Pandora's Pleasure: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

by Vanessa Fewings

  That video I’d seen of the ménage-a-trois rushed back into my thoughts, and I realized how nearly impossible it would be for me to endure being taken by two men at the same time. One man was more than enough.

  “Your cock is so deep,” I cried out.

  “And?”

  “I’m so wet!”

  “Good girl.”

  “It feels so good.” I squirmed furiously beneath him, my breasts rubbing against his hard chest.

  “Fight me, baby,” he growled. “Resist me.”

  My hips lifted with each thrust, welcoming more of him.

  His cock burrowed even deeper, causing me to arch and writhe and yell for more. I wanted to touch him.

  “Play with my clit,” I begged.

  Damien withdrew his length and I cried out at the loss of fullness, struck by the cruelty of him denying me what I’d grown accustomed to…what I deserved.

  He reached for the metal cuffs around my ankles and unhooked them. Damien sat up and then lifted my legs to pull me closer so that I was half laying on the bed and half on him, my thighs wrapped around his waist with my ankles together behind his back.

  His throbbing cock found my entrance again, shoving all the way inside and giving me what I begged for.

  His left hand eased apart my wet folds and his right finger vigorously flicked my clit, slowing down to move in a circular motion as my body welcomed his hard thrusts.

  It felt like my soul was being obliterated, the intense, blinding pleasure becoming unbearable, stealing the breath from my body.

  I finally caught air into my lungs and let out a scream, intoxicated by him and his masterful dominance. My thighs spread farther apart, my hips bouncing to demand a deeper fucking from him. Taking over, I pummeled him right back with my own frenzied thrusts, submerged in this wild place of insatiable need that drove me to pound myself against his cock as though only this would save me.

  I stared at his face as my frenzied movements began to slow, glimpsing in his eyes the pure lust he was feeling for this new me. For what I could become.

  My thighs trembled violently and I took in rasping breaths, rising from what felt like a dream, aware of Damien pulling out but too weak to demand he stay joined with me.

  I watched as he sat back and ripped off the condom, my thighs still splayed wide, soaking wet pussy throbbing and sore.

  His right hand tugged on his bulging cock, working himself with swift hard strokes, his expression contorted as though possessed by agony at the moment he shot a stream of cum over my pelvis in arches of white.

  A mask of dominance on his face, his gaze roamed over me with pride—the gift of his orgasm shimmering over me. His semen had anointed my skin.

  Am I yours now?

  Intoxicated by him, reeling from the delirium, I reveled in the beauty of this silent moment…the first true song of my heart.

  Bowing his head between my thighs, he planted a soft kiss upon my pussy.

  I drew a bath for her, letting the water flow over my hand as I allowed myself this respite from reality. The world and its constant demands could wait. That external forces ruled over internal needs was a lie I excelled at perpetuating.

  I needed this. I needed…her.

  Her taste lingered. Like the memory of peering down at her tight pussy clenching my cock. She’d given me her virginity. And I’d taught her the meaning of the clavis.

  It felt like oxygen was finally moving through this house again, through me. I’d been starved for the type of action that had just happened between us. I could feel the strain in my shoulders finally releasing, making my muscles less tense. My balls were no longer tight with need.

  From the wicker chair in the corner, Pandora sat waiting for the tub to fill, watching me as I added bath salts to the water. She was quiet—probably because of the profoundness of what this meant to her. This was more than aftercare. It was me making sure she had no regrets for giving me the gift of her innocence. Even if she was meant to be mine—a lie we’d lived with for too long.

  It was my job to help her work through any doubts so that when she left she was in a good headspace. What I’d revealed about myself was a lot to take in.

  Pandora had been methodically cultivated and refined, created for the sole purpose of being used as an asset. Highly educated abroad. Molded into social perfection. Released into the world on a pre-determined trajectory. Both of us were set to rise together to the highest office. Happiness had never been part of the equation; a happy marriage was a throw of the dice.

  Ten minutes ago, I’d freed her from the dungeon where I’d taken her for the first time. Beneath my handling she’d blossomed brilliantly. If anything, she’d shown an instant addiction to rough sex. Never had I seen such a profound response to pleasure before. A dark craving that had lain dormant waiting to be unleashed.

  Of course, tears could possibly follow such an experience, and I was ready for them.

  “Climb in,” I told her, helping her slip out of her bathrobe and guiding her into the large tub—all the while admiring her nakedness and the way she moved with grace as she sank into the water.

  She relaxed low in the tub, with her head peeking out above the water and her hair pinned up high, which somehow made her look even younger. The frown lines around her eyes were now gone.

  No doubt the endless orgasm she’d experienced with my cock buried deep inside her for the first time had left her body relaxed—her rapture captured on tape for posterity. My cock hardened with the memory of taking her for the first time, but she deserved to rest now.

  I’d be fucking Pandora into oblivion again soon enough.

  Disrobing, I climbed into the tub and settled down in the opposite end, the warmth soaking into my flesh and warming my bones. Breathing in the scent of sandalwood, I settled back with a sigh, admiring the beauty who could be mine permanently. A blonde pouty submissive, with a rousing interest in the lifestyle, proving she’d been hungry for more as she’d licked her lips while I’d jerked myself over her porcelain flesh to consecrate her.

  “Moving forward,” I said, “we should be open about our feelings. Think you’re up for that?”

  She looked at me coyly.

  “Shall I begin?” I coaxed.

  “Sure.”

  “What we do in this house has nothing to do with anyone but us.” I cupped a handful of bubbles and crushed them in my palm. “Tell no one.”

  “I promise.”

  “Let’s talk about what happened downstairs.”

  She looked relieved. “Does your family know you have that room?”

  “I meant what happened between you and me. And no, that room is private.”

  “I’ve had fantasies.”

  “Go on…”

  “Of doing those kinds of things.”

  “Any concerns?”

  She looked surprised. “Never. It was everything I thought it would be and more.”

  “I imagine you’re sore. Want some Tylenol?”

  She took a deep breath and I glimpsed a hint of pink nipple above the bubbles.

  “What’s the worst thing you do to your submissive?”

  Glancing away, I thought about how much I should reveal. “Tie you up. Hang you from the ceiling—” Fixing my glare back on her. “Engage my imagination.”

  “You use those devices?”

  I stared at her. “I have a fetish that involves seeing you…”

  “Scared?”

  “Vulnerable.”

  “In peril?”

  “Yes. And obedient to me.”

  “Will you take me to Vanguard?”

  “Where did you hear that name?”

  She dragged her teeth over her lips suggestively. “You have your demands. I have mine.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Madeline?”

  She rested her head back and slid into a knowing smile, a few stray locks swirled like sea creatures around her shoulders. She looked ethereal, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with yearnin
g.

  I’d been the one to awaken her.

  Sliding my leg between her thighs, I pressed my big toe against her clit.

  Her eyelids fluttered and her jaw went slack. Soft thighs widening as far as possible.

  “You like that?”

  She gave a nod.

  “Talk,” I coaxed her. “Tell me what you want.”

  That spark in her eyes revealed she had secret desires. “I want you to take me to Vanguard.”

  “What do you know?”

  “You go there. You do things.” She seemed lulled by the pressure of my toe against her sex. “I want to see.”

  “Madeline showed you some photos, I hear?”

  “I liked them.”

  “One condition.”

  She opened her eyes as though ready to hear it.

  “You go as my submissive.”

  “I want that.”

  “You must agree to do all I ask of you.”

  “What kinds of things?”

  “I’m talking of ways to protect you.”

  “What if we’re recognized?”

  “We’ll be wearing masks. The lights are dim at Vanguard. The events are different for each room.”

  “How do we choose which one to enter?”

  “I choose.”

  She reached down and held my foot between her thighs which was her way to keep my toe playing with her pussy. “I’ve been kept in a glass cage. Never allowed to do what my friends did. No sleep overs. No getting drunk. I literally had to beg for a library card.”

  I chuckled. “Did you get one?”

  “Eventually, but I’d trail in there with my father’s security detail and it got old.”

  “What kind of books were you searching out?”

  A blush rising on her cheeks.

  “Maybe it’s time to lock you back up in that glass cage, young lady,” I said sternly. “I can see you becoming trouble.”

  Her thighs splayed even more. “I want you to show me everything.”

  “Where would you like me to start?”

  She bit her lip suggestively. “Just take me over the edge.”

  The thought of taking her to Vanguard caused a torrent of euphoria to rush through me—the real me didn’t need to be hidden from her anymore.

  My toe rewarded Pandora’s clit, indulging her need for my brand of debauchery.

  Seemingly dazed, she was already gone, riding through a heady climax, her body shuddering and her breasts trembling, her pink nipples pert. Her soft sighs filled the room and then she screamed my name.

  “Take me to Vanguard as yours,” she begged a moment later, gasping. “Promise me you will.”

  “Not yet, but soon.”

  I’d never had the chance to look around Damien’s home. With nothing on me but one of his white shirts, I went exploring—my mind dragging me back to last night. To that room below.

  God, that room and all that went on within its walls. Those endless orgasms. Him taking me for the first time, making it as memorable as he’d promised. And that leisurely bath we’d shared during the wee hours.

  Afterwards, feeling shaky and overwhelmed with so many emotions, I’d let him take my hand and lead me to his bedroom. He’d climbed into bed beside me and pulled me close. Spooning, we had slept together all night.

  I’d woken up just after 7:00 A.M. to the sound of him showering, and decided to take a tour of the house.

  A rush of excitement hit me when I walked into his impressive study. I’d stepped inside the reflection of a man, noting the simple modern desk surrounded by tall shelves of books covering a wide range of subjects. Reading some of the titles, I recalled that Damien had studied history at Yale.

  He also had what looked like a full collection of Chuck Palahniuk novels on the far shelf, along with some Tom Clancy books, too. That was a nice surprise.

  “See anything you like?” Damien was leaning against the doorjamb, his hands around a large mug.

  He was already dressed in a white shirt and black slacks, looking so damn suave and fresh.

  The memory of what he did to me caused me to shiver.

  “I’m making myself at home.”

  “I can see that.” He softened it with a smile.

  “This is where it all happens for your dad’s campaign?”

  He shrugged. “Actually, I’m hardly ever here.”

  I gestured toward the books. “What is it they say?” I pivoted to look back at him. “If you don’t learn from the past, you’re destined to repeat it.”

  “We always fucking repeat it. Same story. Different decade.”

  “That sounds…”

  “The truth sucks, as they also say.” He winked.

  I smiled. “You went to Yale, right? I guess it was great.”

  “Well, you needed a bike to get around.”

  “I wanted to go to Brown University.”

  “You’d have fit in.”

  “What? No condescending retort, Damien?”

  “That was one. You’re privileged. Lots of your spoiled friends would have joined you there.” His smile faded. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to go.”

  “Were you raised by a strict governess? Because most of my friends were.”

  “Point taken.”

  “All my nightmares are set in my childhood home in Texas.” I’d never told anyone that before.

  He hesitated and then gave me a look of sympathy. “We’ll make up for it.”

  “How?”

  He came over and placed his arm around me, pulling me into a hug. His lips pressed down on my head with affection, his body firm and warm against mine. I breathed in his soft cologne, feeling protected.

  My escape plan was getting derailed by this man because he was becoming easier to be around. And I was craving more moments like this.

  Figuring out how to extract myself from this arrangement had always been a mystery. I’d never factored in the possibility that I might want to stay.

  It made me wonder if he sensed my scheming.

  “Come on.” He turned to go. “Let’s have breakfast.”

  We ate waffles and fruit at his round kitchen table while he read three newspapers at the same time, searching out stories printed on his dad.

  I sat opposite him, sipping orange juice and reading news articles on his iPad.

  He looked up knowingly. “It’s quicker for me this way.”

  “You discuss what you’ve read later with your dad?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Sure.” He slid a newspaper toward me. “Let me know the tone of what you read.”

  “Want to go see a play this week?” I asked.

  He dragged his eyes off an article. “Um…yes, when all of this is over.”

  “Are you going to keep me hidden?” I pressed my lips together in embarrassment for asking the question.

  “That was the plan.” He took a sip of coffee.

  This was like being punished for something I’d not done.

  Changing the subject, I said. “It’s like turning a tanker during a storm.”

  Damien raised his head and gave me his full attention. “You mean the campaign?”

  “Yes, you read these—” I rested a finger on an article. “You adjust your reaction by a fraction. Too much and you’re admitting truth in the situation. Not enough of a response—”

  “Could leave fractures that become fissures later.”

  “This article,” I said. “In The Atlantic. The Senator is being accused of being out of touch. We’re too close to the election for articles like this to be ignored. The Senator needs to press home he cares about the small things.”

  He gave a smile. “Valid observation.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Well, coming from you it’s…insightful.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “When was the last time you went shopping for anything other than designer bags?”

  “
That’s unfair.”

  “Go on, then, tell me the price of a gallon of milk.”

  “I’ve been advised it’s a security risk.”

  His brows narrowed. “To be amongst people?”

  “When was the last time you went food shopping?”

  “Yesterday.” He conceded with a nod. “I might have shaken a few hands while in Trader Joe’s.”

  “Made it a thing,” I jested.

  “I wore jeans and a baseball cap. Still…”

  I’d undone the last few minutes of conversation—reminding Damien I was more out of touch than anyone.

  “It’s not your fault, Pandora,” he said kindly. “You’re enlightened now. Once you wake up from the illusion of privilege you can choose to make a difference.”

  “I’ve always wanted to make a difference.”

  “I believe Salvatore Galante is bluffing.”

  “About my father?” I hesitated, remembering the rule.

  “Let’s continue to be seen in public.” He went back to reading a paper. “It’s perfectly reasonable for now.”

  Reaching for my juice, I brought it to my lips, my heart soaring. Despite facing the impossible we were still an item, which meant there was a chance for my dad. Pushing that thought aside, studying the way Damien’s intelligent eyes scanned over the papers, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by his staggering beauty.

  A ping went off on his phone and he dragged it toward him, his expression becoming pained. “I have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Downtown.” He pushed to his feet. “Let’s get you home. Don’t discuss what happened here last night, okay?”

  “You mean with my parents?” I smirked. “I thought that’s what our sex tape was for.”

  “Fuck off.” He grinned as he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair.

  “You fuck off,” I said just as playfully.

  He rounded the table and dipped his head to kiss me, his hand cupping my cheek, his mouth firm against mine. “Take your time getting dressed. Make yourself at home.”

  “You don’t mind?”

  “I like having you here.” He grabbed his wallet, phone and car keys and headed for the door, stopping for a beat before reaching the hall. “Pandora.”