Dark Surrender

by Quin Zayne

  Somehow, she had to internalize a sense of privilege. Her ancestors were farmers and fishers. Everyone worked for a living. Fitting in with the high society set wasn’t going to be easy.

  She reached the landing and smoothed her gown and her face. Good thing he hadn’t laid this part of the task on her at the beginning. During her days in his villa, she’d gained confidence. As much as it rankled, his rare praise helped her believe she could pull off the role he needed her to play. Mentally, she added lessons in method acting to her list of studies for the day.

  Grasping the suite’s doorknob, she squared her shoulders and entered, girding for a marathon session of polishing herself into Rose.

  For all her turmoil about Damon, they’d become a team. Whether she agreed with his objective and methods or not, her path to one million dollars required flawless deceit.

  Bearding the Lion

  The day had passed pleasurably with helping Nicki in the village. She watched the supply boat arrive and felt with no desire to spy on it for an escape option. Despite the shock of Damon’s revelation of the role he had planned for her, having his agenda out in the open freed her to move on with accepting her place here. She drew a deep breath, and in the master’s life.

  The walk to and from the village had done her good, dissolving stress, and a long soak, manicure, pedicure, and full spa pampering session had eased all her cares. It was difficult to maintain anxiety through a long four-handed massage and soak in a private, deep hot tub over looking the turquoise Caribbean sea. The rare cocktail she allowed herself hadn’t hurt either. Pina colada with a delicate light rum.

  Even the corset compression didn’t bother her at all today. Her muscles felt warm, pampered. A life of luxury wasn’t all bad. She snickered at herself. One of the toughest part of this gig was the heady emotional swings. Damon liked to play hard with his toy.

  Thanks to all the relaxation, she’d gotten up her nerve to beard the lion in his den.

  Pleasure filled her as she passed priceless paintings and statues on the way down the lower hall.

  Her subtle surveillance of the villa’s master paid off. She cornered him in the library where he often read in the evening.

  She leveled her gaze at him. “It’s time you gave me more clues about what you want from me. It may not have occurred to you, but it was extreme of you to whisk me away from everything in my life and shut me up here on your island. I miss—I miss everything. You can at least explain yourself in more detail.” She spoke as sternly as one of her first good teachers.

  He blinked and put down his book. Moby Dick. Shrugging, he removed his reading glasses. The silver stubble was pronounced in the lamplight.

  He definitely hadn’t shaved.

  If bearding the lion was ever to be a literal thing, it would have to grow out to it’s former thick glory. She wouldn’t mind getting a grip on it and putting his face right where she wanted it.

  She allowed her gaze to linger on his jaw, and he leaned back in his throne, as though aware of her scrutiny and the reason for it.

  “Please have a seat. I realize all the secrecy hasn’t inspired confidence.”

  “Right.” Taking care to move with grace, she selected the seat directly across from him and crossed her legs high.

  His eyes followed her, taking a slow path from her high-healed sandals to her upper thighs. His tongue slipped along his lower lip.

  “In your position, I would probably have had similar concerns. I mean, who is this guy wanting to own you and change you? Why should you trust him?”

  “I’m glad you see my side of it.” She sat back in the sumptuous leather club chair and re-crossed her legs.

  “I have to see it from your side.”

  She cocked her head. “Why?”

  “I need you.” He gave one of his cat smiles. “One of my men created a new identity for you, complete with passport, driver’s license, school records, medical records, driving records—it was an enormous, sensitive, and essential undertaking. My family will scrutinize you in every particular. It wouldn’t do to have a fiancee they can reveal as a fake.”

  “Of course.” She clamped her teeth together. None of this occurred to her. She couldn’t have imagined any of it. The world she’d lived in didn’t include creating new, unassailable, priceless identities.

  “This is why I couldn’t allow you to return to your apartment or to tell anyone. Every detail must be unassailable. There must be no inadvertent cracks in your armor, and no way to trace your former identity to me.” His sigh blew her hair against her cheek. “My blood line is fixated on reproduction according to their standards. You’ll be presented as being from ‘good stock,’ but not from any high-profile family, so there will be no surprise that no one has heard of them.”

  “Right. Good thinking.”

  “I used your sad history, building that into your new background. It’s convenient we won’t have to add more players to the drama. You’re alone in the world, you’re my bride to be, they can like it or not.”

  “I see.” She did see. She saw that he was callous beyond reason. How convenient for him that her entire family was dead. Bastard.

  “In any case, the stipulations of my father’s demands will be fulfilled, and the business, the entire empire, will pass to me, instead of to my—competitor for the role. A person who excels at being a waste of space on the planet.”

  Vague memories of studying charts of royal dynasties came back to her.

  “You’re an only child.”

  “Yes.” His eyes flicked to the side. “That’s both a good thing and a curse when it comes to a dynasty of this magnitude. We’re too much like the ancient Egyptians and Romans for our own good, murdering each other to solidify our power.”

  He seemed utterly unaware of how arrogant that sounded, perhaps because it was true.

  “My role then, is to win over your family.”

  “In a way, although that’s not how I’d put it.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, there was enough performance pressure already. Biting her lip did no good. She asked. “How would you put it?”

  “Your role is to appear to be suitable breeding stock. Sorry to be so coarse, but that’s what it amounts to in the Karl family. You’ll be exquisite, poised, well-spoken, well-bred, deferential to the elders and charming to everyone. You’ll have no health problems, no skeletons in the closet, no scandals in the family—and as you required of me, no criminal history.”

  “You forgot to mention childbearing hips.”

  He laughed. “We’re going to have fun. The initial hurdles may be daunting, but I wouldn’t have chosen you if I didn’t believe you’d ace this. Don’t worry. You will charm their socks off. Even the gorgons will have to approve of you.”

  “The gorgons?”

  “My aunts.”

  She refused to ask him to elaborate. Maybe he was exaggerating. Her mind conjured up scary explanations for the nicknames. No point fueling anxiety with more details.

  “Let’s stop this now, Rose. Frowning is bad for your face. Go take a relaxing bath and read something entertaining. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

  Again, he was sending her away. She’d lost track of the nights of wondering if he’d come to her or order her to come to him. If this revealing white nightie couldn’t get him going, something was wrong. She rose and headed for the door, but stopped with her hand on the knob.

  He had already opened Moby Dick and appeared absorbed. Nettled at his lack of interest, she spun on him.

  “Isn’t this plan at odds with having me leave in two years?”

  His brows rose. He didn’t appear pleased.

  He stroked his chin. The bristles were getting longer. “Well, now. It’s a flexible contract. If you’re doing a good job and enjoying it, you may well accompany me in my role as president of the company.” He gave her a hard look. “Some women enjoy the role of society hostess. There’s a stimulating world and a great deal of power in
the pastimes of the top assets holders. You might thrive on attending galas, charity events, and traveling the world. Many wives find a passion in benefiting their favorite causes. There are benefits to the position. It would also benefit me, were you to find the position congenial.” He spoke slowly, as though considering the idea for the first time.

  She didn’t believe him. This was not a new line of thought for him. If he was plotting to make her his wife, he should have said so. Unless he wasn’t sure she’d match his requirements, and the entire process of transformation was one huge-ass audition. Irked, she risked crossing the line.

  “It certainly sounds as though that’s what you have in mind.”

  His chuckle sounded forced. “You’re bright. I like that. To be honest, most of the time, I see myself as a bachelor president. Your desertion of me prior to the wedding would make that a sympathetic role and relieve the family pressure to wed. However, were we to come to a beneficial understanding, we could extend the contract. After all, this is a significant investment—for both of us.”

  “The doll creation.”

  “Yes, the doll creation.”

  “I see.”

  “You’re doing beautifully. Because I’ll be one of the youngest company presidents in our history, having a photogenic fiancee would be a great asset. The Kennedy reign, Camelot, was immensely popular in no small part due to Jackie Kennedy’s charisma and style. Corporations have a great deal in common with governments. It’s a new era of immense international power. We Karls shape culture, creating trends in entertainment and every form of product people consume worldwide, from electronics to food. You’ll set fashion trends. You’ll direct attention to impoverished people who will benefit from your multinational influence. Decades have gone into making the public poorly educated and easily led. It’s a media show now, run on social media, pathetically enough. You’re poised to make a magnificent impact worldwide.” His eyes flashed.

  Beneath his words, she took in the message that stuck in her like a barbed hook. Although she was the chosen one of the applicants, he clearly did not consider her a photogenic fiancee. For that, he would continue to modify her at great expense and beyond recognition.

  He’d taken a stake to her self-esteem and hammered it home. How else could she take his words except as a pronouncement: ‘You aren’t good enough. You are clay for me to mold into a vessel that might be useful—after a lot of work to eradicate who you are and how you look.’

  “Excuse me.” She stumbled from the room, her ears roaring and tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Humiliating, but she supposed humiliation was part of the treatment. She ran up to the suite and locked the door behind her. She ached to run out of the villa, but that would be a bad move. Must keep the endgame in sight.

  She was here to become his doll, and so she would become his doll.

  Fuck how I felt about it.

  After crying, another thing struck her and she punched the extra pillow.

  To add to the insult, she was expendable. Once she’d played the part as the adoring fiance, she was free to go—and maintain the non-disclosure agreement. She’d probably have to undergo another round of transformations so she’d no longer be recognizable as Damon Karl’s heart-breaker fiancee. Unless he decided she was more convenient as wife material.

  Monster.

  She threw the pillow at the French doors. It fell short.

  What the hell torment would he dream up for her next?

  Bound

  She entered the library and found him seated in his favorite leather armchair. He gestured toward the chair across from him at the window.

  Ducking her head to signal her readiness for whatever he might require, she crossed the magnificent book-lined room to the chair.

  “Here, read this aloud in French.” He handed her a bilingual volume of poems by Baudelaire she’d left on a library table the night before.

  She read La Belle Dame Sans Merci, making her pronunciation flawless, her intonation cold. It was a fitting selection. From the way his eyes glittered, he must recognize the significance of her choice, the fact that a woman could be as cruel and powerful as a man.

  “Good. Arousing.” The corner of his lips twitched but didn’t arrive at a smile.

  One bit of slang French she learned in high school flashed through her mind, but she wouldn’t say it to him.

  Voiles voes coucher avec moi?

  ‘Do you want to go to bed with me?’

  Apparently not.

  Bad enough he made her recite a sexy author.

  His hot glance assessed her, lingering on her nipples, and rose to her face.

  There was an intriguing dynamic, that as much as he retained the upper hand, he relished her spirit. At least he didn’t want one of those passive airheads popularized in BDSM novels. She wasn’t cut out to act like a boot-wiper rug.

  One correction. You read too fast. You must learn to savor. Also, when we meet foreign dignitaries, you must listen and pace yourself to match their speed and cadence. It’s a simple way to build rapport. It’s worth noticing volume, as well. In some cultures, being loud is considered crass, in others, a soft voice may be interpreted as weaknesses. By now, you might have noticed that I rarely speak fast. To suit me, you ought to have savored the poem, making it a greater pleasure between the two of us. I have the ideal means to correct you and ensure it doesn’t happen again. Assume the position.”

  Annalise had drilled her on this, and so had her corset trainer. She straightened her back and grasped her elbows behind herself.

  He opened a drawer and withdrew a small, thin cane with a leather-wrapped handle. He whipped it through the air, and it whistled.

  A chill went through her, making her nipples jut out on her out-thrust breasts. The posture took practice and still made her ache.

  The bamboo switch's slicing pain made her gasp. Her eyes teared at the burning in both nipples at once.

  “I’m corrected, Sir.” Bowing her head, she went down on her knees to him. She wanted to avoid that slicing pain, keep it from ever happening again.

  “Yes, you are. That’s good, Rose. It won’t be necessary to strike you with this again, will it?” A small smile curved his lips.

  “No, Sir. Unless it pleases you to do it,” she added hastily, having studied sadistic scenes in his books in the library late at night.

  “Excellent. You’re progressing well, my Rose.” His thumb caressed her ear from the top to the lobe, and slowly stroked her jawline.

  He pressed his thumb into her mouth and she sucked it.

  The thickness and pressure of it went to her clit and the same time that the act of sucking took her to a primal place of pure orality. Her world narrowed to his thumb in her mouth. She lavished her tongue strokes on it as though it was his cock, and she suckled on it, pressing her lips with hunger, as though nursing at a teat.

  Going slowly, mindful of the lesson to slow her pace, she slid her lips to the base of his thumb with a rhythmic pressure.

  A moan escaped him.

  Releasing her elbows, she dared to take hold of his hand and massage the fingers, caressing and squeezing them as though her cunt was having its way with him at last.

  He watched her avidly, and she gave him a dirty show, glancing up at him through her lashes with her lust on full display.

  He gripped her hair in one hand at the base of her neck and fucked her roughly in the mouth with his thumb.

  “Come for me,” he ordered.

  Without question, she focused all her attention on her clit and hungry core and came so hard she pitched forward, gagging on his ramming thumb.

  He caught her and pulled her close, murmuring into the crown of her head.

  “Good, so good. You please me, my Rose. You must continue to do so.” He withdrew his thumb.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Remember this lesson. It will serve you well.”

  “I will.”

  He leaned forward, raised her face wi
th his fingertips, and gave her a soft, lingering kiss.

  She came again without meaning to. That was a kiss she’d longed for him to give her. She felt at last that his heart was in it.

  Locking with her eyes, he ran his rough fingertips lightly over her nipples. She moaned at the renewed burning.

  “Yes. Remember this.”

  He had skills in hurting her intolerably without leaving marks. She understood that without his having to explain it. In being quick on the uptake, she suspected she pleased him. He wanted to train her, and she would be easily trained. She was tougher than many people, but not when it came to unnecessary agony.

  Mandy wanted the comforts of life with a billionaire, the silk sheets, the luxurious clothing and deep baths, the massages and swimming pools, the yachts and private planes.

  Leaning close and inhaling the breath from her mouth, he brushed his fingertips feather-light across her nipples.

  She sucked her breath back from his mouth, and didn’t flinch.

  Damon no doubt had more personal pain in store for her, more than she could stand. To stay sane, she must discipline her mind. Focus on being good, and not think too much. If she thought too much on what she'd agreed to in becoming his, she might go mad.

  "Good. Much better. You do learn quickly." He ran his fingertip along her jaw line. She shuddered, but her traitor V creamed at his masterful touch. As skilled as he was at inflicting pain, he could give pleasure with equal finesse.

  A red burst of heat shocked her chest. A seed, growing so rapidly she gasped.

  She hated him.

  "Better. Now, come with me to the dungeon."

  Dread and desire warred in her. “But Sir, you said that was enough correction.”

  “Oh, we aren’t going to the dungeon for correction. This is for my pleasure.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Trembling, she accompanied him out of the library and down into his secret lair.

  As soon as the door shut, he stripped her.

  He seemed distant. Before, she’d wished he’d take her clothes off instead of ordering her to strip, now his methodical actions terrified her. He threw the negligee on a the anchored motorcycle, where it pooled like a discarded bridal veil.