by Claire Adams
"Please, master," I begged. "Please let me come."
"Not yet." Ethan pulled out of me and stepped away from the bed, making me whimper with disappointment.
I called after him, "Please let me come, master. Please."
He came back to the bed with a knife, and even though I knew he would never hurt me, the mere sight of it made my heart race. He used the sharp blade to cut the ropes off my wrist, releasing me from the bonds that kept me trapped to the bed, but I kept gripping the headboard and did not move from my position of kneeling on the bed.
"Good girl. You didn't move without my permission," Ethan praised. "Now, if you can pass one final test, you can have your reward."
My heart was pounding as I wondered what it could be. I was so close to getting what I wanted; I hoped I didn't blow it at the end.
"Lay down in the center of the bed," he commanded, and I obeyed without hesitation.
He had my complete trust, and I was amazed at how eager I was to follow his orders. I was his willing slave and happy to call him master. The world of BDSM was more pleasurable than I ever would have imagined, and I couldn't wait to see what would happen next.
"Good girl. Now, close your eyes and put your hands behind your head. Don't move and don't say a word." I did as I'd been told, clasping my fingers together behind my head to help me keep still.
Suddenly, I felt Ethan climb onto the bed beside me. His lips were kissing me all over and his hands were touching me all over: caressing, fondling, pinching, and squeezing. It felt wonderful, and soon my body was writhing with pleasure and I knew I was nearing orgasm again. I wanted desperately to move, to reach out and touch him in return and make love to him, but I knew I had to stay perfectly still.
Ethan's mouth and hands had me on fire with desire, and my breath was coming in ragged gasps and moans as I grew nearer and nearer to climax. I wanted to warn him that I was about to orgasm and to ask his permission, but he had ordered me not to speak. It was excruciating, and yet the most erotically pleasurable torture of my entire life. I never knew being forced to lie silently still could be so incredibly hot and every part of my body tingled, on the edge of exploding with sexual pleasure.
"Look at what a girl you are being. I know you want to move, to cry out in pleasure, to feel my dick in your pussy," he whispered, taunting me. "I know you want me to fuck you until you come."
He was right. He was so right, but I wouldn't be teased into disobeying. It was a trick to get me to lose this final test, and refused to fall for it. He climbed on top of me then, spread my thighs and wrapped my legs around his waist. His hard dick was poised just outside the entrance to my pussy, making me ache with yearning.
"You want me to fuck you. I know you do." Ethan's teasing was almost unbearable, and then finally he gave me what I wanted and plunged his dick into me, saying, "Good girl. Now you can have your reward. Fuck me, baby; fuck me until you can't come any more."
He thrust inside me then, with powerful strokes I feared might tear me apart, but it felt so good as I wrapped my arms and legs around him and met him thrust for thrust. My first orgasm came quickly; with a gush of fluid I had been holding back.
Ethan flipped me over onto my stomach, fucking me from behind, and my second orgasm hit, and then his hands stroked my clit, bringing on a third. He flipped me back over onto my side and started spanking me with the willow reed in just the way he knew I liked best. His carefully measured strokes of the pliable reed brought me to a fourth orgasm, and when he flipped me back over onto my back and plunged into me with his hard cock again, I had my fifth.
I had never climaxed so many times in a row in my entire life, and didn't even know it was possible. I felt Ethan coming inside me on the last one, barely conscious enough to even realize that's what was happening. I was delirious with the intensity of the pleasure he had shown me.
Ethan had been right: becoming his sex slave was well worth it and now we were both committed to each other in ways far deeper and more meaningful than either of us had ever been before. It was new beginning for us — too bad it was balanced on such a fragile precipice, so close to ending.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ethan
I felt like the king of the world as I strode into my office Monday morning. It had been the best weekend of my life, and I was discovering that being in a committed relationship was pretty damn good.
It had been two weeks since I'd made my public announcement declaring that Kayla and I were together, and things had been going great ever since. Her brother was thriving in the hospital in their hometown with the newly improved level of care I was paying for, and hundreds of new patients had joined the program. Every night, Kayla and I read the piles of letters we received from grateful recipients, and it felt really damn good.
Our nights were filled with incredible lovemaking, inspired by new and creative game play that kept pushing us to further heights. Kayla never ceased to amaze me with what her body was capable of.
During the day, our lives were busy and full. Kayla had some big, new modeling contract that kept her occupied, and although I didn't know much about it, I was glad to see her career was taking off and that she was happy.
Every time I tried to ask her about it, though, something would happen that would distract me from learning the answer. It was almost as if she were hiding the details of her job from me, but I knew that was ridiculous paranoia. Complete honesty with each other in all things had been her credo. It was crazy of me to think she would keep something as major as her career secret from me.
We both just led such busy lives, there was never time to discuss it in detail, and at the end of a busy workday, I didn't blame her for wanting to put her career aside and just talk about us.
My own career gave me more than enough to concentrate on. The bullshit lawsuit from Charles Dorsey continued to plague me, but my lawyer finally came up with an idea to put the whole thing to rest.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked me as we met in the elevator on the way up.
"Hell yes. I've been ready to end this thing since the day it began. How about you?" I turned to face Vick and Gwyneth. He looked confident, but she looked worried.
"We won't let you down," Vick assured me as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. The loving gesture strengthened her and she smiled at me with a confidence I knew she didn't quite feel, but looked convincing to anyone who didn't know her as well.
We got off the elevator together on the top floor and I led the way down the hall to the conference room where Dorsey had taken the chair at the head of the table and was leaning back with his feet up on my glass table.
"Took you long enough," Dorsey complained as we entered the room. "Do you think I have all day?"
"You're about to have all the time in the world, when you get sentenced for perjury," I stated coldly as I knocked his feet off my table with a solid swipe of my arm. They hit the floor with a hard clunk and Dorsey sat up in his chair, looking pissed.
"Nice try, but you can't intimidate me. Court starts tomorrow morning, and my lawyer is ready to knock your dick in the dirt. Half this company will be mine by the end of the week, and the first thing I'm going to do is replace this crappy furniture — after I fire half the staff of course, including that snot-nosed assistant of yours. He wouldn't even get me any coffee."
"I'm sure he thought you'd had enough stimulants this morning. Nothing like a breakfast of methamphetamine, huh, Chuck?"
"Don't call me that." He glared at the sound of the hated nickname as we all took our seats around the table. I decided to let him keep the chair at the head of the room. No way was I sitting in it again until after it had been thoroughly sanitized, anyway.
"Why not, Chuck? Isn't that what we used to call you?" Vick chimed in.
"Yeah, I remember it, too. Everybody called you Chuck," Gwyneth agreed.
Dorsey was instantly defensive. Glaring at them, he said, "Fine. You all remember me, then. It won't be any trouble for my lawyer to
call you on the stand to testify that you know me and that I'm telling the truth when I say Ethan and I were college friends and that we continued to do speed together after we graduated. I've got copies of the old lease showing we rented that place together at the bottom of the hill near the Krueger building. The rest is just my word against yours."
Dorsey was looking right at me with his last statement, but it was Vick who responding by saying, "Actually, it will be my word, too."
"And mine," Gwyneth chimed in.
"What the fuck are two talking about?" Dorsey was annoyed.
Vick grinned and said, "I was on that lease, too, and I remember things far differently than you do. If I recall, I was the one who said Ethan should name the company Speed Motorcycles when he broke out on his own."
"And, I remember it that way, too. I was Ethan's girlfriend at the time, but I'd already developed a crush on Vick and used to hang on his every word. I thought the joke was so funny, I even wrote about it in my diary, talking about how cute he was. Look, I even drew a little heart around his name."
Gwyneth produced a pink leather diary from her handbag and showed it to Dorsey, being careful to keep it just out of Dorsey's reach.
"That looks like written evidence to me — the kind that refutes your testimony and makes you liable for perjury charges, unless you have evidence of your own to dispute it," my lawyer stated. Dorsey flew off the edge, leaping at Gwyneth from across the table.
"You fucking bitch! Give me that damn diary or I'll take you from you and shove it down your fucking throat!" Dorsey was ranting, but Vick was quick to step between them, protecting her from his flailing hands, and shoved Dorsey back into his chair.
"Treat her like that again, and I'll beat you unconscious," Vick said sternly with his fist in Dorsey's face, and we all believed him.
Dorsey was trembling as he leaned back in his chair, trying to put some distance between his nose and Vick's meaty fist, but there was no place for him to go.
"All right. I lost my temper, that's all," Dorsey said, but his voice was shaky and no longer surly.
"You're about to lose more than that, starting with this lawsuit and ending with your freedom." I turned to my lawyer and said, "What's the penalty for perjury if Dorsey lies on the stand and says the idea for the company was his when two witnesses testify it wasn't true and one even has physical evidence to prove it?"
"Well, it's up to the judge, but I'd say a minimum of one year per instance, so it just depends on how many lies you tell," my lawyer stated simply. Dorsey instantly went pale.
I looked at Vick and said, "I'm having a get together with the rest of the guys we rented that house with. You remember Mike and Trevor? I thought the five of us could have a reunion. What are the chances they'll remember it was you who suggested the name, and not Chuck?"
"I'd say the chances are damn good, since Mike was the one who reminded me about it when we were playing golf just last week. We were talking about the lawsuit, and right as I'm trying to tee-up, he said to me, 'Dorsey always got shit wrong when he was high. It was you who said it to Ethan. Then you made that stupid banner with a picture of motorcycle on it that you drew. I took a picture of it.' He said he would find the picture in his old scrapbook and bring it to our next golf game."
"So that makes even more evidence in our favor; unless, of course, you plan to sue me, too," I said to Vick, giving him a brotherly slap on the back.
"No way." He shook his head. "Why would I want to sue you based on a joke made 20 years ago? This company is all yours. I will testify for you in court, though, to get this asshole thrown in jail for perjury."
Dorsey was on his feet now, looking shaky and pale. He cried out frantically, "This is bullshit. Get your gang of old housemates together to gang-up on me in court. The judge will see I'm the one telling the truth and the rest of you are lying with your fake pictures and diaries.
“I'm not afraid of you, but a lawsuit is time consuming and I'm a busy man. I've been talking to my lawyer, and I've been thinking that maybe I should let you off the hook and settle out of court."
"That's mighty generous of you," I was sarcastic as hell, but Dorsey mistook my words as sincerity.
"That's what friends are for. I'll tell you what I'll do for you. I'll go ahead and accept your original offer and settle out of court for a million dollars."
"I'm sorry, but that offer has been revoked. I'll pay for you to stay at Garden Hope Rehab Center for as long as they're giving you treatment and not a penny more."
"I don't need any fucking treatment. Just give me the cash and I'll be on my way."
"Charles, I know what it's like to be where you are: lonely, scared, desperate. We were friends once. Let me be your friend again. Let me help you," I said softy and put a hand on Dorsey's shoulder.
Gwyneth and Vick circled around him in a show of support.
"You don't have to do this alone. Let Garden Hope do for you what it did for Ethan." Gwyneth kissed his cheek and Dorsey finally broke down crying.
"I don't need fucking treatment, but if it will shut you assholes up, I'll go," he said.
"It's a start," Vick said, but I shook my head.
"That's not enough, Charles. Garden Hope only works if you quit denying how bad of shape you're in and admit you need help. I know how tough it is, but once you do it, then life can finally start to get better."
We had a heart-to-heart talk, and finally Dorsey admitted that he was addicted to speed and conceded to needing help. I called Garden Hope myself and admitted him into the center. They sent a car to come pick him up, and I signed all the necessary documents.
Dorsey gave me a hug before climbing into the back seat, and for the first time, I had some hope for him. I knew it was tough road ahead of him, and that chances were high he would relapse when he got out, but I hoped for the best for him.
"That was exhausting, but you did it." Gwyneth gave me a supportive hug when at last Dorsey was gone.
"Yeah, good job, buddy. What do you say we all go out tonight to celebrate the ending of your lawsuit and the start of a new future for Dorsey?" Vick said. "You can call up Kayla and we'll make it a foursome."
"Thanks, but Kayla has plans tonight. She's going to some special event for her new modeling client."
"Yes, I know," Gwyneth said, shooting Vick an annoyed look, as if he should have known better. Then she turned to me with a sympathetic look and said, "I'm surprised you’re okay with it."
"Of course, I'm okay with her having a modeling career. What kind of a misogynistic asshole do you think I am?"
"I know you're fine with women's equality, I just thought you put more importance on loyalty in business," Gwyneth said, and I suddenly felt ill at ease.
"What are you talking about?" Vick and I both said together, like a chorus.
"Don't you know?" Gwyneth blinked, but we both just shook our head's like ignorant sheep. She reached into her large bag and pulled out a stack of magazines. With an unhappy look, she tossed them onto the table in front of us and said, "Well, in that case, take a look at these."
Vick and I each picked up a magazine and started flipping through the pages. It was your standard fashion crap: articles on how to keep a man, advertisements for make-up and over-priced clothes. I didn't see what the big deal was, and then suddenly, I did.
There, on page 42 was a picture of Kayla sitting astride a R.E.B. motorcycle, with a caption that said, “When you want to feel real power between your legs, ride on this.” The sexual innuendo was obvious and the outfit they had her in was borderline pornographic, with her nipples barely concealed by the miracles of Photoshop. How could she do this; and for my worst competitor?
I felt betrayed as her boyfriend that she would allow herself to be made into such a sex object, and I felt betrayed as a businessman that my own girlfriend would advertise for my worst enemy.
Most of all, I felt betrayed as her intimate partner that she would keep something like this a secret all these weeks witho
ut ever saying a word. We had just committed to each other, but how much could that bond mean if she was harboring secrets like this from me?
I tore the advertisement out of the magazine and crumpled it into a wad with my fist, destroying it just like she had killed my trust.
"Where are you going?" Gwyneth called after me as I stormed from the conference room.
"Where do you think? I have to talk to Kayla."
"But they'll never let you in. The R.E.B. party at the Coast View Hotel is sure to have security to keep you out."
Without meaning to, Gwyneth had just let me know exactly where to find her.
"I don't plan on asking their permission," I stated, and I knew she could tell from look in my eyes that I meant it.
"Just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt," she cried out, but it was too late. I'd already been hurt by Kayla, and now I was intent on hurting her back.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kayla
"You look incredible, as always," the C.E.O. of Revving Engines Bikes Nathan Diehl greeted me with a smile. He looked handsome in a dark blue suit with a matching tie, and his blond hair was slicked back.
"Thank you, but I feel a bit under-dressed," I blushed. They had me wearing a sexy, black bathing suit, with high cut sides and a plunging neckline that went all way to my navel. It made me feel conspicuous in a room filled with people wearing suits and dresses. My blonde hair had been curled into sexy spirals and my makeup had been done heavily, with black eye-liner and red lips. I didn't feel anything like myself, and the whole situation had me feeling uncomfortable. To make matters worse, Jay Wendt, the director of marketing, suddenly approached.
"We'd like to have you standing over here by our newest bike, the Road Rage. Guys are sure to want to approach you, and when they do, our sales team will be able to intercede and talk them into buying one," Jay said, guiding me to the corner of the room where several bikes stood, looking shiny and new.