I was a little shocked when Sam and Courtney came out of the woods. I covertly ducked my head and watched from beneath the veil of my hair only to witness her rearing back and slapping him across the face. Snickering too low for anyone to hear, I went back to poking the coals and charred wood.
A few minutes later Sam stumbled over to me, “Stell, come on. Time to go.”
“Thank God! Sorry, but this party freaking blew.” I stood up dusting the sand off my ass and started following Sam as we made our way to the parking area. Once we were close enough to Sam’s truck, I realized Wes’s truck was parked diagonally in front of Sam’s. When I saw him stand on unsteady feet and begin unbuckling his belt and pull his thing out, I blushed in embarrassment and then mouthed “Thank you, Jesus.”
A smirk crept its way onto my face, but quickly dissolved when I heard a female voice purring right before Wes told her, “Goddamn right you little whore. Fucking suck that thick cock.” His hands delved into her long blond tresses before he yanked her face into his crotch and his head fell back. “Suck until I cum or I’ll spew my load into your fucking eye. You hear me, bitch?”
To say I was sickened was a horrid understatement.
I was so overwhelmed with disgust, my mind utterly consumed with hatred for this fucking asshole that I’d placed on a pedestal and worshipped for the last eight months that I didn’t realize what was happening when Sam let down the tailgate of his truck.
Honestly I didn’t know until he had me pinned, bent over with my skirt flipped up over my ass and felt the metal grating of his truck biting into the flesh covering my hipbones. He shoved his hand between my legs before he grabbed the panties covering me and yanked them down.
I screamed, as loud as I could. I let the cry for help, the shrieking words, “Wes, please! Help me Wes, please fucking HELP ME!” tear their way from my soul, claw up my throat and pierce the night with nothing but moans and grunts as an answer to my pleas.
When Sam shoved my panties so far into my mouth, I gagged struggling to breath around the suffocating material.
And vaguely, somewhere between my sobs and tears, I remember - I’ll always remember - as my best friend, my only friend, my brother shoved himself from one hole into another, having to listen to Wesley Jacobs reach orgasm.
The sound was so disturbing, it caused me to heave every drop of beer I’d consumed that night. And after I lost the contents of my stomach, I then drowned in it.
That’s why… You wanted to know why I was so goddamn fucking set against working for him? That’s fucking why.
And never fucking ask again.
Sam tossed my lifeless ass out of the back of his truck, and hauled his ass from what I could gather.
I woke up in a hospital days later—utterly shocked. I honestly didn’t understand why I was still alive. I’d been hanging outside the pearly gates with some woman claiming to be my mom and an older woman that kept apologizing for her ‘shitty piece of shit’ son. So yeah, I was confused when I woke up in a hospital bed. But not too confused to know I needed to run if I planned on staying alive.
Remember that deep wound and biting pain I mentioned earlier when Wes ignored my existence?
Yeah, turns out I had no real fucking grasp on what pain really was… Ten weeks later, after living on the streets and ducking from every cop car or authoritive looking adult, I fucking face-planted into the sidewalk, crippled by pain so fiercely, that even after ALL the shit I’d been through, lived through, remained conscious through, THIS pain…It took me past my goddamn knees.
The pain of an ectopic pregnancy twisting and rupturing your fallopian tube… It takes you past your knees.
It brings you to your fucking face.
easily brushed off by someone you’ve watched for months. Someone that has consumed both your every waking thought as well as your dreams. It’s hard to describe the bite or pain you feel when you’ve done EVERYTHING just to capture his attention for a space in time; knowing.
Chapter 7
Convince a Woman to Submit
From the moment Stella left my office, my worthless mind has done absolutely nothing but think of her - imagine her in every fucking sexual position - on her knees, bent over my desk, sitting proudly on my cock and riding me to kingdom cum.
None of it is as fucked up as when I stood in the kitchen downing tumblers of scotch and looked up to see her sexy little ass in nothing but one of my button up shirts, unbuttoning it as she walked towards me with a smirk on her face, only to vanish into thin air when I reached my hand out to feel her skin when she got close enough to touch.
Shit’s fucked up, right?
A shitty day, a shitty night, and another shitty day later I remove my jacket and tie, leaving them in the R8 before stepping through the double doors of Chained, unbuttoning the first few buttons of my shirt on my way into the club.
Fucking euphoria instantly thrums through my veins and I fucking love it. This is exactly what I needed. I feel alive for the first time in… Well shit, since the last time I was here.
See if I try to avoid the caged beast inside me again. You won’t. Because I’m fucking done denying myself this. Finished.
I look around the club’s main floor interior as I head toward the bar. The walls are covered in black satin with chains embedded every foot or so, each chain reaches the ceiling before it’s strung to meet in the middle of the club where an enormous crystal chandelier hangs.
Black and off-white leather chaise lounges with low tables holding several tea lights are scattered throughout this area of the club.
And because I was so fucking antsy to get here, to get Stella flushed out of my system I’m one of maybe twelve occupants on this early Friday night.
I order a scotch and unbutton the cuffs of my shirt before rolling them up my forearms. I nod when the bartender slides the crystal tumbler of scotch in front of me.
“Wes, what’s up, man? Long time.”
Shit! I don’t know this guy’s name. Joe? Jon! It’s Jon, I think…
“Yep, been a while. Paul in yet?” I ask before sipping my drink.
“Let me check for you.” He heads over to a phone at the far end of the bar and speaks to someone before heading back in my direction.
I raise my empty tumbler before he can speak, “Hey, bud. Mix me another, yeah?”
“Wes it’s a two drink maximum,” He looks at his watch, then back up at me and asks, “You sure you wanna blow through both before nine?”
My eyebrow shoots up, “The fuck’d I say?”
“All right, man. It’s your call. Paul’s headed down by the way.”
Oh shit yeah.
I rub my hands together like a kid in a candy store before I turn to face the club.
“Here ya go, man.”
“Yep.” I say grabbing the tumbler and turning back around to face the club. Thankfully a few more patrons have recently shown up.
Women in their business suits with men kneeling at their feet.
Men in their business suits with women kneeling at their feet.
There are a couple of Doms taking it overboard wearing a cape and shit… Yeah, they don’t have a sub kneeling at their feet.
I’m chuckling at my inner musings when Paul walks up to me.
“Wes. How are you friend?” We shake hands and I smile looking towards club.
“Doing good, Paul. You?” I jerk my head motioning at the club. “Business is doing great I see. Place looks great.”
My eyes scan the area noting the recent renovations.
And come to a screeching halt as they land on Stella Jolie Reese.
“What the FUCK is she doing here?” I realize too late that I’ve asked the question out loud.
Paul’s eyes follow my line of vision and land on the two women and guy that have walked in with Stella.
“Oh, that’s Eve Arras, she’s here for the Jacques’ Boudoir magazine shoot.” He sips from his tumbler of bourbon, “I believe Eve was the center fold o
f the lingerie add. Not sure though.”
“Really, Paul? So, you just let vanillas float around your establishment amongst the people living the lifestyle, and for no other reason than because they hit the center fold of a lingerie add?” I sigh setting my drink down.
“Oh, no.” Paul shakes his head before reiterating, “They go no further than the main bar area.”
“What’s allowed here? I mean—Shit.” I curse. I want Stella out of here. She has no damn business being in a club like this.
This entire fucking shit is absolutely absurd!
And dammit if Jon was fucking right. I shouldn’t have used up my two drinks so early. FUCK!
“You ready to meet the subs?” He extends his arm in a ‘right this way’ motion.
My eyes shoot back over to where Stella and her model friends are laughing, having just a fucking grand ol’ time.
“Hey! The brunette goes nowhere. You fucking understand me, Paul?” I demand as I point in Stella’s direction.
“She’s not a member, Wes. It doesn’t matter what the hell you say. They will not even know there are other areas in this building. Much less be allowed into those said areas. Do YOU understand?”
“Thank Christ, okay, lets go see what you have lined up for me.” I stand from the bar and head in the direction he gestured to earlier.
We’re in the elevator headed to the 13th floor when he speaks again. “I have two blondes and a brunette sub that are looking for Doms. All three of them are like you, somewhat new members of Chained and have the same tainted understanding of the lifestyle that you have.”
“Damn. Just one brunette?” I ask as the elevator doors slide open.
Paul stops right outside the door. “Wesley, the color of their hair is not of any importance. You know that. So before you go after a sub just based on her hair color, you need to get your goddamn head on straight. Now.”
An exhausted sigh slips out at the same time I roll my eyes. “Yes, Paul. I am fully aware of that. I just would have liked a few more brunette subs to choose from, that’s all.”
He narrows his eyes on mine before opening the door and motioning for me to enter. After I’ve stepped into the small meeting area Paul closes the door leaving me with the three subs.
All three are nude with their hair pulled back in a bun at the base of their necks. All three are kneeled perfectly, palms facing up resting on their parted thighs. All three faces pointed downward, backs bowed, reminding me of something Michelangelo would sculpt.
I stalk towards the brunette first.
What? Don’t look at me like that. I want the damn brunette to fucking work out, okay?
My hand slips under her chin tilting her face up until her eyes meet mine.
Damn it. Dark brown.
Smiling at her I ask, “What’s your name?”
Quietly she responds, “Heather.”
I nod and flick my hand for her to stand before verbalizing the command as well. “Heather, stand. Let’s sit over there,” I point to the sofa and low table, “I want to know about you. And you’re going to tell me. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” She quickly stands to follow me to the sofa. I motion for her to sit.
“You may sit. Relax. We’re just going to talk, get to know one another.”
After we’re both settled on the couch, I begin. “I’m Wesley Jacobs. I’m dominant by nature and have been in and out of the lifestyle for over ten years. However, I plan on finding a sub that is looking for the same things I am from a relationship and sticking around. I’ve tried to pacify my pallet with vanilla and to be quite honest I’m fucking starved. That’s all for now, so tell me a little about you.”
Her eyes remain on her lap staring at her twisting hands. “Well, I’m twenty-three, I’m taking some courses at the junior college to get my license to be a dental hygienist.”
My fingertips tilt her chin bringing her eyes up to mine. “When you speak to me, look at me. I can’t see if you’re telling the truth without reading your eyes while you speak. Continue.” I nod urging her to finish.
Her fidgeting is already grating on my nerves.
She continues telling me her life story. But I don’t hear a word.
All I can think about is Stella in that fucking red dress. It hugged her every curve like it was made, tailored just for her beautiful little body. All that long brown hair in big curls hanging down to her waist.
Fuck. Heather isn’t going to work.
I look at the other two subs, unmoved from their perfect submissive stance.
Nope.
Bloody. Fucking. Hell.
And then it hits me.
Paul could bring me a goddamn harem of subs, but if one of them isn’t Stella Jolie Reese, then they won’t do.
I’ve got to get inside of little Ms. Reese’s head… Find out if this girl has even one submissive bone in her body.
And God fucking help me if she doesn’t.
God fucking help her if she does.
Chapter 8
Defying a Dom
Can someone tell me why the HELL I’m in club known for BDSM? I’m so damn nervous I can hardly sit still. Plus, this damn dress keeps riding up and if I pull it down any further my tits are gonna fall out of the top.
I cannot believe I let Eve and Trina talk me into this shit.
Let’s go to a BDSM bar and see how they party they said.
It will be fun they said.
Yeah, sorry, I’ll stop.
Once I gain the bartender’s attention, I smile, “Hey. Ahh… Can I have another glass of white Zin?” He nods at my hand. “Oh, you want to see my stamps?” I hold my hand and smile again. “I’m not sure why I got them, but this shit better wash off before Monday.”
“Stamps, plural. Two-drink maximum, babe. Sorry. You’ve had your two.” He turns to walk away and I try to stop him.
“Two fucking drink maximum? What the fuck kind of bar has a two drink maximum?” He just shakes his head and continues moving towards the other end of the bar.
“Seriously? Are you fucking kidding me you asshole?! It’s a bar!”
“A bar where Doms come to find subs. A bar where Doms bring their subs. No one wants a drunk Dom that takes shit too far. And no one needs a drunk sub that forgets her safe word.” Wesley’s voice is like dark chocolate covered sin, his words are smooth as silk sliding from his tongue. Instantly, I am soaked between my thighs.
Hell no I don’t have panties on either. Who the hell wears panties anymore? Oh, right… The smart bitches. SHIT!
I briefly wonder if I can play deaf - pretend I don’t know he’s talking to me. But when his large warm hand circles my arm above my elbow and gently squeezes - well, even I know the shudder that goes through every molecule of my body is one that’s clearly visible.
Before I can turn around his lips brush my ear and he softly speaks, “I saw that, Ms. Reese.”
I turn nudging my face into him before I can make sense of my body language. “Why does that not surprise me, Wesley Jacobs? Of course you notice the things I rather you wouldn’t.”
He runs his nose from behind my ear to the nape of my neck, planting his face into my hair before breathing in deeply and whispering, “I don’t know what the fuck that means. Honestly, I don’t care.” His grip on my arms tighten and he pulls my back flush against his massive chest and torso. Immediately, I become aware of his massive erection. I cannot keep the smirk from my face if I wanted too. “Come with me, Stella. We have a lot to talk about, love.”
If I were smart, if I had more wine in me, I’d do exactly what I should—I’d tell him to fuck off. But I’ve only had two glasses of wine and apparently, I’m not as fucking smart as I thought I was.
I nod, wave goodbye to my friends and follow Wesley fucking Jacobs out of the BDSM bar.
Yeah… How you like those cookies? They look sweet. Fuck it, I guess we’ll see, won’t we?
Once we’re at his black looking sports car—I have no idea if it’s a
Hyundai or a Jag—he opens the passenger door for me and moves the stuff from the seat to the back of the car before stepping aside. “My place?” he asks as I slide into the softest fucking leather seat my ass has ever graced.
I nod before he shuts the door and quickly makes his way around the hood of his car to the drivers side.
Once we’ve driven a little while in silence, I feel obligated to speak, to explain some shit before we get to his house. “Wesley, I’m only coming to your place for a drink, maybe two. If you want to talk about the internship that would be great, I’m excited. I was… Umm, nervous about it - well, I’m still nervous, but…”
His laughter cuts my rambling off. “I wasn’t talking about the internship when I said we had shit to talk about. Yes, two drinks. Maybe three. What I have to say… Well, we’re both going to need more than the two little drinks served at Chained.”
I try to swallow and it turns into an audible gulp.
Shit!
“Ahh, okay. Maybe three. What is the topic you’d like to discuss, exactly?”
His chuckle causes my skin to break out in chill bumps. “After drink one, yeah?”
“What? You have to get another drink in me before even telling me the topic?” I scoff mocking scandal.
“Hell fucking yes, I do.” He shakes his head with the devil’s grin dancing across his face. A few moments later, he flips the blinker before pulling into a parking garage directly on Park fucking Ave. I can’t help it. My jaw falls into my damn lap.
“What you need to pick something up from Hermes?” I ask looking around and laughing but not being funny AT ALL.
“What?” He glances over and looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. “Hermes? Hell no. For one it’s ten thirty at night and the only fucking thing I have in my closet is Armani.”
“Oh…” I tug up my dress.
Fuck yes! The damn girls are spilling out again.
“My dress came from Saks. Well, the discount rack at Saks.”
Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending Page 4
