by Quin Zayne
Gripping her arm, he took her the dangling wrist cuffs and lowered them.
With only the slightest smile, he captured her wrists in his big hands and cuffed them.
He raised the chain until she dangled, scrambling with her tip toes to touch the floor.
“Beautiful. You are truly lovely.”
He drew one naked finger down her ribcage to her hip.
Oh, she wanted him to touch her pussy.
He shook his head slightly, as though he read her desire.
She blinked and he stood at a black cabinet she hadn’t noticed before.
He opened it and reached into the dark interior. The lights were at a dull glow, showing only his outline. A spot illuminated her naked body. Everything was designed for him.
His boots thudded across the black floor, coming closer.
A loud whistling swoosh reached her.
She gasped.
He approached her with a cane.
"Oh, no, no."
He stopped. He stepped back.
"I didn't mean it." Her voice came out hoarse, a croak in his dungeon.
"This is enough lesson for today. Understand it. I will do nothing to you that you don't want."
She swallowed hard and nodded, tears stinging. She wanted to plead with him to continue. Her pride wouldn't allow it.
Her swollen need kept her on edge. She shut her eyes, willing it to stop, for her trembling urge to subside.
Instead of begging him to touch her, she watched in silence, her breasts rising and falling as fast as when she ran.
Squinting, he squeezed the safety hooks on the cuffs, ending the tension on her body.
She missed the bondage as soon as he released her. A thing she'd never imagined liking had become comfortable. Exciting, wanted. He did that to her.
Her feet took her weight, easing her shoulders. All her muscles felt gravity’s pull. No flying for her today. All because she’d forgotten that she must obey.
She writhed, wishing he'd understand and raise her by her wrists again.
Turning her head to the side, hoping to hide her disappointment, the truth struck her. He knew. This, as with everything he did to her, was deliberate. Purposeful. He wanted her to feel this disappointment.
The thing he taught her was a valuable one. He wasn't a man who longed for a woman to scream no so he could be a violator. His objective was more difficult.
Her face burned as the knowledge suffused her with certainty. Damon wanted her to say yes. He would make her complicit in her subjugation. Play-acting wouldn't do it for him. He demanded that she desire his dominance. Nothing less than her willing surrender would satisfy him.
She lowered her wrists, left her arms danging.
Intent on his task, he unbuckled the leather restraints. The leather scent mingled with his natural musk. His fingers had small hairs behind the knuckles. His right hand bore a scar on the thumb. His fingers were long and thick, designed to wring pleasure out of her, to leave her panting and weak in the knees. His powerful arms and precise movements revealed him as a true master, a man who came into being to arouse, torment, inspire—and when he wished—to push desire past its limits.
She bit her lip, imagining what might happen, how it would be to be completely undone at his hands, how it would feel to be sated.
It would be the first time. Never had she had enough.
The forbidding expression made his eyes opaque to her. His nostrils flared as he clipped the cuffs back on the chain and sent them out of reach.
Her eyes followed their rise into the dark, but words failed her.
More than her own release, she ached to feel him lose himself in her. Who would he be if he lost control? If he ever stopped holding back, what would become of her?
Her darkest fantasies stabbed her between the legs as she longed for him to do.
His lips relaxed as he traced the faint marks on her wrists.
His bare touch electrified her.
Lips parting, legs parting, she willed his fingers to continue their path to her clit. His lips relaxed into a wolf grin as he rubbed her wrists with firm pressure.
She closed her eyes, his caring touch transporting her to a boneless state, a surrender to his care. He melted her and knew it.
Her body writhed as he passed his hand along her throat, over her heat, along her ribs and belly, and came to rest on her molten V. He held her there for three thunderous heartbeats.
“Go to your room and be good. Learn your lesson." His voice barely stirred the air.
There was nothing mocking in his tone. They'd reached a new accord. The next step in their dance depended on her. He rested that weight on her to make her squirm, to make her need him more, as if that were possible.
She held her breath. Sensing he was waiting, she licked her lips and forced herself to speak. "Yes, Damon."
He nodded. His hand withdrew its heat.
Shaking, she stretched her arms. Being free of his bondage didn't feel good. She was his now, a different person. His. His doll.
She'd been wrong that she could do this as an act and it wouldn't matter.
“Go ahead and dress.”
Numb, she walked to the negligee and slipped it on. It wafted over her hard nipples and desirous ass like a caress. She slipped into her sandals and buckled them, presenting them with her rear view, legs slightly spread.
The unspoken thing between them changed her every day. She pictured it, some huge creature with fangs, swallowing her essence, melding her being to his in cave shadows, deep below the earth. She belonged to him already. He didn't have to transform or train her to own her body and heart.
She cradled herself in her arms for a few heartbeats, knowing he was watching, knowing he knew she wished it were his arms around her.
A long breath escaped him.
Keeping her back to him, she smoothed the silky white fabric over her hips and adjusted the thin straps.
That small place inside where she hoped to resist him—even here, he touched her with dirty-hot precision. She craved him. A schoolgirl's intense hunger for the target of her first crush possessed her.
If she didn't master herself, she'd be lost.
He'd break her.
One hope made her raise her head high. She pirouetted to face him, the gown swirling around him like a ballroom dream. Standing in the center of his dungeon, she steeled herself. She wouldn't make mastering her easy for him. His intense masculine compulsion for the chase needed her to challenge him. If she was as easy to get as a dog's stuffed toy, he'd cast her away with contempt.
Stretching, reaching her fingertips toward the beams, and rising on her toes, her muscles eased and flexed, full of coiled power. She was strong, stronger than Damon Karl knew.
She'd give him a royal chose to satisfy the bloodthirsty beast he held bound inside. She'd make him exceed himself. She'd make him hooked. He'd admire how much she could take of his sadistic heart.
She'd make him hers.
Mindful, she lowered her eyes. Better that he not suspect the battle he had ahead of him. Keeping him unaware of how far she'd go, and reeling him in to her with surprise after surprise—that would make her victory all the sweeter.
“Get your rest. I have a treat for you tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir.” She would win. Now, she resolved from her heart, she'd win him along with the million. That million is mine. She said it strong inside her mind and walked in a posture of submission to her room.
Back within her suite, her sumptuous cage, she looked out over the jungle and the sparkling sea.
Abandoning all grace, she yanked the cruelly bridal garment off her body and cast it to the floor.
She was part of his hidden life now. Not an empty doll for him to fill, nor a marionette for him to control. She was a gift for him to unwrap layer by layer. She was a mystery for him to plumb to her depths—where he'd find his own depths and face his secrets.
She'd hold him to the most primal mystery—that core
that fascinated and bewitched. She'd capture him there within her as so many men feared—and desired.
Once she had him, she would not let go.
An unfamiliar black seabird rose over a sea-lapped rock, and the sun gilded its wings.
She'd learned her lesson.
She would not say no when he had her in his hands.
A smile transformed her face.
She'd control the pace. Not for her the fate of the toy a spoiled boy demanded for weeks, only to rip off the wrapping and cast it aside.
Day by day, step after step into the dark, she'd lure the predator in him into her. Give him taste after taste of what she could be to him— gain entry to his secret world as he thought he plundered hers.
You, Damon Karl, have met your match.
As she showered, she wondered at herself. A few days ago, she would have been cowed by his withdrawal, as he no doubt intended for her to be.
Her hand slipped over her belly and her fingers eased her eager clit. There, yes. Right there. Rocking on her hand, pressed against the shower wall, she lived her triumph: Damon's loss of control, his ravishing her, hard cock ramming into her, the complete come and expiation only she could give.
Yes, you bastard, slam-fuck me. Give me all you've got.
He did it, fucking like a wild man, howling and shooting inside her at last.
She came, quaking against the tiles, legs powerful, her lips drawn back in a feral grin as predatory as Damon's own.
Waves
His treat took her by surprise. Annalise had dressed her in a casual linen romper and white slip-on boat shoes with sunglasses and a wide brimmed straw hat. The generous application of sunblock completed the clue that she’d be spending the day outdoors. But this, this was a true treat.
She held onto her hat and smiled without effort at the view of endless sparkling sea. This was the first time she’d been on the sea in years. Relishing the feel of it, she gripped the rail, savoring the salt spray on her cheeks. It struck her as classy that he dressed his doll in a cute romper instead of a pin-up bikini for their outing. And damn, he looked fine in low-riding linen pants that showed he went commando and an open pale blue shirt flapping at his sculpted chest. Woof.
Damon widened his stance at the controls as the wind buffeted the boat.
She stood close to him, so near she caught his scent over the sea spray. The sea felt calm, but that could change fast. The man had the attentiveness of a seasoned sailor. Her palms felt clammy. Being with him on his boat felt more intimate than his dungeon by far.
“I’d like you to know—the event—.” He blew out a breath that made his lips pucker. “The mandatory gala, isn’t my idea of a good time. I agreed to it, because it’s how things are done in my family. High pressure, public proving grounds. I’m sorry to say the gorgons and others will be hoping you fail.”
“No problem.” With an effort, she kept from scrunching her face. Hell, she could handle it. It wasn’t that different than having all the other girls at a modeling call hoping you’d fail because each one wanted to be the one chosen. She’d pass this hurdle. Damon chose her. He must believe she could do this. “I’ve trained to fulfill your requirements. I’ll ace it.” She flashed him a confident smile.
“That’s the spirit.” He guided the boat past a rock covered in large black birds. A couple of them stood and flapped their wings.
“This boot camp experience ought to prepare me for anything,” she joked, not entirely joking.
“That’s the idea,” he responded, his big hand easy on the wheel, not joking at all. “Honestly, I’d like to blow it off. Not go at all. Stay here on my island and let the entire Karl storm blow itself away.” He eyed a distant cloud bank, as though checking for incoming rain clouds.
A current felt thick between them. She leaned closer to him, as though to speak over the wind, but really because she wanted to be closer. Her lips almost touched his ear. There, how do you like it, master man?
“What would happen if you did?”
“Did what?”
“Blew off the gala. Stayed here at the island instead of showing up for the big bash.”
He snorted. “Oh, not much. That level of defiance would only trigger the family equivalent of World War Two.” He cocked his head, pretending to think about it. “They’d name the new heir. I wouldn’t put it past them to summon the lawyers to do it on the spot. They might message their assistants to get the lawyers on it, and finalize the paperwork immediately after the event. The contenders are no doubt already panting in the wings, aching for my failure or demise.” He shaded his eyes and scanned the sea and sky. “That’s one of many reasons I like my remote stronghold. I’ve got multiple early warning systems, in case one of the pretenders to the throne opts to have me killed.”
“That’s dire.” She frowned, remembered she mustn’t create creases, and shaded her eyes, joining him in checking for who knows what. Weren’t there undetectable submarines? She wouldn’t ask. The day felt so idyllic, no point ruining it with too much reality—or paranoia, as the case may be. “I like how you put it. Pretenders to the throne.” She sputtered.
“I read a lot of history in college. This whole ‘vying for control of the empire’ drama reminds me of royal intrigue. In many times and places, from ancient Egypt to England, family members killed each other for a shot at the throne.”
“Heads of massive, tentacled megalomaniac business empires do seem to have a similar dynamic to royalty. I never thought about it much, what someone would go through to reach the top. How far he’d go to control international wealth and power.” She examined his face, keeping her smile in place, trying not to give away how much this made her wonder about him and his character. If a different member of his family was in line to inherit, would he be readying his harpoon or assassin team or whatever? Did anyone use poison rings anymore?
“The psychology of it is probably fascinating, for someone not poised over the stew pot.”
She laughed, more captivated by him than she wanted to be. When he was away from the villa, he exuded a boyish charm and playfulness. Maybe the boat brought it out of him. He looked so natural and at ease piloting her away from the island.
“Your boat is a wonderful refuge. Thank you for sharing it with me. She’s magnificent.”
“It’s a bachelor’s boat.” He gave her a crooked grin and ducked his whiskered chin.
“It’s beautiful.” She dared to run her palm lightly over his hand.
Drawing herself up to her full height, she pictured herself entering a ballroom on his arm, the two of them surrounded by his critical family and a battalion of the super rich and celebrities of all kinds. Taking a deep breath, she matched that image of herself, radiant, bejeweled, confident, with the joy she felt right now at his side. She snapped her fingers lightly, embedding the pairing in her mind. She’d call this up again and again every day, make this happiness her touchstone for facing each event in the trials ahead.
The determination of a First Lady transformed her face. She was Damon Karl’s Rose, and she would entrance his enemies. And his family, which apparently overlapped extensively with the people who wanted to see him fail.
Fingering her hair and shooting Damon a radiant smile, she gave her full attention to admiring his craft.
She ran her hand along the glossy wood and trailed her finger across the control panel.
“I’m glad you like her.” He grinned. “I’ve never seen a woman caress a boat before.”
“Love, love, love her,” she whispered in a throaty growl. “Boats mean a lot to me.”
“Have you been sailing much?” He adjusted his swelling cock.
“I used to go with my grandmother—she took over my grandfather’s fishing fleet when he died.” Her breath hitched. “Toward the end, I used to go out with my dad.” Her vision blurred. She still caught herself thinking of her life like a movie. The accident marked the end. Everything after their deaths didn’t have the same depth of reality
, not even being with Damon Karl on his boat. Perhaps especially not this magical boat road that made her feel so close to him. This was fairy tale stuff, or nightmare, depending how she felt about it at the moment.
She glanced into his eyes, caught that read-you-like-a-book attentive gaze, and hid in her hair. The uncooperative wind blew it away.
In the salty air with the amazing, white-capped turquoise sea, and the sea birds swooping—Damon so close he might touch her—this was the fairy tale. These moments made the uncertainties and discomforts worth it.
Never could she have imagined her life being like this.
The way he looked at her, it was as though he wanted to make her dreams come true. He could do it. He could give her anything.
She stroked the boat again with naked longing. Some day, she’d have her own boat. As soon as that million dollars was hers.
Lesson 3
The aftershocks her emotions during the boating excursion stayed with her through her lessons the next day. When Annalise arrived to dress her and take her to Damon in the dungeon, Mandy wasn’t ready.
Her grace had deserted her, and the attendant had difficult getting her into the simple, floor-length garment. This time, the sandals were flat, with colorful beads.
Her heart beat fast as a bird’s.
Analise stopped brushing her hair and squeezed her neck and shoulders. “It will be alright,” she whispered. “You have him. He’s completely taken with you.”
Although she knew it, and Damon had admitted his obsession, hearing the reserved Analise confirm it increased her confidence.
Still shaken, it wasn’t easy to make the long walk to the dungeon, not knowing which face of Damon awaited her. Would she find the sadist, the damaged, boy who longed to possess her, the conniving billionaire tied to a crazy family?
She forced herself to hold her head high and enter the dimly lit chamber.
As vulnerable as she felt, presenting herself to him in the sheer cream linen gown like a priestess of ancient Egypt wasn’t easy. At least the costume carried with it a sense of power, evoking a woman of mastery, not a doll.
