by Lilly Black
“Oh, really? And what were you expecting me to call about? Your brother’s ridiculous story about you not having the balls to ask me to the charity dinner or him distracting me so you could have someone stuff my tip jar?”
“What did Caleb say about the charity dinner?”
“You tell me. You sent him.”
“Not to talk about that.”
“Oh,” I say coldly. Did he not want me to know about it?
“So will you go with me? Dave said you could have the night off.”
“Cain! What the fuck?”
“Just say you’ll go with me,” he urges, and I can’t tell him no.
“On one condition,” I say.
“I’m not taking the money back.”
“I’m not giving the money back. My tip jar, my money.” It’s pointless to argue with him anyway.
“Then what’s the condition?” Cain asks.
“You brief me on all your exes who could be there.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“We can do it the night before. Dave said you could take next Friday off as well.”
“If we have time on Friday, but as it stands now, once I verify that with Dave to make sure you’re not trying to trick me into getting fired for not showing up, I plan to punish you severely for your behavior tonight.”
“I look forward to it, Domina,” Cain says, pausing for a second. “Just as soon as you say the magic words.”
“Good. Night. Cain. That’s three.”
“You can’t expect me to go back to sleep now,” he complains. “Come over.”
“Good night, Cain.” I repeat.
“You’re cruel,” he groans.
“You have no idea,” I warn him in a sultry, low purr, and when I press the button to end the call, I look up to find Nicole staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
“You. You love him.”
“Do not,” I argue.
Do, too, says the little voice in my head.
September 19
It’s Thursday, two nights before the charity dinner. I’ve worked every night this week, and I haven’t seen Cain since he flew to Boston again Sunday night. Now his plane has already landed in San Diego, but I’m stuck here until closing time with no way to sneak out early because the bar is packed.
At the end of the night, I rush to get everything done because Nicole is going to drop me off at Cain’s apartment, where he’ll be mine until Monday morning, but as we’re finishing up, I see him step out of the elevator.
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I ask.
“How can I sleep when I haven’t seen you in days?”
“You’ll be miserable at work tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to work tomorrow. My boss gave me the day off, too.”
“I’ll have to do something special to thank him,” I say, snaking my arms around his neck and kissing him.
“God, I’ve missed you,” Cain whispers.
“Me, too,” I say, grabbing his hand to lead him to the elevator, wishing it wasn’t made of glass.
Downstairs, the limo awaits us, and though at first, I think it was ridiculous for him to drag Lucy out of bed to drive him here at this hour, once inside, I see the wisdom. We might have ended up parking behind a dumpster if Cain had driven because we can’t keep our hands off each other. With the tinted window blocking us from Lucy’s view, Cain immediately pulls my shirt over my head and lays me down on the seat to take my jeans off. He starts kissing down my body, but I want more of a connection.
“I need to feel you inside me,” I whisper, and as soon as his pants are past his hips, I push him down into the seat and straddle him. I’ve been thinking about this so much today, the first, slow thrust is practically orgasmic. I shudder, digging my nails into his shoulders as he lifts me and pulls me back down, grinding into me with an intense grip on my hips.
“I can’t go this long without you ever again,” he growls as he accelerates, fucking me deep and fast. With my arms around his head and his face between my tits, I explode, trembling and writhing against him in a sudden, devastating climax, and Cain joins me, exhaling my name in hot breath against my chest as he brings me down forcefully one final time.
We stay just like that, holding each other until the light outside the limo gets bright as we enter the parking garage. Dressing hurriedly as Lucy comes to a stop, she’s already standing by the elevator, smiling at us when we get out of the car. It’s so sweet and weird.
“Welcome home,” she says.
“Hungry?” Cain asks after a shower as he wraps me in one of two freshly laundered robes hanging over a towel warmer in his bathroom. Even though we had just fucked each other silly on the ride home, when we got in the shower to wash off, it quickly turned into round two.
“I’m starved,” I say as I wonder how these robes got there. Does he send his laundry out? Does he have a maid?
He leads me to the dining room where sandwiches are plated on china with sodas in goblets. When I pick up a fry from my plate to see if they’re salty enough, they’re still warm.
“Where did these come from?” I ask.
“Lucy,” Cain says, as if her name is a synonym for magic.
“Oh, my God, Cain! She heard us in the shower!” I shout, thinking about what he did to me on his knees in the shower…and what I did to him afterward. It got loud.
“Does it really bother you that much?” he asks.
“Does it really not bother you?”
“When you grow up like I did, you get used to always having people around who know way too much about your life.”
“It just seems so rude to Lucy, like she doesn’t matter.”
“Evan, Lucy does what she wants to do, and if she ever wants to stop, she’ll stop. It makes her happy to take care of me, and now it makes her happy to take care of you.”
“I still can’t wrap my mind around her doing all this with no sexual motivation. Are you sure she’s not just waiting for you to…”
“No, and believe me, I’ve tried,” Cain says.
“What?”
“Oh, come on, Evan. You know me well enough to know that I couldn’t stand the idea of her never being able to get off without trying to do something about it. Everything I’ve told you about Lucy and me is true, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try like hell to get her to let me give it a shot. Life is not worth living if you can’t come.” He’s right. Even before he gave me that first miraculous orgasm, the quest for it consumed me to the point that my whole future was based around it.
“Do you know what my future plans were before I met you?” I ask.
“Grad school?”
“I meant long term.” He shakes his head. “It seems completely ludicrous now, but I thought I had a serious problem. I had been to doctors and therapists, and my long term goal was to go into a research field to figure out how to help myself and girls like me.”
“You still can,” Cain says.
“What? By finding a way to mass market you?” Cain laughs. He’s not shy at all about receiving compliments and is especially fond of sexual praise. “So why wouldn’t Lucy let you try?”
“She didn’t want to fall in love with me,” he says with a cocky grin, and I swat him. “Honestly, I don’t really know. Lucy’s childhood fucked her up in a lot of ways. I wish I could tell you more because it would help you understand her better, but I can’t betray her trust.” Though I really want to know what happened to her now, I appreciate the tenacity with which he guards her secrets.
“I will, however,” Cain says, “Tell you anything you want to know about any ex-girlfriend as per your condition regarding accompanying me Saturday night, so what do you say we get that over with?”
I say yes. If I am going to be surrounded by them on their home turf, I need to know who they are and what they meant to him. It’s not that I’m jealous, or so I keep trying to convince myself, but after what he just did to me in the sh
ower, on his knees before me, behind me, beneath me…the thought of him doing that with someone else even before I knew him sickens me.
“Have you done…all the things you’ve done to me with all of these women?” I ask, sheepishly, not sure how to say what I mean.
“What things are we talking about?” Cain asks with a smirk. He’s going to make me come out and say it if I’m not clever.
“You know, like what you do with your…mouth.”
“Yours are the only toes I’ve had in my mouth.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“Why?”
“You seem to have a thing for feet.”
“I have a thing for naked women in high heels. That hardly constitutes a foot fetish.”
“That isn’t what I was talking about anyway. I meant more…intimate acts,” I admit, and Cain laughs at me.
“I would call sucking your toes very intimate, but since we don’t seem to agree, you’re going to have to be more specific and preferably graphic.”
“I’ll take that under advisement,” I say, but now that I think about it, I know the answer to my question already. He’s too good at it not to have had lots of practice, and just the thought of how good he is gives me an unexpected rush of excitement, even in the midst of thinking about him with past girlfriends. It kind of disturbs me, but it’s also a good indicator that I can handle the conversation ahead.
“Well?” he asks.
“Never mind,” I say. “Just tell me about the country club exes.”
“What do you want to know about them?”
“I don’t know. How serious it was, why it ended, what they look like…”
“I can show you photos.”
“Okay,” I say, and Cain heads into his office. I’m a little afraid to see these pictures. Cain is godlike, and assuming they’re all perfect, blonde goddesses, I suddenly feel plain and drab like Morgan le Fey the shadow of Guinevere as I watch Cain in the office through the open doorway. He presses a combination to unlock a desk drawer, pulls out a dozen or so file folders, and brings them back to the table where we sit side by side.
“How many are we talking?” I ask as I open a tiny bottle of ketchup.
“I don’t know. Twenty maybe?”
“In two years?”
“You wanted to know about all the women I’ve dated who are likely to be there Saturday night. Some are from high school and college, but I can leave them out if you aren’t interested.” I give him a snarl, and he opens the first folder to collection of loose photographs.
“Lucy tosses any old photos she comes across in this file. Most of these are from a long time ago,” he explains as he hands me the first picture. Though he’s younger with slightly longer hair, he’s still his beautiful, perfect self wearing a tux with no tie, and the girl beside him is exactly what I was expecting - thin, well-endowed, blonde, designer dress. She’s pretty, but I don’t feel threatened by her. She seems unnatural, plastic.
“This is Lourdes,” Cain says.
“Okay, so when? How long? How was the sex? Who dumped who and why?” I try to sound playful as I rattle off my list.
“First year of college. About a month. Terrible. Me. Because the sex was terrible. Does that cover it?” Cain laughs at me.
“What was so terrible about it?”
“She was obsessed with always having perfect makeup, which precluded many of my favorite sex acts.”
“So obviously you had to break up with her.”
“Yes, and I had to fuck two of her friends to prove that she was just being a vindictive bitch when she told everyone I was the one who sucked in bed.”
“Are you serious?”
“I had to protect my reputation.”
“As what? A dog?”
“Absolutely.” I laugh at his joke, but it’s probably true.
“Who’s next?”
“Amber,” he says. Another blonde. “Serious college girlfriend. Cheating, trust issues, plane crash, nothing more to say.”
“Wait! I want to talk about the long hair,” I say. It’s down to his shoulders in this picture. He’s just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but he looks unbelievably hot.
“You like it?” he asks.
“Like it? I demand that you grow it back.”
“I can let it get a little longer, but you have to be reasonable,” he says.
“I just want a ponytail I can get a good grip on,” I say, leaning in to kiss him as I grab a handful of his hair for emphasis. “Now. About Amber…”
“She won’t come near us. She still hates me passionately, and it works both ways.”
I can’t blame him. She’s the reason Cain and his friends were on that plane.
We move on. He shows me several more girls from high school and college, then he puts the communal folder aside and opens the next one. A nude photo is stapled to the inside with a small disk the size of a SIM card in a plastic sleeve beneath it, and there’s a stack of papers.
What the hell?
“These folders are…”
“Submissives,” I guess, fascinated.
“Yes,” he says, and suddenly all I can think about is the disk. Cain says it contains their video negotiations and the papers are nondisclosure agreements, contracts, and bills of clean health.
“Do I have a folder?” I ask.
“You don’t need one,” he says, running his fingers along the line of my chin, making me smile as I begin looking through the files and asking questions. Though I was uncomfortable with the nude pictures initially, with their flaws laid bare in good light, I don’t feel as insecure as I expected, especially after Cain points out that he very much prefers my natural tits over the best fakes, and without their designer clothes on, these women could just as easily be strippers as heiresses. Then we come to Anabelle.
Anabelle
She’s a switch! With long, dark hair like mine, she’s plain and waifish, and instead of being naked like the rest, she’s wearing a bra and cotton panties like the ones Cain was so anxious to get out of my underwear drawer.
“Did she bleach her hair for you after this was taken?” I tease.
“They’re not all blondes, Evan.”
“Name one brunette other than this girl and myself, and your fake marriage to Lucy doesn’t count.”
“Uh…” Cain drags it out, and I just roll my eyes at him.
“So what’s the deal with Anabelle?” I ask.
“Anabelle…” he sighs. “Anabelle seemed like the perfect submissive, not the kind I like to break, but the real thing, and curiosity got the better of me. I thought I could mold her into anything I wanted, but in the end, I just couldn’t go through with it.”
“Why not?” Aside from the fact that she looks like a limp dishrag…
“She’s a grown woman with sexual sensibilities of a 13-year-old girl. Her romantic ideals were so juvenile and naive, I felt like a pedophile just negotiating with her.”
Good thing I’m so jaded, I think, knowing that deep inside, I am not much different, my sexuality frozen in time at just about at the same age as hers.
“So you broke it off?” I ask. “Was she crushed?”
“Devastated. It was over a year ago, and she still just sits across the room and stares at me every time I have to suffer through one of these functions. I’m so glad you’re coming with me this time, Evan. It will be so much more interesting to me now.” He has a devilish look in his eye.
“Interesting?” I snipe, displeased by the weak adjective. “If interesting is the best you can give me, then just to keep things interesting, you’ll be wearing my panties beneath your tux.”
“Oh, really?” Cain asks as if he’s challenging me.
“Really.”
“Keep talking like that, and I’ll drag your ass to the dungeon right now,” he threatens.
“You really don’t understand how this Domme/sub thing works at all, do you?” I indicate myself as Domme and him as sub as I say it.
“We’re making our own rules.”
“Then I propose a new one. If you hope to find yourself strapped to a the wall in my dungeon at any point in the near future, you’ll focus so we can get this over with.”
“Yes, Domina,” he sneers.
“Will you ever learn to say that without sarcasm?”
“You’ll have to teach me,” he says, smiling.
“Or beat it out of you,” I say.
“I think I’d respond better to reward-based training,” Cain says, mischievously, but I ignore him. We have to finish this or I am not walking into a country club where all of the pretty, little blonde dolls Catherine has hand-picked to bear her grandchildren will be watching me, judging me, and waiting for me to fuck something up and embarrass myself.
I direct Cain’s attention to the stack of folders with a firm stare, and just as I close Anabelle’s folder, something catches my eye on her bill of health. She was a certified virgin. I don’t mention it as Cain opens the next folder, and I notice that the doctor’s name is the same as Anabelle’s file and the one before that.
“So all of these women have the same doctor?”
“She’s my doctor. She’s on call whenever I need her.”
“So you don’t trust other doctors’ results?”
“It’s not in my nature to trust, Evan, especially not like I trust you,” he says, then he gives me a suspicious look. “Of course now that I see how easy it is to get you off, I’m starting to wonder if the whole ‘no man can make me come’ bit is just a scam you use to make a man become obsessed with going down on you.”
“Why? Are you obsessed?” I ask.
“I am completely obsessed with your pussy, Evan.”
“That works both ways,” I admit.
“I don’t follow.”
“I meant that I am obsessed with yours as well.”
“With my what?” he asks stubbornly.
“With your cock, Cain Ballantyne. I am obsessed with your cock. Happy?”
“No. Tell me more about my cock.”
“After you finish telling me where it’s been,” I say with a wry smile. Cain relents, and we quickly blow through several more folders. Then we come to the one I’ve been dreading.
Elizabeth
Cain doesn’t even need to open the folder because her image is already burned into my retinas, and though I already know most of the answers to my five questions, he tells me something new and much more interesting. He tells me about the night he discovered that she had been poking holes in condoms. He called his doctor immediately, and she came to his apartment in the middle of the night to give Elizabeth a pregnancy test. It was negative.
