by JB Duvane
"I tried to let you in. You missed your chance," Emily snapped. "If you must know, he's not my fucking boyfriend. I got laid, and that was it. Happy?"
"On the contrary. You should know by now that I only want what is best for you. A supportive boyfriend might have been good for you." If she only knew that I would have had the bastard's neck snapped if he’d stuck around long enough for me to identify him.
Emily rolled her eyes. "Well, it didn't work out," she sighed. "Because … I didn't want it to," she added.
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” She had an edge to her voice, but her eyes told me a different story. She wanted me to ask. She wanted to tell me exactly what had gone on between them. I could see it in her desperate stare. “I didn’t actually fuck him. I … I couldn’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Why do you think?”
“I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea.” I hoped my look of amusement wasn’t as apparent as it felt. I took a breath and turned the conversation around a bit. Now that I knew the truth, and I knew just how much power I had over her, I was going for it. “There is no reason for you to bear the weight of the world on your shoulders, Emily. I know that you do, and it pains me to see you this way. I think some time alone with someone you trust would be very beneficial for you right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that some rest and relaxation and the support of someone you know and care about—and who cares about you—might be just the thing you need. I think it might help if you could step away from your life—the house, your mother’s death, and the whole situation you’ve found yourself in—for a little while at least.”
Her eyes started to grow wide as the obvious possibilities filled her head.
"Just listen for a moment, Emily. Don't respond right away. There is a whole world out there, beyond what you can see for yourself right now. There is no reason why a girl as young and as beautiful as you should be locked away in a house all by herself, fraught with worry over things she cannot control. I have a proposition for you, if you're willing to listen."
I wanted Emily to feel that she was in control of this decision, and was glad to see her visibly perk up, sitting higher in her chair with her eyes glued to mine, as she listed to my suggestion. “What's that Max?"
"I think it would be beneficial for you to perhaps take a little retreat. I do have a house in the countryside, about two hours from here. I could take you there this weekend to stay for the week. You could relax, swim, daydream, do anything you wanted.”
She sank back down in her chair and looked visibly dejected. “What's the difference whether I am alone in my dead mother's house, or alone in your damn country retreat?" Emily asked bitterly.
"I didn't say you would be alone.” My voice almost echoed through the silent office. “I would be accompanying you, in case you needed any assistance. I could be as available to you as you needed me to be."
"That sounds like an okay idea, I guess." The elation on Emily’s face was apparent, even though her words made it sound like she had to weigh the pros and cons of a week alone with me. More manipulation. Every time I saw her she practically made my head spin.
Good girl, I thought to myself.
"Very well, then. It's settled. Have your bag packed and I will stop by to gather you late Friday afternoon. We'll take the scenic route to the house, you’ll like the drive. Maybe stop for a picnic and some fresh air. I am willing to bet that a change of scenery and the fresh country air will do you a world of good. Maybe even give you a new perspective on all of these things that have been troubling you."
Emily smiled seductively. “I think you're right, Max.”
Chapter 9 - Emily
My open suitcase was spread out on my bed, the same suitcase that I had packed the night my mother kicked me out of her house. I meticulously pored over every item that I had in my closet, trying to choose the perfect outfits to pack for the upcoming week-long getaway with Max. Since I had plenty of disposable time and money, I’d been out shopping quite a bit lately, and every purchase I made was backed by thoughts of what Max might think—with the intended outcome of every item of clothing being that he wouldn't be able to resist fucking me senseless.
If things went my way, I wouldn't be wearing much of anything this week at his house. Out of the blue he had invited me to go to his fucking country house with him—just me and him. I knew he was a complex man, but this was an undeniable gesture that he had real feelings for me and I couldn’t help but notice that the invitation came after I told him about Jason.
I’d done a lot of thinking over the past month, and even the few times that I suggested just giving up on him and moving on—finding disposable boy toys somewhere else—I couldn't bring myself to entertain that idea for more than a few moments.
Dr. Max Devereux was the man that I wanted, and the one that I was going to get. I knew it the minute I got home from school. The minute I saw my mother stumbling around the house like the pathetic alcoholic she was. She didn’t deserve him. I did.
I carefully selected the matching panty sets I had recently bought, complete with garter belts and stockings. Fingering the delicate fabric, I decided to try on my favorite set one more time so that I could check myself out in the mirror and make sure everything was perfect. Changing out of the dress I was wearing and into the sexy panties, my mind was on thoughts of Max taking them off of me. I knew he would. Why else would he have invited me out there? He wanted to make sure that we would be alone. He was probably just scared that things would escalate in his office again and he would get caught—literally with his pants down.
I turned, checking out my ass in the full length mirror. I look better than that bitch ever did ,I thought to myself. He was going to forget my mother ever existed.
This house hadn’t sold yet, but when it did, I imagined that we would use the money to buy a house together, one where we could start our new lives fresh.
He had flirted with me long ago, there was no doubt in my mind. Back when he was still with my mother, and I was too young for him to even consider dating seriously.
Back then, I was sure he meant it to appear as harmless verbiage that was used on girls to make them feel pretty. But we understood each other. I knew exactly what every word really meant.
And that night. I’ll never forget the way he looked at me.
She had been there, but I had done everything in my power to erase her from that memory. That moment when it was just me and Max. I didn’t know if he remembered. I didn’t see how he could have possibly forgotten. But I would never forget the look that filled his eyes while he watched me watching him. It wasn’t her he was looking at. It was me.
After that moment I was utterly infatuated with him. Part of the reason I’d never had a boyfriend at school was because none of them ever measured up to Max. It was hard for me to believe that everything had worked out exactly the way I wanted. That everything that had happened—the good and the bad—happened just so that we could finally be together. It's funny how sometimes everything had to fall apart just so that it could be put back together. So that it could be made perfect.
I carefully removed the delicate garments, pulling my leggings and chunky sweater back over my head. I placed the panties in my suitcase, right on top, so that I wouldn't forget to put them on before Max came to pick me up tomorrow. I was planning on arriving well-prepared for seduction and everything that would come afterwards.
Friday afternoon, Max sent me a text promptly at three o'clock, informing me that he had abandoned work early and he was coming to pick me up. I was thrilled at the thought that he wanted to see me so badly he couldn’t wait. I knew that he felt the same about me as I did about him. He was a tough nut to crack, but that didn't mean that I wasn't going to, or that I hadn't already.
I pulled my hair back in a long ponytail and surveyed myself one more time before locking the door and stepping out onto the porch with my suitca
se. I wanted to be ready when he arrived, so that he wouldn't have an excuse to come inside the same house that he had fucked my mother in countless times. It was time for his mind to be elsewhere.
He pulled into the long drive in his shiny black sedan. I had plenty of time to watch him come up the long driveway, and I couldn't keep the smile from my face as I watched him approach. I felt elated that this was actually happening. He parked in the circular turnaround, behind my car, and exited his vehicle. I nearly forgot to breathe just watching him walk toward me with a mixture of elegance and sheer dominance in his stride. I have never wanted to be owned by another human being so badly.
I was made to be his pet.
His face broke into a wide grin as he approached me. "Emily, you are looking happier already. I just know this week is going to do you a world of good. Are you ready to go? I want to make good time so we can arrive while it's still daylight."
"Yes, Max, I'm anxious to get away from this place, even if it’s just for a little while. I'm all set," I said, grinning and gesturing to my suitcase.
Max took the case from my hand, carried it to the car, then flung it into the trunk. "Your suitcase seems light for a girl who’s going away for a week. Most ladies seem to pack everything they own when they travel."
"I didn't think I would need to pack very much clothing at all." I replied, not looking at him as I opened the door to his car and let myself into the passenger seat. I couldn't see his face but I knew I had sent him reeling.
I have him, I thought to myself. I know it.
He got settled into the driver's seat and turned the car on. He started to head out, but paused before he continued, touching his hand to my knee. "Buckle up, Emily. I want to make sure you arrive safely." I felt the heat from his touch long after he removed his hand to put the car into gear and head down the driveway. The sensation sent chills straight up my thigh and to my clit. The man had a magical touch that melted every inch of my body every damn time.
As Max attempted to merge into the heavily trafficked highway, I couldn't help myself from stealing glances at him. Sitting in the passenger seat of his car just seemed so right. I could see myself being here for years to come. Mrs. Emily Devereux. This was so much more than sexual infatuation—I was in love with Max and I had been for years. He needed to know this, and I intended on telling him the truth this week, but I had to be absolutely sure he felt the same way.
As Max maneuvered the car down the highway, changing lanes and dodging cars smoothly and expertly, I daydreamed of what our wedding would look like. I decided that I wanted pale pink roses in my hair the day we were married and bound together forever. I imagined myself sitting in this very seat as he drove us on weekend getaways after we’d been married for years—still every bit in love as we are now.
Max's voice broke my reverie with a question.
"What?" I asked, snapping back to reality.
"I said, do you like to swim? My property backs up to a beautiful lake. Even if you don't, it's a gorgeous spot to watch the sunset and just be thankful for life."
The words that had just come out of Max’s mouth startled me. It wasn’t like anything I’d heard him say before. I wondered for a moment how much I didn’t know about him, then immediately shook that thought off. I knew enough.
Max glanced at me. "What have you been thinking about, anyway? You’ve been quiet this whole trip.“
I blushed. "Oh, nothing. Just wondering what you had in store for the week ahead. I'm not used to being whisked off to lush country cottages by my doctor, you know?” I replied, giving him a sexy little laugh. "To answer your question, though, yes, I like swimming. I made sure to bring a bikini."
"Very good." Max sounded pleased. "We'll have to be sure and go for a swim tomorrow afternoon.” His use of the word ‘we’ made my heart jump. "And you do have a right to be curious, I suppose. I should hope no other doctor of yours has taken you home with him." Max smiled. “But of course, you and I both know that we are friends above all else."
"We understand each other,” I said, glancing back at him—fire in our eyes locking until Max had to tear his gaze from mine and return his eyes to the road. The tension hung in the air between us palpably.
But the moment with Max was ruined for me when the mental image of he and my mother entered my mind—her face against the sheet while he drove into her, making her moan. Lately, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the image.
The thought of it made me sick, and not sick in the way that nobody wants to see their parents having sex. It wasn't that at all. It was a jealous kind of sickness, the type you feel when your lover is touching someone that isn’t you, and you know in your heart that it's all wrong—that they never should have been with anyone but you for as long as they lived.
My only consolation was that maybe she was just a fuck for him. Surely that was all it was for her—that and the benefits that were afforded her in prescription form as a result of their intimacy. I had to find out what my mother had meant to him.
He was always going on about how we were friends, how he needed honesty out of me, yet he was unwilling to share any personal information with me at all. Information that I had a right to know; information that involved my own mother and the man that I loved.
This week was going to change that. I was going to find out the truth. I had to know what he felt for her, and be assured that it was nothing compared to what he felt for me. I had to know that it was me—and only me—that he yearned for all along.
I knew this wasn't the best time to start searching for answers—before we had even gotten to the comfort of the country house—but my mouth spoke the words before my mind could catch up and reason with it. As soon as I spoke the words, I knew I should have waited, but it was too late.
"So, how exactly would you define the relationship between you and my mother?" I wasn't trying to be cold, but I practically spit out the word mother. I had never called her mom, anyway.
Max sighed. "Your mother and I had an intimate relationship, Emily. I know you’re aware of that. She was very special to me, for many years, as a patient at first, and then, more than that. I am not sure what else you want to know, or what you think it has to do with us."
"I think I have a right to be curious, don't I? You admitted that earlier. My mother is gone, and I can't ask her. You're all I have to fill in the blanks. You're the only one that I can trust to tell me the truth." I decided to play the little orphaned girl card to gain his pity.
"Well, what I told you is certainly the truth. I don't think I need to go into graphic detail on everything that your mother and I may have done together, but as you know, we did have a sexual relationship. As far as what you would call that relationship, I don’t have an answer for that. Your mother was a complex woman, as I’m sure you also know even better than I do. She was very independent, and—from what I experienced in therapy and my personal life with her—intended to keep everyone at an arm's length. I do miss her, and I know that’s something you and I clearly have in common."
I had to look away so that he wouldn't see me rolling my eyes at that last comment. "Right," I said, staring out the window.
I was silent for a while as we rolled down the highway. I was ready to give Max everything that she never could.
Chapter 10 - Max
As it turned out, Emily was even bolder than I’d thought. I hadn’t expected the conversation about her mother so soon. It wasn’t something I particularly relished talking about with her. She seemed to become unsettled every time we spoke about that relationship. It would have to be uncovered sooner or later, but I was more interested in what was going to happen between Emily and I when we got to the seclusion of the cottage. As we sped down the highway, I mentally went over all of the details of the room I had set up for her in my house.
Emily was going to take Lucy’s place, yes, but she was special to me, more than a mere toy like the others. The fact that she looked so nearly like her mother was an ad
ded bonus for me. It made me feel as if I could arrive at some sort of closure with her through the opening up of her daughter to me. It was perfect. I would have everything I’d ever wanted—everything Amelia had withheld from me.
I had to admit, though, that what I saw in Emily was different than what I’d ever experienced with Amelia. I loved Amelia, and even though I’d held out hope to the very end that she would change, I knew deep down that she wasn’t as submissive as I wanted. I felt that Emily could be everything for me—everything I’d ever dreamed of in a slave and in a woman.
She was so willing to comply with my requests, no matter what they were. Amelia always seemed to know exactly what she was doing with every calculated movement and gesture—sexual and otherwise—whereas Emily was so young, so inexperienced and so willing. Emily definitely had her mother’s devious ways, but she had so little experience in the world that her tricks and games were virtually transparent.
Although, the more time I spent with Emily, the more I suspected that perhaps she knew what she was doing, too. Nevertheless, once I got her to my house and into her room, she was going to be mine to keep. Her training would be thorough—assuring that she wouldn’t ever want to leave, even if given the chance.
This was going to be good for her. A girl like Emily needed structure. She needed an authority figure, someone to tell her when to jump … and when to bend over. My cock twitched at the thought of what was to come. I glanced over at Emily as she chewed absentmindedly on her lower lip. The juxtaposition of grown woman and little girl that she flaunted without even realizing it drove me nearly insane.
"Nearly there," I smiled at her, patting her knee.
"I need to use the restroom, can you stop, please?" Emily asked. "I don't think I can wait."