by Multiple
“Then I get another try,” I said. “Unlimited questions until you’ve answered twenty of them. Honestly.”
She laughed. “How will you know?”
I just raised my eyebrows slightly. “I’ll know.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“I can’t believe you tried to blackmail me,” I said. “I wonder if the bar association would be so skeptical.”
She smiled coolly. “I have friends in high places, Dalton. They’d never believe you.”
Nodding, I glanced down at my desk, and then back up at her face. “Has a defendant ever been attracted to you before?”
She let out a long, measured breath. “How would I know?”
I tapped my index fingers together, lightly. “That’s not an answer. Should I move on to the next question? Just so you know - they get progressively more personal.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “Next question.”
“Were you attracted to him?”
Her smile came slowly, the most genuine expression I’d ever seen from her. “I didn’t say it was a him.”
Laying my forearms down on the desk, I leaned forward slightly. “That’s not an answer.”
With a slight laugh, she tilted back in her seat. “All right, fine. Yes. I was attracted to him at first.”
“At first?” I shifted back in my chair, mirroring her movements. “What happened?”
“You’re burning through questions very quickly, Mr. Alexander.”
“Let me worry about that.” I tilted my head slightly. “Why only at first?”
She cleared her throat softly. “He was too forward. We started communicating privately, which I knew was a mistake, and then on the fifth or sixth text message he was already asking me to...” Her mouth thinned slightly. “...sit on his face, smother him, walk all over him in stiletto heels - even if I wanted to, it’s not like I ever would. Especially not with a text message trail that could ruin my reputation. He was stupid.”
“Very stupid,” I agreed. “Anyone can see you’re not that kind of woman.”
Her eyebrow twitched slightly. “When the only tool you have is a hammer, Master Damon, every problem tends to look like a nail - doesn’t it?”
“I didn’t say you were a submissive,” I said. “But you’re not a dominant.”
“I guess not,” she said. “Clearly you don’t fit into the stereotype of the powerful businessman who needs to visit a dominatrix to relax.”
“No,” I said. “I’m not wired that way. Never was. But the people who are - they’re lucky.”
“What do you mean by that?” Her voice was soft, curious, starting to lose its edge more and more.
“I’m asking the questions,” I reminded her. “But if you were a dominant, if you’d seen some of the things I’ve seen - well, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”
“Yes,” said Lauren, a little wryly. “There’s a freedom in letting go. I read that treatise you wrote for the BDSM blog.”
I vaguely remembered it. “That was a long time ago. But yes. I think there is. Deep down, we’re frightened of our free will. The responsibility is crushing. We want to feel like someone is controlling things. And sometimes, we just want to feel controlled.”
“So BDSM is a stand-in for religion?” She laughed. “That’s a new one.”
I shrugged. “For some people? Maybe. I still have seventeen questions left, Lauren.”
Sighing, she crossed her legs, her skirt straining a little where it sat on her thigh. “Fine. Go.”
“Have you ever participated in BDSM?”
“Yes,” she said. Her eyes met mine, with a quiet challenge. She was determined not to be cowed. “I didn’t like it.”
“What did you do?” I watched her carefully, the way her body tensed at the invasion of my questions. But if she refused to answer, then I’d have won our little mind game. She didn’t want that.
“I had a boyfriend who wanted to spank me,” she said, flatly. “It was silly. It felt silly at the time and it still does, if I think about it. I don’t even think he enjoyed it that much. He probably read about it in some stupid men’s magazine that says all women secretly just want to be knocked out and dragged by their hair back to the cave.”
I nodded. “Facile, isn’t it? And stupid.”
She laughed a little. “Well, at least you don’t buy into it.”
“I think we prefer a narrative of prehistoric societies that makes us feel better about our modern-day brutality,” I said. “Whether or not it’s based on any pesky facts.”
“But women do like to be dominated,” she said, licking her lips artlessly. “You believe that.”
“Some women do. I also believe in gravity,” I said, dryly. “And I’m fairly certain the sky is blue.”
“You don’t think it’s just a manufactured desire?” She was keyed up now, sitting up straighter in her seat, some of that fire coming back into her eyes. “Something we’re told we should want?”
“Of course it’s manufactured,” I said. “Just like the desire for a luxury car, or a nice apartment.”
“But those are things that actually make your life more comfortable,” she insisted. “They actually make things better. You don’t need them, but it’s reasonable to want them.”
Considering this, I steepled my fingers together, resting my elbows on the desk. “Have you ever given up control, Lauren? Voluntarily?”
Every part of her body was taut, like a big cat crouching before it pounced. “Of course,” she said, bitterly. “What is that supposed to mean?”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. You’ve never given it up. You’ve never surrendered willingly. If someone asked for something, you’d negotiate. You’d find a way to justify it to yourself. You’d make a trade. But you’ve never known the peace of true surrender. Without doubt, without hesitations, with complete trust.”
She just stared at me.
“Don’t feel bad,” I said. “Very few people have. But I’ve been privileged to know some of them. Many extraordinary women have crossed my path over the years, while I’ve done my service as a Master. Every single one of them found me to be worthy of their trust. When you were researching me, looking up all the skeletons in my closet, did you find yourself wondering why? Why would any woman agree to take orders from me?”
She nodded, breathlessly. I could tell that she wanted to argue, to protest, to question, but couldn’t quite find her voice. Her eyes were dark and transfixed, her hands gripping the cushion underneath her.
“Would you like to find out?”
Lauren’s jaw trembled. But she didn’t speak.
“Remember, just yes or no questions,” I reassured her. “You don’t have to do anything. Just answer me, yes or no. There are thirteen left.”
She still didn’t answer.
“When you came here tonight, was there any part of your mind that imagined me seducing you? Teaching you what it’s like to submit?”
Silence.
“Did you wonder how it would feel if I spanked you? If it would feel silly?”
Just the sound of the clock ticking in the corner.
“Did you ask yourself where you’d draw the line? What you’d do for me?”
Her lip trembled. In her eyes, I could see that her resolve was beginning to falter.
“Stop it!” she shouted, finally, jumping to her feet. “Stop it. I won’t let you humiliate me like this.”
“But you are,” I said, calmly. “You knew exactly what would happen when I started this game. You know who I am. But you stayed. And that can only mean one thing, Lauren.”
“Fuck you,” she spat. “I’m leaking these photos no matter what you do. Men like you deserve to be humiliated, the way you humiliate everyone else.”
She clutched at the folder, picking it up too hastily and spilling its contents all over the floor. Cursing, she fumbled down onto her hands and knees, grabbing at the pictu
res with shaking hands.
I stood up and went to her, kneeling down, reaching out and taking hold of her chin, gently. Instead of recoiling, she just froze. Not resisting in the least. I lifted her face.
“You have two choices, Lauren,” I said, softly. “You can walk out of here now, and forget we ever had this conversation. But we’ll sit in every mediation, every meeting, across from each other, and you’ll look at me and you’ll wonder what could have happened here tonight.”
She looked up at me, her eyes wide and wet.
“Or, you can do everything I ask.”
I felt her throat expand and contract as she swallowed.
“Everything?” she rasped.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be easy on you. And after that, I just want one more mediation. One last meeting to iron out all the kinks. I want to make sure your client is really on board with this. And then, I’ll sign the settlement.”
I stepped back, letting go of her, walking backwards until my back was up against the bookcase. She stayed on her hands and knees, trembling, staring up at me. This was one of those rare times when I really had no idea what would happen next. She might jump to her feet and stalk out, she might burst into tears and crumple into a ball on the floor. Even though she was the one who’d provoked this in the first place, and I was certain she wanted it, I had no idea how she was actually going to react.
She still hadn’t moved. She was waiting for an order.
“Come here,” I said. “And bring that picture.”
I pointed, but I didn’t really need to. It was the one in front of her, the one she had referenced just a few minutes ago. I was rather proud of it, actually. A professional photographer friend had managed to capture a beautifully intimate moment between me and a woman who called herself Jade. It was a very private club, very exclusive, and my friend was used to framing every picture so you couldn’t see anyone’s face. But I told him not to worry.
I preferred to be in the spotlight.
Lauren looked down at the picture, then back up at me. She made a small move, as if to stand up.
“No,” I said, softly. “Crawl for me.”
She shuddered. Grabbing the picture, holding it between two fingers, she started to shuffle awkwardly forward without dropping or bending it. After a few halting movements, she looked up at me again.
I raised an eyebrow, then lifted my index finger to my mouth, gently biting my fingertip. A silent command that she understood. With one final exhale of resignation, she held the picture between her teeth and started to crawl towards me.
When she reached her destination, she practically spat it at my feet. Some of her fire had returned, and it sent a thrill up my spine.
“The safe word is red,” I told her.
She raised her head high, her back curving, stomach dipping down so that her crisp blouse started to come untucked. “Like I’d give you the satisfaction,” she snarled.
“So defiant.” I took a step towards her, and she didn’t flinch. “We’ll see how long that lasts, hmmm?”
Reaching down, I snatched the elastic that held her hair into a tight bun, and yanked it out. I grabbed her by the hair and pulled back, up, until she had no choice but to stand. Her eyes watered, but she never flinched. I took the picture in my other hand, holding it in front of her face, my finger pointing to the flogger I’d had in my hand that night.
“Do you like the look of this?” I demanded, clenching harder around the roots of her hair. “Would you like to get to know it better?”
“You think you can break me?” Her eyelids were heavy. Rising between us was the sweet, musky smell of her arousal. “Go on. Do your worst.”
I spun her around, grabbing her dove-gray suit jacket and jerking it down to her wrists. Quickly knotting the sleeves together created a pair of makeshift cuffs, and I pushed her forward, until her hipbones pressed against the edge of my desk.
With my hand flat on the middle of her back, I pushed her down so that her chest was flat against the smooth wood. Her skirt was hiked up so high I could almost see her panties, but not quite.
I shoved my knee between her legs, spreading her thighs. She moaned, back arching, cheek pressed against my paperwork. Her jaw was slack, and she panted harshly.
My hands palmed her ass, roughly, almost before I realized what I was doing. In spite of how it might have looked, how it might have sounded, we were perfectly in sync. I could feel her desires vibrating through my body. Grabbing fistfuls of her skirt on either side of the split on her thigh, I ripped the fabric in two.
I tore her hose aside. No panties, after all. I smiled, darkly, sliding my hand between her legs, just enough to smear her wetness on my fingers. When I lifted them to her mouth, she laved her tongue along them, making my cock jump. I pressed against her ass so she could feel it, thick and throbbing for her defiance.
“Humiliate me, Master,” she whispered, muffled against the wood. “It’s all I’m good for.”
And there it was. Her greatest desire and her deepest fear, laid bare for me.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her up, spinning her around and pressing her tightly against me. Caught between my body and the desk, she had nowhere to go, even if she wanted to. Her eyes were dark and ravenous, and she needed. She needed so much that she could never put into words.
“You make such a pretty slave,” I whispered, my hand resting on her throat. “But this isn’t who you are. It’s your fire that made me want you. Your fight. You will always be the woman in the boardroom who looked at me like I was something to be squashed under her heel. And that’s what makes your submission so precious.” I tightened my grip, just a little. “Never forget that. Do you promise me?”
“I promise,” she whispered.
I kissed her fiercely, with every bit of hatred and frustration I had for this whole situation, this case, every interminable meeting. I kissed her for every time I’d wanted to slam my fist on the table to shut her up, every time her eyes had seemed to be taking me apart, piece by piece. Every time I’d wanted to take her apart.
I’d never imagined it could be this good.
She pushed me away, a powerful shove that caught me off-guard. I stumbled against the bookcase, hearing a heavy bookend on the top shelf rocking precariously. Wiping my mouth, I looked up and smiled at her.
“You don’t deserve me,” she murmured, swaying towards me in her ruined clothes. “What makes you think you can have me?”
She was just close enough to touch. I reached out and brushed my fingers against her cheek, whisper-soft, and her eyelids fluttered.
“You can lie to me with your mouth,” I said. “Your beautiful, sinful mouth.” My fingers drifted down her chest, stopping where the fabric of her blouse rasped against her painfully stiff nipples. “But these...” My hand drifted lower, under her torn skirt, pressing between her legs, to the burning heat. My fingers slipped inside, so easily. I felt her pulse and quiver around me. “And this....they don’t lie.”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she gasped.
I pulled away abruptly, reaching behind her and pulling the jacket loose. She stood still, breathing heavily, watching me with hooded eyes. She said nothing as I sat down in my armchair, legs wide, making no effort to hide my arousal.
“Strip,” I said. “Slowly.”
The flames rose up in her eyes again, her fingers slipping and fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. Outside, somewhere far away, a car alarm whined incessantly, a vague reminder that there was a real world still outside the walls of this room. A world where we were enemies. A world where there would be consequences.
But not tonight.
She threw the blouse in a heap on the floor, nostrils flaring. The skirt came next, then the shreds of her pantyhose, and then her bra, which she tossed at my head. It landed harmlessly, draped across my shoulder, and I just smirked at her.
“Are you happy now?” she demanded.
I let my eyes rove ac
ross her body, all the gentle dips and curves that were hidden under her severe clothes. She was shaved smooth, every part of her body, but it did nothing to tame her wildness.
She was staring at me like she wanted to rip me to pieces.
“Touch yourself,” I told her, gripping the arm of the chair to keep myself from following suit.
She did, her eyes closing softly, and her mouth falling open in a silent moan.
“Taste it,” I whispered, and she raised her fingers to her mouth, licking, sucking, savoring. I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Come here.” I crooked a finger, and she opened her eyes, slowly. The few steps to close the distance between us seemed to take a thousand years.
“Turn around,” said. “Bend over.”
She swallowed. “Why?” she asked, her voice husky.
“I want to see you,” I said, roughly. “Spread yourself open for me.”
Her composure faltered. “I...I don’t have a condom.”
“You don’t need one,” I said. “I want to see you. That’s all.”
This time, there was absolutely nothing put-on about her anger. Her face transformed, every part of her body going taut. “Are you crazy?” she almost shouted. “After all this...”
“What?” I cut in, unzipping. “Foreplay? Use your head, Lauren. I’m the defendant. You’re the plaintiff’s attorney. We can’t have sex. That would be wrong.” I stroked my stiff cock, viciously, feeling the precum leak over my fingers.
“You fucking asshole,” she snarled.
I sighed, shifting in my seat. “Just do what I asked, pet. I promise there’ll be something in it for you.”
With jerky movements, she knelt down on the floor, bending forward and exposing herself to me. A sharp jolt of arousal went through me, and I almost lost control. Taking a deep breath, I squeezed tightly until the feeling passed.
“Good girl,” I said. “You may touch yourself now, until you come.”
Almost before I’d finished the order, her fingers were flying, making a soft wet sound against her aching flesh. I groaned, my leg muscles tightening, toes clenching in my shoes. A gush of fluid shot out of her cunt, coating her fingers and dripping down her arm, and then another. A moment later, she pitched forward, screaming my name.