by Sierra Cole
“No, you’re not a whore, Alisha,” he says, his voice brimming with tenderness and understanding, so much it kind of knocks me back a little. “You know what you are?”
I shake my head.
“You’re a beautiful and refined young woman. I’m learning things from you, Alisha. I’m learning about myself ... I’m ...”
At this, he pauses for a moment.
“What?” I push. “What were you about to say?”
And to my surprise I watch a soft blush actually rise to his cheeks! In a million years I never thought I’d see a cold-blooded guy like Marcus Whitelaw look embarrassed, but here he is, suddenly the one squirming in his seat!
“Well,” he says in a low tone, not quite meeting my eye, “I guess I’m feeling things for you that I wasn’t expecting. Things I wasn’t prepared for. At first I ignored them, but now? Well, I guess I’d like to explore those feelings further. I want you to stay here, Alisha. Forget about the money for now if you have to. But please stay the rest of the week. Please?”
I stay silent, my head still swirling, still so unsure about what I want.
“I know I’ve been cold with you,” he continues, “keeping you at arms length the last few nights. But I was only doing that to protect you. To protect both of us, really. I was scared and somewhat taken aback by how quickly, and how deeply, I’ve been falling for you. Listen, tomorrow night, there’s a function – it’s this black tie charity ball that our company throws every year. Well, I’d like you to accompany me to it. I’d like you to meet my colleagues. I’d like to show you off, to everyone. So? What do you say? Will you be my date?”
I take a deep breath.
“Okay,” I reply with a shy smile. “That sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
And when he smiles too, it’s like the sun suddenly comes out, flooding the room with warmth and happiness.
As the meal draws to a close, I feel myself wondering about the rest of the night ahead – what exactly is going to happen next. But before I can even ask, Marcus says, “We don’t need to do anything tonight if you don’t want to. I just want you to be happy, Alisha. I meant what I said. That’s’ the most important thing. Screw the contract.”
“But I do want something to happen,” I reply quickly, surprising myself with the urgency of my words. Because this is still all so new to me, so strange – to feel this way about anyone.
I fight back my embarrassment and continue to speak.
“Last night,” I say quietly. “What you told me ... What you showed me about pleasure and pain? Well, I guess I enjoyed it, Marcus, I enjoyed it even more than I thought I would.”
“I’m glad,” he says, that now-familiar playful glint appearing in his eye.
“And, well, I guess I want to know more,” I continue, fighting back my embarrassment as I decide to just say what I want, for once in my life. “I want you to show me everything, Marcus. Teach me. Push me to my limits. Really. I want that. I want you to do whatever you want to me.”
I’m surprised at what I’ve just said -surprised but turned on too.
“Are you sure?” he replies, tenderly. “Because some of the things I want to do are kind of ... dark, Alisha.”
“The darker the better,” I say excitedly. “Really, Marcus. Show me everything.”
“Very well,” he says, pushing himself to his feet and offering his hand to me. “In that case, come with me ...”
I take his hand and he leads us in silence up to his bedroom, closing the door behind us, enveloping us once more in the pulsating quiet of his room.
I turn to face him, leaning in to kiss him, but to my surprise he shakes his head.
“That’s not what I want,” he says. “What I want is for you to turn around and bare your ass to me. What I want is for you to do just as I say. Do you understand me?”
I nod, eager to obey his command, throwing myself forward onto the bed, tugging my dress up around my waist and then pushing my panties down around my thighs – baring myself to him, just as he asked.
I find I even enjoy the anticipation, hearing the soft creak of his footsteps on the floor behind me as he approaches, waiting for the first touch of his hand. And sure enough, I feel his touch on my skin, his hand stroking across my ass for a moment, his fingers tracing between my legs, to the very center of me – the part of me that feels as if it’s on fire right now. And as he works his fingers gently over my clit and then back again, teasing me, tracing the hot stickyness that seems to seep from within me back and forth across my tender swollen folds, I push my face hard into the sheets and moan in pleasure, arching my back and gripping the silk tightly between my teeth. Then a moment later, he draws his fingers from me.
I wait, shivering, as behind me I hear the unmistakable sound of him unbuckling the thick leather belt he always wears and slipping it slowly from his slacks.
“Are you sure you want this, Alisha?” he says quietly. “Because if you don’t, now is the time to say something ...”
“I’m sure, Marcus,” I reply, my voice shaking with both fear and anticipation. “I do, I really do.”
I hear the thick leather creaking in his hands as he winds one end of the belt around his knuckles.
“Very well.”
Another long trembling pause and then ... Swish-CRACK.
The pain is like nothing I have ever experienced before – the white-hot sharpness of the leather so much more focused and intense than the crack of his hand against my buttocks. I don’t even cry out. It’s too intense. All I’m able to do is suck the air sharply between my lips at the violent intensity of the; sting, which seems to bloom now in a tingling heat from deep within my flesh.
“Have you learned your lesson?” he asks quietly but sternly from behind me. “Or would you perhaps like another?”
“Please, sir,” I reply, my voice quavering and trembling from the heady mix of sensations that are coursing through me, “I would like another. I still feel kind of ... naughty.”
“Very well.”
Swish-CRACK comes the belt a second time, slapping hard against my bare ass, causing an even greater flash of pain than the first time around.
And then a third: Swish-CRACK, and a fourth, Swish-CRACK, each fresh sting of pain causing my heart to pound and the moans to escape my lips, stifled a little by the sheets which I’ve kept gripped tight between my teeth as I writhe around beneath my strict master – never before experiencing such a wonderful mixture of pleasure and pain, satisfying almost all parts of my trembling body simultaneously.
But just then he stops, and I know now what else I need from him.
I turn around to face him, tugging my dress hurriedly over my head, unclasping my bra and quickly yanking my panties down over my ankles, exposing my naked flesh beneath, offering myself to him, begging him with my eyes to take me now in the same strong and powerful way he’s done on all our previous nights together.
He meets my hungry gaze with one that tells me that he’s thinking the exact same thing, then starts hurriedly undressing, unbuttoning his shirt, uncovering that broad, muscular chest that never fails to blow me away, then his slacks and boxer shorts, his cock fully thick and hard beneath, jutting out from the cropped fuzz of dusky hair that surrounds it, those two large pink shaven balls nestled tightly beneath. And all of a sudden the overwhelming desire to cover his whole body in kisses sweeps through me, so strong and powerful that I know I’ll never be fully satisfied until I’ve acted out this brand new fantasy of mine.
I fall on him the moment he finally joins me on the bed, both of us naked now. I throw myself on top of him, showering his body with tender, playful little kisses, all the while breathing in the sweaty musk of his body, sending my senses into a delicious tailspin as I taste the sharp saltiness of his sweat, first on his chest, and then further down as I working my loving kisses over his taut, chiseled abs and then even further, wanting to move my face up close to his cock, to really see it for the first time in all its glory – this vein
y monster that’s already brought me so much pleasure.
I hold him tenderly in my slender fingers, admiring the velvety smoothness of his skin as I stroke him up and down, watching him grow and swell in my grip, the purple bulbous head pulsing out glistening droplets of clear fluid as I tenderly place my kisses up and down his shaft, his delicious musk filling my nostrils as I shiver from excitement, my face buried between his legs, his hands now moving to my breasts, teasing my nipples with his fingertips until they stiffen into two rock-hard little buds beneath his touch.
He draws my face upwards, back towards his own, and as I writhe on top of him like that, my sensitive breasts brushing against his chest, I feel him reach down between my legs and then guide himself right into me, causing me to gasp as he once more stretches me wide open – this time with no condom covering him.
A part of me wonders whether I should maybe ask him to stop, but another part is just too damn busy enjoying this even more deliciously intimate contact, as he drives himself deep into me with me, as I ride on top of him, feeling the sheer heat of his cock inside me.
“Oh fuck, oh God,” I whisper as he takes me, my voice trembling, my eyes closing as he holds me steady, cupping my buttocks as he drives himself ever harder and deeper inside me, plundering fresh pleasures from my very center, pleasures which swell inside me, until finally they seemed to crest and explode, causing me to gasp and moan as I feel myself clenching tightly around him, my whole body bucking and shuddering as my mind flashes and fractures.
He too lets out a growl, and I feel his shaft pulsing powerfully inside me, flooding me with his warmth.
As he draws me down in a passionate kiss, I savor the feel of the heat of his come, as our bodies mingle, slicked with sweat and fluids, both of us shivering and gasping and lost together in the moment.
§
A scream. It sounds like Mom’s voice.
And then a violent clattering sound coming from ... from the kitchen?
I quickly spring out of bed and go running into the hall to see what all the commotion is, turning the corner, just wanting to make sure she’s okay.
“Mom?” I call out. “Mom?”
But it’s not Mom that greets me. It’s Him. Coming towards me, backing me into a corner.
I turn around and try to make a run for it but it’s too late. I feel his big hot hand grabbing me by the arm, his fingers closing all the way around my skinny bicep, and gripping so tight it causes me to squeal. But then he spins me around, to face him once more, pushing his big horrible hand right over my mouth as he slams me back against the wall of the kitchen.
And that smell – the one that seems to cling to him, that horrible nauseating mixture of whiskey and tobacco and sweat and dirt, piercing my nostrils with its sharpness, making my eyes water.
I freeze, trying to stay as still as I can as he presses me hard against the wall, hoping he’ll let me go if I just do exactly as he says.
And that’s when I see her, lying there sprawled, facedown on the kitchen floor, sobbing, covering her face, dots of blood spattered around her on the faded, dirty linoleum floor.
He lets go of me, but only so that he can unbuckle his belt, slipping it from the loops of his stained dirty jeans and then doubling it up in his hand, holding it by my face to show me – to threaten me.
“Don’t you say a word about this, girl,” he growls, “or you’ll get such a hiding you wont be able to sit down for a week. You got that?”
I look from the belt, then to Mom, and then up at him him, nodding slowly and silently as the hot tears begin to well up in the corners of my eyes and then spill down my cheeks ...
I wake with a start, gasping and clawing at the silk sheets as if they’re trying to strangle me. But of course it was just a dream, I remind myself, a dream which is quickly slipping to the back of my consciousness now, fading like a long-forgotten bruise, just a dream of a person that I never ever want to think about again ...
“Hey, what’s wrong?” comes the voice from behind me.
I turn around to face him, remembering all over again that tonight he didn’t ask me to leave. Tonight we both fell asleep in his bed and it was amazing ...
“It’s nothing,” I murmur, snuggling into him, feeling him slip his arm tenderly around my shoulder, drawing me even closer. “Just a stupid nightmare.”
He brings his lips to mine in a soft, sleepy kiss, and then we both fall asleep again like that – wrapped in each other’s arms, happy and content.
Alisha
I’m stepping back to assess my outfit in the full length dress mirror – it’s looking okay, I mean, you can never go too far wrong with a trusty Little Black Dress, can you, but it’s still missing something, maybe an accessory of some sort? – when there’s a knock at the door. I’m expecting it to be Helena, but when I open it, there’s Marcus.
“You look absolutely stunning,” he says.
And I guess I could say the exact same thing about him. I mean, this guy would look amazing in anything, but seeing him there like that, dressed in a perfectly tailored jet-black tuxedo and bow tie, his hair slicked back and shining with pomade, his freshly shaven skin glowing with health and vigor – well, he just looks like a real Prince Charming.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Of course,” I laugh, stepping aside to let him into the room. “I mean, this is your house after all. Oh, and sorry about all the mess ...” I add with a shrug, hoping he doesn’t mind the hundreds of discarded designer dresses strewn all about the room – on the floor and the bed – which I haven’t quite had the time to tidy away again yet. And looking at the sight, I marvel again at just how different my current situation is from just a single week ago. I mean, here is thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of couture, just thrown on the floor like some bargain bin outlet store in a strip mall.
“And what are these?” he asks, lifting my sketch book out from beneath a couple of dresses on the bed and flipping through the pages.
“Oh, that’s nothing,” I say, feeling myself blush and quickly snatching the book out of his hand before he laughs at my crappy designs. “Just some stupid sketches. They’re nothing ...”
“They’re very good,” he says.
“Give me a break,” I laugh, unable as always to receive a compliment with good grace. “They’re just doodles. Anyway, is it time to go?”
“Almost,” he says, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and drawing something out of it, something that sparkles for a moment in his long tanned fingers before they quickly close around it, hiding it from view. “Come and stand here, Alisha. Right here in front of me.”
I move over to where he’s standing and do just as he says, realizing that he’s positioning me once more in front of the mirror I was checking out my outfit in, just a few moments ago.
I watch him in the reflection, standing there behind me, my whole body frozen in anticipation, as he moves his hands towards my throat.
And then, very gently, he places the most beautiful sparkling choker around my neck, clasping it at the back.
It looks like ...
No, it can’t be ...
“Oh my God, Marcus,” I murmur in disbelief. “Tell me those aren’t real diamonds?”
He nods, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips.
“I can’t possibly wear this,” I gasp, my mouth falling open as I look at this crazy-ass thing dangling around my neck – it must studded with fifty diamonds at least, if not a hundred, each one probably worth an insane amount of money. “If I lose it ...”
“You can throw it down a drain for I care,” he laughs. “It’s yours, Alisha. I’m giving it to you. To keep. But I’d prefer it if you just wore it tonight.”
“Marcus,” I gasp, reaching up to touch this amazing necklace dangling so perfectly from my neck, somehow totally completing my outfit, even though he couldn’t have possibly known just what I was wearing. “I don’t know what to say ...”
“You
don’t need to say anything,” he murmurs in reply, leaning in to place the most delicious kiss on my neck. “Come on. Let’s go. Otherwise we’re going to be late ...”
§
Marcus
I normally fucking hate these kinds of things. I mean, they’re all exactly the same. Glitzy ball rooms, crammed full of the same boring investors and socialites, the same old faces, each and every one of them out to get something for themselves, everyone networking – yes, even at a supposed ‘Charity’ function such as this.
But tonight?
Well, tonight feels kind of different. And that’s all down to Alisha.
I’m so glad to have her here with me, by my side, looking so gorgeous. And I’m excited too – excited to show her off.
She looks simply stunning, and I can tell from the envious looks I’m getting from nearly every single man in the room that I’m not the only one who thinks it.
“Ah, Marcus!” a woman’s voice says behind me. “I see you’ve decided to bring along a date for once! And who is this ravishing creature, may I ask?”
I turn around to face Elizabeth Falcroft, heiress to the Falcroft Industries fortune, one of our biggest rivals, who in the last year alone have probably cost us close to a quarter of a billion in losses.
“Ah, Elizabeth!” I smile back, utterly polite and gracious even though Falcroft poached one of our biggest clients from right under our noses, less than two months ago. “This is Alisha Adams. Alisha, this is Elizabeth Falcroft.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Alisha says politely, giving Elizabeth a warm and sincere smile, kind of catching this cold and calculating woman off-guard with her sincerity.
“Oh, your dress is just fabulous,” Elizabeth gushes, obviously impressed by Alisha’s outfit. “Where in the world did you find it?”
I shoot Alisha a quick glance. Damn. Why did Elizabeth have to ask that of all questions? And I can see in Alisha’s eyes that she’s panicking now, trying to work out what she can possibly say, without giving away our little ‘arrangement’
