“Taking care of you isn’t hard.” I squeezed his hand. He gave me one of those ‘I know you’re lying’ looks. But handing over Dad’s care to someone else admittedly made me nervous. After all, he’d always been there for me. When I was four, Mom went out to get her hair done with the girls, and she never returned. Dad had been my mother and father ever since. Sure, he’d tried to remarry, but working in homicide and raising a daughter had made it hard to socialize, and Dad’s line of work sometimes scared women off. I often told him I didn’t need another parent. He was all I needed.
He took both my hands in his. “Do this for you and me, Charlotte, please?”
I hadn’t told my dad the true nature of the job I’d be accepting with Dmitri Nichvalodov. Two days ago, my boss, a prominent sex therapist and well known billionaire, had propositioned me to be his mistress. Currently I was his secretary, and would remain so, but this promotion—if I could call it that—promised top of the line care for my father, and all my financial needs would be met by the generous salary. The feminist in me warred with the pragmatist, but for Dad I had to take this job. His care was growing difficult and would get pricier. There was no alternative. However, Dmirtri wasn’t hard on the eyes, so that was another added bonus.
“Okay.” I kissed Dad’s dry, papery soft forehead. “With your blessing, I’ll do this.”
***
5 Days Later
“What do you think, Mr. Hanson?” Dmitri gave my father that winning smile as I wheeled Dad up the pristine white corridor.
People in hospital scrubs and nurse shoes, or white coats and brown loafers, smiled as they passed by. Some nodded their greeting, while others, buried deep in some important thought, frowned down at clipboards and hurried on, oblivious to our presence.
“This is something else.” Dad’s eyes were wide like a kid’s as he spoke and looked around at everything. Floor to ceiling windows lined the hallway, giving us a spectacular view of the well kept, vibrant green grounds.
I stayed silent for the time being. Of course, Dad already adored Dmitri. They chatted like old pals in the limousine on our way to the care home. (Thank goodness that made sex a nil option, I’d thought, refusing to acknowledge the part of me that was disappointed by the inability to touch Dmitri’s chiseled pecs.) Dmitri asked Dad about his time on the force, compassionately inquired about the history of his illness (Dad had been a chain smoker, and our old place had been too close to a factory that pumped out regular air pollution). This guy was making all the right moves to win my father’s approval, and a part of me resented him for it. Smooth operator indeed.
After we got Dad all tucked into his new living space—which was twice the size of our old apartment—Dmitri tucked me back into the limo and told me we’d go shopping before he showed me to my new apartment.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, pinning me with those calculating, far too sexy eyes. “I took the liberty of choosing an apartment for you. It’s already furnished, but, of course, you can redecorate however you see fit.”
I gave him a curt “Thank you,” and he took my hand, holding it to his chest. My pulse betrayed me by pounding loudly in my ears.
“Are you angry with me, Charlotte?” He almost sounded amused, which made me more infuriated.
“If my father knew the true nature of my employment, he wouldn’t be so happy to hand me over to you.”
“I see.” He moved closer and his muscled leg flexed against mine. “So you feel manipulated?”
I whirled on him then, unable to hold back my surly mood. “What do you think? Of course I feel manipulated. Then, today, you turn on the charm and manipulate my father. Make him think he’s your new best friend—”
“I genuinely enjoyed your father’s company.” His stare froze the remainder of this retort in my throat. “If you think I’m being manipulative, you’re wrong, my dear. I never say or do things I don’t mean.”
I tried not to wilt from his scrutiny, which also held obvious erotic intent. My fingers fluttered to the throat of my blouse and played with the top button. I had to swallow twice before I could speak again. “Why didn’t we visit your mother today?”
His face stiffened, grew sad. “Mom is in the late stages of Alzheimer’s. I won’t lie to you, Charlotte, it’s difficult for even me to see her that way some days. I thought, with you just placing your father in the home, you might not want any extra emotional upheaval.” Then he brought my knuckles to his lips and swept a kiss over them, which sent direct heat to my loins. “I promise you will meet her, though.”
He watched me with that heated emerald gaze as his tongue slithered over my pinky. I clenched my teeth and tried not to react to this intimate gesture. But my reserved attitude seemed to only fuel his desire, for he took the whole finger in his mouth and made love to it like he had done to my lips and body. Finally I couldn’t stifle a moan.
“You possess good control, Mistress.” His voice dropped to a deep baritone that made my stomach and pussy clench tight. “That’ll come in handy when we’re in the dungeon tonight.”
He kissed and slowly licked a trail from my fingers up my wrist, and up my arm. Goosebumps raised from the gentle caress of his soft, full lips and hot tongue. I let out a tiny whimper, and he gave a throaty chuckle as he pulled me into his lap.
His tongue slid over my parted lips and I momentarily forgot to breathe. Thick, strong fingers combed my hair and pulled free my ponytail, so my mass of hair tumbled around my face. He clutched at my tresses and gave me another molten appraisal before his lips crushed against mine. I wanted to moan into his kiss, but I held back, kept control, and settled for a gentle sigh as his tongue teased mine into submission.
Big hands roamed all over my back, squeezing and kneading my skin until it burned hot from his hungry touch. His tongue grazed my teeth, his teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I closed my eyes as sensation took over. Soon those big hands stroked a sensuous path to my front, then long fingers eased up the hem of my skirt. I felt a flush of embarrassment when they slid under the hem of my bargain bin cotton panties.
“We’ll get you real lingerie first,” he whispered against my lips. “Lace and silk will look positively lovely on you.”
I had no reply but another whimper, as his fingers parted my damp pussy lips and he thoroughly explored, thoroughly stroked, every tender part of my vagina. I was soon a writhing mass, and I could feel his erection digging into my ass through his pants.
He teased my quivering hole with gently prodding fingers. I tried to free his long, straight black hair from its braid, but he stopped me and wagged a finger in my face. “Uh-uh. I only get to touch this time. Consider this training for your first dungeon experience later.”
My pussy throbbed harder at his words. My skin, now invaded with stimuli, became like an electric livewire. I panted and pressed my lips to his cheek as he rolled my clit between his thumb and index finger. He bit hard at my neck and I couldn’t keep from crying out.
“Hush, my love.” He pressed a finger to my lips. “Or the driver will hear us. Be a good girl and keep it all inside.” His smile was positively wicked.
He worked every inch of my cunt until I was a wriggling mass. Then, just as I was about to come, he pulled his fingers from my panties, straightened my skirt, and deposited me back beside him. Anger, frustration, and horniness robbed me of words. I simply stared at him, blinking slowly while touching my puffy mouth.
“Not yet, darling.” He caressed my cheek. “You need to get used to coming when I tell you that you can. I’ll grant you satisfaction later.”
Every part of me wanted to slam my small fists into that proud nose of his. Instead I cleared my throat, tried to calm my thrumming body, and listened while he tapped on the divider to let the driver know there’d be a detour in our destination.
***
About fifteen minutes later, we arrived at a very exclusive lingerie boutique. The store was long and narrow, shaped like an ‘I’, and a beautiful brune
tte with an artfully made up face stood behind the single counter at the front. She gave a knowing smile to Dmitri when we walked in, and I felt as exposed as if I wore only the frilly material on display instead of my best skirt and blouse.
“After this,” Dmitri said from behind me, “we’ll get you a whole new wardrobe.”
Was he implying he disapproved of my clothes? Don’t be stupid, Charlotte, I scolded myself. I didn’t want to over think his words right then. I already felt like a hare snared in a trap as he placed a protective hand around my waist. He led me toward the back of the store, where I scanned some items with him. The prices, for garments that looked like they’d been spun from little more than spider webs, nearly made me choke.
“Where’s the discount rack?” I blurted, and felt a fool when Dmitri had to stifle a chuckle at me. Bastard.
“My dear, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Choose any, and all, items you wish.”
I must’ve given him a crestfallen look. I’d never really bought any fancy lingerie before. He might as well have told me to pick out fishing gear.
“Here.” His face softened with obvious sympathy. “Let me help you decide.”
But his goodwill gesture only fanned my embarrassment as he selected ruby satin bras, scarlet wisps of thong, and a rainbow color of intimate garments he piled into my outstretched arms. Choosing sexy apparel with a man who looked like he just walked out of a Hollywood movie wasn’t something I did often.
“Where are the change rooms?” I hated how my voice cracked from nerves.
“Follow me.” He beckoned with a finger.
I watched the way his suit coat tightened across his board back as he walked ahead. Dear me, I thought, women could think with their genitals, too, and I definitely thought with my vagina a bit too much around this man.
Instead of leading me to the change rooms, we walked past the row of ornately carved wooden doors that indicated them, and we stopped in the far end of the boutique. Embroidered, antique chairs sat in a wide circle, and placed between the chairs were four full length, pewter framed mirrors. They offered an uncompromising view of my body when Dmitri set me in the center of this circle and pulled back. I didn’t care for the exposing eyeful.
He plucked the pile of frothy underwear from my arms, set them on a chair, and said, “Now, Mistress, display yourself for me.”
I looked to the lingerie, gawked at him. “Excuse me?”
He laughed softly and I almost hated him for it. “Charlotte.” My hands were swallowed up in his large paws. “You have a beautiful body. You shouldn’t worry.”
“Someone will see me,” I squeaked, avoiding his molten gaze.
“No one will see you but me. I guarantee it. If you aren’t comfortable, though…”
Did disappointment lace those last words? I wasn’t sure, but a part of me didn’t want to disappoint him. A part of me felt infuriated for being treated like a dress up doll. Did this man think he could simply buy me and use me as his Barbie? I sighed and my shoulders sagged.
“If you aren’t happy with our arrangement, we can rip up the contract, work out something else, I’m sure…” His hand rested on my shoulder, and once more the heat of his touch tightened my belly, zipped sensation straight to my pussy.
I met his gaze and searched it. In those eyes I didn’t see a man who wanted to possess me in an exploitative way. Instead I saw a man who wanted to admire my body as one would admire a fine piece of art. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking, though. Maybe I wanted him to cherish me when all he really wanted was a sex toy.
But thoughts of Dad, how happy he’d been when we left him in the new care facility, surfaced. I took a deep breath and gave Dmitri a smile I hoped bluffed confidence. “No, I’m fine. Which would you like me to try on first?”
“Please, you choose.” He swept a hand over the lingerie pile and took a seat across from me.
I selected a tangerine bra and matching panties that left nothing to the imagination. Instantly I regretted my choice, but I chided myself for being such a wimp, steeled my resolve, and slipped off my sensible shoes. I started to hurriedly undress, but Dmitri stopped me.
“Take your time,” he said. “I enjoyed being teased, as much as I’ll enjoy teasing you later.”
I blushed so hard the heat crept into my ears, but I took my time peeling off the rest of my clothes. At times I had to look away from his ardent stare. It was predatory almost, but not in a creepy or cruel way. I swore passion and admiration shimmered in those emerald irises instead, but I was working entirely on assumption.
After what seemed an eternity, I stood naked before him. When I went to slip on the bra, he told me to wait a moment longer. The cool breeze from the store’s air conditioner swirled around me, raising goose bumps all over my skin. Instinct screamed at me to hide my bare breasts. My nipples tingled and puckered as they hardened, but I didn’t hug myself for fear I’d displease him. His unwavering stare grew even more intense, and my body responded by amping up the throbbing between my legs.
“Should I try it on now, Mr. Nich—I mean…” I shook my head at my mistake, feeling like such a naïve fool.
“It’s playtime now, Mistress,” he said, giving a kind but still desirous smile. “Where we’re on playtime, you refer to me as Master, and you are my Mistress.”
I nodded, swallowed hard to loosen my throat. “Should I try one on now, Master?”
He nodded, and I selected the panties first this time, sliding them up my legs, feeling his eyes follow my every movement. Next came the bra, but my klutziness picked this inopportune time to kick in. I couldn’t get the back clasp to work, and sweat beaded my brow as I fumbled with it.
“Here,” he said, rising from his chair. “Let me help you.”
With minimal effort, he turned me around and snapped the bra shut in seconds. I marveled at how a man with such large fingers could fasten one so fast. Most times I struggled with the damn tricky things. Then a lascivious thought entered my mind, You know what that means, Charlotte. He’s had an awful lot of practice.
His hands slowly glided down my back and my every nerve screamed with erotic fire. I tried not to react, for I remembered what he’d said earlier about my control, about reacting only when he allowed it during playtime. It was torture holding back the gasp of shock, of enjoyment. Soon his palms cupped my apple shaped bottom, and I had to close my eyes and bite my bottom lip to stop from crying out when he sensually squeezed and caressed each cheek.
“You are truly a work of art, Mistress.” His hands left me, and I felt disappointment and relief all at once. “Now, show me more.”
After two more changes, he left his chair once more and turned me so I directly stared into the mirror in front of me. I tried to quell the frantic rush of anxiety that made my heart hammer in my chest.
His fingers trailed over my collarbone then down my arm. “Do you see how lovely you are? Now, let me dress and undress you.” He kissed me just above my ear and continued in a whisper, “I’m going to tease and please you, but you can’t react, can’t come, until I tell you to. Is that acceptable, Mistress? If you grow uncomfortable, use our safe word.” He gave it to me again, and I simply nodded my approval. I was too focused on remembering to breathe to form a reply.
He held me in place, making me watch as his fingers inched down my belly then dipped beneath the hem of my sheer lace panties. I almost gasped as two touched the hood of my clitoris. When his pink tongue poked out and slithered in my ear, I had to close my eyes to maintain control.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded in a throaty voice. “I want you to watch everything.”
“Yes, Master.” When he slowly slipped the bra from my breasts, then teased my aching nipples with his thumb and index finger, I had to clench my teeth to keep from whimpering.
As he slid the panties off, his palms seemed to memorize, soak in, my every curve. The whole exercise was absolute torture, and after three more changes of lingerie passed in this
manner, I was nearly mad from desire. My whole body burned with the need for release. My breath came ragged and I almost panted.
Finally, after another change, I could take it no longer. I blurted out, “Please, taste me, fuck me.”
A sharp slap was delivered to my ass. The stinging crack made me squeak. My gaze flew to his in the mirror. His nostrils flared and his face was carved with lust.
“That was very disobedient, Mistress. Now I’ll have to punish you.”
He spun me around and deposited me in a chair facing one of the mirrors. Next he used a pair of expensive nylons to tie my hands behind the chair’s back. Then he dipped to his knees and yanked my legs apart. “I’m going to eat your pussy like it’s my last meal. Don’t you dare come until I tell you to.”
Two fingers parted my wet slit, exploring every inch of tender flesh, but he avoided my clit and opening until I thought I would burst from the need to feel his tongue on the pulsing bead of flesh. Finally its cool, moist surface glided over my clit, and I hissed air between my teeth as it did so.
“Uh-huh, Mistress,” he admonished, shaking a finger at me, but his focus never left my cunt. “No reaction until I allow it.”
“Yes, Master,” I could barely whisper the words.
He lapped at every inch of my vagina, his tongue tracing the contours of my outer and inner labia before it returned to my clit. My nerves were taut wire that would soon snap. My chest heaved with the deep breaths I gulped in to control myself.
He used fingers instead of tongue on my clit next, watching me as he rolled the swollen bud between them. My eyelids fluttered, wanting so badly to close under this assault of pleasure, but I willed them open.
While still rolling and rubbing my clit, he held my pussy lips open with his other hand and licked the length of my cunt, poking his tongue in the hole as deep as he could and wriggling it inside of me. I thrashed in my bonds then, unable to hold back some form of release. But I didn’t make so much as a whimper. If this was punishment, I had to admit the torture was delicious.
Surrender Boxed Set (Surrender Series Volume 1 - 7. BDSM romance with man love, bad boys, and billionaires.) Page 3
