by Lilly Black
“What would you have done if she had been pregnant?” I ask.
“Fucking killed her,” Cain says coldly, then his expression softens and he sighs. “I probably would have done the right thing, and I despise her when I think about how she could have trapped me before I ever met you.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“She called me the other day,” he confesses, and my eyes fly open wide. “I let it go to voice mail.”
“I want to hear the message.”
“No you don’t. She was just being a bitch, threatening to violate the NonDisclosure Agreement.”
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“I had my attorney take care of it. It’s not the first time an ex-sub has made that threat,” he says dismissively, “but even after all that, I still wanted you so much I let the NDA slide.”
“And regardless of what I may have said, I wanted you so much I would have signed it.”
“I know,” he says, and there’s that smug grin that drives me crazy.
“So what would have happened to Elizabeth if she had violated it?”
“Just a big legal mess, but the damage would already be done if it got to that point. That’s why I have these.” He opens the next folder and indicates the small computer disk stapled inside.
“The video contracts?”
“They’re more than just contracts.”
“Oh,” I say, and then without evening thinking, I find myself asking to watch them.
“Are you sure you understand what I was implying?” Cain asks, his brow furrowed.
“Sex videos, right?”
“And you want to watch them?”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” I say indecisively, but I am actually curious as fuck about those little storage devices now.
“I’m not saying no, but let’s get through Saturday night, and revisit this later. Okay?”
“Okay. So who’s next?” I ask as Cain closes the folder.
“You,” he answers, his tone a low growl as he pushes all of the folders and dishes out of our way.
“But we’re not finished,” I argue.
“We are for now because I don’t want these bitches to get inside your head. I have you all to myself for three days, and I plan to spend every possible minute doing everything I can to make you want to quit your job and stay with me forever,” he says, and as I look up into his eyes, searching my mind for the right words to say lest I make a silly joke, he places a fortune cookie on the table in front of me. “I believe you forgot this after dinner last week.” I stare at the golden confection sitting there in its plastic wrapper, wondering why he bothered to bring it back here from the dungeon. I remember him making a point of ordering fortune cookies with our sushi that night, but I don’t remember it being a big deal that I forgot to eat it. I look up at him suspiciously as he unwraps it, cracks it open, and hands it to me.
“It’s time to surrender to your destiny, Evan,” he says cryptically as I pull out the fortune. It reads:
YOUR DESTINY IS RIGHT BEFORE YOUR EYES.
“This doesn’t exactly sound like ancient Chinese wisdom,” I complain, not looking up from the sliver of white paper with red writing.
“I think it’s sage advice,” Cain says, putting one hand under my chin in an attempt to lift my gaze. While I cover my eyes, I feel him tugging at my robe, and the next thing I know, I’m being carried away with the robe hanging from one arm as I refuse to look at him. He lays me down on the bed and sits astride my hips, having shed his robe, too, and I feel his intent against my belly.
“You’ll have to move that hand sooner or later,” he says, slipping one of his legs between mine to spread them as he slides his hand over my breasts and down my abdomen toward the forbidden zone.
“You wouldn’t!” I snap when he slips his hand between my thighs.
“Oh, I would,” he threatens, and without warning he lets one finger lightly graze me. I grab him by the wrist with my free hand.
“Now you can’t.”
“Not with that hand.” He laughs, and I feel his other hand taking the place of the one I now hold.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Look at me,” he tries to negotiate.
“No.”
“Then I’m afraid we’re going to have to see if, like everything else, my touch is superior to all other men.”
“A little full of ourselves, aren’t we?” I say to distract him as I twist my thighs inward, pigeon-toeing my feet in an attempt to hide my scars, then I feel one finger dip ever-so-slightly lower than the others as he slides his hand over me. Reminding myself that I can always use the safeword, I try to relax, and though his fingertip isn’t nearly as smooth as his tongue, his subtle teasing is turning me on until he begins to branch out with his other fingers. My muscles tense automatically as my conditioning kicks in. If he doesn’t stop now, he’ll feel the scars, but I’ve become powerless to stop him. I use the only control I have. I uncover my eyes.
“Was that so hard?” Cain asks, his attention redirected.
“No,” I say meekly.
“You could have stopped me.”
“I know.”
“Are you okay?”
“Depends,” I say. “What did your cookie say?”
“The same thing,” he answers, sucking the air out of my lungs with a fearless gaze.
September 20
Cain and I sleep until after noon on Friday. We have nothing to do today but finish the last, few sub folders, find something for me to wear to the charity dinner, and play in the dungeon. After breakfast I go through my closet to see if there’s anything appropriate to wear tomorrow night, and in my morning stupor, I lay out several black dresses before I even notice what I’m laying them on. It’s a new piece of furniture - a gorgeous, red velvet fainting couch, and as if on cue, Cain comes in freshly showered and smelling like heaven.
“When did you do this?” I ask, beaming.
“Do you like it?” he asks. “I wanted black, but when I saw the red, it made me think of the night I met you.”
“It’s perfect! I love it!” I gush as I throw my arms around him and kiss him on the cheek.
“There’s a new mirror, too,” he says, leading me over to what appears to be a thickly framed etching of St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans. He opens it to reveal five mirrors that fan out on stiff hinges to allow me to see myself in 360 degrees. As Cain encircles us both, I think about how wonderful it would be to fuck him here where I could watch his body from every angle.
“You think of everything,” I say, leaning my head back to look up at him as he stands behind me.
“Only for you,” he says, kissing my forehead.
“So which one for tomorrow night?” I ask as I close the mirror, pointing to the dresses I’ve laid out.
“None of those will do,” Cain says. “You’ll need a one-of-a-kind. Get dressed. I’m taking you shopping.”
“Uhhh,” I whine.
“You are the strangest woman, Evan Lucien,” Cain says, shaking his head. “What if I pick up Nicole on the way? Will that make it more fun for you?”
“Sweet of you to offer…”
“I am not sweet,” he protests, biting my shoulder.
“Forgive me, Master,” I say. “It was…thoughtful of you to offer, but I think taking Nicole shopping will only remind her that she’s not coming to the royal ball.”
“I thought about asking Cary to take her, but that would be unfair to Caleb.”
“Unfair to Caleb? That’s rich,” I snipe.
“I think Nicole can handle seeing Caleb with the harpy because she knows he really wants to be with her, but if he had to watch her there getting hit on and dancing with other men, he’d end up ruining his entire life before dinner is served.”
“Would it be so ruined?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says with an unfamiliar sadness in his tone. “Evan, nothing would make me happier than to see Cay leave that bitch, but not if it destr
oys him in the process. Our mother fucked us all up, not just me.”
“I don’t think you’re fucked up,” I say.
“I like to bind and torture women who kind of remind me of my mother,” he jokes. “What about that isn’t fucked up?”
“Me.”
“You,” he says, kissing me on the nose. “Now get dressed. The sooner we get this shopping over with, the sooner I can get you bound and tortured.”
“You may as well start practicing your patience now, Playboy,” I call after him as he walks toward the door. “You won’t always be the one doing the torturing.”
“Then you had better start practicing your line,” he calls back.
In a black sweater dress with 3” gladiator heels, my hair in a loose bun, and wearing my favorite Dior sunglasses, I think I look the part for this adventure when Cain and I get in the elevator. In the parking garage, he asks me what car I want to take, and my eye is drawn to the one vehicle in the Ballantyne spaces that isn’t entirely black. It’s a Bugatti Veyron, which I’ve never heard of, but it is a truly impressive vehicle. It’s two tone - black and a nearly black blue, and though blue has always been one of my least favorite colors, this shade is so deep and cold…it’s seductive.
“We can take it tomorrow night if you like,” Cain says.
“Can we take it today instead?” I ask. “I don’t like what I think it would say about me if we show up in this car tomorrow.”
“As you wish,” Cain says, amused by my logic.
“How about that one?” I ask, indicating a black sedan.
“Sure. We can take the Maybach.”
“How many of these are yours?” I haven’t counted how many Ballantyne spaces are here, but based on the location of the Bugatti, there are more than I had originally guessed.
“Um…the Jaguar makes…thirteen,” Cain says.
“Hmmm…” I don’t know what else to say.
“I would love to show off my toys, but it will probably bore you unless you want to drive them.”’
“You’d let me?”
“Of course I’d let you. Can you drive a stick?”
“I prefer it.” I have always preferred it. My Honda was an automatic because it was the most economical decision at the time.
“Well, Miss Lucien. I look forward to seeing your skills,” he says as he pins me against the Bugatti’s driver’s side and kisses me.
“You’re going to have to wait,” I say, backing him up. “I need you to drive today.”
“Okay…” He says warily, and I give him my best you’ll see look.
Since it’s such a beautiful day outside, we decide to take the convertible Aston Martin V12 Vantage Roadster, but I tell him not to put the top down just yet. We exit the garage, and by the time he pulls us into the sparse interstate traffic on the 5 North from First Street, I’ve worked up the courage to do what I had in mind when I insisted he drive.
Sliding toward the center, I slowly walk my fingers like a sauntering spider over the console and up Cain’s thigh to my prey. When he gives me a curious look, I pull back, afraid he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grabs my hand and puts it back on his crotch, pressing down to show me that just the slight promise has him straining against his zipper. Pleased, I unzip his jeans, and as my favorite toy tries to push his way out, I take the wheel so Cain can release him. As he lifts up, his foot accidentally presses down on the gas, and the car lurches forward, making us laugh.
“Don’t let this distract you from driving safely.”
“Yes, Domina,” he says without a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and finally hearing him say it like that gives me a flash of desire that I feel from my tongue to my toes. With his eyes glued to the road and his cock at attention, I lean over the console and take the head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it as I run the smooth backs of my fingernails over the shaft. I tease him as we drive up the 5 at 75mph, and when I feel the car slow down as he gets off the exit, there’s an urgency in his voice.
“I shouldn’t drive through the narrow streets toward the cove with you doing that,” he hints.
“Then I should stop.”
“Oh, please don’t stop,” he begs, and as he says it, I intensify my attack, gripping him tightly with my right hand and twisting it as it matches the movement of my mouth’s in and out, my tongue darting rapidly along the underside. I quickly feel him begin to tighten like he does when he’s about to come, and that’s when I stop, squeezing the base of his cock with one hand just to make sure he doesn’t.
“Uhhh,” Cain protests.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” I say. “Drive.”
Having resisted the urge to press the emergency stop button and fuck him in the filthy, public, parking garage elevator, I walk through the quaint streets of La Jolla with Cain to a small shop I’ve never noticed before. It’s not flashy or even well advertised on its own door. There’s just the word “Entrance”.
Inside, the sales associate greets us, so impeccably dressed I feel like she should be on the buying side and I should be the sales girl, but I’m the one with Cain Ballantyne, which apparently means something here. Addressing him by name, she hurries from behind the register.
“So nice to see you again,” she says, and I shoot Cain a curious look.
“I like to watch women try on clothing,” he whispers.
“Pervert,” I mutter back.
Cain introduces me to Miss Pierce, telling her I need a dress for tomorrow night, and she looks me over for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“Size six?” she asks, and I nod.
“She prefers black,” Cain says.
“I have several dresses I think will do. How do you feel about burgundy, pewter, and forest green?”
“I don’t care for burgundy or green. Do you have anything in midnight blue?” I ask, thinking about that seductive blue of the Bugatti. There’s something about that color, some sort of déjà vu I can’t shake.
“Nothing in stock,” she says as she throws several dresses over her arm and leads me to a spacious dressing room.
“Can I get you anything?” she asks. “Champagne, wine, water?”
“No, thank you,” I say, anxious for her to go away.
“I can stay if you need help with the zippers and snaps,” she offers.
“I think I can handle that,” Cain says, shooing her out with a stern look that stops her from protesting. He shuts and locks the door behind her, and we’re finally alone.
“She acts like it’s the first time you’ve come in this dressing room,” I say.
“Maybe it is.”
“At least tell me it’s the first time you’ve come in this dressing room,” I whisper.
“It will be,” he admits as I kneel down to finish what I started in the car. His cock is instantly hard, but as much as I want to do this for him, the idea of Miss Pierce buzzing around outside the door makes me freeze every time I think I hear a noise. This is not going to work unless I’m distracted, too.
“Fuck me,” I command as I stand.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Cain says, spinning me around to bend me over one of the arm chairs. He yanks my panties off, grabs my hips, and thrusts into me hard and fast. My legs tremble and my fingernails dig into the wood of the chair’s arms as I brace myself, his magnificent cock carrying out its sole purpose with masterful skill until I’m right on the verge, and…fuck!
“Miss Lucien?” Miss Pierce calls out, knocking on the door, and we freeze. “How’s the fit?”
“Fits like it was made for her,” Cain calls back, his voice devilish, and the thrill of hearing him say that to her while his cock twitches inside me washes over me, a soft, unintended moan escaping my lips. He puts his hand over my mouth as he resumes his rhythm, and as I draw one finger in, sucking it, flickering my tongue as I would if it were his cock, I feel him swell inside of me, his flesh tightening, intensifying my own need. His hand slips from my mouth, and he grabs my tits th
rough my dress, pulling me upright and biting my shoulders, fucking me so hard I have to cover my mouth with my own hand to keep the sound inside.
“Oh, God, Cain! Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck! Fuuuck!” I murmur into my palm, and the tortured sound sets Cain off. He pushes into me one final time, slamming my body against the wall, held back only by the chair at the knees as he falls atop me, breathing my name over and over.
“Fits like it was made for her, eh?” I ask.
“My cock was forged in your pussy, Evan,” Cain says with an intense stare, my eyes flashing at the crude beauty of his words just before Pierce starts banging on the door again.
“Everything okay in there?”
“It’s fine, thank you,” I say, and both Cain and I snicker like children as we look around for something to clean up with. With only the clothes on our backs and formal dresses, I sacrifice my panties.
“I won’t be able to think about anything else knowing that you’re walking beside me with no panties on,” Cain says, slipping them into his front jeans pocket as I begin to hurriedly try on the dresses.
None the black ones work, leaving me with only a the pewter, satin gown. Reluctantly, I allow Cain to put it on me, and when I turn in the mirror, I’m blown away by how the color suits me. With a built-in push up bra, wide straps crisscross each other in the front to form a tear drop cutout beneath a mock turtle neck, and the dress hangs straight to the ankle, split up to the right knee. The entire back is open, plunging low, but aside from being a little loose, this style was designed for my body type.
“You look elegant,” Cain says, gripping the fabric at my shoulder blades with both hands to force the bodice to tighten. “I’ll get Pierce to pin it so they can take it in.”
“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the back.”
“This dress is what I want to see on you tomorrow evening and what I want to take off you tomorrow night,” he as his eyes catch mine in the mirror.
