Vienna Bargain: Billionaire Dom Romance: Vienna Trilogy #2 (Orchid Club Book 8)

by Lila Dubois

  She was now spread wide and bound tightly, pelvis bumping the bed when she shifted forward. Rocking her body back and forth was the only movement she could manage.

  She stared at the bed, ignoring him as he once more went to the drawers, one of the ones she hadn’t been able to get into.

  She imagined what it would be like to sleep on that bed beside him. Beds and sleeping made her think of their night together in his house in Vienna. The night when he hadn’t allowed her into his bedroom. That thought fortified her.

  Had there been any real intimacy between them, or just good chemistry? If there had been anything more than excellent sex, then he would have showed her his bedroom, right?

  Alexander rose holding a…wooden spoon.

  The innocuous pervertable was so unexpected that for a moment she forgot to feel anything but surprise. A simple kitchen implement hardly seemed worthy of being kept in a locked sex toy drawer in an underground playroom.

  On second glance it was a bit longer than a normal stirring implement, and glossy rather than matte, as if it had been polished or oiled.

  Alena glanced at Alexander’s unreadable expression.

  “Am I going to be your naughty housewife?”

  “Domestic discipline fantasies?” He shook his head, but for a moment there was a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Unexpected.”

  “Well, I do anticipate that my husband will put me over his lap and take a wooden spoon to my bottom if dinner isn’t ready when he gets home.” She added even more of a genteel drawl to her accent.

  “Are you married?” Alexander asked.

  “What?” Alena looked at him. “Of course not.”

  “Don’t act offended. I know nothing about you.”

  “We fucked. I wouldn’t cheat on my husband, if I had one. Which I don’t.” Alena paused to consider her words. “Unless that was part of our kink.”

  Alexander sat casually on the bed, one knee pulled up on the mattress. “A wife then?”

  “I wouldn’t cheat on my spouse.”

  Alexander ran the spoon down her breastbone, over her stomach to her bellybutton. A shiver followed, her nipples drawing tight even as she held her breath.

  The tall mattress meant that her pussy was inaccessible, a fact he seemed to be considering as he ran the very tip of the spoon back and forth along the bottom of her abdomen, almost where the hip chain had rested yesterday.

  “I think I believe you.”

  “I didn’t lie to you.”

  “About that.” Now there was anger in his words and in the depths of his eyes. “You lied about everything else.”

  “Not everything.”

  “You told more lies than truth.”

  “I did what I had to. Once this is…once this is over, I’ll come back and find you. Explain it all to you.”

  His gaze snapped from her breasts to her face. “Once what is over?”

  She should have kept her mouth shut. “Once the three weeks are done.”

  “That’s not what you were referencing.”

  “It was.”

  “Another lie.” Alexander lifted the spoon and slapped the edge of her right breast. The crack of sound echoed against the concrete walls and a flash of pain, sweet and hot, faded before the last echo.

  “When what is over?” This time his voice was calm.

  Alena took and held a breath, then exhaled slowly.

  Crack.

  The spoon snapped against her other breast. Pink splotches appeared on the otherwise pale flesh.

  Another strike, another burst of sound and pain. She steeled herself to keep quiet, but he didn’t ask the question a third time.

  Instead he went to work on her breasts, spanking them with the wooden spoon until they were flushed and aching. The blows started to land atop already abused flesh and the surface level pain sank in, becoming a warm, rough heat. There wasn’t enough slack in the bindings for her to wrap her fingers around the chain, so she curled her hands into fists and let her head drop back.

  He began to vary the pattern. A firm slap to the underside of her breast—a particularly painful, wonderful spot—to little taps along the inside and top of the tit.

  Through it all he studiously avoided her nipples, which felt terrifyingly vulnerable. She could twist a bit, but not enough to fully avoid the blow if he decided to beat her nipples.

  She wanted him to do it. Wanted him to spank her nipples, then bite them and clamp them.

  Alexander slid off the bed and Alena whimpered.

  “Please, no.”

  “Manners.” The spoon cracked against her ass for the first time, enough force behind it that she cried out and lurched forward, though she couldn’t shift very far.

  “Master Alexander, please,” she moaned.

  “Please don’t spank you?” His fully clothed body pressed against her naked back.

  A sigh of pleasure escaped her, air returning to her lungs in a gasp as he brushed her hair aside and nipped her neck.

  “Or,” he murmured in her ear, “are you begging me for more?”

  “More, please.”

  “Where?”

  “Don’t make me ask for it,” she pleaded.

  “That’s part of your punishment. You’re going to beg me to hurt you.”

  Damn it, that was arousing. And terrifying. Which made it all the more arousing.

  “I want you to spank my nipples.”

  “Want me to hurt these sweet things?” He tossed the spoon on the bed and his hands came up, cupping her hot, aching breasts. His thumbs brushed her nipples, tender and soft.

  “Yes, hurt them. Hurt me.”

  “I thought you weren’t a serious masochist.” He bit her earlobe.

  “I’m not,” she moaned. Then he pinched and twisted her nipple and heat, as quick and destructive as a windblown wildfire, swept through her. “I’m not for anyone but you.”

  His hands still on her breasts, he leaned back, not enough to break contact but enough so that he wasn’t pinning her body between his hips and the end of the mattress.

  “Another lie.”

  Alena’s eyes popped open in shock at the venom she heard in his voice.

  She started to object, to explain, but he pinched her nipples, twisting them viciously. She hissed and tried to twist away but there was nowhere to go; she was helpless. Tears stung her eyes as he released her only to once more squeeze her nipples painfully tight, then twist them.

  She looked down to see the tip of each nipple nearly white, his grip was so tight. It hurt. He was truly hurting her.

  And that didn’t make her want him any less.

  He released her nipples and she screamed as the blood returned to the aching, abused tips. Her breasts were now throbbing thanks to the combination of the spanking and the pinches.

  When he grabbed the spoon, she jerked violently to the side. She couldn’t take it if he struck her nipple right now. It would hurt too much.

  Your safe word. Use your safe word.

  No. She wouldn’t do that, because if she did and he didn’t stop…

  He stepped away and the loss of contact hurt almost as much as her abused breasts.

  He brought the spoon down on her ass in a vicious blow that brought tears to her eyes. Then another blow to the other cheek, and another.

  This wasn’t like the methodical impact play they’d engaged in before. It was less controlled, more sadistic. He beat her ass with the spoon until her protective coating of confidence was stripped away and she was crying softly, her voice hoarse from the screams he’d ripped from her when he hit a spot that was already hot and sore. He kept going even after she fell quiet, her focus narrowed to the feeling of the spoon striking her, the pain that didn’t abate, only spiked with each blow before settling back to a burning throb.

  When he stopped, she was hanging from the chains, her leg muscles exhausted from the pain-induced trembling. That in turn caused her shoulders to burn from the pull of her body weight against the deli
cate joints.

  “Stand up,” he ordered.

  Alena tried to brace her knees against the foot of the bed and push up, but her thigh muscles quivered and she dropped back, knees bent, toes braced on the floor but not supporting her.

  “I said stand up.”

  Alena closed her eyes and ignored him. This wasn’t the numbness she’d felt when traveling, but instead the peace that came from pain and submission driving out all other feelings and thoughts.

  She’d just experienced the harshest beating she’d ever taken, all from a simple wooden spoon, and instead of the horror she would have expected from this much pain she felt calm and accepting.

  Maybe this is what it feels like to be a BDSM slave.

  Alexander sat on the bed once more, hiking up his pant leg in that precise little tug men did which she found oddly appealing.

  He still held the spoon, and she watched as he ran his fingers around the circular end. “It’s hot,” he murmured. “From the contact with you.”

  He extended his arm, holding the spoon backwards. The blunt end of the handle flicked back and forth over her nipples. Arousal swept through her, though it was half-buried by the pain.

  “If I asked you now, would you tell me everything?” he murmured.

  Alena’s gaze jumped to his face. Their eyes locked, and she was terrified of the answer to that question.

  Even more terrified by the intense urge to drop her gaze, to submit to him fully and without reservation.

  Instead she closed her eyes, the last remnants of her pride and defiance keeping her chin up. She heard him open a drawer, felt him walk around so he was once more behind her. When his hips pressed against her ass, she cried out in pain, but leaned back against him, seeking more contact, even if it hurt.

  Alexander slid his thumb into her mouth and forced her teeth apart. With her eyes closed, the gag took her by surprise. As he shoved it into her mouth she jerked, the back of her head knocking against his cheek. Alexander growled and pulled back on the straps of the bit-style gag, forcing the heavily padded bar back between her teeth, which drew her lips back painfully.

  Her tongue had also been shoved back and for a moment she felt like she was gagging and struggled. Alexander was merciless, keeping the pressure on, her head wedged against his shoulder and neck so that she had nowhere to go. She fought but there was nothing she could do.

  She was helpless.

  Bound and beaten.

  Trapped.

  Alena stopped fighting, though her breathing was still ragged. He released some of the pressure, resettling the gag so it was clamped between her teeth at the front of her mouth rather than the back. Then he fastened the straps behind her head.

  “Stand up,” he said again. “Put your weight on your legs.”

  Alena tried, but only halfheartedly. In this newfound level of masochism, she liked the helpless and painful feeling of hanging by her arms.

  Alexander grunted when she didn’t obey. A second later he was unchaining her arms, though he left the cuffs on. When he forced her facedown over the foot of the bed, leaving her ankles shackled the bedposts, the relief from the pain in her shoulders was a kind of pleasure.

  She felt an entirely different kind of pleasure when he brought her wrists together at the small of her back and connected the cuffs. It was the pleasure of being secure, of being in bondage.

  His palms were cool against her hot, aching ass, but that relief was erased by pain as he squeezed. She dug her face into the bed, felt the saliva sliding out of her open mouth to dampen the sheet.

  “You will obey me,” he said coldly. “Because you agreed to be my slave. Not my partner. Not my sub. My plaything.”

  He sounded so cold that her heart hurt. And yet…

  “I hope your pussy is wet. You’re going to wear a plug in this tight ass, and the only lube you get is whatever’s in your cunt.”

  The words were cold and hard, as was the plug as he pushed it into the valley of her sex, twisting it around and letting the very tip enter her vagina.

  Then he forced her ass cheeks open and the tip of the plug wiggled against her sphincter. He wasn’t brutal, but neither was he gentle. The plug breached her, opened her ass, and kept pushing in, relentless and hard. Her pussy had been wet, and it was enough lubrication, barely, to keep the sodomy from hurting.

  She arched her hips as the plug opened her wider and wider. He didn’t say anything—no words of encouragement, no murmured reminders as to how she could ease the penetration. Alena panted wetly and pushed back against the plug, as if she were trying to expel it.

  The widest part forced its way in, and then her body closed around the neck.

  Alena shivered as she felt the weight and size of the plug. It was heavy enough she thought it might be glass. If she’d been standing up she probably wouldn’t have been able to keep it in, but lying like this it was slightly easier.

  Alexander came around to the side of the bed and bent so he could look at her.

  He didn’t say anything. No questions, no orders.

  They stared at one another for a long moment.

  Then, to her horror, he turned and walked out of the dungeon, pulling the door closed behind himself, and leaving her bound, gagged, plugged…

  …and all alone.

  Chapter 9

  Alena panicked.

  She thrashed, trying to wriggle her wrists free of the cuffs and jerking her ankles up as if she could snap the chains.

  Alena felt sorry for herself.

  Damn it, she didn’t deserve this. She’d hurt Alexander, and that made her a shitty person, but did this punishment fit that crime?

  Alena got pissed.

  The minute she was free she was going to slap the shit out of him, cuff him to the bed, then she was going to go upstairs and call Interpol. The look on her handsome, quiet billionaire’s face when he was arrested…

  All that took ten minutes—an emotionally charged ten minutes, but it was no longer than that.

  She was about to move on to plotting revenge when Alena thought back over what had just happened. A realization that had come to her—and subsequently been wiped away by what he was doing—resurfaced.

  If I asked you now, would you tell me everything?

  He asked that, and the answer was yes. She would have. And the fact that he’d asked made her think that he knew it too.

  So why had he gagged her, literally stopping her from saying anything?

  Alena’s thoughts crystalized and sharpened, and she felt more herself than she had since he left her in here yesterday.

  She quickly ran through possibilities, but kept coming back to a very interesting conclusion.

  The door opened and Alena half closed her eyes so she could watch Alexander. He was frowning, but not with anger or displeasure. It was worry that knitted his brow.

  He blanked his expression before stepping further into the room and looking her over, but it was too late. She’d seen it.

  He was worried.

  And like any self-respecting adult, he’d turned to his unhealthy coping mechanism. It just so happened that him being a sadist meant his coping mechanism involved beating her.

  She kept her eyes almost closed, and when he touched her, she made a show of jumping and lifting her head.

  Alexander was standing at her ass, his gaze on her butt. “You will have some bruising.”

  He would apologize. She could feel it. If she cried again or expressed fear, he would back down. That cold Dom Sadist energy he’d carried before was gone, and it was only now that it was gone she could identify it.

  Alena braced her knees against the bed, toes on the floor, and used her core muscles to lift herself upright. The drool she could feel on the side of her face and chin would detract from the is-that-all-you’ve-got, confident air she was trying to project. There was also the fact that standing up made the penetration of the plug almost impossible to ignore.

  It wasn’t perfect, but she did her bes
t—arching an eyebrow as she twisted to look back at him.

  Alexander blinked in surprise.

  This was not what he was expecting from the woman whom he’d just spanked so hard she’d have bruises.

  She saw the relief in his eyes.

  “I glad... glad. I’m glad to see…” He trailed off and stopped.

  If the stupid gag hadn’t been in her mouth she would have told him he didn’t have to hide his stutter from her or pretend he didn’t have one. Tell him that she’d figured out that was why he was so quiet.

  With the bit gag in, all she managed were some mumbles.

  Alexander put his hand between her shoulder blades and bent her back down over the bed.

  The plug shifted inside her, the fullness wonderful but immediately taking her back to a very submissive mindset. She arched her belly down into the bed, lifting her ass. He was careful to touch nothing but the plug as he toyed with it, twisting and tugging.

  “Can you keep it in and walk upstairs?” he asked.

  Alena hesitated, then slowly shook her head. It was too heavy.

  “Relax.” He began to pull as he twisted it, slowly working the plug out. She hissed when the widest part popped free, that brief hint of pain followed by the smooth gliding feeling of the rest of the plug sliding out of her ass.

  She watched him take the plug into the bathroom and wrap it in the towel she’d draped over the faucet. He then frowned at the towel on the floor. Walking back into the main area, he looked at the blanket she’d folded and placed on the floor—she’d been using it as a seat earlier, resting her back against the bed.

  Alexander frowned as he unclipped the chains from her ankles. He’d clearly realized that he’d left her down here without checking she had what she needed as far as towels and blankets. That also probably meant he didn’t know she had access to weapons.

  With the padded cuffs still around her wrists and ankles but no longer connected to chains, he urged her up onto the bed with a hand on her back.