by Kitty Thomas
“I brought you dinner from the restaurant. Eat while I finish my paperwork.”
She sat on the bed and ate her meal while sneaking surreptitious glances at Anton. He really had no right to be that attractive. She wanted to ask how many women he was using like her, needed to know just how big his harem was, but she knew she wouldn’t broach the question. While the pain of the earlier spanking had faded, the humiliation hadn’t, and she didn’t want the lesson repeated.
Vivian found herself afraid of him now. A fear she should have felt more strongly from the beginning. He sat behind a cherry desk with a laptop propped open, the screen creating an eerie blue glow across the planes of his face. A pair of stylish reading glasses perched on his nose, making him look a little too GQ for someone who had recently had her chained in his bathtub.
Although his eyes never strayed from the screen, he knew when she’d finished. “Take the tray and dishes to the restaurant kitchen.”
“Dressed like this?”
He looked over the screen at her, a flicker of annoyance passing across his face. “We’re alone in the building. Everyone else has gone home. And if I let you get dressed first, you might not come back.”
Damn right I wouldn’t come back, Motherfucker.
Sensing the leash on his temper loosening, she got up and took the tray out with her. The lights in the building were off with the exception of small, round bulbs set near the floor, illuminating the way like the pinpricks of light in a movie theater aisle.
She could see the crowded streets outside the glass door and moved quickly through the shadows to avoid being seen.
When she returned, the laptop was closed with the glasses folded and lying on top of it. Anton lounged on the bed, wearing a smirk and nothing else.
Vivian swallowed convulsively.
“Come here,” he commanded.
She forced herself to move toward the bed, almost stumbling in the stupid shoes in her nervousness. Real sexy, Vivian.
He patted the bed beside him, and she sat, feeling awkward. “I’ve never done this with anyone else before.”
“Did I give you permission to speak?”
Her panicked eyes shot to his. Why had she relaxed her guard? Stupid. “No, Sir.”
He ran his fingers through her hair and around to the nape of her neck, gently kneading with one hand, then two. “Tell me Vivian, honestly. Do you intend to come back to me on Tuesday at our normally scheduled time?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Liar.”
She tensed. It was a lie, but she was afraid if she told the truth, he’d never let her leave that room. She had to get free of him before she could vow never to come back.
“Lie to me again, flower, and you will regret it. Do you intend to come back to me on Tuesday?”
She was silent for a full minute until his hand tightened on the back of her neck. “No, Sir.”
He laughed. “When I allow you to go home, you can make that decision. There are many days before Tuesday. You’ll want to use every one of them to make sure you’ve chosen the proper course.”
His hands moved to unhook her bra. She sat motionless as he slid the scrap of lace off her and gasped when his hungry mouth found the hollow of her throat, sucking and biting with such an intensity she couldn’t stop the little moan that left her mouth.
Vivian felt his reverberating chuckle against her neck. “You’ll be back,” he whispered, his lips moving to her ear. “You want the things I can make you feel too much.”
She was sure by now that she was finished playing with fire. Her justifications for returning over and over to Dome were weak and pathetic. Instead of playing the victim, why can’t I just own it?
She closed her eyes and imagined herself watching the scene from a distance, observing her body, docile, compliant. Like a doll. His doll. His filthy little fuck doll. She didn’t move to stroke or kiss him. She wouldn’t initiate a single thing, but she’d do whatever he told her to do.
“I shouldn’t go easy on you after your earlier disobedience. I warned you about me.”
Her breath caught, but she didn’t reply. She still wasn’t totally clear on his speech rules, and warped or not, she didn’t want to be the one in control. She relaxed as his hands moved to her front, arranging her, positioning her in the way he found attractive, tweaking her nipples into painful, hardened points.
And then she started crying, great heaving sobs that made her shoulders shake. It wasn’t the pain of what he was physically doing to her. It was something much deeper, something inside of her that was clawing desperately to get out and had only needed the smallest of catalysts. She waited for him to mock her weakness, but instead he turned her so he could look into her eyes. She pulled away.
“Don’t resist me, flower.”
Slowly, Vivian turned her face back to him. She was sure if she looked in the mirror, her eyes would be stark, needing something but knowing this wasn’t the right man to give it to her.
“Stand up, remove your panties, and bend over the bed with your palms flat on the surface.”
“Please Sir . . . I . . . ”
“This isn’t a negotiation.”
Was this his version of I’ll give you something to cry about? She got off the bed and moved to obey him. The lid of the trunk creaked open. Several items were shuffled around, until it was finally shut again.
Anton moved behind her. “Look at the bed. Don’t turn around.”
The pain that flared across her ass was so sharp she lost the ability to breathe for a moment. It seared through her, causing every nerve ending she had to twinge reflexively. What the fuck was he hitting her with? It was long, hard, and that was all the information she could process before the pain was back again.
The second crack made her cry out.
“Say, ‘Thank you, Sir. May I please have another?’ after each one.”
Vivian repeated the phrase, holding her body tense, waiting for the next blow.
It didn’t come. Instead, Anton’s hand brushed over skin, soothing the pain he’d just caused. Moments later, a warm tongue licked over the welt that had no doubt risen.
The tension eased and flowed out of her. Then another crack landed over the flesh that was now wet from his tongue. She screamed, then forced the words from her mouth. “Thank you, Sir. May I please have another?”
It seemed to go on forever, comfort and pain, until she was sobbing and could barely hold herself up. Her legs shook and her calves burned from standing in the heels.
She was crying for the pain, but also something more. She was crying for her own weakness, her pathological inability to seek out what she wanted in life. Staying with Michael though she was miserable, simply because he made her comfortable. Coming to Anton over and over and pretending it was about the blackmail. Because that made her comfortable, too, when nothing was her fault, when she was the victim.
“That was ten,” he finally said.
Only ten? She thought she was going to die. How could that only be ten?
“You can relax, now.”
She hadn’t realized how hard her arms had worked to hold herself the way he’d wanted her. She collapsed on the bed, the tears still coming unrestrained. It seemed nothing could shut off the flow of emotion now that the dam had burst.
She wanted to ask him why? What had she done? How had she deserved that? If he wanted her to come back, this sure as hell wasn’t the way to encourage it. As soon as she cleared the door, this madness was over. It had to be over.
The bed dipped next to her, and then he was stroking the burning welts and kissing them. Her face flamed as she felt her own wetness dripping down her thighs, soiling the bed.
Vivian jumped when his tongue probed inside her. A desperate mewl left her throat as he lapped up her juices. Why couldn’t this be Michael? Why did it have to be this twisted fucker who was holding her mentally hostage?
His weight lifted from the bed, and she found herself on her hands and knees. She didn
’t bother resisting when he slid inside her. She could hear the evidence of her arousal as he fucked her, his body thrusting into hers like an animal as she knelt on the bed, open and receptive. Unwilling to be anything but his vessel in that moment.
“You’ve got the tightest, sweetest little cunt.”
Every foul word that tripped off his tongue moved her one step closer to what she was sure would be the most shameful orgasm of her life. She gripped the sheets as her breathing became heavier.
“Be a good girl and come for me.”
His wicked voice sent her over the edge as her muscles clenched around him, milking him, greedily pulling his essence into her. She didn’t want to come after how he’d treated her, didn’t want to think about what that said about her. But she couldn’t stop the orgasm that tore through her, breaking down her ability to process anything beyond this moment.
When he’d finished, he rolled off of her, panting.
His accent was heavier when he spoke again. “Get dressed. I’ll see you Tuesday.”
Of all the arrogant, motherfucking . . .
In another set of circumstances, she would have thrown a shoe at him, but she’d already seen what he was willing to do to her and how little power she had to make him stop. She got dressed more quickly than she’d ever before managed, wanting nothing more than to hide her body from his view.
She didn’t bother to argue about Tuesday.
“Oh, and Vivian?”
She turned, the disgust shining out from her eyes. She was beyond the ability to mask it.
“You will masturbate every day between now and then. When you do, you will think only about the feel of the cane across your ass. I’ll ask when I see you. And I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Vivian slammed the door behind her, convinced she’d never see this monster again.
Michael had left the car for her to drive while he was away. She sat behind the wheel of the red BMW and cried some more. Her hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t get the key in the ignition. Finally, she gave up and laid her head over the steering wheel, trying to focus on breathing while she waited for her body to settle down.
Would things have gone differently if I’d just stripped like he’d asked the first time?
Of course not. He was an abusive monster. Now that she’d stopped shaking, she was aware of the pain of sitting. An incongruous smile curved her lips.
Pictures. Evidence.
There was no way Anton would convince Michael they were having an affair, even a kinky affair. No one would be able to look at the marks on her flesh and think that wasn’t abuse. Especially if she went to Michael first with photographic evidence.
And then what? Go back to stale sex once every few weeks with a man she couldn’t get off with? And the alternative? Being with someone like Anton? It wasn’t worth the risk.
She dug in her purse for her cell. Michael could have called while she was out. Suddenly she needed to hear the safety of his voice. But there was only one message. Vivian was surprised to find it was from her neighbor.
“Hey, I thought maybe we could hang out since Michael’s out of town. I don’t have classes tomorrow, so I rented a bunch of movies and made popcorn balls. Come over, or call.”
Vivian looked at the dash. It was eight thirty. She pressed the button to return the missed call.
Jewel answered on the third ring.
“I need something of greater substance than popcorn balls. Order us some Chinese?” Vivian’s anxiety had spiked so high her brain was sending fake hunger signals.
“Sure. Where were you?”
“Shopping. See you in a few.”
Vivian disconnected the call before Jewel could ask further questions. She got home as quickly as she could and changed clothes, including her underwear. She couldn’t stand to keep on anything she’d worn for Anton.
The mirror over the whirlpool tub proved too hard to resist. Her eyes widened as she took in the dark purple marks from the cane. They would be bruises soon. She ran her fingertips over the raised welts, then flipped her cell phone open and dialed Jewel’s number.
“I might be about forty more minutes. I’m going to take a quick bath.”
“No problem. I’ll keep your food warm.”
She’d had a long bath before going to Dome, but she felt so dirty. It was an emotional kind of grime that seeped to the outside.
“What’s wrong with me?” she said into the empty room. Her brain remained silent, refusing to supply an answer, despite the question ringing around for the millionth time.
Anton had humiliated her and hurt her. When he’d lain across the bed with that pompous smirk on his face, fully expecting to see her on Tuesday, she’d been so furious. But was she furious at him, or because her pussy had responded like a wind-up doll?
Most disturbing of all was the idea that he believed he held so much sway over her, she would return to him again. That the orgasm that rocked through her when she’d finally had his cock straining inside her walls, had been so amazing she’d forget or ignore the pain and humiliation he’d put her through.
Before she’d realized what she was doing, she’d pushed the button for the jets and pressed her clit against the spray. Vivian held onto the side of the tub as the pulsating water moved her toward another orgasm. And God help her, but she was thinking of Anton and the caning when she came.
The three yapping Yorkies greeted Vivian when she arrived at her neighbor’s house. With any luck her frenemy-turned-sanity-net would be able to distract her from thoughts of Anton and Tuesday looming on the horizon.
Jewel shooed the dogs away and ushered Vivian into the house.
“Your plate’s in the kitchen. I got extra egg rolls.”
“Thanks.” If she put on fifteen pounds maybe she could get Anton to get rid of her. If he told her never to come back, surely she hadn’t yet reached the level of stupidity to beg him to keep going.
She sat on the red leather sofa in the living room while the Yorkies became deathly still and quiet. They sat at her feet, staring at the plate on her lap. Waiting.
“Your dogs are fucking eerie.”
“I know. They’re shameless little beggars. You want me to lock them in the bathroom?”
An image of herself handcuffed in Anton’s bathroom only a few hours before, leaped into her mind.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll just ignore them.”
“They won’t jump on you or try to eat off your plate. At least I managed to train them that well.”
“What are we watching?”
“Okay, don’t judge, but I’ve been wanting to watch this movie forever. It’s about a legal secretary who gets spanked by her boss and . . . other things.”
“Umm . . . ”
“I said don’t judge.”
Vivian was sure her face was beet red. Had she been living in a bubble of denial? Was she surrounded by freaks? If so, I’m a freak, too, her inner voice chided.
Somehow she managed not to do or say anything to embarrass herself while the movie played. She shoveled the lo mein and egg rolls into her mouth without realizing she was eating them, her eyes glued to the screen.
When the credits rolled, Jewel sighed. “I would so be her.”
“Really?” Vivian tried to look nonchalant.
“Oh yes. Do you think Michael would ever do that sort of thing with you?”
“Hell and no are the words that come to mind.”
Jewel giggled, but Vivian couldn’t bring herself to smile. She would have been that girl too. She was becoming that girl. Maybe she’d always been that girl.
Maybe that was why, after the initial thrill of her relationship with Michael had worn off, her libido had completely shut down, and why it woke again at the most inappropriate times, with Michael, with Anton, even with the doctor.
“Are you okay?”
Vivian looked guiltily at the other woman, unsure how much of her inner turmoil her face had telegraphed.
“Fine. Lo
ok, can we call it an early night?”
“Sure. You’re sure you’re okay? The movie didn’t weird you out?”
Vivian shook her head. “I’m just tired. All the shopping.”
Jewel looked as if she’d push the issue. She was entirely too perceptive, and Vivian worried the cogs in her neighbor’s brain might start turning in a direction that would end far closer to the truth than she wanted to deal with.
EIGHT
By Saturday, Vivian could no longer cope with the jumbled mess her mind had become, and took a trip to the bookstore to buy a journal.
She had to get out what was inside her head. Every sordid detail. Every thought. Every fantasy. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have room in her brain for any normal thoughts. By Tuesday the journal was half-filled. She read what she’d written, then took a match to it and burned all the words away as if by doing so she could change her internal circuitry.
As Anton had requested, she masturbated every day while she thought about the caning. Each time it was easier to get off on the memory as she became more distanced from the emotions of the event. The fantasy became just one of many of the guilty, dark fantasies she’d indulged over the years. Much more frequently since going to Dome.
She could come in under five minutes now, though she’d developed a habit of dragging it out to make the orgasm stronger. Each time, the fantasy became more elaborate, went darker. It started with the caning, but it never ended there.
She found herself wondering how many of the things she fantasized about, Anton might actually do to her if she went back. Suddenly her world was filled with the
twisted possibilities of the things he would do and the things she’d submit to, to come just a little harder.
She’d given up the idea that she wasn’t going back. Whatever happened in that room, Anton would let her go when they were finished. When Michael returned, she’d end it.
Fuck the blackmail. She’d decided to leave her husband because the more she thought about the cane across her ass, the more she knew it was meant to be there and that Michael couldn’t give that to her.
