his hand and turned it palm up, then lightly kissed the sensitive warm center of it, a gentle gesture of submission. Grissom blinked, honored. He smiled at her once more and slowly walked to the door of the lunarium, not looking back. When it closed behind him, Sara stood alone for a moment, fighting a shiver. She wandered over to the book Grissom had set down and looked at the cover: The Harem of Abdul Gasazi.

Sara smiled.

A knock on the door caught her attention, and she watched as James entered, followed by Lady Heather. She moved to the table again and gestured for Sara to sit. Both women did, and Lady Heather kept ramrod posture as she spoke. “And now it begins. Since it’s nearly six in the morning I assume you’re tired and need to sleep. Normally the Dominion isn’t open to clientele until after sunset, so you won’t be disturbed. The first item of business will be a tour of course—a more in-depth one than the average visitor gets—and after that we will spend time in the classroom.”

Sara nodded assimilating that for a moment, feeling it was a more than fair arrangement. Lady Heather laughed softly and when Sara looked up, the other woman smiled. “I’m pleased to have you here—it’s the first time I’ve had a chance to actually teach my art. Most of my employees have only rudimentary talents and transient interest in alternative lifestyles. I sense your curiosity is motivated by emotion, not money.”

“I’m here because it’s a good opportunity to learn,” Sara admitted easily.

Lady Heather nodded. “It is. Have you any idea what you’d like to know more about?”

Sara shook her head. “Not really. I’m not sure what sorts of things I’m expected to know.”

This seemed to amuse Lady Heather again; she motioned for James to move closer. “James, what do I expect you to know?”

“My lady. Um--You expect me to know how to tie knots and fasten bonds, how to select, use and clean play equipment, how to cater to your moods, how to find my zone, how to use my safe words, how to—“ he stopped when she lightly reached up and pressed a hand to his lips. He pinkened a little but Lady Heather smiled, clearly pleased at his reply.

“Very good. It’s always nice for a teacher to have a pet.”

Sara tried not to laugh, but James looked slightly embarrassed, and taking pity on him, Lady Heather affectionately slid a hand along his hip, patting it gently. “It was a perfect answer; I’m delighted.”

Looking at Sara, she added, “Several of those are things that I would be pleased to teach you in a few day’s time, if you so choose.”

“Good. That would be . . . good,” Sara agreed. Feeling a little bolder, she asked gently, “Um, and I should call you Lady Heather?”

The other woman nodded. “That is always acceptable and appropriate.” She cocked her head slightly and looked at Sara for a long moment, her smile slightly warmer. “In truth Miss Zara, you fascinate me. Not only can I see you are an extraordinary woman, I also sense you’re the last to realize it. James will see you to your rest, and we’ll come for you at a little after seven this evening. Please feel free to let us know if there is anything you need further. Sleep well, Miss Zara.”

Sara recognized the cordial dismissal for what it was, and followed James out of the lunarium once more, heading for the staircase and the cozy room on the third floor.

At the door to the room, Sara cleared her throat; James looked at her attentively.

“So you’re James. Are you a student of Lady Heather’s too?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he replied with a boyish smile. He looked altogether preppy, but older than the average boy toy, and Sara noted how he held a hint of a commanding presence of his own. “For the time being, I’m Lady Heather’s slave.”

“Isn’t that degrading?” Sara blurted before thinking about her words. She blushed instantly, but James gave a small sigh, his dark brown eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Perhaps the nomenclature is—servant isn’t quite right, and submissive is closer—but in actuality, no. It’s not degrading if it’s a choice.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put it that way. Really,” Sara tried to assure him. James gave a quick smile to show he understood, and spoke again.

“It’s all right. Tell me, what do you consider your position to be with Mr. Grissom?”

Sara blinked, and when she didn’t answer, James nodded, continuing. “Exactly. I think the only difference between us at the moment is that I’m not nearly as far along in practicing this . . . lifestyle as you probably are.”

“No. Really—I’m not into it . . . not full-time,” Sara mumbled, feeling both a sense of embarrassment and an odder one of relief. She realized she hadn’t been able to talk to anyone other than Grissom about this relationship choice since Grace Pachelli and Damian Kanahoe had left. James seemed to sense her mood; he gave an understanding sigh.

“Neither am I, but I take what opportunities I can. There’s the real world, and there’s 
. . . this. I’m just realizing now that for me to do well in the former, I require a bit of the latter.”

And that Sara understood, keenly. She flashed James a thankful smile, and they locked gazes, feeling a moment of soft wordless connection. He cleared his throat a little, and straightened up, giving her a little inclination of his head. “And on that note, I need to let you rest, as per my Lady’s orders. There’s a phone with extensions for various places throughout the Dominion. I’ll be back to escort you to dinner after seven. Sleep well.”

He left, his bare feet making no sound on the hallway carpet, and Sara watched him go before turning back to the room and looking around it again. Her gaze swept through it with both a professional and personal eye, noting the carefully selected antiques and soothing color scheme. Slowly she wandered to the bed and began to pull the chenille spread back, folding it neatly at the foot.

The room was small but spotless, with fresh lilies in a vase at the window, and filmy green curtains closing out the light. The botanical decorating scheme carried over in the mossy color of the carpet and the green and gold wallpaper with etched ferns curling on it. Sara carefully slipped out of her clothes and pulled on a big teeshirt, savoring the scent of Grissom. She stepped into the tiny bathroom and brushed her teeth, watching herself in an oval gilt-framed mirror flanked by real Boston ferns. After finishing up, Sara climbed into the bed and curled up under the covers, feeling a tension in the pit of her stomach.

After almost twenty minutes she couldn’t stand it, and got up. Carefully, she fished in the bottom of her suitcase and fished out a little velvet bag. When Sara tipped it into her hand, the white leather collar tumbled out, and she slipped it on, feeling a sense of relief.

She climbed back into bed and dropped off to sleep after a few minutes, her nose buried against the fabric of the shirt she wore.

*** *** ***

Grissom finished up the last of the vials, neatly labeling it in his strong printing, and then gave a little sigh. It had been a tedious job, but necessary, and he felt a faint satisfaction in knowing that his work would either confirm a lead or eliminate one. As he peeled off his latex gloves, he glanced at his watch to check the time, and noted it was after three in the afternoon. For a moment he debated setting his request for overtime on Ecklie’s desk and thought better of it—while Conrad was grudgingly fair about payment for the extra hours, it would come at the price of another snide remark about maverick attitudes.

He missed her. It didn’t seem fair that they’d only had one night together since his return from the consultation in Montana. Grissom knew he was being irritable and impatient with his coworkers just as he knew his attitude wasn’t their fault; nevertheless, he rankled a bit.

Not that it was Heather’s fault either—her intentions had been good, and the fundraiser was a noble cause—only the timing stank.

For a moment Grissom entertained the utterly insane thought of striding into the Dominion and quietly ordering Sara to his side. She would do it, but he knew how much it would wound her pride, and the price he would pay for that later would undo much of what they’d already achieved so far. Still, he grinned to himself, feeling a bit better and made his way to his office after sending the samples to the lab.

Once there, Grissom sat down and fished in his pocket for the invitation again, looking over the vellum paper and gilt-edges. Even as he assessed it through his professional gaze: 24 carat gold edging, privately pressed cloth paper excellent for prints and latent smears, handwriting done with a carbon steel nib over-dipped in genuine India ink—he noted the phrasing.

The Dominion of Las Vegas extends to you, Sir, this cordial invitation to the fifteenth Pirate Cotillion. This event will be held on Saturday, the twenty-fifth of March from nine o’clock in the evening until such time as you wish to retire. As an honored guest, you will be given the right to take part in the Slave parade and auction, the catered banquet and the branding ceremony.

RSVP

Under that he noted Lady Heather’s added note: I would be honored to instruct your new beloved as a guest for a few days prior if this is agreeable to the two of you.

Grissom was struck by her use of such an intimate and affectionate term instead of the usual choice: slave. He fought a sigh; Lady Heather was many things and intuitive was one of the foremost, despite the fact that they rarely communicated socially these days. Their connection was only a shadow of an association, but it was still enough to allow her this liberty with assumption.

A soft knock at his door brought his attention back to the here and now, and carefully Grissom re-pocketed the invitation before calling out, “Come in—“

Catherine sauntered in and gave him a pitying smile before parking one hip on his desk and looking over his paperwork. She sighed. “I saw you finished up Sara’s samples. Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” he replied, amused at her fishing expedition. Catherine was clearly curious and trying to be casual about it. Part of the exasperation and affection he felt for her centered on the fact that there was very little subterfuge with Ms. Willows—blunt suited her perfectly well. Catherine looked up at him and sighed.

“So what was it this time? More backtalk to Ecklie?”

“Conrad tends to provoke it,” Grissom pointed out, and Catherine arched one eyebrow, acknowledging the truth without a word. “The time off will do her good—she puts in more overtime than most of the day shift as it is.”

“True,” Catherine admitted. “But she’ll never get anywhere if she doesn’t learn the pecking order around here. You’ve got to take a firmer hand with her, Gil.”

Grissom kept a straight face, trying his best to stay impassive at this rebuke. The fleeting memory of spanking Sara with the baton, of the whipping sting of the birch stick striping her gorgeous ass came to mind and he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind.

“Cath—“

She spoke again, shoulder shrugging. “I hate to go Biblical on you, but spare the rod and spoil the child—“

He coughed, fighting the surge of absurd hilarity rising the back of his throat at her words, feeling the off-kilter sense of two realities colliding; Catherine leaned over and pounded him on the back. “You okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine. And trust me, Sara’s been disciplined.” Grissom commented as he cleared his throat.

Catherine’s face held polite disbelief. “If you say so.” She rose up and made her way to the door, turning back for a second to add, “But I’m telling you, Gil—that one definitely needs to know who’s the boss.”

*** *** ***

She was up and ready well before seven; when the knock came at the door Sara opened it quickly and looked into the deep brown eyes of James. He had changed into a black button-down shirt and his collar glittered in the light.

Sara smiled; hers was tucked safely under her pillow.

“Good timing,” James told her, “I’m here to take you to dinner.”

Sara grinned, and he smiled back, inclining his head to her as he stepped back to let her out of the room. She followed James down the staircase and around a series of corners somewhere along the second floor where he opened a glass door for her and she stepped into a little dining room done in gold and black. There was a buffet along one wall and little booths around the room where various people were eating dinner. Sara blinked, and James cleared his throat. “In-house dining for the staff and selected patrons. Lady Heather feels it promotes esprit de corps and cuts down on lost time commuting for dinner.”

“How very—efficient,” Sara observed. James let the way to a corner booth where Lady Heather was already seated; she looked up at the two of them and smiled.

“Miss Zara, I hope you rested well.”

“Yes, I did,” Sara replied, waiting a moment. Lady Heather gestured to the seat opposite her in the dark gold and black paneled booth and Sara sat. She could smell all sorts of appetizing scents, and felt her stomach rumble. Lady Heather looked up at James.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight Grilled Salmon, Tofu Stroganoff, Vegetable Medley and Sicilian Pizza,” he recited cheerfully. Lady Heather nodded to Sara, who considered the selections for a moment. “Medley please.”

“And I’ll have the salmon please, no butter, extra lemon. Wine, Miss Zara?”

Sara shook her head. “Water please.”

“I’ll have the same, thank you,” Lady Heather told her slave. James moved off and Sara looked back at Lady Heather, who gave her a wry smile. “Consider this the cafeteria of the Dominion. I’m nothing if not practical I suppose.”

“It’s pretty posh,” Sara observed, feeling both nervous and amused. Lady Heather was dressed in a sleek leather cat suit with silver buckles along her shoulders. She laced her fingers on the table and looked at Sara with a small smile before speaking up again.

“I think we’ll take the tour of the facilities after dinner, and you can get a feel of the different sorts of scenes and activities we provide here. I warn you, I have my own specialties and favorites, but I’m more than willing to work with you on whatever piques your interests. Do you have any preferences?”

Sara took a moment to think, and in that time James returned with the drinks, setting them before each woman. Lady Heather nodded, and without fanfare or fuss James knelt down next to her and sat back on his heels, his arms folded behind his back. He looked unexpectedly handsome, his classic features bearing a patient, almost self-amused expression. Lady Heather sipped her water.

“Miss Zara?”

“Oh! Um, I’m interested in some of the restraints. If I may ask, you mentioned specialties?”

“There you have it—restraints are actually one of mine. I have some measure of expertise in cuffs, shackles, plastic wrap, bandages and rope. Perhaps a few hours with the basics would be best.”

“No panty hose?” Sara blurted, amused at the little tone of pride in Lady Heather’s voice. She noticed how the woman reached out and stroked James’ shoulder in an absent gesture of affection.

“Panty hose are dangerous,” Lady Heather sighed. “When a submissive struggles, the knots in panty hose tend to tighten and become nearly impossible to undo.”

“I did not know that.” Sara blinked, and Lady Heather nodded.

“Oh yes, it’s definitely one of the most dangerous items people use. They forget that most hose stretches, and consequently they tie their submissives up too tightly and end up having to cut the bonds off when hands go purple and limbs fall asleep. Dangerous.”

Sara nodded, feeling an odd mix of respect and amusement, and for the first time she felt a sense of anticipation for the evening.