Jessica was smart enough to understand the math, and he wanted her to know the details of his financials.
“Instead of spending forty-five grand a year on your tuition and losing that money,” Roman explained, “I bought the building, which has twenty units, each bringing in around eighteen hundred a month. So that’s thirty-six grand a month, minus the debt service and maintenance, minus ten percent for the management company—”
“Which he owns,” Marc interrupted.
“Of course. Anyway, I net about twenty grand a month on the property, which is two hundred and forty grand a year. More than enough to pay for anything you might need, including a master’s degree, if you’re so inclined.” Roman smiled at her, loving how she looked at him with such rapt attention, as if she were in class and taking notes.
Love. There was that word again, flitting through his mind with such ease. As if he hadn’t just gotten over Elisabeth. As if he wasn’t finally feeling whole again.
But it was all because of Jessica. Sweet, beautiful Jessica. Still, he didn’t know for sure that she would be able to satisfy some of his more sadistic leanings.
Tonight, they’d find out.
“You’re very generous, sir,” Jessica whispered.
“Speaking of, didn’t I buy you some sexy club-wear?” he asked, brushing a misbehaving lock of hair out of his eyes. “Wear the miniskirt, if you brought it.”
Jessica jumped up. “Sure did, sir. I’ll go get changed. Lauren, where should I go?”
Lauren stood from the couch. “I guess I’ll get changed too. You can use the guest room down there, if you’d like,” she said, pointing the way.
Jessica grabbed her bag and practically skipped along the corridor, her high heels making light clicking noises across the wood floor.
“She’s adorable,” Marc commented as the two men watched her go.
“She is that.”
“Is she as into you as you are into her?” he asked.
“It’s a good question. Her parents are visiting in a few days, and I’m wondering what she’ll do when they ask her to move back home.”
“Why would she give up living in your mansion and getting a free ride to college, just to go home?” Marc asked quietly.
“I need to make it slightly less pleasant for her, I think,” Roman said. “To prove to me that she absolutely wants to be with me, and not just my money.”
Marc leaned forward. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take her away until her parents come. Go camping, remove all the luxury, for starters,” Roman said.
He laughed. “Do you even like camping?”
“Not particularly, no. But I like Jessica, and this needs to be part of her training.”
“Is that it?”
Roman looked up as Mistress Lauren came back into the living room, dressed up in her Domme-wear, with thigh-high stiletto boots. “Hot,” he said, nodding appreciatively.
“Mine,” Marc laughed, pulling her back down to the couch next to him. “Roman’s filling me in on his latest sub.”
“Not my latest,” Roman said harshly. “She’s not just a notch on the bedpost or one in a long line of future subs. She wears my collar. I plan to keep her . . . indefinitely.”
Lauren raised her eyebrows. “And she has the same plans?”
“She seems to now, at least. But after the next few days, she may change her mind. We’ve been working together to give her a sexual response to pain. Orgasms during painful stimuli, that sort of thing. It’s working well. She practically comes when she sees the flogger now.”
Lauren grinned.
“But,” Roman said, “I need to see if she’ll submit to pure pain, without pleasure. This weekend I’ll be administering punishments without reward, and without any of the accoutrements of my wealth around us.”
“So you are worried about your money,” Marc said.
“Actually, she seems to be more concerned about it than I am. She’s constantly telling me I don’t have to buy her things, as if to convince herself more than me. I’m going to take her up on that. If she still wants to be with me after this, I’ll know I have a keeper. And then she’ll know too, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“Why not ease her into it more, if you really don’t want to lose her?” Lauren asked.
“Her parents are coming to visit in two days,” Marc said, filling her in on what she’d missed.
They quieted when they heard the guest room door open and Jessica’s footsteps coming up the hall.
“I’m ready, sir,” Jessica said, turning slowly to show off the outfit.
She wore a black leather miniskirt with fishnet stockings held up by a garter belt and a pink halter top with an open back, perfect for marking her without needing to remove her clothing. The diamond earrings Roman bought her shimmered in her earlobes. And the look all came together with his thick collar around her neck.
“Breathtaking,” Roman murmured.
He took her hand and stood next to her, her tiny frame seeming even more petite when she pressed her body next to his. Yes, he could get used to this—to her.
But would Jessica still want him when he stripped her of everything?
Jessica sat in the BAD Boys’ booth at WhipperSnapper with the whole crew. Elisabeth and Trevor, Lauren and Marc, and of course Roman. He was being super-sweet, putting his arm around her protectively and smiling nonstop.
“I don’t know where Roman Chase went,” Trevor joked, “or who this grinning imposter is, but I like him.”
“Fuck you, man,” Roman said, but he laughed.
Trevor winked at Jessica, and she felt warm inside, as if Trevor was complimenting her. Gone was the surly Roman she’d first seen prowling the club. Around her, he was happy, and kind.
She never, ever, ever wanted it to end.
“Come on, Jessica,” Roman said, pulling her out of the booth. “It’s our turn on the Saint Andrew’s Cross.”
The huge X-shaped cross was the main entertainment in the booth and bar area of the club, and patrons had been taking turns on it all evening.
“We’re going to show everyone how well you can take a caning for me, okay?” he asked.
The cane. He’d only given her a small taste of it, once, in his dungeon. It had hurt so badly she’d screamed, but he’d mitigated the suffering with an immediate orgasm, flooding her body with pleasure to drown out the pain. Here, he probably wouldn’t do that.
“Yes, sir.” She followed him onto the platform and waited for his orders.
“Take off your skirt, please,” he said.
She obeyed, grateful she wore a simple black thong underneath. The crowd applauded when her skirt hit the floor and she carefully stepped out of it. In her heels, fishnet stockings and garter belt, she felt extra-sexy, like all the men were watching her.
Roman came up to her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Where are we?”
“Green, sir.”
“Good girl. Now face the cross and put your arms up.”
As he cuffed her wrists to the wood, and then her ankles, she focused on breathing, and on making him proud.
She couldn’t see it, but she could hear from the sounds of the people watching that Roman had the cane in his hands now. Her pussy dampened with excitement, even though she was scared. Of what, though? The pain? Or of making a fool of herself, and by extension, Roman?
Both.
A whimper escaped her throat, and Roman laughed. “I haven’t touched you yet, sweetheart.”
“Sorry, sir.”
“I’m going to cane your pretty little ass in front of all of these people, and I don’t want you to make a sound. Any sound you make will add an extra strike, do you understand?”
Oh my God. She wasn’t allowed to make noise? The last time he caned her she’d screamed.<
br />
“Yes, sir.”
“Do I have your consent?”
“Of course, sir.” She smiled at that. She’d consent to anything, for him. Surely he knew that by now.
The sound of the cane slicing through the air sent a shiver of panic through her body, and she flinched before the cane even touched her. She couldn’t help but let out a high-pitched squeal behind clamped jaws.
“Adding another strike,” he said, and quickly hit her thighs, hard.
This time she remained silent, even though her thighs burned across that line as if he’d lit a match across her skin.
He reached his arm back, far, and she shut her eyes, focusing on not making any noise. The cane struck her across the ass again and she pressed her cheek against the wood, wishing she could bite into it.
“Good girl,” he whispered, and lit up her ass again, marking her right below the previous lick.
Tears sprung to her eyes as she held on to her cry. Again, and again he caned her, until she was sobbing profusely—but silently.
And suddenly, he stopped. He freed her ankle restraints first, and then her wrists. In front of everyone, he checked the skin on her ass, rubbing it with his large hands to soothe the pain.
“It’s okay, you can cry now,” he said, and pulled her into his arms as she finally let go and wept. “You did beautifully. You were incredible, submitting to me like that.”
Roman carried her off the platform, grabbing her leather skirt on the way to a quiet corner of the club. She didn’t know how long she sat on his lap, wrapped in his arms, letting him comfort her. Time had no meaning when they were together. It seemed to speed up or slow down depending on his will.
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, when her tears had dried.
“I have a question for you,” he said. “Do you like camping?”
What? “Um . . . I haven’t gone camping since I was a child.”
“Let’s go camping together. Just the two of us, alone in the woods. What do you think?”
Jessica smiled. “I’ll have you all to myself? No work interfering?”
“Yup. It’s warm out, we can sleep under the stars.”
“Sounds great, sir. It’ll be our last chance to be completely alone together before my parents come out to visit.”
“Exactly . . .” he said mysteriously. “How do you feel, now, Jessica? Are you ready to join the others at the booth? May I buy you a lemonade, or a cookie? Both?”
Jessica hugged him. “Yes and yes,” she laughed.
He helped her put her miniskirt back on, and she gasped as the tight leather caressed her freshly-caned flesh.
“Look what you’ve done to me,” he groaned, putting her hand to his groin so she could feel his hardness.
Well, she certainly wasn’t going to apologize for that. Instead, she winked, and walked with him back to his—their—booth. Somehow, after their scene on the cross together, she felt a warm wash of approval coming from everyone, as if she’d shown them all that yes, she deserved to wear Roman Chase’s collar.
She deserved to be here, at the BAD Boys’ booth. Living their lifestyle, doing what they did.
And damn, that cookie tasted good.
“I thought we were going to stay in Manhattan tonight, sir?” Jessica asked when they left the club, and Roman led her to a beat-up old Jeep out in the back parking lot.
“We are, but we’re leaving early to go camping upstate,” he said, opening the passenger door and giving her a boost up inside.
“I didn’t know you had a Jeep.”
“One of my landscapers, Emilio, is lending it to us,” Roman said. “He stocked it with firewood, sleeping bags, and his fishing gear for us.”
“You fish, sir?” Somehow she couldn’t picture Roman even getting dirty, much less gutting a smelly fish.
“Occasionally. About as often as I camp.” He grinned at her, pulling his hair out of the low ponytail he’d kept it in at the club. “Not often enough.”
“I’m . . . not really dressed to go camping, sir,” Jessica said, looking down at her heels and fishnet stockings. “I didn’t pack my overnight bag appropriately.”
“Not a problem. The Target in Harlem opens at eight.”
Target? Harlem? What happened to the man who only slept on one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets?
“That was very nice of Emilio to lend us his stuff,” Jessica murmured.
“I think I paid off the Jeep for him, actually,” Roman said with a grin. “So he was happy to help. That, and I told him to feel free to borrow the town car.”
“Ah, yes, then I doubt he’ll miss it,” Jessica laughed.
They pulled up in front of her old apartment building, and she followed Roman up the dingy stairs. He opened the door to her old studio apartment.
It was empty, save for the futon and mini-fridge she’d left behind, and the empty shelves.
Why was he keeping her studio vacant? Perhaps he wanted to have a place to send her back to if he changed his mind.
She looked around with a feeling of dread. The thin walls and low ceiling seemed to close in on them. Whenever she was with Roman, he was surrounded by space, by luxury. And yet strangely, he didn’t seem so out of place in his black T-shirt and jeans, even if those jeans did cost hundreds of dollars.
“Strip,” he said, and she did.
Naked before him, she knelt on the cold wood floor and kissed his boot. He smiled down at her and pulled his shirt off, his muscles rippling.
He leaned over and pulled the thin futon mattress off the frame, then pointed to the wooden slats. “Lie down.”
The wood was uncomfortable, but she obeyed, the wooden slats pressing into her skin. Still, her nipples tightened with arousal as she watched him take off his boots, his belt, and finally his jeans.
His cock sprung out, fully erect, so hard it was nearly purple.
“I like this futon,” he said. “So many ways to tie you down.”
Roman walked naked over to his bag and pulled out a long ball of rough-hewn twine. It looked scratchy and raw, nothing like the silk cords and leather cuffs he usually bound her with.
He spent the next hour slowly binding her, the twine chafing her sensitive skin. Her hair was tied to the wooden slats. Her legs, lewdly spread and secured. Her breasts were painfully bound, encircled with the rope.
Roman bit her nipples lightly, teasing her. “I could do anything to you, and you can’t move,” he said.
“Yes, sir. I want you to do anything. Anything, sir.”
Roman ran his fingers down her underarms, and she squealed at the tickling sensation, but was unable to move away, even a millimeter.
“Oh my God, sir, please,” she begged, but he tickled her more. Not being able to get away from his fingers made her pussy so wet, even though she hated being tickled.
Finally he stopped, and brought his head down to the juncture of her thighs. She sighed with pleasure as he gave her a lazy swipe with his tongue, making tiny circles around her clit, but not touching it, not giving her the direct pressure she’d need to come.
“Will you really submit to anything, Jessica?”
“Yes, sir. Please.”
“I’m trained to do piercings. I’ve done it many times. I’ve even pierced a woman’s clitoral hood before.” He pinched her clit to emphasize the point, and she gasped. “Did you know that?”
Holy shit. She had heard a rumor about that, but hadn’t taken it seriously. Tons of people at WhipperSnapper had piercings. She’d never thought too much about the actual process of being pierced.
“I’m scared, sir,” she whimpered.
“Then say no.”
Oh God, she didn’t want to say no. Not to Roman.
“My body is yours, sir.”
He licked her pussy some more, as if rewa
rding her for giving him permission to stick a needle into her body. Was he really going to do it? How much would it hurt?
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Roman said. “I came prepared. I considered doing it at the club, as a public declaration of our relationship, but then I decided a more private venue was appropriate.”
He looked her up and down, touching her face, her nose, her lips, her tongue even. He played with her nipples, and lower . . . lower, to her labia, and her clit.
“The only question is, what part of my slave do I want to pierce?”
Roman stopped as if lost in thought, and went back to licking her pussy—soft, lingering kisses on her sensitive flesh. She was so terrified, but so turned on. What was going to happen? He had complete control over her, he could do anything and she was helpless to move.
Just the thought brought on the crest of an orgasm, and as if he sensed it, he immediately pulled back.
“No orgasms for my slave this weekend. None at all.”
Her body tensed with need. How would she go the weekend without release?
“And if I beg you, Master? Will you let me come then?”
Roman smiled and shook his head. “No. You’ll just have to trust my training methods.”
Jessica tried to nod but her rope-bound hair left her head immobilized against the wooden slats. Once again her helplessness overwhelmed her senses, and her pussy clenched with excitement.
Roman took his time laying out his tools next to her. She gasped when he took out a knife and held it over her breast. What was happening?
But he merely cut her breast bindings, letting the blood flow back into her aching breasts. She moaned as he massaged them, rolling her breasts in his hands, pulling her nipples until they stood straight out.
“I’m going to pierce your nipples, Jessica, with your consent. Afterward, you’ll need to clean them every day with antibacterial soap, and rinse them well. Don’t touch them without washing your hands first. And I won’t be putting my mouth on them until they heal. Do you understand?”
A sheen of perspiration covered her forehead. “Wait! Sir—will I still be able to . . . to breastfeed, in the future?”
Enraptured Page 13
