by Vivi Paige
“Yes, I know her—not at the moment. She can’t talk right now.” He grinned at me. “What? What about her father?”
Quickly, I leaped to my feet and yanked the phone out of his hand. I put it to my face and then remembered I was wearing the ball gag. I grunted in frustration while Deryk removed it.
“What about my father?” I asked. “Is this Shady Pines Assisted Living?”
“No,” came the feminine, icy reply. “It’s your mother.”
My stepmother. Somehow she had found me.
Chapter Thirteen
Ella’s face contorted into an angry mask as the woman on the other end of the call spoke. The fading afternoon sun cast dappled light onto her fine features as she glared in fury, her gaze distant and seeming to look right through me.
“You’re not my—no. No, I’ve taken care of everything. Yes, the bill is paid.” Ella stomped her foot in frustration. “For as long as it takes, that’s how long. None of your business how I paid for it.”
The other woman spoke for some time while I could tell Ella was biting back some nasty retorts. When she was finally permitted to speak again, her tone was dripping with venom. “I moved out, that’s why I haven’t been home. The house is rented under your name, not mine. Remember? I’m under no obligation to pay your rent. What—what does that have to do with anything?” Ella looked at me in misery, tears welling in her eyes. “Yes, I moved in with—I moved in with an old boyfriend. Why does it matter what his name is?”
Ella’s eyes widened with shock, and when she next spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “How did you find that out? Oh, bullshit. Bullshit. I’m taking care of my dad. He’s my family. You’re just the cunt who married him when he had money. Yes, I said cunt. Go fuck yourself. You’re not getting a dime out of me.”
Ella smiled fiercely, even as tears dribbled down her cheeks. I felt so helpless. I wanted to help, but had no idea how, or even if I should assist. “Oh, and for the last time, you’re not my mother.” Ella smashed her finger furiously on the red “end call” icon and then thrust the phone back into my hands. She rushed off, leaving me dripping wet, naked, and wondering what in the hell was going on.
I draped the towel around my midsection and checked the call origin. Not a number I recognized, obviously, but it had a Manhattan area code.
Worried about Ella, I started walking after her even as I began a new call.
“Hello?” Gentleman Starkey said in a tired voice. He had probably been napping, as was his wont in the afternoon. “Deryk?”
“It’s me, Starkey,” I said. “Listen, can you do me a favor?”
I always used good manners with Starkey, even though he was technically on the family payroll. Not that I feared him or anything like that. He was just very polite, and he made you want to be the same because it made you feel good and civilized.
“I will give it the old college try.”
“Excellent. I need you to track down the owner of a particular phone number. I’ll text you in a minute after we finish the call.”
“Of course, young sir,” Starkey replied smoothly. “Do you want a full workup on them?”
“No—wait. Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Is this person an enemy, a rival, or a potential lover?”
“Definitely an enemy.” I recalled how upset Ella had been. “Get me the dirt, Starkey. I’ll throw in a bonus for you if you can get it done today.”
“I’ll do my best, sir,” Starkey replied. That was something I liked about the genial old man. He never promised you something he didn’t know he could deliver. Starkey was steady as a rock.
“Thank you. I’ll text that number in a sec.”
I ended the call and then headed up to the second floor looking for Ella. I wondered where she could have gone. The house was expansive but finite. Surely sooner or later if I kept moving around, I would come across her presence.
I failed to locate her in either of our sleeping chambers. Growing worried, I headed to the main floor and checked there as well.
Eventually I worked my way back outside, looping around the property from poolside to the sidewalk, which connected the main house with the guest house. Still, Ella was nowhere to be found.
I went inside the living area and sat down, wondering if she’d fled through the woods. Or maybe, she caught a ride with the limo when it rolled back to town. I grew angry. How could she just leave me without saying anything, no matter how upset she might have been?
That’s when I heard it—a tiny whimper, a muffled sob. Standing, I peered intently about the first-floor area until I spotted a wedge of light bleeding from below a coat closet door.
I slowly, so as not to startle her, opened the door and found her in a huddled mass on the floor. Ella’s face was between her drawn-up knees, her shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.
“Hey.” I dropped into a crouch beside her. “What’s wrong? Does the tattoo hurt?”
She looked up at me with a mix of misery and fury, her blue eyes fierce despite being flooded with tears. “It’s not the fucking tat, okay?” she snapped. “Stop acting all weird about the tattoo. I made the choice not to stop things, so quit treating me with kid gloves.”
“All right, fair enough,” I held up my hand. I gingerly laid my hand on her shoulder and she didn’t shrug it off. That was something. “So, who was that on the phone? Why did she upset you so much, and do you want me to have her fitted for concrete shoes?”
I had intended it to be a joke, but Ella sneered. “If anyone is going to kill that bitch, it’s going to be me,” she sputtered. “The fucking nerve. The sheer fucking hubris. How dare she refer to herself as my mother? My mother died, but in her brief time as my parent she did ten times as much as that harpy…”
Ella sputtered, unable to form coherent speech. I let her rant on once she regained the faculty of speech. “I mean, I worked my ass off at three different jobs just so she and my stepsisters could lounge around, pretending to be disabled. I slaved and slaved, sweat and bled, cleaned up god-awful surgery rooms, and always paid the bills on time even though I was hardly ever home. And now, she wants to try and guilt trip me into paying more? Fuck her. This gravy train has gone off the rails.”
“I take it that was your stepmother?” I asked when she seemed to wind down.
“You take it correctly,” Ella sneered. “I don’t know what my father ever saw in her… scratch that. She had big boobs, was ten years his junior, and he was still grieving my mother. The exploitative, opportunistic bitch.”
“She sounds like an awful person.” I began drawing plans in my head. I wasn’t going to off some lady just because she made my woman cry, but I was sorely tempted. What I was willing to do involved a visit from a certain musclehead named Navajo Joe. Joe would straighten that nasty creature out with one fucking visit, and not harm a hair on her head. He’d sure put the fear of God into her, though.
But I was distracted again, as Ella began sobbing. Her face screwed up into a miserable frown, reddening like the setting sun as she gave vent to her misery. “Why did my dad have to get sick? It should have been her. My dad doesn’t deserve to suffer. Why do bad things always happen to people who don’t deserve it while nasty cunts like her just thrive?”
“If I could answer that, I’d go to church more often,” I said. “All I know is, you deserved better.” Ella sniffled, raising her gaze to meet my own. I wasn’t sure why, but that was the right thing to say. I decided to continue along a similar path. “You deserved to have a loving family, not some gold digging, lazy cretins,” I continued. “You deserved to have someone take care of you, not the other way around. You deserved to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with me.”
Ella wiped her tears away, and I handed her a hanky. She gratefully accepted, blowing her nose wetly. “I guess I’m doing a bad job of attending you while you swim, huh?”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I assured her. “Right now, you’re the woman I—the woman I care about mor
e than any other, and I want you to feel better.”
I offered her my hand. Shyly, she took it and allowed me to draw her to her feet. We exited the closet hand-in-hand. I paused, drawing her in close to me. My hand was at the small of her back, touching the border of the plastic protective sheath over her new glass slippers tattoo. I still couldn’t believe she went through with it and called my bluff.
“You don’t have to be around those awful people any longer,” I whispered, cupping her cheek in my hand. A tear slid its way down her face, and I moved in to kiss it softly away.
“I know,” she said, burying her face in my bare chest. “I know. But it’s like… you remember when we read Paradise Lost in school?”
“I remember.” I grinned. “I caused quite a ruckus with my presentation stating that Satan was, in fact, the epic hero of that work.”
“And I was the first to applaud,” she chuckled. “But do you remember when Satan escaped from hell, finally, but the memory of it was so bad it was like he never left?”
“Which way I fly is hell,” I said. “I myself am hell.”
“Yeah. The memory of it is all so bad. It’s like I’m still stuck there. They were just awful, mocking me, making fun of me for working so hard even while they reaped the benefits. How can people be like that?” She started crying again, and I held her close. “Deryk, I’m so sorry. I rejected you because I thought your family was evil, but I was wrong. My family was evil the whole time. Mine.”
“Stop.” I squeezed her tightly. “The fact of the matter is we don’t wear white hats, Ella. We’re not the cowboy who rides in at the end of the reel to save the day. We’re more like the guys who tie the woman to the train tracks.”
Ella chuckled, wiping away her tears as she looked up into my eyes. “For what it’s worth, I think my family is a lot worse. My stepfamily, anyway.”
We kissed again, this time with greater passion. I could feel her heart hammering against me like a caged bird.
“Ella…” I whispered, brushing her neck with my lips. “Let’s go up to the bedroom.”
“No,” she said, standing on tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “Let’s go to the playroom.”
I started and then noticed her grin. My own lips stretched wide to mirror it, and then I led her by the hand toward the stairs.
Chapter Fourteen
Every step down into the basement seemed to create distance between me and my familial problems. Even the burn of my new tattoo faded into the background noise of my blushing delight as I considered what things Deryk would do to me in the playroom.
I entered a pace ahead of him, hands still clasped at my lower back. Deryk swept in behind me and closed the door, locking it with a metallic snick. His footsteps came closer until I could feel his hot breath across the back of my neck.
I shivered as his hands swept up over my forearms, gliding lightly and stirring a heady blossoming rush, which spread through my nerves like wildfire. My lips parted to allow heavy pants to heave their way out. I could hear my own heartbeat thudding in my ears, its rapid tempo lending a more surreal quality to the environs. The wall of implements no longer seemed something to fear or dread but rather to be explored, in intimate detail, with my dark-haired lover.
Deryk’s hands caressed my shoulders as he hemmed me in with his body. My fingers brushed against his growing bulge and I had to resist the urge to stroke it. Deryk seemed keenly aware of my predicament, rubbing his trouser-clad member all over my hands, which I desperately tried to keep in a neutral position despite all his teasing.
My heart rate quickened when Deryk took the thin straps of my dress and tugged them toward the convex edges of my shoulders. When they fell free, the bodice of my dress loosened, a herald of the exposure yet to come. Deryk slowly pulled the straps downward, peeling the dress away from my breasts. The sudden cool air of the playroom stiffened my nipples into nigh instant erect attention, practically begging for Deryk’s touch.
His chin propped across my shoulder, Deryk peered down at my now exposed chest and moved his palms in to lightly caress my nipples. I gasped, struggling to remain still while he moved his hands in tiny circles, using the softest part of his palms to tease my nubs.
“Do you like that, Ella?” he breathed into my ear.
“Yes, sir,” I replied with a ragged gasp as he pinched my nips just hard enough to hurt.
“Good. Then we’re going to play a little game. I’m going to tug on your nipples until you reach your perceived limit. Then we’ll see how far you’re able to push yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, biting my lower lip. I didn’t dread the imminent pain so much as I viewed it as a jog up a steep incline. I knew it was going to be tough and agonizing, but the rush of endorphins, that elated feeling of accomplishing something difficult, waited at the top to reward me.
“Remember your safe word,” he whispered in my ear. At first I didn’t feel anything different, but then I realized he was increasing the pressure on my nipples incrementally. I’m not mathematician, but I’d say he was putting on about a gram more pressure every second. Doesn’t sound like much, but it adds up quickly.
My lips peeled back from my clenched teeth. I sucked in air wetly through them as the pain increased. But I could take it, so I did.
“You’re a very brave girl, little Cinderella.”
“I hate it when you call me that, sir,” I gasped.
“Why?”
I looked down at my nipples, crushed between his thumbs and forefingers. Their tips spilled out like muffin tops, growing more scarlet by the second under my gaze.
“It’s… humiliating,” I groaned.
“Then when we’re playing, that’s going to be your name. Cinderella. My Cinderella.”
I made something between a groan of frustrated anger and a moan of unmitigated lust. The way he took command and decreed I would suffer the humiliating sub name set off a deep throbbing between my legs. Under my skirt, I knew I was glistening wet and opening wider by the moment.
“Thank me for your new name, Cinderella,” Deryk commanded.
“Aaah… thank you, sir,” I gasped as he tugged my already tortured nipples outward, distending my breasts. My nipples looked like well-chewed taffy stretched out to playful and ludicrous lengths. But I still didn’t use the safe word. I could take it. I could take it for him. I didn’t want Deryk to treat me with kid gloves, like I was made of glass. I wanted to prove to him that he could unleash the full potent fury of his unconventional desires upon me. Not only that, but I was eager for him to do so.
“Do you want me to show you mercy?” Deryk asked, a bit anxiously like he’d expected me to capitulate long before that moment.
“No,” I said fiercely through gritted teeth. “I want you to do whatever you want to me. I want to endure for you, sir.”
Deryk released my nipples and I yelped as blood rushed back into my tormented flesh. He then seized them again, massaging the agonized skin to restore circulation. The pain was exquisitely blended with pleasure from his ministrations.
“Turn around,” Deryk commanded. I spun in a circle, hands still behind my back, dress tugged down to my waist and sliding ever closer to complete nudity. He looked at my red, sore nipples, and pursed his lips. “I bet your nipples hurt now. Don’t they?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, biting my lower lip and looking up at him with adoration. “Did I do good, sir?”
“You did very well,” Deryk praised me. “I’m impressed, but you must not overextend yourself just to prove a point to me. I expect you to let me know immediately if anything becomes too much to bear.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Would you like me to make your nipples feel better, Cinderella?” he asked softly. I cringed a bit at the awful, degrading name—I got plenty of that in middle school, thank you very much—but it was different somehow coming from Deryk.
“Yes, sir,” I said. Deryk cupped my breasts gently and then bowed his head. I moaned as he brushed his lips
across my reddened nub and then took it inside his wet mouth. The warmth of his mouth temporarily exacerbated the agony. Then I felt the tip of his tongue flick and lash over my swollen nipple, soothing and exciting the skin all at once.
I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and clutched his head to my breasts, my fingers stroking his luxurious black hair. It felt so good, so sublime, to have his mouth on my body. Deryk abruptly released my nipple and took my hands by the wrists.
“Did I say you were allowed to touch me, Cinderella?” he asked.
“No, sir,” I replied with a goofy smile. A giddy warmth spilled over me as I looked into his eyes. They were stern but not filled with spite or disgust. I saw only exquisite affection.
“What do you think is an appropriate punishment for touching your master without permission?” he asked with an arched eyebrow.
“A spanking, sir?” I asked sweetly with an innocent smile stretching my lips.
“What an excellent suggestion.” Deryk turned away from me and reached for the leather padded three-legged stool. “When I turn back around, you’d better be naked, Cinderella.”
I scrambled to tug the dress down past my hips, over my thighs, and down to my ankles, but it was an impossible task. By the time I stepped out of the dress and stood fully nude to his gaze, Deryk had already planted the stool in the center of the floor and seated himself upon it.
“Too slow,” he said with a grin. “Guess that’s an extra five swats.”
“Yes, sir,” I murmured.
Deryk patted his lap and then motioned toward me. “Come over here and take your medicine, Cinderella,” he growled. “You’re mine until the stroke of midnight, and I’m going to put your dirty, nasty pussy to good use until then.”
I almost stumbled on my way to the stool, gasping as a heavy throb racked my body with my mons being the epicenter. When I was within arm’s reach of Deryk, his hand darted out and grabbed my wrist. He pulled me over his lap and then knotted up his hand in my hair as I adjusted my position for stability. I was then draped over his thighs, head held up by his grip on my hair and hands brushing the floor while my bare feet did so on the other side of the stool.