by Dani René
Lifting the lid of my gift, I unwrap the silver tissue paper and find a beautiful set of lingerie. Black bra with soft lace cups and a ruby that sits perfectly between the breasts. The straps that wrap around the chest and shoulders are made of leather. The panties are thong style, matching the bra, are leather mixed with lace. It’s decadent. I’ve never owned lingerie like this before.
I pick up my phone and tap out a message.
Thank you for the gift. It’s beautiful. G.
I don’t have to wait long for his response.
It will look more beautiful on your delicious body. I can’t wait to see how it fits. Don’t forget, no attachments to it. Both items will be in shreds on my floor tonight. E.
Smiling, I set the phone down and take a long gulp of wine. I have a shift at the club tonight and I’m sure by the time I walk into Eli’s house tonight, I’ll be more than ready for him to do anything he’d like to me.
A shiver of anticipation shoots through me. My belly flip flops as I recall the orgasms he bestowed on me. The way his tongue lapped at me, delved into my core, making me scream his name. The same way he did so many years ago.
I don’t have much experience with men, besides Carrick and the monster who almost broke me completely, but Eli is different. His needs border on sadist, but he gets off more on the obedience and tears. Watching a girl’s desire while he takes and gives. That’s one thing about him, he always gave. The only thing is, he doesn’t know who I really am. He won’t recognize me because I made sure that nobody can find me. I’ve hidden away from the man who almost killed me, but ran to the one who broke my heart. Perhaps I’m a masochist. But finding Eli again was always my dream. I wanted him, needed him more than I ever let on, and when he walked out, I forced myself not to hurt. I did though. I hurt to the very core of who I was. And maybe in my stupidity and anger, that’s why I gave myself to the wrong person.
This time, I want Elijah Draydon, and nothing is going to stop me. I do want to be his toy. I know what he enjoys. I’ve watched him for far too long, biding my time until I knew I was ready to be owned. To be his.
It’s been five long years and I’m all grown up now. Time has passed for us both, and although he’s aged, he’s done so very well. Still as handsome as the first day I saw him.
He tries to hide it, but I can see the agony in his golden eyes. They’re the color of caramel. Grabbing my laptop, I open the lid and click on the browser. Typing in his name, I hit search and wait for the results. A few photos of him with the dark-haired woman, who was his wife for years, Raquel, at events for the company from a few years ago, pop up immediately.
Clicking on a link, I find the headline that I’ve read time and again over the years.
Raquel Draydon, late wife of insurance mogul, Elijah Draydon lost her battle with MS.
My heart aches for this man who’s probably hurting more than anyone I’ve ever known. Losing myself in the article, I feel the guilt weighing heavily on me. I can’t do this. My heart beats wildly in my chest at the memory of what he went through. If he ever found out about my connection, he’d never forgive me.
When I blink, the tears stream down my cheeks as my emotions get the better of me. Yes, he’s an asshole, but there’s an explanation as to why. He must still be so angry at the world. At losing a woman he so clearly loved. Which only seems to heighten my own pain. My own loss.
I spent two years with someone who said he cared. After Elijah left that’s all I wanted. To be loved, needed, and wanted. But nothing compared to Eli. No man could come close because my young heart wouldn’t allow it. I recall the memory of the day after Elijah left and I was alone in that hospital. Alone with my thoughts, those that always put me in danger.
“You’re a beautiful girl,” the stranger says as he walks into the room. I haven’t seen him here before, but he’s wearing a white coat, so he probably works here. “I’m here to see how you’re doing. Your folks said you’ve had a few years of struggling.” He doesn’t move from the foot end of the bed, but there’s something almost sinister in his gaze. Dark. Scary. Hungry.
“I’m fine.”
“Now, now, I don’t take well to insolent little girls. You need to respect me. Don’t you want to leave here?” he questions, knowing full well I’ve been begging to be released. My gaze snaps to his.
“Yes.”
“Will you do as I say?” The way he asks makes me shiver, but I nod. It’s then that he moves closer. His hand comes out and gently strokes my cheek. It’s a tender touch, one that calms me. My eyes meet his and he smiles. “Your folks said you’re able to leave. That I can help you get out of here if you want to.”
“Really?” He nods. For an older man, he’s handsome. Dark hair with deep blue eyes. The way the curl falls down his forehead makes him look younger than he probably is.
“You’re a good girl. Aren’t you?” I nod. “Now, since you’re going to listen to me and obey, I want you to pack your things. You’re coming home with me today. I’ll be able to care for you from my home.”
His promise. Those words. I believe him. I push off the bed immediately, racing to the cabinet that holds the clothes and belongings that I’ve been allowed. Nothing sharp. No laces. Nothing that could harm me in any way. Little do they know that anything can be a weapon.
“From this moment, little one. I own you. Okay?”
I don’t look at him. I can’t. So, I agree without fully realizing what I’m walking into. The only thing that keeps me packing is the thought of getting out of here and finding him. Finding the man who left me here to rot in hell.
My so-called savior was good to me for six months before the abuse started. Before my world was turned upside down. I wasn’t there to heal. No. I was there to be his slave. An eighteen-year-old sex slave for a vile man.
Each time I tried to run, he found me, dragging me back to the mansion he called home. It was no home, it was an isolated dungeon filled with torturous devices, things he used to hurt me with to make himself hard.
The day I ran and made it past the gate was the day I thought I really would die. The area was so secluded I wasn’t sure I’d make it very far. But I did. I stumbled into an Englishman with a heart of gold. I don’t know what made me trust him. Perhaps the other girl that was in his car. Or the way he commanded attention. He offered me a phone and told me to call the police. When I refused, he did it for me.
I begged him not to send me back. I didn’t want to go back to my parents who didn’t want me. That’s when Carrick took me in. And that’s why I found Sins. I could get lost in the dark world without anyone knowing why I was there, or who I was. My past was just that, a story that nobody knew and they didn’t have to feign interest in it.
I became the girl that poured drinks and occasionally got taken up on stage and whipped, bound, and gagged. Although, there are only a handful of Dom’s and Master’s that I’d allow to do that to me. Carrick being one, and his partner in the club, Mason. Both men I trust with my life. But there’s something about Rick that tells me there’s so much he’s hiding. So many secrets. Just like me.
The only person who knows about my extra-curricular activities is Lei. She never judged me. There were even a few times she came into the club, had some fun with some of the members, but for me it’s an escape. A way to let go. To be free for the first time in my life.
When I first saw Elijah walk in, I was once again obsessed. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. But I knew it was him. I recognized him when he smiled at one of the girls. Then his gaze landed on me and my heart stopped. I waited a moment, but he never said anything. He didn’t recognize me, even though I knew him.
He was dressed in a gray dress shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give me a glimpse of the smooth skin below. The dark jeans he wore hugged his thighs and ass in a way I’d never seen denim fit before. The way the dark stubble dotted his jaw, and his dark hair seemed sexily tousled. Rough around the edges, yet elegant as well, there was al
ways something alluring about the man, but with age, he became even more so.
His dark features, and sinful smirk had me recalling everything. A young girl infatuated with a man who wasn’t meant for her. Only, this time, I’ll make sure he’s mine.
I watched him for weeks, months, almost night after night taking women home. I’d overheard two submissives at the bar talking about him one night, about how meticulous he was. How rough he was, yet there was a gentleness to him.
That’s when I knew I had to do something or I’d lose him again. I needed one night. Just one moment where I could come clean. Confess who I am. His ex-toys come in, as if addicted to him, just to get another shot at the man who’s an enigma in this world, but he never gives them the time of day.
He is a drug and my addiction is at an all-time high. I need another hit. I crave another taste. I ache for another intoxicating drink. I have no doubt that only he’ll be able to satiate this hunger inside me. The only problem is, if he chooses to discard me, will I be able to kick the habit, or will my past rear its ugly head and turn me into the danger I was to myself? The same one I worked so hard to abate.
Making my way into the bathroom, I step into the shower and turn on the taps until the water sprays against my fevered skin. Trying to cleanse myself of the memories of what I’ve endured in the past with one owner. Hoping I’ll be good enough for another. For the one who holds my heart. The one I’ve loved since I was seventeen.
If only he knew who I was. Or why I was in his life in the first place. He wouldn’t be buying me pretty panties and asking me to swallow his cock. If he knew the real scars I hide have been removed surgically. If he knew the mental wounds have been cloaked by hours upon hours of psychotherapy. Perhaps he does know. Maybe those moments with him in the hospital were just that, his form of aiding me. Of trying to make me heal. Only… he left.
I glance at the reflection of myself through the glass shower door. As much as I hide her away, she’s still there. The sick girl from all those years ago. I still see her like she’s staring at me, taunting me with the ghosts of my past. All the doctors in the world couldn’t change what I did. What she made me do. It’s been years, I’ve lived with this disease. This need for someone. For affection. And as soon as people leave, I’m right back to square one. The blade on my thighs, the crimson liquid dripping from the porcelain skin.
Tears stream down my cheeks as the agony slams into my chest when the memories assault me. Gripping the wall, I cry out loudly, yet nobody can hear. My lungs struggle to pull in air. My anguish is my own. I’m responsible for my actions. Only I can change. Only I have the strength to stop, but it’s difficult.
I hope he hurts me tonight. I wish he makes me cry. I want him to. The need tingles through my body as the ache between my legs starts. It always catches me unaware. Reaching between my thighs, I stroke my slick core. The smooth lips wet with arousal at what I’m going to do tonight, what I’ll allow him to do to me. Shutting my eyes, I lean against the cold tiles and picture Elijah. The leather whip he wields like an expert biting into my flesh. Against my back, ass, and thighs. I want it to burn, to slice into my skin. I want him to mark me. To finally make me his like he was meant to years ago.
He promised. I need the pain. I need the pleasure. My fingers dance along my clit. Pressing the hardened nub, I beg into the spray of the water. “Please, please.” My voice croaks with emotion as I cry for him. Moving my fingers faster, I dip two into my pussy. “Eli!” I cry out his name, knowing he wants it. He needs to hear what he does to me. How much I want him. My hips buck faster, needing release. My body craving it, as my digits delve deeper and faster. I’m so close. With my free hand, I reach for my neck, imagining it’s his big, rough hand, squeezing. The choking sounds loud, echoing around me. Imagining his cock deep down my throat. I gag. I want the saliva to drip onto my breasts.
I picture it perfectly. Being his toy. Only his.
He bids me to come for him. To find release only for him. He’s mine as I am his. And I do. Pinching my clit hard, my body convulses wildly as I once again scream his name until my voice is croaky, and my throat burns.
When I come down from the high of my orgasm, I open my eyes and find the water running cold and my face flushed. Shutting off the water, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me. My legs are still wobbly, but my face is the picture of innocence.
The face of an angel and the heart of a devil.
That’s what my uncle used to say when I turned thirteen. When he first started noticing I wasn’t his little girl anymore. The day he knew I wasn’t the innocent niece he’d loved all my life. I turned into something else. Only, he didn’t know why. I was unruly. A bitch is what he called me one day. He told me little whores were meant to be broken. So that’s what he did, he broke me. My virginity he could never steal, but it was what he did when he took my ass and made sure I didn’t sit down for a week. It was then I knew I’d never be the same again.
Over time, I’d hungered for the pain to forget what had been done to me, it was only when Elijah touched me the first time I realized sex could be more. It could be different. Then, once again after I escaped my tormentor my desires had changed. Carrick taught me, molded me into something new. A shiny penny from a dirty dime.
As soon as I looked up at Elijah, I called him Daddy, not because of my past, but because I knew the kind of Dominant he is. I overheard things about him. His penchant for being the older male, and it makes me wonder if he’s still thinking about me when he fucks them. When I called Eli Daddy when he fucked me, I came harder than I ever did in my life. My sick mind can’t differentiate between a normal relationship and a dark, sadistic one.
I know I’ll never be a normal girl.
It’s not how I’ve been made, how I’ve been programmed. When I lost my virginity to Keegan Jeffries in the boys’ locker room at the age of thirteen, I knew then and there that I wasn’t like the other girls in school, but I didn’t care. The wrong that I did was what gave me the rush. The high of doing something I shouldn’t be doing.
Maybe that’s why I turned into the nut job everyone wanted locked up. Maybe it was the day I sucked off my math teacher, or the night I fucked three boys from our football team. Perhaps the day my stepbrother decided I was the girl he wanted to test choking on his cock. Little did he know I was far more experienced than he thought. He couldn’t hurt me. He did try though. He gave it his best shot.
Pulling the panties Elijah bought me up my slender legs, I take a look at the fit in the mirror. Perfect. Once I’ve clasped the bra in place, I can’t help smiling. It’s stunning. Quickly, I dress in the uniform we’re meant to wear and pull my wet hair into a clip, allowing a few strands to hang down, framing my heart shaped face. Keeping my make-up light, I dab gloss on my lips, leaving them shiny.
Once I have my purse, keys, and phone in hand, I make my way out the door. I’m coming for you Mr. Draydon. And I can’t wait. My body is already thrumming with anticipation. At the thought of his touch, my clit tingles. I’ll drench these panties just like he wanted. I want to please him. It’s as if it’s woven into my being.
Slipping into the driver’s seat of my car, I put my foot on the gas and head over to Seven Sins for my shift behind the bar. I’ll be counting down the hours until closing time and that’s put a smile on my face as I make my way to work.
7
Elijah
The doorbell dings through the house and I know it’s her. Anticipation courses through me like a white-hot pain that sizzles in my veins. My blood heats, tingling through every inch of my body, causing my cock to throb.
The agony of need. The hunger of lust.
I’ve never been filled with this much eagerness when a new toy arrives. When I reach the door, I still for a moment, inhaling a deep breath, and then pull it open. The heavy wood slides open and I’m met with the beautiful brown eyes of Giana. “Toy,” I murmur, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her cheek. There’s a sizzle of desi
re that shoots through us at the connection.
“Eli.” My name on her lips is an aphrodisiac, it turns me into a beast that would love to devour her right here on the doorstep. Stepping back, I allow her to enter. I reach for her coat. As soon as she sheds the offending item, I’m met with her smooth skin and long flowing hair, which covers what I want and need, her bare skin. Her tank top offers me glimpses that causes my hunger to skyrocket.
“I trust you had a good night at work?” I question as I lead her indoors. The room I fucked her in last night is lit with candles giving it an ethereal glow. I watch her shrug at my question, the movement causing the soft fragrance of her skin to drift my way. A scent of sweetness and innocence. A flower, perhaps a bright red rose, both beautiful and alluring, the color of lust. I wonder if I’ll be the one to crush her or make sure she blooms. I watch her for a moment longer and I see it. My flower. Unopened, waiting for me to walk in and pluck her.
“It was busy. There was…” She blushes when she meets my gaze. “There was a show.” Her deep chocolate gaze darts around nervously. A soft blush on her cheeks tells me she’s utterly embarrassed by something and I’m dying to know more.
“Tell me, sweet toy.” I reach up, stroking her cheek. “Look at me.” She lifts her stare to meet mine. “Never be scared to tell me anything. This agreement we’re entering into, it’s important that you are honest, brutally honest.”
“There was something I saw, I’ve just…” Her cheeks darken to a dark red rose color. “I wanted to try it, but fear got the better of me, so…”
“So… you wanted to know if I could do whatever it was to you?” She nods slowly, almost too innocently, and I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy whatever it is. Her lips, full and plump, curl into a smile that’s both seductive and mischievous. “And what exactly did they do?”
