He could only stare at her, afraid to see where she went with this—but surprisingly excited too. His heart pounded, but not with anxiety this time.
“I bet you’ve got all kinds of deliciously wicked ideas in your head. Like…” When he leaned forward slightly, her lips curved with a knowing smirk. “Maybe you’d like to watch me touch myself. I get so wet when I touch myself. I can’t help but groan with need. It feels incredible.”
He gulped. Shuddered. And realized that yeah, now that she’d put that thought into his head, he was going to have a devil of a time getting it out.
“Or maybe you’d like me to watch you touch yourself. Have you ever jacked off for a woman before, Harvey? When’s the last time you touched yourself?”
His face burned as if the fireplace had been lit up with a blazing bonfire. God. He’d never had a woman talk so bluntly before. It wasn’t even dirty talk, just…
“Come on,” she whispered, her voice husky velvet. “You can tell me. I’m dying to know. Please, Harvey.”
“I don’t…” A button popped loose on her blouse and he lost his train of thought.
“Have you come since the accident?”
A shudder ripped through him. “No.”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Harvey.”
The steely core of her voice made him suck in a deep breath. From velvet to steel in a heartbeat.
“You can’t tell me that you haven’t come in three years.” She softened her voice enough to take the edge out. “You’re too healthy for that, unless you have some health issues you haven’t told me about.”
“I haven’t told you anything about my condition or health.”
She grinned sheepishly. “Uncle Gordon told me a little. I had to know if you were healthy enough for this demonstration.”
Harvey scowled and stood up, whirling toward the door. “That son of a bitch. How could he—”
“Harvey.” She didn’t raise her voice, but a thread of what could only be called menace wove through her voice, stilling his movements. “I didn’t excuse you.”
“But—”
“Sit. Down.”
Every muscle in his body rebelled. He didn’t take kindly to anyone telling him what to do. Let alone her. People gave him what he wanted. Eagerly. Sure, ninety percent of the time they were merely hoping he’d give them money. Okay, okay, one hundred percent of the time. People always came to him with one hand out, and the other tucked behind their backs with a knife.
“Or leave,” she continued, lightening her voice enough that he stole a peek at her. She didn’t even look at him now, but studied her manicure as if she had a million things she’d rather be doing. “But if you leave, I won’t indulge your curiosity again. If you’re going to leave, at least give me the courtesy of delivering your safeword first. That’s an excellent habit to get into if you have any interest in the lifestyle.”
“I don’t,” he replied automatically, but for the first time in his life, he wondered. Maybe there was a reason he’d always felt so empty. He’d had sex with some very beautiful women, and it’d left him feeling…
Numb. Empty. Sex was good in the moment, but he’d never felt completely satisfied. He’d lie there with his partner, stare at the ceiling, and wonder what was wrong with him, while the empty hunger gnawed deep in his belly.
“I don’t know,” he finally said, gruffly.
“Then sit down, watch and learn.”
He turned to his seat, but her hand snaked out and gripped his forearm hard enough a small noise escaped his throat.
“Don’t get up again without either giving your safeword or asking my permission. Or I will punish you, Harvey.”
“Okay.”
“That’s not the appropriate response, but I’ll excuse your ignorance this one time. Say ‘Yes, Mistress’ or ‘No, Mistress’.”
He sat down and scrubbed his sweaty palms on his pants. He wanted to ask a thousand questions. He wanted to run screaming from the room and fire Maxwell again for even thinking about bringing this woman into his home. He didn’t ask anyone’s permission to do anything. Even Maxwell had learned a long time ago it was better to let him make his own mistakes, even if they took twice as long to clean up, than to step in and try to tell him how to do something. Even his parents…
He flinched from that thought.
“Are you all right? Do you need to stop?”
“No,” he said hoarsely. “May I ask a question? Mistress?” The word felt strange in his mouth, but once it came out, it sounded and felt right.
“Yes.”
“How would you punish me?”
A slow smile spread across her face. She uncrossed her legs and somehow her skirt rode even higher, almost letting him see the color of her panties again. He’d never dared look up a woman’s skirt before. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him.
“That depends, Harvey.”
“On what?”
She leaned forward and dropped her hand on his knee. Surprised, he jumped as if she’d goosed him. He expected her to say his pain tolerance, which was quite high after all the surgeries and rehabilitation he’d endured over the years.
“On what you’d enjoy.”
“Huh?” He sounded like an idiot but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not with her hand on his thigh. An innocent, simple touch. She didn’t stroke him, or threaten to glide her hand up his thigh to see if he had an erection. That would be silly, of course. A useless, wasted effort on her part, because he never…
His cock twitched, as if it was laughing at him.
“There are all kinds of punishment. Sometimes I truly need to correct you, and will do so with a loving but firm hand. Sometimes I need to hurt you, for our mutual enjoyment, even through the pain. And sometimes I want to discipline you to see you take what I give out simply because I told you to.”
He suddenly wondered if they were still playacting. That sounded too personal. Too real.
“What kind of punishment would you enjoy, Harvey?”
Her voice stroked over him, urging him to throw caution to the wind, seducing him to the dark side. Her dark side? Or his? He wasn’t sure. “I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” she whispered, giving his knee a gentle squeeze and then removing her hand. He could still feel the heat of her palm through his pants and suddenly he couldn’t feel anything else. Only her handprint, searing his thigh. “It’s actually more fun for me when I can try all sorts of naughty things to see if you like them. For now, I want you to tell me the last time you came.”
His brain stuttered, huge blank spots that he couldn’t remember. Days, years, weeks, he wasn’t sure. He tried to remember the last time he’d felt…good. Not in pain. Not worried about the pain or the scars. Not consumed by his grand plans of revenge.
“Think back,” she prodded. “Were you lying in bed?”
A memory flickered, jerking awake on a gasp as his dick spurted into the twisted, sweaty sheets. “Yeah.”
“Were you alone? Or with someone?”
“It was a dream.”
“So you woke up coming, but you were alone in bed. Do you remember the dream? Try, Harvey. It’s important. It’ll give me a clue about your fantasies.”
“I—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t really remember.”
“Close your eyes.” He did so, without arguing this time, at least with himself, about why he shouldn’t do what she asked. “You’re in bed, asleep, relaxed, safe.”
He shook his head again but didn’t open his eyes. “It wasn’t like that. I don’t think I was safe.”
“Why do you say that?”
“The sheets were damp and twisted like I’d been rolling and wrestling in my sleep. It didn’t feel…restful.”
“Maybe an especially energetic dream?”
He could hear the smile in her
voice, though he didn’t open his eyes. “No. I feel…” He took a breath and released it on a long sigh. “Shame. It wasn’t a pleasant dream.”
She made a low, soothing hum that was almost a lullaby. “Can you tell me about it?”
“I’m young. Maybe fifteen? Mom and Dad had come out for one of those endless boring charity dinners that I hated, and a friend offered to give me a ride back to their hotel early. A girl my age.” With his eyes closed, he could see her. Angela of the three P’s: pretty, popular, princess. He’d been surprised that she said anything to him at all, let alone offered to be nice. Sure they were both of the same social circles, but that was it. Though by the way people smiled and whispered, everyone thought they made an adorable and expected couple. “She told me the limo was parked out front and she’d be there in a minute. I told my parents good night and went outside. The limo was there as she’d said, so I opened the door and slid inside. That was my first mistake.”
“Someone else was there?”
Even now, all these years later, he remembered the way his heart had tried to pound a hole through his ribcage. Mrs. Willingham had smiled at him, but it wasn’t a nice smile at all. In fact, she’d watched him like a cobra, her entire focus locked on him.
“Mrs. Willingham, Angela’s mother. She slid across the seat toward me. I didn’t know what she intended to do, until she leaned across me and locked the door.” He’d been stunned by the deliberate rub of her breasts against him. Too shocked to find his voice, even when she unzipped his pants. “She was my first, so it only lasted a few minutes. I was so ashamed, but she laughed and said I’d given her exactly what she wanted. Later I found out she’d done the same thing to most of her daughter’s friends. Angela knew. So that meant all her girlfriends knew. They’d laugh about it, though the guys never said a word.”
“Oh, Harvey.” Kelsey laid her hand on his that clenched the armrest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up such a bad memory with my innocent little demonstration. You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to.”
Her touch didn’t startle him this time. In fact, the skin-on-skin contact was nice. As soothing as her low voice. “It’s all right. Though the more you talk to me, the more you’ll realize how screwed up I am.”
“We’re all screwed up. That’s one thing I learned a long time ago. In all seriousness, though, a person with your issues really needs to be in therapy.”
“You really have been talking to Maxwell then,” he grumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it. They were right, but he’d never found someone he really wanted to tell all those deep dark secrets to. He didn’t want to bare his soul and expose all the ugliness he carried inside. Bad enough that he had to live with it every day.
“There’s only so much a professional Mistress can help you with, if your curiosity leads you down that path. I’ve helped a lot of people face things from their past, but—”
He opened his eyes and gave her wry smile. “I’ve got a lot of baggage.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
Meeting her gaze was a mistake. At least while she touched him. It made it real. All of it. This stranger, here, so close, probing all his soul-deep sore spots. Worst of all, though, she had no idea how deep his problems went.
A few bad memories: that was just the tip of the iceberg.
Kelsey almost ended the scene. Every word she’d said about everybody being screwed up was true—especially with regards to herself. But Harvey’s issues were so many, and so layered, that she could only waver with doubt at the thought of attempting to give him his first exposure to BDSM. The risk that she would accidentally trigger him was too great. She didn’t know him well enough to even think about trying this.
Ten days. Nine, now. That wasn’t nearly long enough to wade through all the past trauma that haunted him like chain-rattling ghosts, and they hadn’t even gotten to the accident yet. That was surely a life-defining, all-changing situation in his life that he still hadn’t fully faced.
The prospect of helping him into a submissive role was daunting to say the least.
“It’s disgusting,” Harvey muttered darkly, turning to look back into the fireplace, even though it wasn’t lit. “I can’t believe that memory would be the one to make me come in my sleep.”
“Our minds are more complicated than we can imagine, mixing memories and fantasies and fears together. It could be that your mind was trying to reclaim that old memory and make it something more pleasant for you.”
“They laughed at me,” he whispered hoarsely. “In the dream, at least. Angela and a bunch of other girls. Like that scene in Carrie. I was sitting on the floor, huddled and scared and embarrassed, and they stood over me, laughing and taunting. I got so hard. The more shame I felt, the harder I got, until I came. They roared with laughter, practically falling down with hysterical giggles.”
“If embarrassment turned you on, you might like some controlled humiliation from a Mistress. Or maybe it was the exposure that turned you on in the dream. You won’t know until you try a few things, but experimenting can be fun.”
“Humiliation, fun?” he retorted, clutching the arm of the chair so hard his knuckles turned white. “I’ve got enough shit in my life to deal with. Sex is supposed to be a release, a fun, pleasurable relationship. Not so twisted and disgusting…”
“Harvey,” she broke in, firmly. He breathed hard and didn’t turn to meet her gaze, but at least he stopped talking. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. People have all sorts of needs that might be disgusting to others. They can’t help it. Are you going to shame someone who has a foot fetish? I mean, if you love feet, great, but what if you think stinky, sweaty toes are the foulest thing on earth? Are you going to think less of the person who wants to cradle those toes against his face? Are you going to laugh at him?”
“Maybe,” he finally admitted. “I would have. Before.”
“Because you didn’t understand and had nothing to be ashamed of yourself, right? But now you’re starting to get it. People are turned on by all sorts of things, and it might be embarrassing, and that might turn them on even more. If you’re an adult and you consent, then who cares?”
“I care.” He turned and glared at her. “I don’t want a shameful memory like that in my head becoming a fantasy. Can’t you do something about it?”
Her eyebrows rose and she couldn’t help the amused smile curving her lips, even though it made him grind his teeth. “Me? What would you like me to do about something that happened to you fifteen years ago?”
He whipped his head back around, his voice raw. “Figures. I should have known you wouldn’t be any different.”
“I can’t help you if you don’t help me understand exactly what you’re looking for.”
“I want…” He breathed hard again, his hands twisting and working on the wooden arms of the chair. “I want you to give me something else to think about next time. A new memory. A new fantasy. Can you do that?”
Bingo. There it was. Every client came to her needing something, even if they didn’t know exactly what it was. Once she figured out that secret need, she had them hook, line and sinker. “A new memory.” She deliberately turned her sex-kitten voice back on, one she’d cultivated for months to get right for camming. “Something to run through in your mind the next time you masturbate. Is that what you want?”
He nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for her, not now that she had him admitting to what he needed. “Then ask me for it.”
His cheeks flushed, his jaw working as if he chewed on gravel. Finally, he gritted out, “I want…”
“No,” she broke in. “When you’re asking a Mistress to give you something, you should show respect.”
“Mistress,” he growled. “Could you give me a new fantasy to wipe out that other one?” His voice roughened with each word, until he practically roared, “Please?”
“Very good, Harvey,” she purred. “Of course. I accept your request.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw and his hands ached from gripping the chair so hard, but he couldn’t calm the fury rumbling through him. He didn’t even understand why he was so angry. Maybe it wasn’t her, poking and laughing at him like the girls in his dream. Because she didn’t make him feel shame, not like that old memory of Mrs. Willingham. Kelsey didn’t laugh at him. It was almost like she whispered a dirty joke to him, for his ears alone, and laughed about it. With him. Not at him. Although he wasn’t able to laugh yet. She was a stranger, but extremely easy to talk to. He’d never see her again after this, so if she knew a few dark secrets about him, who cared? She did this sort of thing for a living. It made it easier to admit what he wanted.
Even if he didn’t completely understand what that might be.
“So angry,” she said in that sultry voice that sank into him like a caress. “What angers you, Harvey?”
“Life in general.” He tried to hold on to his fury, stir it up and feed it, keep that furnace roaring, but her voice alone banked some of the flames. “Losing my parents. Losing my company. Losing my face. Isn’t that enough to earn me a little rage?”
“Sure, but I don’t think that’s it. Not really. But you didn’t ask me to help you with your anger. You asked me to give you a new fantasy. Before we begin, we have to agree on payment.”
His lips curled in a sneer. “Of course, Mistress.”
Her voice cooled at his disdain. “Not money. If I give you a new fantasy, I want you to promise that you’ll use it tonight to jack off.”
He could feel his face heating again. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I want you to promise that when you’re lying in bed tonight, you’ll picture this fantasy in your mind and let it play out until you climax.”
“Sure.”
He must have said it too quickly, because her eyes narrowed. “Even if you don’t normally lie down in your bed. Even if you don’t sleep. I want you to use this fantasy tonight to give yourself a release. Before I see you tomorrow morning, it’ll be done.”
The Billionaire's Christmas Bargain: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 3 Page 7
