Guilty Pleasures (8 page)

“Strip for me, flower.”

Her hands shook as they moved to the buttons of her blouse. Her hips, which she’d had to make behave only moments before, started to move with the music. Anton sat on the trunk and started working on the buttons of his own shirt, his eyes never leaving her, drinking her in.

The distance between them made her feel more exposed, so she came closer. If she was right next to him giving him a lap dance, it wouldn’t be so uncomfortable.

He shook his head as she got nearer. “I said strip, not come over here and grind on me.”

The harshness of his words made her feel dirty. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Her brain had finally reconnected, after two and a half weeks of existing on an orgasm-overloaded high. She’d been like an addict. Well, she would quit. Cold turkey.

She buttoned the silk blouse, her face flaming. Her hand was on the knob when he pressed her against the door. His mouth was next to her ear.

“I’m sorry, flower. You walked into my lair. You made the choice. Until I let you go, you are mine. Perhaps you’ll make a wiser decision next time.” His tongue trailed over the side of her neck, and she sagged against the door, the fight leaving her.

“Anton, please, I can’t do this.”

He spun her to face him and wrapped a hand around her throat. In contrast to the violence of his grip, his thumb brushed gently over her cheek.

When he spoke, his voice was low, barely above a controlled whisper. “What did you call me?”

“Please . . . ” Her hands moved to claw at him, desperately trying to release the pressure on her throat. “You’re scaring me,” she rasped.

He let go and stepped back, putting space between them. “What did I ask you to call me from now on?”

She looked at the floor, unable to meet the accusation in his gaze and afraid to let him see the anger in hers. How dare he feel accusatory toward her. She was the victim.
Who followed him into this room?
the betraying voice in her mind asked. She wasn’t an idiot. She’d known what
Sir
meant, what this increasing control he wanted to take of her body meant.

It was what had featured in her darkest sexual fantasies, on the rare occasions before Anton that she’d had the energy to bring herself off. And the only fantasies in her mind since then.

She’d wanted to give him that control even though he didn’t deserve it. She wanted to give that control to someone. But it couldn’t be Michael. It would never be Michael.

Her hand drifted to wipe the tear strolling down her cheek. “Sir,” she whispered.

“Take off your clothes.”

From the tone in his voice it was clear he was no longer interested in a show. Suddenly the idea of a few moments before, peeling the clothing off her body as she danced for him, seemed much better than this cold and perfunctory removal of fabric.

She wanted to go back, rewind. Obey. But she couldn’t, so she unbuttoned and removed the top, then the skirt without further resistance.

“That’s enough. I like you in this. Did you wear it for me, Vivian? Even though you thought I’d never see it?”

She could feel the blush creeping into her cheeks again. “Yes, Sir.” She wore a black lace bra and panties with matching stockings and garter belt. The fuck-me pumps on her feet added a full three inches to her height, but Anton was still taller.

He led her to the bed without a word and positioned her over his lap. She let out a gasp of surprise at the first blow across her ass. Several more landed in quick succession until she lost her breath, and the tears came in earnest.

Her flesh heated as his hand fell on her. She could barely stand the humiliation of being turned over his knee like some child. As if he were in the right and she were in the wrong.

His hand stroked softly over her skin. “You’re angry,” he said unnecessarily.

She wanted to make a smart ass remark about his amazing ability to state the obvious, but she kept her lips pressed together in a firm line. She wasn’t that stupid.

“You have no reason to be angry. I made clear to you the bargain you were making. I gave you the opportunity to leave. Blackmail or no blackmail, you didn’t have to walk into this room with me.”

She remained silent, not trusting herself to speak, still feeling the urge to lash out at him.

His hand lifted from her, then came down in another sharp snap. “We aren’t stopping until you let go of your anger.”

Vivian struggled to get away, her first real attempt. She’d thought not fighting would make it go faster, but she couldn’t imagine not being angry with him. He was trying to break her like a horse, and fantasy life or no fantasy life, she wasn’t having it.

“Get the fuck off me, you bastard.”

He released her, nudged her the tiniest bit, and she slid to the floor, crumpling in a little heap at his feet.

“I don’t have time for this. I have a five o’clock.”

“Someone like me?”

“Someone like you two weeks ago.”

“I hate you.”

He smiled down at her. “That’s probably a wise emotion to have toward me.”

She struggled to her feet and started toward the door where her clothing had been left. “Show Michael the tapes and photos, I don’t give a shit.”

He came after her, his hands encircling her wrists. “I didn’t say you were leaving, just that I didn’t have time for this right now.” He led her to the bathroom. She tried to struggle away from him, but tottering in the too-high heels didn’t give her much ability to maneuver.

Her eyes widened when they got inside the small room. A sturdy bar was installed vertically next to the tub. A pair of handcuffs lay on the floor next to it.

“Get in.”

“No.”

“Vivian, I am quickly losing patience. Things will go much easier for you if you obey me.”

She saw the warning in his eyes and didn’t want to test it. She climbed into the tub. He looped the handcuffs around the bar and secured her wrists.

“Screaming is pointless, but feel free to wear yourself out.”

Anton made it to the door, then turned, a smirk sliding over his face. She shrank from him when he came back with purpose in his eyes. He ran his hand over her thigh, then slipped a finger underneath her panties and inside her, eliciting a shudder.

“Just as I thought. You’re dripping wet for me.” He removed the finger and left her alone in the bathroom.

SEVEN

T
wo hours passed before Anton came back. He turned on the faucet in the sink and held a washcloth under it, then crouched next to Vivian to wipe it across her face. The coolness of the water felt good after all the crying she’d done.

She hadn’t screamed, but she
had
worn herself out. She’d exhausted herself, leaning against the cool tile, sobbing, questioning her sanity for ever walking into that room with him. Did she think he was going to make all of her fantasies come true? A man like this?

“Do you have to use the bathroom?”

Her voice came out small. “Yes, Sir.”

Anton unlocked the cuffs and helped her out of the tub. When she was on her feet, he held her wrists to the light.

“No chafing. You didn’t struggle. Very good girl. I see some alone time did you good. If you behave for the rest of the evening, there will be no more punishment today.”

Vivian waited for him to leave her alone in the claustrophobic room, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned against one wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I can’t go with you standing there.”

“Of course you can.”

Seeing he wasn’t going to make anything easy for her, she slid the panties down and sat on the seat, thankful she only had to pee.

She looked at him, opened her mouth, and then closed it again, unsure how the hell she was supposed to get a question answered when he’d already told her no questions. She didn’t want to incur his wrath again.

He chuckled. “Do you have something you wish to ask me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Ask.”

Michael was out of town, but there was no reason to announce that fact. She was afraid if she admitted her husband’s absence, Anton would keep her longer.

Vivian bit her lip, carefully choosing her words. “Will you let me go now? Michael will wonder where I’ve been.”

“I’ll release you when I’m ready to release you. I’m sure you’ll come up with a suitably creative story to explain your whereabouts.”

She sagged. It had been a long shot.

When she’d finished using the bathroom and had washed her hands, he led her back into the main section of his apartment. A tray sat on the bed with a glass of iced tea, grilled chicken, and vegetables.

“I brought you dinner from the restaurant. Eat while I finish my paperwork.”

She sat on the bed and ate her meal while sneaking surreptitious glances at Anton. He really had no right to be that attractive. She wanted to ask how many women he was using like her, needed to know just how big his harem was, but she knew she wouldn’t broach the question. While the pain of the earlier spanking had faded, the humiliation hadn’t, and she didn’t want the lesson repeated.

Vivian found herself afraid of him now. A fear she should have felt more strongly from the beginning. He sat behind a cherry desk with a laptop propped open, the screen creating an eerie blue glow across the planes of his face. A pair of stylish reading glasses perched on his nose, making him look a little too GQ for someone who had recently had her chained in his bathtub.

Although his eyes never strayed from the screen, he knew when she’d finished. “Take the tray and dishes to the restaurant kitchen.”

“Dressed like this?”

He looked over the screen at her, a flicker of annoyance passing across his face. “We’re alone in the building. Everyone else has gone home. And if I let you get dressed first, you might not come back.”

Damn right I wouldn’t come back, Motherfucker.

Sensing the leash on his temper loosening, she got up and took the tray out with her. The lights in the building were off with the exception of small, round bulbs set near the floor, illuminating the way like the pinpricks of light in a movie theater aisle.

She could see the crowded streets outside the glass door and moved quickly through the shadows to avoid being seen.

When she returned, the laptop was closed with the glasses folded and lying on top of it. Anton lounged on the bed, wearing a smirk and nothing else.

Vivian swallowed convulsively.

“Come here,” he commanded.

She forced herself to move toward the bed, almost stumbling in the stupid shoes in her nervousness.
Real sexy, Vivian.

He patted the bed beside him, and she sat, feeling awkward. “I’ve never done this with anyone else before.”

“Did I give you permission to speak?”

Her panicked eyes shot to his. Why had she relaxed her guard? Stupid. “No, Sir.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and around to the nape of her neck, gently kneading with one hand, then two. “Tell me Vivian, honestly. Do you intend to come back to me on Tuesday at our normally scheduled time?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Liar.”

She tensed. It was a lie, but she was afraid if she told the truth, he’d never let her leave that room. She had to get free of him before she could vow never to come back.

“Lie to me again, flower, and you will regret it. Do you intend to come back to me on Tuesday?”

She was silent for a full minute until his hand tightened on the back of her neck. “No, Sir.”

He laughed. “When I allow you to go home, you can make that decision. There are many days before Tuesday. You’ll want to use every one of them to make sure you’ve chosen the proper course.”

His hands moved to unhook her bra. She sat motionless as he slid the scrap of lace off her and gasped when his hungry mouth found the hollow of her throat, sucking and biting with such an intensity she couldn’t stop the little moan that left her mouth.

Vivian felt his reverberating chuckle against her neck. “You’ll be back,” he whispered, his lips moving to her ear. “You want the things I can make you feel too much.”

She was sure by now that she was finished playing with fire. Her justifications for returning over and over to Dome were weak and pathetic.
Instead of playing the victim, why can’t I just own it?

She closed her eyes and imagined herself watching the scene from a distance, observing her body, docile, compliant. Like a doll. His doll. His filthy little fuck doll. She didn’t move to stroke or kiss him. She wouldn’t initiate a single thing, but she’d do whatever he told her to do.

“I shouldn’t go easy on you after your earlier disobedience. I warned you about me.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t reply. She still wasn’t totally clear on his speech rules, and warped or not, she didn’t want to be the one in control. She relaxed as his hands moved to her front, arranging her, positioning her in the way he found attractive, tweaking her nipples into painful, hardened points.

And then she started crying, great heaving sobs that made her shoulders shake. It wasn’t the pain of what he was physically doing to her. It was something much deeper, something inside of her that was clawing desperately to get out and had only needed the smallest of catalysts. She waited for him to mock her weakness, but instead he turned her so he could look into her eyes. She pulled away.

“Don’t resist me, flower.”

Slowly, Vivian turned her face back to him. She was sure if she looked in the mirror, her eyes would be stark, needing something but knowing this wasn’t the right man to give it to her.

“Stand up, remove your panties, and bend over the bed with your palms flat on the surface.”

“Please Sir . . . I . . . ”

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

Was this his version of
I’ll give you something to cry about
? She got off the bed and moved to obey him. The lid of the trunk creaked open. Several items were shuffled around, until it was finally shut again.

Anton moved behind her. “Look at the bed. Don’t turn around.”

The pain that flared across her ass was so sharp she lost the ability to breathe for a moment. It seared through her, causing every nerve ending she had to twinge reflexively. What the fuck was he hitting her with? It was long, hard, and that was all the information she could process before the pain was back again.