Ineptitude
When Brie pulled up to the school the following night, she was overwhelmed by disappointment. Blue Eyes was still missing. She hadn’t been overly concerned on Monday when he hadn’t been at the door, but two days in a row seemed odd for him. Brie wondered if it was a rule that they couldn’t fraternize after an auction, or if Faelan was training extra hard now that his class was also coming to a close. Our last week… The thought depressed her.
She hurried to classroom forty-two, anxious to discover what unusual encounter Marquis had planned for her. Brie swung open the door and stopped cold. It was a kitchen.
Marquis stood beside the counter, along with Mary and Lea. “Running behind, Miss Bennett?”
She glanced up at the clock. Still five minutes early, but that seemed to mean nothing at this school. “Sorry, Marquis Gray.” She dutifully untied her corset, then set it to the side before kneeling in front of him. He ignored her, speaking to the other two girls instead.
“If you wish to be a full-time submissive, it will be expected that you can cook. You have heard the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Well, in your case, the way to a Dom’s good graces is through pleasing his discerning palate.”
Brie’s jaw dropped. Cooking? That was one area she had no talent for or interest in. She desperately wanted to question him on it, but would not be allowed to until he acknowledged her.
“Although we are only going to touch on the basics today, you should be able to produce a few exceptional dishes to please a variety of tastes. I shall start you off. Once you prove you have mastered this basic skill, you will move onto Master Anderson in room forty-eight. He is trained as a gourmet chef and will further your education.”
Marquis Gray walked over to Brie and placed his hand on her head. “Come join us, pearl, but re-dress. I do not want to see burns on those lovely breasts.”
Brie nodded, smiling inside. Marquis knew just how to tweak her ego.
There were five stoves in the large room. He directed her to the one closest to Lea’s. “You three will cook omelets for me.”
Mary raised her hand. “What if I don’t know how?”
“Do your best. I want to see the extent of your cooking knowledge.”
Brie groaned inside. This was not going to be pretty…
There was already a pan on the stove and a bunch of ingredients set in bowls. At least they had made it easy for her. Brie cracked a couple of eggs into the skillet and fished out the shells. She threw in a pat of butter and turned the stove on high. She remembered something about needing to sear the outside. While she waited, she sprinkled a little bacon, lots of cheese, and a touch of parsley for color. When the eggs started bubbling, she grabbed the spatula and attempted to turn it. The omelet would not come off the pan. She scraped the bottom, and noticed it was a little too brown. She took it off the burner and finished scraping the egg from the pan. It was a hot, scrambled mess.
“Please present your omelet attractively on the plate and give it to me,” Marquis instructed.
Brie looked over at Lea, who tilted her pan and let her omelet slip out onto the plate. At a little flick of her wrist before it was completely out, it folded neatly in two. Lea put a sprig of parsley and a thin wedge of twisted orange slice on the side for decoration. It was disgusting how easy she’d made it look!
Brie patted her brown scrambled eggs into the shape of an omelet and handed it to Marquis with her head bowed in shame. She took a quick glance at Mary’s plate and was relieved to see that hers was not much better.
All three girls stood before him as he tasted their work. He started with Lea’s first. “Nice color. Pleasing to the eye.” He cut off just the end and took a bite. After chewing it for a few seconds, he swallowed. “Good consistency; appropriate seasoning; nice ingredient choice. I really cannot help you further, Ms. Taylor. You may proceed to Master Anderson.”
Brie wanted to protest. She had been looking forward to spending time with her best friend. Instead, she had to watch Lea collect her thong at the door, slip it on and bow to Marquis before leaving.
Marquis Gray went for Mary’s next. He had a hard time cutting through it with his fork and did not look anxious to place the bite in his mouth. He chewed it for much longer than he had Lea’s and swallowed hard. “Rubbery. Way too much salt.” He addressed Mary directly. “Did I ask you for an omelet, Miss Wilson?”
“Yes, Marquis Gray.”
“Then why did you give me a fried egg?”
“I… Isn’t it an omelet?”
He pushed the plate away. “No. It is not.”
Brie trembled when he took her plate. He shook his head when he tried to cut it and it just fell apart. He looked hesitant as he put the forkful in his mouth, then spat the egg back onto the plate.
“Horribly burnt, inedible and no seasoning to speak of. What were you thinking, Miss Bennett?”
She burned with humiliation when she admitted, “I can’t cook.”
“Obviously, but have you never been in a kitchen?”
She stared at her feet when she answered, “My mom did all the cooking. I just kind of watched.”
“Did you learn nothing?”
It clawed at Brie’s insides to know she was a complete failure. She’d never thought for one second her cooking skills would play into her role as a submissive.
He walked over to the stove Lea had previously occupied. “I will instruct you both on how to make a decent omelet. Pay attention. I will not repeat myself.”
Mary looked over at Brie and shrugged. At least the two of them were in it together.
“First, you should get your pan heating on medium heat. To get a fluffy consistency, I separate the egg whites and whip them.” He was quick and precise as he cracked and separated three eggs. “Add a tablespoon of water and whip until it is incorporated. Then whip the egg yolks in a separate bowl, add a little salt and pepper to taste and fold the egg whites in gently.”
He showed the girls how to scoop from the bottom and fold it over the top of the whites. “Don’t over-fold or you will eliminate the air pockets you just created.” He put it down and put two pats of butter in the pan. “Take it off the heat while the butter melts. Once it is completely melted, you can put it back on. This prevents you burning the butter—a common mistake.”
He put the pan back on and poured the mixture into it. “Add your favorite ingredients. I personally like a touch of green onion and bacon. Wait until it starts to set and then swirl the pan around to cook the run-off, like so.” He swirled the runny eggs so that they met the side of the pan. “When they look almost done, sprinkle with cheese. Aged Gouda and Swiss cheese are my preferences. Once it is melted, you can plate.”
Marquis held up a dish and tilted the pan so the eggs slid out. Just like Lea, he did a little flip of the pan so that the omelet folded into a perfect half-moon. Brie was tempted to clap, it looked so pretty.
“I want you both to taste it. Specifically notice the texture, the seasoning, and the look of the cooked eggs. I expect you to duplicate it.”
Both girls took a fork and cut into his omelet. It was like cutting into a moist piece of cake. Brie took a bite and moaned in pleasure. Man, if she could cook like this her Dom would be kissing her feet…just before he commanded that she kneel and flogged her for a job well done.
“Begin.”
Brie gave Mary a wink. Now that she knew what she was doing, she would be out of here in no time. She followed his example of separating eggs, but went to dig out the shells.
“Throw it out. I will not eat shells,” Marquis snapped.
She poured them out and started again. After several tries, she had a shell-less concoction. She put the butter in and watched it melt. When she saw the butter turn brown, she realized she’d forgotten to take the pan off the heat.
“Start again.”
Brie sighed. Mary was already handing Marquis her second omelet. Brie held her breath while he tasted it. “Still rubber. Try again.” Looks like we’re cut from the same cloth, Mary.
The two continued through trial and error to replicate Marquis’ fluffy omelet. Brie could not get the hang of the wrist flip at the end and her omelets looked funky, but she was definitely improving—or so she thought.
Ten omelets later, Marquis snorted in disgust when they presented him with their attempts. “No!” He pushed the plate back to Brie. “Look, does that look golden or brown? Don’t even bother serving it. There is nothing more disgusting than burnt eggs.”
Brie went back to start a new one. She sighed at Mary when a shell fell in. She dumped the eggs and started again.
“There. That is close to the original. Do it again so that I know it’s not just a fluke.”
Brie watched in dismay as Mary started on her final omelet. She didn’t want to be the last one in the room.
Nothing about cooking came naturally to Brie. It was a mystery and even with instructions there was still a finesse she lacked, but she wasn’t going to let it stop her. Brie sprinkled the ingredients in and started twirling the pan. Too soon. She put it down and waited for the eggs to start bubbling. She kept glancing over at Mary, who suddenly seemed to know what she was doing.
The distraction caused Brie to brown the eggs and she had to throw the finished omelet away. She started afresh, groaning as Mary handed Marquis Gray her completed dish. He took a large forkful and chewed on it for several seconds. A smile spread across his face. “Acceptable. You may join Ms. Taylor in room forty-eight.”
Mary winked at Brie on the way out.
Oh, crap.
“Miss Bennett, now that Miss Wilson isn’t here to distract you, I trust you will succeed in cooking a simple egg dish.”
“Yes, Marquis Gray.”
Having all of the attention on her proved to be more pressure than she could handle. Marquis had to send out for more eggs. “Even if it takes all night, Miss Bennett, you will cook me the perfect omelet.”
Brie’s frustration grew as she failed omelet after omelet. It was painfully obvious cooking was not in her nature and she wanted to give up. However, Marquis would not hear of it. He was a formidable taskmaster, brutally honest and uncompromising. When she handed him her twenty-first attempt and he took a bite, he growled, “I will kill Thane for electing me for this assignment.”
It turned out that twenty-four was the magic number. “Although I am going to vomit, this is a good omelet.” He sighed and added, “Now make another.”
Brie wanted to cry with relief. She hurried to make another masterpiece. Three omelets later, he finally gave his seal of approval.
Marquis Gray looked up at the clock and shook his head. “You only have twenty-five minutes until your practicum.” He frowned and then stood up. “Unfortunately, there’s nothing else to be done,” he mumbled, as if to himself. Then, to Brie, he added, “Here, let me show you an easy pasta dish no one can decimate… Not even you.”
He collected premade noodles from the refrigerator and made a quick Italian dish consisting of freshly cut tomatoes, garlic, fresh basil and olive oil. Despite the simplicity of the ingredients, it was delectable—restaurant quality. The challenge for Brie was not making the tomato sauce, it was getting the noodles al dente. With just a few minutes to spare, Brie was able to present him with a satisfactory dish.
“You truly fail as a cook, Miss Bennett. In all my years of training I have never seen such ineptitude. I insist that you sign up for cooking lessons after this course.”
Brie bowed before him, mortified beyond belief, but she was grateful to be leaving the kitchen. “Thank you, Marquis Gray.”
“Leave. I must find a bucket to relieve myself of your cooking.”
“Where do I go, Master?”
He shook his head. “You are not allowed to call me Master after this.” He chuckled afterwards, so she figured he was joking. “Meet Master Anderson in room forty-eight.”
Brie’s heart sank. More cooking? “Beg your pardon, Marquis Gray, but I thought my practicum was starting.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “It is. You are spending the evening with Master Anderson. You will be joining him at the party he is hosting. Thank heavens the other two girls proved better cooks, or he would have nothing to serve.”
Brie made her way to Master Anderson. Her back tingled in remembrance of his masterful skill with the bullwhip. She wondered what to expect at the party. Would she be scrubbing toilets next?
She was surprised and disappointed that the other two girls were not in the room with the talented trainer. “Good evening, Miss Bennett.”
She remembered the ritual and readied to undress, but he told her, “There’s no time. Come bow before me.” She came over to him and offered the homage he was due. His deep voice reverberated in her loins. “You are a lovely thing. Stand up and serve your Master.”
She was grateful he didn’t comment on where she had been for the last two hours. Brie helped Master Anderson load up boxes of prepared food, then followed him to his car.
“Do you understand what will be asked of you tonight, Miss Bennett?”
“No, Master Anderson.”
On the drive to his place, he explained, “You will act as the gracious hostess. See to my guests’ food and beverage needs. Smile and move gracefully throughout the rooms as you care for my special guests. I want every eye on you. I want them to envy me for the beauty only I control.”
The way Master Anderson talked made her long to please him. “It will be my honor, Master Anderson.”
“Tonight I would prefer you to simply call me Master, young Brie.”
She thought it was funny that Marquis had forbidden her from using that title a short time earlier. “Yes, Master.”
When they got to his home, an old Victorian, he directed her to his bedroom. “Your clothes are laid out for you. Dress and return to me.”
Brie hurried to the door he’d pointed out. It was definitely a masculine bedroom, with a dark brown color scheme, a leather lounger, and sports equipment on the wall. If his decor was any indication, the man was heavily into rowing and archery.
He had chosen a formfitting black dress for her, along with fishnet hose and five-inch heels. She appreciated his thoughtfulness concerning the heels. She gratefully exchanged six-inch for five and sought out her Dom for the evening.
“Ah, my beauty. Come to your Master.”
Brie walked up to him and was taken by surprise when he grabbed her ass and pressed her against his waist. His massive arousal was easy to detect beneath his business suit. “I remember your courage, young Brie. It stirs your Master to think of it.”
She wanted to service his need and asked, “How may I please you, Master?”
Read more in Catch Me, the third book in the Brie's Submission Series.
