“So the submissives you’ve bid on in the past, they didn’t fall in love with you?”
I gave her a wry look. “Am I supposed to believe that I am that irresistible? That three months with me and every woman will automatically fall in love?” I shook my head. “Whitney wanted the money so she could one day start her own fashion house. Emma grew up as an orphan in Belarus before she was adopted by a couple in Iowa. She wanted to fund services for children in her country of birth.”
She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. “Susan was surprised that Madame Lorraine had allowed me to participate in the auction. She thought my desperation over Alicia would make me blindly agree to whatever you wanted, ignoring my own desires.”
“To some degree, money impacts everyone’s ability to freely consent,” I replied. “Susan is wealthy in her own right, so she sees the issue in black and white. But both Emma and Whitney were passionate about what they wanted to do and the money was essential to them pursuing their dreams. Your sister’s illness is a more extreme case, but Lori isn’t an idiot. Each case is judged on its own merit.”
Her sister wasn’t real. I would wager the diamond she wore around her neck that her cover story was entirely fake. But the concerns she was voicing were true enough.
“So Madame Lorraine doesn’t care?”
“She cares more than you could imagine,” I replied. For the last twenty years, Lori had been haunted by the death of her sister, kidnapped off the streets of London. But because Sandra had been a troubled teenager, bouncing in and out of foster homes, she’d been classified as a runaway and the police had paid no further attention to the case. “Lori screens the Dominants at the auction about a hundred times more rigorously than her submissives. Every single one of us is aware of the financial dynamic at play. I doubt if anyone ever just looks at a checklist and starts to play right then and there. As you yourself demonstrated, checklists are just a form to fill out so you can get the money you really need.”
She shot me a startled look. “Is that why you didn’t fuck me in Bangkok?”
“You looked terrified of me in Bangkok,” I responded. “That’s not a turn on.”
She flushed. “I’m not terrified now.”
The theatre had been emptying while we’d been talking. “Let’s continue this conversation in the car?” I rose to my feet, extending my arm to her. She took it readily, lacing her fingers in mine.
“So Emma is in Belarus? Where’s Whitney?”
“Milan. She’s apprenticing with Prada.”
She looked uncertain at my answer. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it.
As we rode in the car, I was replaying our conversation. Her words right after the concert had ended echoed in my head. She had no dreams.
Everyone needed dreams. Dreams formed the sanctuary in which we took refuge from real life. For the last two years, my dreams had been concentrated around one warm, magical summer night in Paris, when I’d gone home with a beautiful woman and everything had seemed within reach.
Chapter 3
Ellie / Jenny:
On the one hand, Lucien had told me Alexander’s former submissives had disappeared.
On the other hand, I had my own instincts and they told me to trust him.
Ever since Bangkok, I’d vacillated between the two emotions. Fear of Alexander, of who he was and who he worked for. And desire. Always, desire. From the first moment I’d seen him, Alexander had made me feel safe and cherished and wanted. Whether he was calling himself Marc and pretending he owned a small house in the suburbs of Paris, or whether he was the mysterious billionaire financier who had an unprecedented level of access to Dylan, I had never once felt afraid of anything he might do to me.
No. None of my fears stemmed from the way he treated me. But so many other things could not be ignored. My past as a sex slave. Lucien’s dire warnings. My own innate caution about male arousal.
But I had a mission - get to Dylan. The only way to penetrate his secure compound in Hanoi was to make myself essential to Alexander, and the way I was going about it now was not working. Alexander was too cautious around me, too aware of my fear. Too reluctant to open himself up until he knew that I wanted him.
He could read me too well and so, I had to do something that no amount of preparation had readied me for. I would have to rely on my instincts and trust him. I would have to take it on faith that his former submissives were exactly where he said they were. In Belarus and in Milan.
It was terrifying because I wanted to believe him. I needed to cling to the illusion that the man I’d met in a bar two years ago hadn’t been entirely fake. That though the two men had different names, they were still the same person.
The kindness – was it real? His concern for me – was it all an act? I didn’t think so. He kept secrets and I did too. But at the end of the day, I couldn’t believe that Alexander would hurt me in the playroom.
Dylan had beaten me with a cane until I was bloody. I couldn’t imagine Alexander ever doing something so violent.
Dylan had slapped my face repeatedly and whipped me till my back was raw to mould me to his exacting specifications. Alexander had asked me to be honest about my desires in the playroom.
Again and again, Alexander had shown me he wasn’t Dylan, and I wanted this. Just as I’d wanted the one night in Paris two years ago, I wanted these three months with him. After the mission, I would have to walk away. When Dylan lay dead, Alexander would hate me, but until then? I wanted to let myself fall in love with him.
There would be time for regret later. There would be many days ahead in which I could debate whether my approach had been wise. But for the moment, I’d been three minutes late getting ready and I’d been promised a punishment.
My body tingled with anticipation. I wanted to reach out and embrace my lust and longing and arousal I wanted to surrender freely, with an absence of fear.
I was ready.
Chapter 4
Alexander:
When we got to the house, her gaze met mine squarely. “Sir,” she said, with sweetness and not a trace of fear. “I was late getting ready. Please punish me.”
I raised an eyebrow. This was a very different woman than the one I’d seen so far. This time, there was no terror. Her eyes sparkled with nervous anticipation. I didn’t know what had brought this change, but I wanted to find out. “Not afraid, cherie?”
“No, I’m not,” she replied.
As much as I wanted to rush her into the playroom and take advantage of her willingness, I owed it to both of us to try and understand what lay at the root of her fear, and what had changed since the last time we’d been in the playroom. “Why not? What’s different now?”
She exhaled. She appeared to be grappling with a decision, then she reached it. “I’ve been stuck between my head and my heart for the last few days,” she said softly. “My head tells me that a man with enough money to pay a million dollars for three months of my company is someone to be feared.”
“But?”
“But every instinct tells me I have nothing to be afraid of. Every instinct tells me to trust you.”
What she was describing was exactly the way I felt towards her. I should have been constantly fretting about who she worked for and why she’d wanted to be bid on by me. I should have never slept in the same bed as her until I fully understood her motives. She’d been in Paris two years ago; she’d been in Bangkok for Lori’s auction. There were no coincidences. I had many enemies – she could be working for one of them.
Yet when I was with her, all of that faded and what was left was trust. Plain and simple. Again and again, I was drawn to her.
“So what is it, cherie? Which one are you going to listen to tonight? Your head or your heart?”
We were sitting on a couch in my bedroom. In response to my question, she slid off the seat and knelt at my feet. “I’m ready for the playroom, Sir.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. Not since the firs
t time I’d tied up Angela had I been this ready for a session. This eager. “Get up for a minute,” I urged her, pulling her up and into the seat. “Let’s talk about limits for a few minutes. Is there anything you want to do tonight? Anything you want to try, anything you want to avoid?”
She looked a little tentative. I guessed that checking in with her desires wasn’t something her former master had done too much of. “Can we avoid the canes?” she asked.
Emma had enjoyed pain and I’d bought the canes on her request. It wasn’t something I had ever needed. “Okay. What else? Do you like the flogger?”
Her lips parted at that image. The thought of being flogged aroused her. Lust was rolling off her in waves and I wanted to wade in and drown myself in her desire. “I like the flogger,” she confirmed, her cheeks flushed. “A lot.”
I rested one hand on her thigh and she parted her legs slightly. Oh, my bright star was turned on. I couldn’t wait to play with her. “Any other requests?”
Her forehead wrinkled as she considered. I loved this. She wasn’t flinching away from me. She was leaning into my body, so close that I could see each inhale and exhale of breath she took. Under that midnight blue evening gown, her nipples had pebbled and I wanted to run my palms over them, teasing, playing, until she begged me to go harder.
The only time we’d been in the playroom, I hadn’t been certain she was there because she wanted to be. I’d had to be cautious, careful not to do anything that caused her to panic. Today, things were different.
My dick stirred in my pants. Anticipation ran hot in my blood as I waited for her to respond.
“No Sir.”
I rose to my feet, extending my hand to her. “Come on then,” I replied. “Your punishment awaits.”
A shiver ran through her as I opened the door of the playroom. Then her fingers grazed the necklace she still wore. “Should I remove this before we play?” she asked me. She shot me a cheeky grin. “I’m assuming that your insurers wouldn’t approve of whatever you are going to do.”
I laughed. Oh, I liked her unafraid. “So much attitude,” I said, layering sternness into my voice. My hands reached for her ponytail and tugged, pulling her head back until I was looking into her eyes. “Being a brat might get you punished here, cherie.”
Her lips tugged into a smile. “You enjoy it,” she accused. She reached out and ran her palm over my trousers, tracing the outline of my erection. “Don’t you, Sir?”
I laughed. “Shh.” I put a finger over her lips. “Be good.” I walked behind her and kissed the exposed spot at the back of her neck. I felt her quiver in response and my cock jumped once again. My fingers found the zipper and pulled it down, letting the gown ripple fluidly onto the floor. “Step out of it, Jenny.”
She obeyed. She was still wearing the strappy silver sandals she’d worn to the concert. I stood for a minute, just admiring her body. Her breasts were cupped lovingly by a midnight blue lace bra. The matching panties contrasted with the pale skin of her ass. My palms itched to touch her, to caress her body and spank it. I wanted to feel her wriggle helplessly against me, her eyes bright with desire.
“I’m going to tie you up,” I said. Had she been a more experienced submissive, I wouldn’t have told her what was on the agenda. But she was so skittish that I wanted to soothe her, because when she gave herself openly, she was magnificent.
“Yes Sir,” she said, her voice breathy with anticipation.
I pulled out lengths of soft black rope from a dresser, setting them on the bed in the playroom. Unlike the one in my bedroom, this one wasn’t an opulent affair. A thin mattress, but with the softest of sheets. It wasn’t a great bed to sleep in, but it served one important purpose. The frame was made of metal and it was incredibly sturdy. Perfect for tying Jenny down, open for me.
Her eyes tracked me as I walked towards her, and once again, there was no fear. Just lust, bright and shining.
***
Ellie / Jenny:
The rope should have scared me. The thought of being immobilized, unable to fight back, should have made me stiff with panic. It didn’t.
I kept my eyes on him. I felt my lust roll off me in a tidal rush of waves, in a bone-deep desire, in a heavy languor that permeated my entire body. I felt his pleasure at my response, his own sharp want rising in the face of my unhidden need.
“Should I take off my bra and panties?” My voice was soft and hesitant. Not afraid. Just submissive. As if I was holding my trust out to him, waiting for him to take me and hold me and keep me balanced at the edge, but always, always safe.
His answering look was hard against my softness. “What you should do,” he said, with pointed emphasis and a sharp slap to my lace-covered ass, “is speak when you are spoken to.”
My teeth worried at my lower lip. His finger stroked me there, in calm reassurance. Relax, he seemed to say. I’ve got you. And this time, probably for the first time, I believed him.
He got on his knees in front of me and patiently wound the rope around my ankles. When he was done, I tested for range of movement. Nothing pinched, nothing pulled, but I also couldn’t move my legs apart. The process was repeated just above my knees, securely binding them together as well.
I cocked my head to one side, wondering what he was up to. With the way I was tied, legs pressed together, he was going to have a really difficult time fucking me, which was an incredible pity. I really, really wanted him to take me. Hard and fast, his cock doling out its own punishment.
In shock, I realized I was actually fantasising about this. I needed to see what submission felt like, when offered freely to a partner that I trusted. When I wasn’t a slave, beaten and coerced into compliance. When it was Alexander to whom I surrendered.
He got to his feet unhurriedly and moved behind me in silence. I kept quiet, my chest rising and falling with each breath I took. The diamond glistened in the valley between my breasts. I wanted to remind Alexander once more that he should probably put it somewhere safer, but I refrained from speech. My Dominant had wanted me silent and I would obey. I needed to.
“Hands behind your back,” he said. I obediently laced them behind me and his skillful fingers wound rope around my wrists and just below my elbows.
I was well and truly helpless now.
Alexander took a step back and surveyed me with a grin. “Now,” he said, “we can begin the punishment.” He guided me towards the bed and helped me lie down. The position was awkward, my tied hands preventing me from lying flat on the bed, but I didn’t care. His hand closed over my bra-clad breast and that was the only thing that I could pay attention to.
If this was punishment, he could punish me every single day.
Each rough touch sent a thrill of delight through me. He pulled at my nipples, through my bra, then when he grew impatient, he pushed the fabric aside and pulled my aching breasts free and lowered his mouth on each nipple, biting, sucking, kissing, loving. I couldn’t hold back the moans; I couldn’t stop writhing around on the bed. I heard him growl as he watched my body move on the mattress. “Do you like that, cherie? Do you like waiting for your punishment?”
I made a whimpering noise that was half-assent, half-protest.
“Come,” he said, settling himself more securely on the bed and pulling my body till I lay across his lap, ass up in the air, arms bound so that I couldn’t reach back and stop him from spanking me.
But I didn’t want to stop him. I ached for the feel of his hard palm against my ass. I wanted to feel the heat rise on my skin, the sharp pain fading into a slow burn. I yearned for him.
Not yet. He liked me to wait. His hand traced firm strokes over my skin. I felt his fingers tease the bottom edge of my panties, slide beneath the lace to touch my flesh. Then he tugged at the waistband, and the gusset of the panties tightened against my pussy lips. “So wet,” he growled. “Do you know your panties are soaked, cherie? Do you like lying across my lap like this?”
I could feel his erection against my low
er belly. His desire inflamed me. Emboldened me. I shifted so that I would rub against him and when I spoke, my voice had a tone in it that I hadn’t heard before. I sounded like a woman who was secure with being wanted. A woman who wasn’t afraid of being the object of this man’s desire.
“Yes Sir,” I breathed. “I like being wet for you. I like knowing you are hard for me.”
He caressed my lower back. “Ah, Jenny. With you lying across me this way, wearing so very little, with the barest glimmer of your pussy lips visible from under those panties, how can I be anything other than hard?” I felt his fingers part the cleft of my buttocks and find my tightly clenched asshole. “Relax this for me,” he instructed. His forefinger teased that bundle of nerves until I obeyed. Alexander wouldn’t hurt me.
“Do you want this, cherie?” His voice was warm. His hands traced gentle circles on my skin and suddenly, I did want it. I’d used a buttplug on myself in an effort to erase some of the painful memories I had about anal sex with Dylan and his guards, but this would be more. This wouldn’t just be hitting the pause button on fear. This would be healing, if I wasn’t too afraid.
“I want this,” I whispered, reaching within me for courage. “Alexander, will you be gentle?”
His lips touched my neck. His stubble scratched at my skin. “Jenny,” he said. “I promise you, you’ll never have anything to fear from me.” His fingers smoothed the wetness from my pussy to my asshole, slowly opening me up to his touch. “You’ve worn a butt plug before?”
“Yes Sir.” Every nerve ending clustered around my asshole was screaming in pleasure, responding to the steady way his fingers controlled me.
“And you’ve had anal sex before as well?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good,” he replied. “Then you know it can be pleasurable. If you relax, if you surrender to it.”
No. I didn’t know. I knew that it burned and it hurt and everything ached after. I wanted to lie to him, but I couldn’t. Not here. This moment demanded honesty. “It was never pleasurable for me,” I confessed.
Freed (Assassin's Revenge Book 3) Page 3
