Violent Delights: A Dark Billionaire Romance

by Linnea May

  “Please,” she pleads, her lower lip quivering. “Master. Please, let me use the restroom.”

  I watch as she goes down on her knees in front of me, clasping her hands together in front of her chest, sobbing while she looks up at me. “Please.”

  “Get up,” I hiss at her. “That’s a pathetic display. You don’t ask for things like this.”

  A trace of bewilderment flashes across her pretty face, but for once, she follows my command without hesitation. She gets back up on her feet and wraps her arms around her torso, all while pressing her legs together.

  “You may go,” I tell her, and her eyes widen with relief. “If you promise to behave from now on. No backtalk, no questions, no hesitation.”

  She nods even as I speak.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” she says hurriedly. “Yes, Master. Anything you want, please just-”

  “And you’ll wear this,” I interrupt her, producing a leather collar from my pocket. It’s a very simple design, just a slim, black leather collar with the obligatory d-ring in the front.

  I hold it up to her, and I can see her eyes flicker when she realizes what it is. I don’t know if it’s panic or excitement, and I hope for her sake that it’s a little bit of both.

  She nods again, remaining still when I close the collar around her neck. It’s just a training collar, nothing fancy. She could even open the clasp herself and take it off on her own volition.

  However, it’s better for her if she doesn’t.

  “You cannot take this off,” I tell her, after fastening the clasp at the back of her neck. “Never. Understand?”

  She looks up at me. “Yes... Master.”

  “Good girl,” I say. “Now come.”

  I hook my finger around the d-ring and turn around, pulling her with me as I march out of the room. She’s a lot shorter than I am, and has trouble keeping up with my long strides. I don’t want her to look around too much once we leave her cell. We’re heading through a narrow corridor with big windows to the left. I can see her head turning toward them as we move along, squinting at the rising sun. It’s early morning, and she has been alone in her cell for about six hours. I didn’t get much sleep myself. I never sleep well the first night a new girl is here. There’s too much anticipation, too many thoughts running through my head, so much to look forward to - and so much to fear.

  I wonder if she slept at all. She stumbles next to me, her hands rising up and holding on to mine as I pull her along by her collar. She tries to ease the tension on her throat by putting her own hands between mine and the collar, but it doesn’t do much.

  At least this struggle keeps her occupied enough not to pay too much attention to her surroundings. We are leaving the corridor behind us, reaching the open space that has the stairs leading downstairs on the left and another, longer corridor to the right. We take the route to the right, as I lead her to her new home. The entire uppermost floor will be hers, but she won’t get to see anything else for the next thirty-nine days. Three doors branch off from this hallway, and that is it.

  And the attic she just came from. She may hope never to see that room again, but I doubt this was her last night within its confines.

  I stop in front of the last door, quickly unlocking it before I push her inside ahead of me. She has trouble maintaining her balance when I shove her into the bathroom. The room is not very big, but still causes her to gasp in awe when she steps into its interior. I prefer a sleek and modern design for my own living area, but for this bathroom, which will only be used by the girls, I’ve hired an interior designer to come up with a more feminine touches. There’s white marble all around, heated floor tiles, a glass-enclosed shower next to a hot tub. I splurged on high-end fixtures and custom finishes, such as gold and crystal accents and a mirror above the vanity that covers almost the entire wall. The window is small and unobtrusive, but it’s the first thing her eyes wander to.

  “You’re on the third floor,” I tell her. “And all windows have a security lock that can only be opened by me. Don’t get any ideas.”

  She turns around to face me, her eyes piercing through me with passionate hate. Very good, she’s playing her role perfectly.

  I nod toward the toilet at the other end of the bathroom. “I thought you needed to go.”

  She nods, but doesn’t move. Instead, she looks at me expectantly.

  “I am not leaving,” I tell her. “You either do it with me in the room, or not at all.”

  Her eyes widen in horror.

  “No,” she whispers. “Please, just a minute of privacy. I promise I won’t-”

  “No,” I interrupt her. “Not an option.”

  “But-”

  She pauses, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the toilet she so desperately needs. She bites her lower lip and averts her eyes as she walks over to the toilet, hissing curses at me in such a low whisper that I cannot perceive their meaning.

  Chapter 13

  Liana

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask, my voice muffled by my hands as I hide my face behind them. I am so utterly ashamed, stripped of any pride as I sit on the toilet. His eyes remain trained on me as I relieve myself.

  This is so humiliating, even worse than the time I was dumb enough to volunteer to perform a solo while singing for the chorus in high school. I forgot the lyrics in the middle of the song and made a gigantic fool of myself in front of the entire school, but right now, it feels like such a mundane thing. This is worse by far.

  Of course, he doesn’t answer my question. I try to forget that he’s even there, and finish without ever lifting my eyes to look at him. Even when I walk over to the arguably fancy sink to wash my hands, I don’t glance at him.

  Regardless of the situation, I can’t help but notice how lavish all of this is. If this hadn’t been such an excruciatingly horrid experience, I could relish in the beauty of this luxurious bathroom. The light marble tiles feel warm beneath my frozen feet, and the golden fixtures on the sink appear to be made of real gold, not just painted over. There’s a glass-enclosed shower cabin that is easily big enough for two people. The same goes for the jacuzzi tub right next to it.

  Whoever this man is, he’s not your ordinary psychopath, but a filthy rich one.

  “Do you want to take a shower?” he asks, pulling me away from my stream of thoughts.

  Yes, my mind cries. Yes, I want nothing more than to get rid of these uncomfortable clothes and wash away the horror of last night.

  But what I want even more than that is for him to let me go.

  “I want to go home,” I say, standing before him with my arms crossed in front of my chest. As humiliating as the last few minutes were, the relief I feel now empowers me with a strength that I thought I had lost forever when I was caged up in that attic. I am still wearing the red coat over my business outfit. More and more, this hideous piece of clothing begins to feel like armor. This coat kept me warm, it provided the least bit of comfort I was allowed, and now I feel as if it has the power to protect me against him.

  He narrows his eyes.

  “You’re not going home, and you know that,” he says. “You’re mine now.”

  He keeps repeating himself without ever giving me a clear reply. Maybe he’s a politician and used to giving responses without ever answering a question.

  Well, two can play at that game.

  “I want to go home,” I repeat. “I want you to let me go.”

  He sighs and shakes his head, worrying me as he takes a step toward me. I move away from him on instinct, but he doesn’t let me gain any distance between us. His hand darts forward, catching hold of the ring attached to my collar. He pulls on it, so that I’m forced to lean forward, drawing me closer to him. He pulls me up and even closer, wrapping his other arm around me and pressing my body against his, while I choke against the strain he forces on my throat.

  Fuck, he’s strong. And so freaking gorgeous. How can a monster like him look like this? Like a goddamn Adonis.
If I’d ever run into him on the street, I’d be intimidated by his handsome looks to no end. Just based on his looks, he’s the kind of man who makes me weak in the knees.

  Sadly, he’s also the kind of man who drugged, kidnapped, and locked me up in a cold attic for an entire night.

  “If you say that one more time,” he hisses. “You’ll go back in the cell, and this time, I won’t let you out for a little potty time. Do you understand?”

  I respond with an ached groan because he’s pulling the collar with such force that it robs me of my voice. He realizes that, releasing his grasp a little so I can give him the answer he is waiting for.

  The only answer that will not end in me going back into that horrible attic.

  “Yes, Master,” I say between gritted teeth.

  “Now, let’s try this again,” he whispers. His tone has changed and is surprisingly soft in comparison to before. “I’m offering you something very nice here. Only a very bad girl would refuse such a generous offer. And what do bad girls get?”

  “Punishment,” I hiss.

  I hate the way he’s speaking to me. As if I was a dumb child.

  “That’s right,” he says, smiling at me. I want to spit in his goddamn handsome face. The contrast between his physical attractiveness and the monster that possesses his soul is driving me mad.

  “And what do good girls get?” he wants to know.

  I hesitate, because I don’t know the exact word he’s looking for, and if I’ve learned anything from the short time we’ve spent together, it’s that saying the right thing is of utmost importance with him.

  “Treats?” I try, sighing with relief when I see him nodding.

  “Correct,” he says. “You were very brave right now, so I think you deserve a little treat. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I assume this question is a trap, but I dare a subtle nod in response to it.

  “I’m offering you a hot shower,” he says. “As a treat for being such a good girl just now. Will you accept this offer?”

  I’m scared to say yes, but rejecting anything he offers so generously seems like a dumb idea.

  “Yes,” I hear myself say. “Yes, Master, I would love that.”

  A smile appears on his face, a smile that I would almost call loving if it wasn’t for the terrible person I know he can be.

  “Good,” he says, and lets go of me. “Have your shower then.”

  I don’t know why, but I was dumb enough to believe he would leave the room for this. Of course, he doesn’t. Instead, he walks over to the stool in front of the vanity and sits down, crossing his legs as he casts me an expectant look.

  “You’re... staying?” I ask, even though that questions is redundant, as he has already proven his intentions.

  He nods, still smiling. “Of course. I am not going to miss this, my Pet.”

  I turn into a pillar, unable to move while our eyes are locked on each other. So this is what he is, a sexual predator. He is going to rape me.

  But if that’s what he is after, why hasn’t he done it yet? He’s strong, way stronger than me. Instead of asking me to undress last night, he could have ripped my clothes off and taken what he wanted from me. But all he did was threaten me by ripping my pantyhose. He pinned me down, and scared me, but he didn’t do anything. When I didn’t oblige his wishes, he simply left the room.

  And now he’s not lifting a finger either. He sits a few feet away from me, reveling in my struggle.

  It’s hard to ignore the warm tingling between my legs when I begin to undress in front of him. His eyes flicker with approval as I finally surrender to his wishes.

  Chapter 14

  Joseph

  She reluctantly takes off her suit jacket, avoiding me with her eyes just like she did before. So this is her game then. She’s playing the shy girl, the inexperienced good girl, the one who has never done anything like this before. All the other girls smiled and winked at me while they undressed in front of me for the first time. They flirted, seductively displaying their lean bodies as they tried to entice me.

  It was all fine. I found some of them to be too sassy, especially when they made cheeky remarks during their striptease. But I was pleased with most of their performances.

  Never as pleased as I am with hers, though.

  Sweet little Ruby opts for a different kind of play. Her role differs from everyone else. And so does her body. The more of her immaculate skin she shows me, the more I begin to doubt my own eyes. She’s less curvy than I expected based on the pictures, her hair is darker and her ass smaller. Her boobs look different, too. They’re round and firm, but are dropping lower than I would have expected from the silicone-filled melons I saw in her file. They look soft and natural, very alluring. Real.

  She closes her eyes, grimacing as if she was in pain, as she finally takes off the last few pieces of clothing, her bra and the black lacey thong I already saw last night.

  She looks different - but so damn beautiful that it’s hard for me to remain patient. My cock rises to attention, growing harder with every piece of clothing she removes, playing havoc with my resolution.

  I’m not going to touch her. I’m not going to do anything to her. I’m just going to watch.

  She stands before me, bare ass naked and looking fucking delicious, when her eyes seek mine, asking for permission.

  “Go ahead,” I encourage her. “Take a hot shower, as long as you want. I have all the time in the world.”

  She swallows, pressing her lips together in despair.

  “You’re going to watch?” she asks.

  I nod. “I already told you, I will.”

  She sighs, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. With all her transgressions, she might just as well beg for punishment.

  Later, I have to remind myself. Later.

  I watch as she enters the glass-enclosed shower cabin and turns on the water. She turns her back to me, allowing me to watch her perfectly round ass while she welcomes the hot water as it streams down her flawless skin. The sigh she lets out speaks of so much relief and joy that it causes me to smile. She shall have her treat now, but nothing will spare her what’s to come later.

  She takes her time, using every single one of the expensive spa products I’ve laid out for her, soaping her body extensively, relishing the humid heat surrounding her.

  “Shave yourself,” I command her, after she’s already spent a significant amount of time under the hot water.

  She casts me an indignant look, and I can see the spark of revolt blossoming in her face, before she bites her lower lip and reaches for the razor.

  “Take your time,” I soothe her. “Do it thoroughly.”

  She mumbles something back at me, but her words are low enough to be drowned out by the running water.

  “I want you smooth,” I add to my order. “Every part of you. Every single day. Do you understand?”

  I raise my voice, so she can hear me. She does hear me, but instead of giving the reply she’s supposed to give, she just sneers at me for a brief moment.

  Bad girl.

  She follows the order precisely, moving very slowly and with caution. I can tell that she’s trying to prolong her time under the shower, because there she feels safe from me. But she can’t stay in there forever.

  “I think you’re done,” I say, after so much time has passed that the entire bathroom has turned into a steam bath. “Turn off the water and get out.”

  She hesitates for a moment, standing with her back to me while basking in the last drops of the beloved shower. She can have this every day if she behaves. If she behaves.

  I get up from my seat and fetch one of the big plush towels for her, while she finally turns off the water as I instructed. She doesn’t open the glass door of the shower, but waits for me to do it.

  “Please,” she breathes when I approach her. “Please don’t hurt me, Master.”

  Her voice is so weak, so frightened, suppressing another round of tears. It feels as if she truly
fears me.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” I promise. “I’m just going to dry you off. Turn around.”

  She sighs, her breath trembling the same as her voice and body. The makeup she wore must not have been waterproof, as most of it has disappeared, leaving only a small hint of black smudge around her blue eyes. Just like everything else, her eye color is not an ordinary blue, but underlined with hints of gray. This is the first time that I notice, now that she’s standing in bright light and it’s hitting her from a different angle than before.

  “I’m not going to touch you,” I tell her. “Just stay still.”

  She nods. I want to believe that her shivering is not only because of her fear for me, but because she’s getting cold now that the shower is turned off.

  I go down on my knees before her, something that she won’t see often. It’s a gesture that serves a purpose. I don’t know if she’s just an incredibly good actress, or if she’s actually afraid of me, but in any case, I need to gain her trust. She needs to know that I stay true to my words, the good and the bad.

  I told her that I wouldn’t touch her, and I won’t. When I begin to dab the water off her body, I make sure that there’s no direct skin to skin contact. The towel is always between us, never exposing her to my touch, no matter if I travel along her ankles, her slim legs, her soft thighs, her alluring core, or the curves of her perfect breasts.

  I can sense her relaxing more and more with every inch. Her growing trust is palpable.

  “Lift your arms,” I tell her, and she obeys immediately.

  I finish drying her off, gently lowering her arms when I wrap the giant towel around her shoulders.