by Alexa Riley
“Good girl.” When I look up, she shoots me daggers, but she doesn’t say a word. I raise an eyebrow, challenging her, but she stays silent, deciding to choose her battles. I’m sure she has a list of things in her head she wants to call me, but I’d much rather her use that mouth for other things.
I look her up and down and see that her robe has spread open, revealing some of her perfect body to me. The robe is tied at the waist, so her breasts aren’t showing, but her nipples are hard and poking through. Her longs legs are spread, and I can see the tiny thong exposing her pussy lips on either side. The white material covers her clit, and I can see the tiny swatch of fabric is damp from her excitement. She may not want to admit it, but she’s turned on from this.
Reaching down between my legs, I rub my cock slowly while I look at her pussy. I’m teasing myself, but I don’t care. I need to do this. As I continue to rub myself, I see her hips move a little, and I look up to see her lick her lips. It’s a small unintentional thing, and I’m sure she’s not conscious of it, but it takes everything in me not to attack her right here, right now. I want to savor our first time together, and I want this to go according to plan.
Since I found out she was going to be in the auction, I made sure to arrange everything to be perfect. I don’t want all those plans to go to waste because I can’t control myself. I’ve been obsessing over her for so long, and I’m almost there. Just a little longer.
We pull up outside the Snake Eyes casino. I get out of the limo first and offer my hand to Mandy, helping her step out. She still has the bag that Samantha gave her, and I grab it for her. She’s still only in her robe and heels. She’s covered, but I don’t like how exposed she is. I walk with her as before, holding her hand behind my back, letting her follow behind me, shielding her from view. I move us quickly through the casino, not wanting to risk anyone seeing her dressed like this. I pull her to the private elevator that leads to the floor she stayed on during her tenure with me, but this time instead of going to her room, I’ll take her to mine.
Pulling her into the elevator, I turn around and see Cupid watching us from the lobby. He nods as the door closes, letting me know all is taken care of. We ride in silence to the top floor, and I hold her hand the entire time. Once we stop, I pull her out of the elevator and down the small hallway to my door.
I close the door behind us and lock it, pulling her to through my home to the master bedroom. I can’t focus on anything but getting her where I want her.
I open the door and let Mandy walk through. My bedroom is a lot like my office—blacks and reds everywhere. The carpet is a thick black shag that is soft enough to sleep on. The walls are draped in blood red fabric, and a four-poster bed is in the middle of the room, covered in the same material. Hidden in each post of the bed is a range of harnessing devices and accoutrements. Above the bed is a giant mirror surrounded by a black metallic frame. The only light in the room comes from the dimmed chandelier hanging above us. The windows on the back wall are blacked out, keeping hidden the lights from the bustling city below.
I had the room designed with the two of us in mind. When I found out she was entering into the Mistress Auction, I had this room completely renovated for her. I want everything to be perfect when I take her for the first time.
Mandy walks over and stands in front of the bed, and I open the bag Samantha gave her, removing the angel wings. I had requested whatever costume she was dressed in to be sent with her, and this is all too perfect. I’m dressed as the devil in a room that looks like Satan’s sleeping chamber. And I intend on spoiling this perfectly innocent angel before me.
I slowly walk up behind her and get as close as possible without touching her.
“Remove the robe, kitten,” I whisper against her neck.
I practically see the chill move down her body, and with just a slight hesitation, she does as I ask. I hold out the wings and help her put them on, and then take a step back.
“Turn around.”
When she does, I feel a sinister smile creep across my face as I stand back and look at my prize.
Chapter Five
Mandy
I’m fucking livid, but even worse than that, I’m more turned on than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I wanted to smack him right across the face when we got into the limo. Then I thought I should give him what he wants before he can order me to do it. I wanted to beat him to the punch and have it be on my terms. When he stopped me from trying to give him a blow job, I was so embarrassed, and a true moment of uncertainty hit me. Maybe sex wasn't part of why he bought me. Maybe he didn't want me in that way. I thought maybe this was still all about my brothers. But then he started snapping orders, and a whole different feeling came over me.
His tone was unlike his normal one. I’d heard him be short with people on multiple occasions when I worked for him, but this was different. Each command shot through my body as if each vein were a live wire. I didn’t want to do what he said, but my body betrayed me. Maybe it’s because I now belong to him. He owns my body this time around, and if he wants to use it he can. I wonder if I would have felt this way if someone else had bought me. The idea of being owned seems to turn me on more. I don't know why I never considered it that way before I went on stage, but now it’s all I can think about. I’m his to do with as he pleases, and the thought makes me clench my jaw.
His eyes roam over my body, and my nipples respond to his stare. His look is hungry, and I suddenly feel like I’m being stalked. My reaction to him is unsettling because I don’t have any control over it. I must have starved my body of sexual attraction for too long and now it’s going crazy. It doesn't help that no one has ever looked at me the way he does. Seeing his reaction feels a little empowering.
I fight the urge to cover myself with my hands, knowing he’ll only make me remove them. He would give me an order that I would instantly follow, and then wonder why it turned me on. I’m quicker to jump to his commands, and this makes me uncomfortable. I’ve always felt attraction to Charles, but now it seems my body is dying to get closer to him. It’s the exact opposite of what I was doing when I worked with him.
Pulling my eyes away from him, I try to stem these feelings rushing through my body. Just like everything else in the casino, reds and blacks cover the room. I now realize this is his place; it was right next to mine when I stayed here. We always seemed to be coming and going at the same time, but I’d never been inside his home. Seeing his bedroom somehow calms me instead of frightening me.
I examine the massive four-poster more closely, and I notice black cuffs hanging from each of the posts. Is this like his fuck pad or something? Maybe that’s why I’ve never seen him with a woman. He must bring them up here for whatever it is he does, but I'd never seen one slip out before. I wonder if he likes to dress them up too. I look up, seeing the mirror above the bed, and I want to roll my eyes. I guess he likes to watch himself fuck. I let the thought roll off me, and try to focus.
Having the angel wings back on makes me feel like an innocent trapped in the devil's lair. His sole mission is to corrupt me and bring me over to the dark side with him. Maybe it’s his kink. I hate that my body warms to the idea of all the dirty things he wants to do to corrupt me.
“Mr. Townsend, you can’t be so bad in bed that you have to restrain women to get them to stay.” I poke him because I need to get myself back on a level playing field. In the past if I landed a few jabs he would storm out of the office, so maybe I can get him to storm out of this love nest.
“With you I wasn’t sure. You seem to be good at giving me the slip. I have to make sure my property stays where it belongs.”
“Property?” I fire the word back at him with distaste, hoping that maybe that will make me hate the idea of being his property. All he does is smirk, like it's cute that I have a problem being owned. “I never gave you the ‘slip’,” I say, stressing the word to highlight its ridiculousness. “I did my thirty days and I left. Is that what this is all about?
You think I shorted you a day?”
I truly thought he would be grateful when I was gone. The night in the bar before I left was strange. I thought maybe my drunken mind had made it all up, but the call from Tiffany confirmed it. So did the picture that ended up in page five of The Las Vegas Tribune.
He was always so short with me when we were together. Most of that time consisted of his hovering over me as I did my work. It was absurd, because he gave me projects an eighth grader could do.
“I wasn't finished with you yet.”
“You weren't finished with me yet?”
“That’s what I said.” He lazily starts to circle me, walking slowly around where I’m standing. He looks like he’s inspecting what he paid for.
“I could break my Mistress Contract and leave. I could give the money back. Then you’d have to be done with me.”
Something sparks in his eyes at my words—something that looks close to anger. I want to know why he’s pushing this and dragging me back here. Is this about that night in the casino? Me telling him no and making him look like a fool? Men and their egos can be a real bitch. I run into a lot of men like that working at the casino. Men like that don’t like when a woman takes them down a peg or two. But for some reason I don’t think Charles is the type of man who would care what other people think. He doesn't have an ego. He just is who he is, take it or leave it. If it’s not about his pride, it means this whole thing could have something to do with my brothers, and that problem has the potential to make me stay. If I can't get some information from Charles, I’m finally just going to have to ask my brothers what he has over them.
“But you won’t. No, you’d never go back on your word.” It’s eerie how well he knows me. Saying I would break the contract was just a way for me to try to get some information from him. I want to find out his endgame without losing myself in the process, because I’m starting to think Charles Townsend is someone I could easily drown in.
“Fine, you win. Do with me as you like. Do I strap myself in or is that your job?” I try to make my tone as flat as possible as I walk toward the bed, careful not to brush against him.
“Mandy, while I will have you in those straps soon enough, first we need to go over the rules of your Mistress Contract.”
“I read the contract several times. I know all the rules. I’m to keep my mouth shut, my legs spread, and I’m never to ask questions about your life outside of our time together.” I turn to face him, trying to pretend the rules don’t bother me in the least.
“Yes, those are the standard rules for all contracts, but each buyer is allowed to add a set of their own. Did you not see that in the contract as well?”
I did, I just forgot. This takes me by surprise, and I stop. “Yes, I’m sorry. It did say something about the buyer being allowed to add their own as long as they are approved by the auction house.” I visibly swallow when I finish. I don’t know why this has my heartbeat picking up, but it does.
Pulling out a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket, Charles walks to the corner of the room, takes a seat in a chair and lazily leans back in it. I expect him to start listing off the rules, but he just pats his leg, signaling for me to come sit on it.
I roll my eyes, but do as I’m instructed. I stroll over to him, my heels sinking into the lush carpet, and I sit, making sure I plop down heavily on him in the hopes of hurting his leg a little. I may not weigh much, but maybe my bony ass will leave a bruise. He makes no sign of distress at this. He just wraps one arm around my waist to pull me closer, pressing me into his erection. At the feel of his cock against my thigh, I’m the one who ends up gasping.
He’s huge all over, evidently—something I really do enjoy about him. He makes me feel feminine when I'm near him. His height means he always towers over me, even when I wear my most ridiculous heels. Not only that, he easily has to weigh more than two of me. Not many men make me feel small and delicate, but Charles does.
He leans in, taking my earlobe in his mouth, nuzzling me and making my eyes fall closed. It’s a sweet soft contact, but he soon bites me, making me jump and my eyes pop open.
“You fully belong to me.” He proves his point by using his free hand to cup my thinly covered pussy. “When you act like a brat, I don’t have to storm out of the room to control myself. No, now I can bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you apologize, and until you beg me to let you cum. I’ll make you promise to be a good little girl or I’ll keep punishing you.”
I moan at his words, pushing myself into his hand. “You like that kitten? Because I’ll fuck you on every surface of this goddamn casino until you scream the place down.”
I’m so lost in his words and in this sensation that all I can do is beg. “Please.” How does he keep doing this to me? One second I want to smack him, and the next I want him to make good on his threat. I'm going with being completely under-sexed as the reason for this. My body is ready to go and doesn’t care that my mind can't seem to keep up with it.
“Already begging. I knew you would. It’s who you are.” Before I can ask what he means, he pulls his hand out from between my legs. I bite my lip to stop myself from protesting, and watch as he picks up the paper he dropped down in the seat next to him. Pulling me a little closer, his arm tightens around me before he starts reading.
“Number one, you will at all times carry a cell phone with which I will provide you. Whenever I text or call you, you will respond immediately.”
That doesn't sound too bad. I always have my phone glued to my hand.
“Number two, you will always wear skirts or dresses with no underwear. I want nothing coming between me and what’s mine.”
I just nod my head in agreement. I also always wear skirts; it’s the best way to show off my heels, but I’ve never gone without underwear. I guess I should be thankful we live somewhere warm.
“Three, all meals are to be eaten together, and by my hand.”
“Like, you make them?” I ask, wondering about his strange wording.
“No, kitten, I mean you sit in my lap and I feed you.”
I’m starting to think I’m not going to like some of the Mistress Contract rules.
“Four, where I go, you go.” And there it is. I wouldn't have to wonder what he was up to. I would know if there was another woman, though I don't really think there would be. I’d never seen him with one before, even though they were always throwing themselves at him. But in all fairness, I didn't think he was going to bust out all this kinkery either. “Unless I tell you to be someplace else,” he finishes.
“So you want me to pretty much be your assistant again, but this time you get to fuck me when I annoy you.”
“Watch your mouth, kitten.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Instead I just glare into his dark eyes, making him flash his perfect white teeth at me. It’s then it hits me that I’ve never seen him smile like that before, and I can't help but stare.
“No, you're not my assistant, I have someone for that. You’re my submissive, and I’ll want you by my side for whatever I might need—reading me my emails while I eat your pussy, sneaking you under my desk to suck my cock to get me through boring meetings, or just laying you naked across the couch in my office so I have something beautiful to stare at all day.”
I’ve heard of Dominant/submissive couples before, but that seems a little over the top, even if my body seems to find the concept intriguing. This is Vegas; everything happens here. Sex is openly talked about, and no subject is taboo. And for some reason, the first thing that pops out of my mouth is, “Do I have to wear a collar?”
I can't decide whether I want him to say yes or no. He sits and studies my face for a second.
“Yes.”
Yet another question pops out my mouth, and I wish I could take back. “Do you always collar your women?”
“No, I don’t have women.” He says the word in a tone that implies he’s annoyed I asked. “And no, I’ve nev
er collared anyone before, but with you I seem to be a little more possessive.”
He traces his finger along my neck where the collar would be, and for some reason it makes me wish I had it on now. I’m curious how the weight of it would feel, and what it would be like to be possessed in that way.
“Speaking of the possessive tendencies I seem to have around you, that leaves me with my final two rules. You’re never speak to another man unless I grant you permission…” Before I protest, he finishes my thought for me “…Except those men you consider your family.” I should object, but those are the only men I talk to unless I’m working, and I seem not to be doing that for the time being, so the point is moot. It’s best to pick my battles with a man like Charles.
“Lastly, when we are around other people, if I don’t have a hand on you, then you must have a hand on me.” His finger continues to trace my throat like he’s outlining the collar I’ll soon wear.
“So I’m glued to you unless you dismiss me? Does that about sum up your rules?”
“I would never dismiss you,” he says softly, a hurt tone in his voice. No, maybe he wouldn't, but he does like to push until I dismiss myself. Sometimes he gets mad and storms out, but he’s never told me get out or to leave a room.
He puts the list down and wraps both arms around me, picking me up and carrying me across the room. He places me on the edge of the bed, and then removes my wings. I scoot to the middle and lie back on the soft red bedding. I’m surrounded by the silky smooth material, and my over-sensitized skin tingles at the sensation.
“Aren't these against the rules?” I pull at the string of the thong, wondering if I need to take it off. I’m being bold and I don’t care; my body is on edge. A flash of disappointment hits me when he shakes his head. My body is screaming for me to cum.