by Kitty Thomas
She heard the doctor's footsteps recede and let out a sigh of relief, but the relief didn't last long. Damian continued pressing her down against him, increasing the friction... maddening her. She was so close to the edge.
“Please, Master, tell me to come. Please.”
Lindsay chuckled. “No. Not yet.”
Damian stilled her and then leaned close to her ear.
“I want you to go over there and lean over the desk. Stretch your arms out in front of you, your palms resting flat.”
When she lifted her head off his shoulder and nodded, he brushed the tears off her face, and kissed her cheek. “Good girl. And when you get there, I want you to open yourself to me. Just surrender, and let me take you.”
His words sent a thrill down her spine as she got up to do as he asked.
Lindsay had moved back to his chair, his body mere inches from her when she leaned over the desk. The doctor's gaze dropped to her breasts, and he placed his hands over her wrists, holding her in place for Damian.
“Kitten, you will watch me while he fucks you. Is that understood?”
“Y-yes, Master.”
A slow, satisfied smile spread over his face at the continued use of a title in front of a stranger.
A low moan rumbled out of her as Damian's fingers pressed into her wetness, sliding against her like warm silk.
“She is so fucking wet,” Damian said.
“Yes, I spent all morning preparing her. You're welcome.”
Damian chuckled.
Shannon still couldn't believe this was happening.
She let out something between a whimper and a gasp when he thrust fully inside her. “Fuck, she's tight. How is she this tight?”
“Besides me, recently, kitten, how long has it been since you've had a cock inside that sweet little cunt?”
Shannon couldn't think. She tried to count backwards in her head. When exactly had the sex stopped at the house? “Five... no six years.”
“Damn,” Damian said. “That's a drought.” Then he leaned in close to her ear... “Don't worry, baby, you're going to be so busy now, you'll be grateful you had that reprieve.”
He began to drive harder into her, his fingers digging into her hips holding her in place.
“Please,” she whimpered, directing her begging at Lindsay, the only one who could let her come.
He nodded slowly. “Go ahead, kitten”
Shannon sighed in relief as she let herself go, let the sensations Damian was building inside her grow until the orgasm her body had spent hours begging for, finally pulsed through her in wave after wave of pleasure. She screamed, not caring that they were in an office building, that the walls were probably paper thin, that other professionals were writing memos and filing papers and drinking their coffee so close to this not-so-private pocket of depravity.
Damian came soon after with a hard final thrust and a low growl of his own. There was no way anyone in a nearby office could confuse what they'd heard: the sounds of rampant fucking in the next office over. Sure, many of them were probably getting blow jobs from their secretaries, but they had the good taste to be quiet about it.
Shannon and Damian hadn't been quiet about it.
Damian pulled out of her and righted his clothing. She stayed where she was, trapped in the grip of Lindsay's hands still on her wrists.
“Damian, are the seams on her stockings straight down the back of her legs?” Lindsay asked, never taking his eyes from hers.
“Nope,” Damian said with a chuckle as if he knew what was next. Had these two played like this together in the past? She pushed that weird thought out of her mind. Of course they hadn't. That was crazy.
Lindsay shook his head in mock disappointment. “Such a shame. Would you like to punish her?”
Shannon's gaze flew to Damian's. He gave her a heated look in return.
“Oh, yes,” he said.
“Please, Damian,” she whimpered, her begging shifting to the new big scary in the room.
“Sir,” he corrected.
She looked to Lindsay again, but the doctor only nodded.
“Sir,” she said more softly.
She watched, breath held, as he crossed the room to Lindsay's box of toys, glancing down absently at a nice watch that surely was more fashion statement than time keeper in the age of ubiquitous cell phones.
“Hmmmm,” he said. “Doc? Do you mind if I take a rain check on this punishment? I want it to be... memorable.”
Lindsay laughed. “Sure.” Then he turned to Shannon. “You have a reprieve, please go straighten your seams and wait in the outer office for me. I need to speak with Mr. Brand for a moment. Then we'll go to lunch.”
Shannon went to the outer office, closed the door behind her, and sat at the desk behind a small mountain of papers she needed to copy, fax, and file for various reasons.
Now that the excitement of the moment had passed, she was worried. It was obvious the doctor knew this guy pretty well, so maybe he could be trusted. But what if he couldn't be? What if Lindsay lost his practice over this? Everything that had just happened definitely went far outside the bounds of professional ethics. But the doctor hadn't seemed worried so maybe she shouldn't be either.
Still, she was relieved when the door opened and Lindsay and Damian seemed to be wrapping up a friendly conversation.
Damian stopped by her desk and took her hand in his. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Shannon. I will see you again very soon.” He kissed the back of her hand and left.
“Ready for lunch, kitten?”
“Yes, Sir.” She was sure he wouldn't want her slipping into calling him Master at the office as a habit.
He seemed to be in a good mood. Maybe things were less dire than she thought.
Lindsay glanced at Shannon as he drove. She seemed okay—maybe a little worried. He would have to explain part of things, but he wasn't ready to tell her everything.
The truth was, he was far too old for her. The kinds of things she needed—it was one thing to have been denied them all the years she'd been at the house. It was quite another to have them, and then lose them again due to their divergent ages.
After all, this was what had brought her to his office initially so many years ago. She'd been in what people called a total power exchange relationship, living in a dom/sub situation 24/7/365. It was a game so intense it felt as real as the situation she was in now with him.
The problem was when a relationship like that ended. Shannon had been dumped by her master with no real explanation except that he'd met someone else. She'd been with him for only two years, and yet, it had taken months of therapy to bring her back to a place where she could deal with life independently.
Her master had taken over so many aspects of her life, it was as though she'd had to relearn everything. That was when Lindsay had known he couldn't make her his. It wasn't a commitment issue. It was the fact that time and age were what they were.
Things might be great now, but some day he would become old and feeble. Maybe it would be much later than most people because he took such good care of himself, but time was cruel. If they both lived out their natural lifespans he would die long before her. And then what would happen to her?
He had to make sure she was taken care of, protected. He had to be sure she had someone for when he was gone. While it may be a very long time in the future and she might not even have any strong sexual urges by that point, this type of relationship was about far more than sex. And all those other needs would still be there even if the sex no longer was.
It was encoded into her DNA. Just like it was in his.
Damian was a good friend. And he was Shannon's age. A couple of years older, actually, but close enough. Lindsay wanted her to bond with him so that someday—hopefully very far in the future—she'd be able to easily transfer over to him.
The doctor was pleased to find her attracted to his friend, and she seemed comfortable with him. And he had definitely been pleased with her.
/>
“Master? Is your license in danger? Will he say anything?”
“Damian isn't a patient, just a friend of mine. It was all just a game to work you up, kitten. He knew you were under the desk the whole time. Everything is safe.”
“Oh.”
They stopped at a red light and Lindsay turned to study her. She seemed relieved, not upset or betrayed. He wasn't sure why he'd felt the need to play it that way. He just wasn't prepared for questions about who Damian was or why she was playing with him so soon.
“He likes you a lot,” Lindsay said.
“Did he say anything about the scars?”
The light changed. “No. They aren't nearly as noticeable as you think they are now.”
“Okay, well he's not blind. They might not look as bad as they did in the beginning, but they're still bad. It's obvious... something bad happened.”
“Not necessarily. You know enough to know that not every scar comes from something tragic. There are plenty of people in our world with marks they proudly display.”
“These aren't those kind of marks.”
Lindsay sighed. “I know.”
“I wish I could get them removed,” she said quietly. “I know it would be expensive... but...”
“No. I don't want them removed.”
“What? Why?”
“I already looked into it, kitten. It's not the money. It can be a painful procedure, and there are no guarantees. As old as yours are, you might still have them even after going through all that. And I need them there. I can't let myself forget and ever risk something like that happening to you again. And I never want you to think that you're not enough as you are, or that you aren't beautiful to me... as you are. We both know that even if we could, erasing those scars won't erase the real damage. It won't get rid of the memories or the nightmares.”
She looked out the window, and he couldn't get a read on her. “Okay,” she said so softly he had to strain to hear her.
“If you want to see the information about it, I'll let you look. If you really wanted to do it, I would consider it, but I don't think it will do for you what you think it will.”
“Where are we going to lunch?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Dome.”
She smiled at that.
66
Shannon sat at the desk in the outer office staring at the impossibly tall stack of papers to file. It was Friday, and the doctor was all business. Fridays were his busiest day. It wasn't even lunch yet and already he'd seen four patients.
Friday was all work and no play. Like a real job. He hadn't done anything dirty with her, nor had he suggestively requested coffee through the intercom. Was he already tired of those games? Maybe he didn't have time for them.
She glanced at the clock. Almost lunch time. Maybe he would take her out for lunch. She'd enjoyed their lunch at Dome earlier in the week. She'd never had the opportunity to see Anton's spa. There was always a lot of chatter about it at the house, particularly from the new girls Anton had interviewed. Shannon had sadly never gotten that interview.
She quickly filed the stack of papers while he finished up with his last patient. Fifteen minutes later a redheaded woman in her late twenties stepped out and slid a charge card across the desk for Shannon to process.
She ran the woman's card and scheduled another appointment. When the patient had gone, Lindsay stepped into the outer office.
“Can we go out to lunch?” Shannon asked.
“I'm afraid not. Fridays are too busy for me. I normally order in from the cafe downstairs.” He laid a long envelope down on the desk.
“What's this?”
“It's your paycheck,” he said with a wink.
Shannon hadn't expected him to pay her. Now that she thought about it, it was pretty strange she hadn't handled money in eight years. She pulled the check out of the envelope.
“Twenty five hundred dollars for three days' work?” She did some quick math in her head. That was over a hundred dollars an hour.
He smiled. “I take care of what's mine. Besides, you do provide extra services. I think what I'm paying is fair. Don't you?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” The idea of him paying her for her services was sending an unexpected jolt of pleasure between her legs. Just when she thought he couldn't make something dirtier, he went that little extra mile. “I can't cash this though.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I doubt I still have a bank account. They close inactive accounts. And my driver's license is expired.”
“That's not a problem.” Lindsay pulled a card from his coat pocket and handed it to her. “This is from the bank at the end of the block. The president is a very close friend of mine. I've spoken with him, and he understands you have challenges with ID. He's going to set something up for you so you can bank without a problem. Just ask for him and say you have an appointment. He's expecting you. Then I want you to take the afternoon off. Go shopping, buy yourself some pretty things, and I'll meet you back here at nine o'clock.”
She couldn't believe it. She was going to have real money of her own. She was going to get to go shopping in a real store and walk out with bags.
“Wait... how do you know I won't go to the police?”
Lindsay smiled. “Because I'm giving you everything you've ever fantasized about.” Then he winked at her again. “And you kind of like me. Now go.”
She was starting to more than kind of like him, but she wasn't prepared to let him know that.
“Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
He disappeared back into his office and closed the door behind him.
Did he really trust her not to go to the police? Shouldn't she? He was right, though. He was giving her everything she'd ever fantasized about. It was a kinky dream come true. She wasn't about to ruin it.
It would be wonderful if she could just report Brian. She'd love to see that motherfucker behind bars. But there was no way to put him in prison without implicating the doctor. And she found, much to her chagrin, that she no longer hated Lindsay enough to destroy him.
Riding the elevator down ten floors by herself was strange. She hadn't been alone with this much freedom since she'd first been brought to the house.
She'd been nervous and excited the whole drive. And she kept thinking Lindsay was going to... touch her. But he never did. Not once. Until recently.
The bank at the end of the block was large and local to the city. There were several regional branches, but it wasn't a mega chain. She pushed through the revolving gold-colored door. It emptied out into a swank lobby.
This was where the people with old money banked. She remembered years ago she used to drive past it and think about the kind of people who came here. It seemed more like a country club than a bank. She'd heard people got turned away routinely if they didn't open huge accounts.
Suddenly she felt very self-conscious in what she was wearing and the look the teller at the open window was giving her—that snotty derisive judgment—wasn't helping. The girl behind the counter said, “I think you might be in the wrong place.”
It really wasn't just a rumor. These assholes had no interest in smaller accounts. Shannon looked back down at the card again. “I'm here to see Martin Graysen.”
The girl laughed. “I don't think so.”
“No really. I have an appointment. My name is Shannon Foster.”
The girl still looked skeptical and like she was about to have a great joke to laugh about with her friends over the weekend, but she picked up the phone on her desk and dialed a few numbers. “Mr. Graysen, a woman named Shannon Foster claims she has an appointment with you.”
The girl's eyes grew large. “Yes, Sir.” She disconnected the call. “You can go right up. He's at the end of the hallway on the fourteenth floor.”
“Thank you,” Shannon said, offering her sweetest fake smile. What a bitch.
The fourteenth floor opened out to a reception area, behind which was a ve
ry large office with glass for walls allowing her to see inside the president's office from the reception desk. There was an enormous window that stretched from floor to ceiling and went the whole length of the office. Mr. Graysen must not be afraid of heights.
“I'm sorry, are you lost?” the receptionist asked.
“I have an appointment with Martin Graysen.” She expected to have to navigate another rude gauntlet but instead the woman smiled.
“Shannon?”
“Yes.”
“You can go right on in.”
“Thank you.”
Once again, she felt underdressed. She went into the office and sat down. A moment later, the door opened again, and Mr. Graysen sat down behind a large oak desk. He was about Lindsay's age and nearly as good looking. And tall. Very tall.
“All right, Shannon, I've got you set up. Your account is all ready to go. Here is your debit card, as well as a credit card in your name. I'm afraid the limit on the credit card is only twenty-five thousand. If you'll give me your check, I'll get that deposited right away for you, and I'll send you down to HR to get an employee ID card made. They'll think you work at one of the other branches but it will allow you to deposit or cash checks without a hassle in the future. We let our employees bank here. One of the perks.”
“I-I'm sorry, but how is this already set up? How do I already have cards in my name?”
“Doctor Smith called me last week. He's a priority customer and a dear friend.”
“I- Okay, but... I mean, isn't this all a little weird to you?” She couldn't imagine what he must think Lindsay was paying her $2,500 a week to do. Did he think she was his whore? It was sort of true. But it also wasn't.
“Relax, Miss Foster. I know you're his pet.”
Off her surprised expression he said, “I'm not sure I should be telling you this, but I got a girl from the house he helps run. She's absolutely wonderful. I couldn't be happier.”
“Oh. I see.”
“You must be very special. I've teased him for years about not having anyone. It'll be just one moment, and then we can send you down to HR. I've got a little card all filled out so they won't ask any questions. They'll just take a quick photo, make your ID card, and you'll be ready to go.”
