by B. B. Hamel
Despite all the difficulties, I am where I want to be.
Hours pass, dinner comes and goes, and I’m almost ready to give up on another visit from Ethan when there’s a gentle knock at the door. I’m wearing my usual yoga pants and t-shirt, although I have on makeup and my hair is pulled up into a messy bun. I’m obeying his commands more or less. I wouldn’t wear makeup all day like this if I weren’t going to see anyone, but I can’t let myself fall apart completely. I have to put in some sort of effort for him at least, even if he wants me to be myself.
Ethan steps into the room, looking as handsome as always. I put down my book and smile at him, surprised at the excitement that I feel in my stomach.
“How was work?” I ask him.
He grins at me. “Work was fine. Couldn’t wait to leave.”
“Why’s that?”
He walks over to me and sits down on the chair across from me. “I wanted to see you. And to apologize for last night.”
“There’s nothing to apologize about.”
“I was an ass. I shouldn’t have stormed out like that.”
“You have things that you don’t want to talk about. I get it.”
He sighs and leans back in the chair. I can see how tired he is suddenly, and I realize that he can’t sleep more than a few hours every night. His job is clearly demanding a lot of him, and he gives it everything he can.
He probably doesn’t have time to get close to people. When he first bought me, I wondered why a man like Ethan could possibly want someone like me.
I still feel unworthy. I am unworthy, truth be told, but now at least I understand why he’d want to buy me. Ethan doesn’t have time to meet women and to fall in love like normal people. He’s working and living at an entirely different level, one that most normal people can’t even imagine. He makes a lot of money, but he sacrifices a lot for it.
I see all of that in a sudden flash of insight as I watch his face. He looks back at me curiously, head cocked to one side.
“What?” he asks.
I pause for a second, trying to decide how to answer him. “I want to go for a walk,” I say quickly, blurting it out. I regret it right away.
“Do you?” He leans forward, smiling. “Are you bored in here?”
“I just feel like I need to exercise.
“There’s a treadmill in the other room. And you can go onto the balcony for fresh air.”
“It’s not the same.”
His smile gets bigger. “Didn’t I punish you for this already?”
I nod, feeling a thrill run through me. “You did. But I don’t care. I want to go outside.”
“No,” he says, and I can see him warming up to the game. “Do I need to punish you again?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “I won’t learn otherwise.”
His grin gets huge as he stands. “Good girl,” he says. “You’re learning.”
He walks toward me and I watch him, heart hammering in my chest. He leans down and takes my arm, pulling me to my feet, then roughly pulls me toward the bed.
“Ethan!” I say.
“I’m sorry, am I being too hard with you?” he asks, smirking at me. He pulls me toward him, hands on my hips, and I let out a soft moan.
“Is this more like what you want?” he asks, his lips on my neck. I throw my arms around him.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“But this isn’t a punishment.” He grabs my hair, tipping my head back. I gasp as he kisses my throat. “You just want pleasure. But you can’t have pleasure without pain.”
“Who says?” I ask.
“I do.” He smirks at me and pulls back, still holding my hair. He walks me over to the foot of the bed. “Down on your knees,” he commands.
I obey, falling to my knees. He pulls the tie off his neck then takes my wrists, both of them together, and wraps the silk tie around them. He takes my hands and puts them above my head before tying me to the top of the headboard.
When he’s done, I’m down on my knees in front of him, hands above my head. I test the bond but it’s expertly tied, tight but not so tight that it’s cutting off circulation. He steps back and looks at me.
“What do I do with you now?” he asks, a smile on his face that says he knows exactly what he wants.
“Show me,” I whisper, my body a ringing mess of excitement.
“Since you ask so nicely,” he says, “I will.”
He takes off his jacket and I feel like I might pass out from the hard beating of my heart. He carefully lays his jacket over the back of a chair then rolls his sleeves up slowly, watching me the whole time. I keep my eyes locked on his, trying to steady my breathing, but I can barely handle it.
Finally, sleeves rolled up, he walks over to me. He adjusts my body, sitting me down on my ass, stretching my hands up further above my head. Then he takes my yoga pants and slowly slides them off my body.
When he’s done, I’m sitting on the ground in just a blue thong, dripping wet and useless at this point, my hands tied above my head. He carefully folds my pants and places them on the bed before walking into the closet.
He returns a second later with what I assume is a vibrator. It’s long, thick, and white. He walks over to me and puts me back on my knees before placing the vibrator between my legs and switching it on.
Nothing happens. It doesn’t move. I stare at him, legs clenched, waiting for the sensation to tear through me, but nothing happens.
“Now, we’ll play a game,” he says. He holds up a little switch in his hand. “This controls the vibrator. I’ll ask you a question, and if you answer it the right way, I’ll give you pleasure. Like this.” He turns it on.
I groan softly as the vibrator buzzes between my legs. I can’t help but smile slightly and press against my bonds. He leaves it on for a few seconds then stops.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“Aria,” I say.
The vibrator turns on, low and slow. I bite my lip.
“What are you?”
I cock my head at him. “An escort.”
He turns the vibrator off.
“Wrong. I’ll ask again. What are you?”
I pause, watching him. “Your pet,” I whisper.
“Good girl.” He turns the vibrator back on, this time on a higher setting.
I can’t help but let out a little moan. The vibrator is right against my clit and it’s moving at a soft and perfect buzz, sending pleasure up my spine. I can’t move or get away from it, and that just makes it so much more intense.
“What do you want from me?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I moan.
He turns the vibrator down. Not off, but down. “What do you want from me?” he asks again.
“Your cock,” I groan suddenly, surprising myself.
He smiles and turns the vibrator up. I moan, tossing my head back.
“Good girl. Now, do you want to leave your room?”
“No,” I moan. “No, please. I don’t want to leave.”
“Good.” He turns it up again and I gasp as pleasure floods through me. He stands there watching me for a few seconds and it’s almost too intense.
“You want to make me happy?” he asks.
“Yes,” I moan. “Badly.”
He turns the vibrator down. I moan, watching him, not sure what I did wrong.
“If you could leave right now with the money, would you walk away?”
I watch him, trying to think, not sure what to say. I feel like there’s an obvious answer.
But I want to be honest. Would I leave right now if I’d get paid? I’m supposed to be here for the money and nothing else. That sort of cash would change my life and put me on a path to a better existence. I could be happy and free with that money.
No, I realize. I wouldn’t leave. I don’t want to go anywhere. Maybe the cash would change my life but I’d rather stay and learn more about Ethan. I’m fascinated by him. Actually, I’m attracted to him in ways that I couldn’t imagi
ne.
It’s this, his little games. They feel so good and push me so far. I’ve never felt like this before.
“No,” I say honestly. “I wouldn’t.”
He watches me for a second then smiles and turns up the vibrator again. Pleasure rips through my core. “Good girl,” he whispers, then steps closer to me.
I look up at him, moans escaping my lips, pleasure rocking through my body. I can barely think and I don’t know what I’ll say to him if he asks me any more questions. There’s only one thing that I want, and it’s him, his body, his touch. I crave it so badly, and yet he’s holding it back. I know he’s doing it on purpose but I want to scream for it, I want to beg for it. I can feel the words on my lips, the begging that might get me what I want.
He crouches down in front of me and puts his hand on the side of my face. I move over and take his thumb between my lips, sucking on it, biting it softly. I look him in his eyes and I can see the desire there, almost as strong as mine.
“Do you want to come?” he asks me.
“Yes,” I moan, tossing my head back. “Please, I want it so badly.”
“You want to get off, my little pet?”
“Please, Ethan,” I moan. “Get me off.”
He turns the vibrator down. I gasp, shocked. “Ethan!” I moan, practically whining.
He stands. “I think you’ve been punished enough.”
“What?” I moan. He turns off the vibrator and takes it away. “Ethan!”
He unties my hands. They drop down to my sides and I stare at him, so frustrated, even a little angry. How could he stop right there? How could this be over? I was so close, right on the edge, and he’s walking away?
I’m actually pissed off. I like his games but not if it means I’m going to be pushed but not given the release that I need.
“When I leave the room,” he says, looking at me, “I want you to finish yourself off. Do you understand?”
I pause then stare at him and slowly nod. “I understand.”
“Good girl. But you can’t use this.” He holds up the vibrator. “I want you to fuck your little pussy with those fingers and come as hard as you can.”
“Yes, Ethan,” I say, excitement ringing through me again.
“Good girl. I’ll be listening right on the other side of that door.” He touches my face again and for a second, I think he’s going to kiss me.
But he doesn’t. He turns and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. I don’t waste a single second. I spread my legs wide, shove my hand down my panties, and press my fingers deep inside of my pussy. I lean forward, braced on one hand on the floor, knees spread wide, as I fuck myself, moaning his name.
11
Ethan
As soon as the door clicks shut, I press my back against it and let out a deep groan.
The hallway is clear as I listen to what’s going on back inside that room. I can hear her moaning, her voice getting loud and deep, and suddenly I hear her say my name.
I hear her say my name.
It drives me fucking wild. That whole experience was a test in patience and self-control for me. All I wanted to do was slide my cock down her pretty throat and fuck her until I came, but I knew it was too soon. I need to keep pushing the boundaries, keep building the suspense. I need to control everything about this.
But fuck, I don’t want to be in control. I unzip my fly and take out my cock, unable to stop myself. I’m hard as hell, practically ringing with need. I begin to stroke myself, listening to her fuck herself with her fingers.
Goddamn, I want to go back in there. I want to go in and watch her do exactly what I told her to do. I can hear her voice getting louder, her breathing getting deeper, and I know she’s making herself come. I stroke myself faster, desire and pleasure exploding through my body.
I don’t know how I kept my hands off her back there. I started out intending just to tease her a bit, but it was just too fucking hot. I had to stop and get out of there before I lost control and did something more than just tease.
Everything about Aria makes my blood run hot. She sends fire through my veins. She’s fascinating, sexy, smart, and clever all at once, and it pushes me to my limits. I thought this might be a fun game, seducing some attractive escort, but the game is getting far more intense than I ever could have guessed.
I want her down on all fours, legs stretched wide as my cock slides into her tight little cunt. I want to feel that tight, hot, wet pussy of hers wrapped around my dick as I pump myself deep inside of her. I want to tear her apart as I fuck her like an animal, listening to her moans, feeling her skin.
I want to sweat with her. I want to make her come. I want to taste it.
As her moans get loud and reach their peak, I keep pumping my cock until I come right there in the hallway. I groan, pushing my head back against the door and listening for a moment.
She goes quiet on her end, and I know she’s finished, too. Although we didn’t actually touch each other, that was one of the most erotic and intense sexual experiences of my life. I didn’t think it would go this far, and yet here I am, unable to fucking stop myself from getting off while listening to her moans.
I stand there in the hallway, breathing deep as the orgasm slowly wears off. I let out a sigh and slide myself back into my pants before lingering there for a moment longer, trying to picture what she looks like on the other side of that door.
I can see her, flush with exertion, fingers slick from her own juices. Maybe she licks them clean, maybe she simply wipes them off on her already dripping wet and useless panties.
Her nipples are hard under her thin t-shirt and she’s panting, breathing heavily, and thinking about me. She probably wants to know what it feels like for me to fuck her, maybe wants to know as much as I do.
Slowly, the fantasy passes. I get myself together and head down the hall into my own bedroom. I undress quickly and get into the shower, cleaning myself off and trying to clear my head.
It’s too soon to be feeling this way. The idea of being unable to control myself around her is a little frightening. It makes me feel uneasy, to be completely honest with myself. I want to be able to have strict control at all times, but out there in the hallway, I lost the ability to hold back.
All because of her. Aria pushes me just as much as I push her, though she doesn’t realize it. I told myself I wasn’t going to fuck her until she genuinely wants it, and I still feel that way. It’s why I’m only teasing her so far. But I didn’t expect to want to take her body more than I wanted to hold back and play my game.
As the water runs down my body, I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking the same thing, but the other way around. I know she’s starting to want it, really and truly want it, and I can’t help but wonder if she is surprised by that. Maybe she didn’t expect to actually want me to take her. She could still be trying to see this as just another game to play.
I don’t know what to think. And it’s not a good feeling. For most of my life, I’ve been in strict control of my situations as best I possibly can. Now, suddenly, with Aria, I feel like I’m losing a bit of that measured control and I don’t like it.
I wash myself under the warm water, thinking of her body in the other room, and wondering how I even got here to begin with.
12
Aria
I barely see him for nearly a week.
After that night with the vibrator, he doesn’t come for two days. I’m bored out of my mind, but I do my best to pass the time. I get permission on the second day from him through Jenkins to go on a short walk every day, but only so long as I’m chaperoned. Jenkins makes one of the housecleaners, a girl named Camilla that barely speaks any English, go with me. That suits me just fine, though, since I don’t want to talk anyway.
On my walk, I go around the block. I have twenty minutes to spend, and I use every minute looking around at the city and stretching my legs. Camilla walks next to me and smiles when we look at each other, but otherwise we�
�re silent with each other.
It’s actually pretty nice, but I wish it were Ethan with me instead of Camilla. I don’t know why he doesn’t come to see me. After the third day, he comes for dinner, but he doesn’t stay long, and we don’t play any games. We talk about his work and I tell him about my walks, and he agrees to let me have a half hour instead of twenty minutes. Two days after that, he comes for dinner again, and again the next night.
But we don’t play any games, and our conversation is simple, almost boring. He seems more reserved and I don’t understand why. He also seems even more tired, if that’s possible. He’s apologetic, and tries to make it up to me by sending gifts, but I don’t need gifts.
Although I can’t really complain about getting things. He sends beautiful dresses, jewelry, a new laptop, a new cellphone, scarves, gloves, a new coat, and a hundred other little things. It’s all perfect and expensive, and frankly more than I’ve ever gotten on my own, but I’d give it all up if he’d just come to see me more often.
Which is a strange thought. After seven days of this, with only seeing him three times in that week, I find myself getting antsy. I keep having negative thoughts, angry thoughts, and I don’t understand it.
Why do I care if he doesn’t come? That just means my life should be easier. I don’t have to worry about pleasing him if he never comes. But I am worried that I’m not good enough, that I’m not living up to his expectations in some way. He doesn’t say that, of course, but I don’t think he would. He’s a good man.
But I crave his attention. I feel silly about it, but it’s the truth. I crave his attention like a lovesick teenager or something, which only makes me feel much crazier. Maybe I’m sick. I’m not supposed to want the man that bought me at an escort auction. I’m supposed to just make him happy and collect my check when it’s all over.
Instead, I’m angry that he’s not giving me the attention I deserve. I feel like a spoiled brat, but I don’t care about all these gifts. I don’t need any of them.