by Quigg, CA
She quickly turns her attention back to the scene, and I sense her growing desire. Every time Master Zane’s hand hits of his sub’s ass, Aubree gasps and presses her body against mine. I make a mental note of spanking. Perhaps it’ll be one of the first things I do for her.
Maybe she didn’t realize she wanted this lifestyle until tonight. Is she a true submissive? The jury is still out. But I don’t necessarily need a true submissive. What I need is a woman who’ll submit when I need her to. Someone who’ll allow me to dominate her in the bedroom but not necessarily in everyday life.
“Master.” Joann, one of our newer subs sidles up beside me, the one who propositioned James earlier. This little one isn’t shy about coming forward and needs to be taught patience and manners. “Master Kent tells me you need someone for tomorrow’s lesson on the correct use of a Saint Andrew’s Cross.”
I nod. “True.”
She falls to her knees and lowers her head. “May I offer my services? It would be an honor to serve you.”
I reach down and brush my hand over the sub’s hair, and as I do, I catch Aubree’s face. Her lips purse in distaste. It seems she’s jealous off the sub’s offer. Something I can maybe use for my benefit.
“You’re going to make a Master very happy someday, Joann. Be here at six. The demonstration will begin at six-thirty.” I pat her head. “Stand.”
Joann practically purrs when she stands. I smack my hand against her bare ass, and she scampers away. The sooner we find her a master the better. She’s minx and likes to cause trouble. She needs someone to take her in hand.
“What the fuck was that about?” Aubree demands.
“I needed a sub for demonstration. She offered. I accepted.”
“She addressed you as master.” Her voice is incredulous as if she can’t quite believe it.
“Is that a problem?” I ask with a grin knowing full well the ways of my world are alien to her.
“Do you own this place?” she demands.
“I’m the majority shareholder.”
“Well,” she says and sighs. “I guess that explains why everyone wants to please you.”
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her against me. “Everyone but you.”
“I already told you, I’ll do anything you want me to do.”
I lower my head and press my forehead against hers. “I can get anyone here to do anything I want them to do at any time. Understand, I don’t do anything with anyone unless they’re willing. I’m a lot of things but I’m not a rapist, and I don’t force myself on anyone. No means no. Consent means everything. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying safe, sane, and consensual.”
“Who hasn’t?” She stiffens in my arms. My words were harsh, and I meant them to be. For years, her father has distorted her view of me. Told her horror stories about me ruining his life. I’m not the man he’s portrayed me to be, and I’ll make her understand that by any means necessary.
She steps away from me. “What if I am willing to do this,” she asks and gestures with her hands. “I mean, what if this is something I want to try. If I give myself to you willingly, will you help my father?”
My dick hardens. I see the truth in her eyes and know she isn’t lying, but she still doesn’t understand what she’s proposing to do for me. The lifestyle she’s offering to enter. I want to take her up on the offer. To take her to my private rooms, slide my cock into her softness, and take her virginity. To fuck her until she screams. But tonight isn’t the night.
She’s still in shock from her father striking her and the truth about what he’s done. That and she still isn’t convinced about the kind of man he is. Showing her the videos I have of him could destroy their relationship. It would be in William’s best interest to come clean and admit what he’d done, so I don’t have to show her.
Aubree is brave and strong and someone I need to have beneath me and beside me. Taking advantage of her in her emotional state would be wrong, and as horny as I am I won’t take advantage off her.
I release her from my arms. “Are you ready to leave?”
Disappointment floods her eyes and confusion fills her face. “I thought you were going to, um, fuck me.”
“Another time. You’re not ready.” I lead her out of the club and to the elevator. “Simon, my driver will take you to my house. I don’t want you going home tonight.”
Aubree shakes her head. “I’m going home in case my dad…”
I haven’t heard from my men, which mean they haven’t been able to track him down. Home is not the safest place for her. My house is.
“I mean it, Callum. I’m going home. I have a lot to think about. A lot to process. If my dad comes back, he’ll be sober and sorry. I’ll make him tell me what happened.”
“Come to my office tomorrow, and I’ll show you.”
“I’d rather hear it from him. If he loves me, he’ll tell me.”
“And if he hits you again?” I clench my hands into fists.
“He won’t.”
I’m not happy, but I accept her decision and swipe my wrist over the elevator call button.
Once inside, when the doors close, she turns to face me. “Kiss me. I need you to kiss me.” Her words are wistful and hoarse.
I close my eyes, if I kiss her I’ll lose myself to her, but if I reject her, I’ll hurt her, and she’s been hurt enough for one day.
Fuck it. I slap my hand against the emergency button, and the elevator shudders to a stop. Gently, I take her cheeks in my palms, taking care not to hurt her, and lower my lips. Our mouths are a hairsbreadth apart, and her sweet breath warms my face. Kissing her will snap the thin thread I’m already hanging by, but the need in her voice is one I can’t resist.
“By asking me to kiss you, do you understand what you’re really asking for?”
She flicks the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. “I’m asking you to kiss me.”
“But you’re not just asking me to kiss you, you’re asking for so much more.”
“I understand,” she whispers. “Today’s been the most surreal day of my life. I’m asking you to help me forget that and a kiss will.”
I press my lips against hers, and she responds. Electricity surges from her, every hair on my body stands, and blood fills my cock. Our breaths come in ragged pants. Our mouths work in unison. Our tongues explore each other’s mouths. But I am careful and no matter how much she attempts to deepen the kiss, I hold back.
I walk her backward until her back presses against the elevator wall. Her lush breasts press against my chest and her lower back hollows as she presents herself to me.
All sense of reason and sensibility leave me. I want her and only her. This isn’t about her father. This isn’t about what she believes or doesn’t believe to be the truth. This is about two people needing and wanting each other.
“Take me,” she breathes against my lips. “Here and now. Take me.” She runs her hand down my naked chest and skims her fingers over my nipples, flicking her fingers up and down. “Make me feel wanted and loved and safe and whole.”
A war between my brain and cock erupts. My cock urges me to take what she offers. To give her what she’s asking for, but my brain screams that now isn’t the right time. Her first time shouldn’t be in an elevator. Her first time should be somewhere safe and comfortable where I can worship her the way she deserves. But I can make her feel good, and I don’t have to take her virginity to do that.
“Get undressed,” I instruct.
Desire sparks in her eyes and I chuckle. “No, Aubree, I’m not going to fuck you.”
She yanks off her sweater and quickly takes off her shoes and jeans until she’s in nothing but her underwear. I smile at the innocence of what she’s wearing. White cotton panties and bra show me she no more expected this to happen than I did, but I doubt she has a drawer filled with lingerie at home. Something I’ll have to remedy.
Her body is everything a man could possibly want. Smooth, creamy skin with dips and
curves in all the right places.
“I said get undressed.”
She gives a slight nod as if there’s an internal debate happening inside her beautiful mind. She brings her hands behind her back, unhooks her bra, and slides the straps down her arms. I give and inward groan. Her tits are magnificent—full and voluptuous—and her dark brown areolas and peaked nipples giveaway her desire.
I cross my arms, and say, “I said get undressed.”
“I need a second to get used to this. No one’s seen me naked before.”
I growl and step forward. “You’re a fucking sexy woman. Everything from your smile to your eyes, to your tits and to your ass is perfection. Never be shy around me.”
“Okay. Okay. I'm undressing.” In a heartbeat, she shimmies down her panties, and I steel myself against what I see. Her shaved pussy lips glisten with arousal.
She follows my line of sight, and says, “I like how it feels.”
“And I like how it looks. Part your legs.” She does as I ask and the tip of her clit pokes through her folds. I’m fucking dying here, but I don’t want her to see her effect on me. Don’t want her to see the control she has on me because I’m the one who’s supposed to be in control.
“What about you,” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to hide. “Are you going to get undressed?”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to fuck you. I already said that. And if I take out my cock, I won’t be able to stop myself.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop yourself?”
I lift my eyes up to the ceiling and count to ten. “It’s not going to happen, not tonight. Sit down and spread your legs as wide as you can. Let me see that virgin pussy of yours.”
Aubree sits and widens her legs. She’s drenched, red and swollen. If I fucked her now, she’d take all of me without resistance. “Show me what you do when you’re alone. Do you play yourself? Did you get yourself off? Do you slide your fingers inside your pussy?”
Her body flushes, and I don’t know if it’s from desire or embarrassment. She lowers her head and closes her eyes. It’s embarrassment.
“Answer me.” I don’t mean for the tone of my voice to sound so severe, but she needs to understand from the get-go what I expect from her. This isn’t something I would normally do with a potential partner. I would assess them from afar and then train them to my liking. We would have a trial period to see if we were compatible, but Aubree makes me go against all of my self-imposed rules and regulations.
“I don’t… I don’t masturbate. I never have. “
I raise my eyebrow in astonishment. I don’t think I’ve ever come across a nineteen-year-old who’s never pleasured herself. “Why not.”
“If I ever felt the need, I ignore it. I guess I just never felt comfortable touching myself.”
“How can you expect someone else to give you pleasure if you don’t know how to pleasure yourself?” My dick throbs desperate to slide inside her pure, untainted channel.
“Touch yourself for me. Bring your fingers down and touch yourself. “
Her gaze flicks away. “Aren’t you going to do it for me? I’m not really sure how to.”
A ripple of sharp arousal shudders through me at her naivety. “You’ll learn.”
“I want you to touch me.”
I grit my teeth. “Get dressed. Go home.”
“What? No.”
“Then do what I asked.”
“But I don’t know what to do.” Her shoulders sag as if she’s been stuck with a pin. “What if I do it all wrong?”
“There is no wrong. Don’t think. Feel. Explore. You already have an idea about what you like otherwise you wouldn’t have shave yourself bare.”
She gives a little groan, and her head falls back against the wall. Hesitantly and self-consciously she moves the fingers of both hands to her inner thighs.
“That’s it,” I offer encouragement. I don’t miss the way her fingers and thighs shake or how arousal trickles from her.
I lean a shoulder against the wall and watch. My mouth waters and I want to clamp my mouth around her clit and pull orgasm after orgasm out of her so I can hear her scream my name, but she needs to know what makes her feel good.
Her nipples pucker, and pebble and goosebumps dot her skin. She might think she doesn’t know what she likes, but her body knows.
With her eyes still closed, she slides her middle fingertip along her labia and brings it to her clit. A gasp escapes from her, and she slumps forward.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” I ask.
“God, yes.”
From the way the pulse and her neck beats, I can tell she’s losing herself to the ecstasy. She uses her free hand to spread her folds and stretch her clit. At first, she lightly flicks back and forth before moving her finger faster. Her hips pick up an undulating rhythm, and over and over again, she circles the hard, slick bud. Her pussy gets wetter by the second.
Tonight, when I’m on my own, I’ll jerk off thinking about this and once isn’t going to be enough.
“Oh, God, Callum.” She picks up speed, and she’s fast losing control. Her fingers move all over. She reaches up and grabs one breast and squeezes her nipple. From the jerks and shudders of her body, she’s close to coming, and I selfishly want it for myself. I selfishly want to feel her first orgasm. In a flash of movement, before I can stop myself, I’m on my knees in front of her. I grasp her legs, hook them over my shoulders and push her fingers out of the way.
I clamp my mouth over her clit and lick and suck. She smashes herself against my face as desperate for her climax as I am. Every muscle in her body tenses readying themselves for her release. The edge of my teeth brush against the hood of her clit, and she screams my name. My cock throbs so much, I’m close to ejaculating.
Her release coats my mouth and chin, and I want to learn if she’s multi-orgasmic. But I’ll leave that discovery for another night because if I don’t jerk off soon, I’ll embarrass myself by coming in my pants.
Her movements soon taper off, and her breathing regulates. With one final flick of my tongue, I back away from her and admire her glowing body.
“Tonight, when you go home,” I say, “I want you to finger yourself and think about what happened here. Think about all the things that are going to happen between us.”
I own her now. She might not know it yet, but I own her, and I’m never letting her go.
Chapter Seven
Aubree
I blink awake and glance at the time on my phone. It’s just after six am. Callum’s driver didn’t drop me home until three. What little disjointed sleep I’d gotten was filled with Callum’s face and what happened between us in the elevator.
There’s a dull ache in my clit, and I squeeze my thighs together. The touch of Callum’s lips flood my memories, and I grip the sheets.
I didn’t do what he instructed when I came home. I'm not ready to touch myself the way I had when I was with him. I'm sure if I’ll ever touch myself that way again. Not that I regret what had happened, I don’t, but it was so out of character for me. A moment of weakness and need.
I thank God today’s Saturday and I don’t have any classes. I have a shift at the diner later, but I’ll ask someone to cover for me. I need the money, but I need to fix my life more.
I roll out of bed and scrub the heels of my hands over my eyes. I flinch. I’d momentarily forgotten about my cheek. My lip throbs along with my head. I reach for the glass of water on my nightstand. My hand brushes over my old phone and the screen comes to life. Maybe it isn’t as dead as I thought. I gulp the water down, and every cell in my body sighs, happy for the hydration.
Until yesterday, I had a somewhat normal life, but then Callum Talbot walked into the auditorium and turned everything upside down.
Whenever my dad makes it home, I’ll force him to tell me the truth. To tell me if he threatened to blackmail people for millions of dollars. If that’s what happened, then his actions changed th
e path of our lives. What will I do with that information? I’m not sure, but at least I’ll know.
I shuffle into the bathroom, stand by the sink and study my reflection. My eye is puffy, and my bottom lip is thick. I reach up and touch my fingers to my cheekbone. The area is tender to my touch, but at least it’s not broken. I won’t see how bad the bruising is for another day or two.
I’m a sorry state and look much older than nineteen. My eyes are sunken into their sockets. There’s so much sadness and emptiness there. It’s as if when my dad hit me, he knocked the fight out of my body.
I turn on the cold water and let it run. When it’s freezing, I gather it in my cupped hands and splash my face. It’s not enough to chase the all cobwebs away but is enough to shock me awake.
In the sitting room, I pick up the beer cans I missed last night and shove them into the trash bag, pushing them down to make more room. The entire apartment stinks and I move around opening the windows in an attempt to freshen the air. It’s probably not going to make a difference. Years of cigarette smoke and spilled beer have permeated the fibers of the room, and it’ll take more than fresh air to stop the place smelling like a dive bar.
How have I allowed myself to live like this? To accept this as normal? I stop cleaning and bury my face in my hands. For years, I’ve been enabling my dad because I felt sorry for him and responsible for him. And look at us now. He’s an alcoholic, and I’m surviving on fumes.
I can’t allow him to depend on me anymore. And even if it turns out he didn't try to blackmail anyone, it’s time for me to move out and move on with my life. I can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.
I switch on the coffee maker and as I do the front door opens. A spasm of pain shocks my heart, and I want to press my hand against it to ease the pain, but I don’t.
Bracing myself, I turn to face my dad. He looks as wretched as I feel. I roll my lips between my teeth because I don’t trust myself to speak.
“Can you forgive me?” He asks with his head hung low as he stumbles into the living area. He still drunk but he doesn’t seem angry—at least that something.