Chapter Eleven
Daisy
I knew that Mr. Langston was waiting for his dinner, but I needed a minute. My ass stung from the spanking, and I was embarrassed. What kind of woman got off on that kind of pain? All this time, I thought that sex was nothing more than pain and abuse, but I was more than wrong. I was turning into this wanton slut who eagerly took whatever her lover gave her. Or, her master, whatever Mr. Langston meant by that. Did he keep telling me to call him that since he paid—and technically owned—me for the month? I was his sex slave, after all.
Gripping the counter, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. So many things still confused me and there was so much I still didn’t know about, but I couldn’t deny the way my body had reacted to his spanking. How would it respond when he tied me down? When he loomed over me and called me a slut and a whore? Would I still feel fear, or would I welcome it?
What was happening to me?
My hand trailed up to the diamond collar, and I was surprised to find that the weight—the feel—of it wasn’t so foreign anymore, but almost comforting even.
Slowly straightening, I plated up our food and brought it out. He'd moved his chair back up to the table, but it didn't make a difference. My gaze still drifted to his lap. I'd spent most of the day ignoring the kitchen table because whenever I saw it, I imagined myself splayed out with Mr. Langston’s fingers stroking me to ecstasy.
I'd been wet all day, but now my pussy was drenched. It was the real reason that I wanted to wear the panties. I felt so exposed without them. His eyes followed me with every step that I took. My movements were awkward with the heels, and the plate in my hands teetered dangerously. Maybe if my foot didn’t still hurt, I’d be able to figure these heels out. I kept my head held high anyway, barely keeping from spilling Mr. Langston’s food.
“Your foot hurts,” Mr. Langston noted mildly when I’d returned with my own plate as well. “Take the shoes off.”
Confused, I stared at him. “I thought pain was part of the package.”
“When it’s coming from me, yes. It's done to heighten sexual pleasure. As much as I love your long legs in those shoes, I don't like to know that they're hurting you. Take the shoes off. I won't tell you again.”
“You are so confusing,” I muttered under my breath and leaned down to unbuckle the black shoes.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly, kicking off the shoes. “Just relieved.”
“Do we need to rehash what happens when you lie to me?”
My cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and I shook my head, desperate to change the subject. “What upset you at work?”
“Don't ask me about work. Ever,” he said shortly. “We both know that you're not interested. Let's talk instead about what you did last night. Did you touch yourself after I left you? Did you try to break into that closet and see all the delightful things that I have in store for you?”
I knew what he wanted me to say. Knew what he wanted from me, but I was still sorting through everything, and wasn't ready to talk about it—certainly wasn't ready to talk about any of this with him.
Maybe Suzie might’ve been someone to talk to, except the first thing that she said to me when she walked in today was that she didn't want to hear any of the details. She just wanted to know if I was okay.
I had no other friends, and definitely couldn't call up Ralph and discuss it with him. So, for now, I had to sort through things on my own, and that was going to take time.
“I realize that you enjoy putting me in situations that make me uncomfortable, and I do want to please you, but I'm not ready to talk about yesterday. If you don't want to talk about work, then maybe we could find some sort of common ground. Something between work and…um…sex.”
“Fucking,” he said harshly. “Said it, Daisy.”
Nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear. “What do you do when you're not at work?”
“Fucking.”
Frustrated, I reached for my water glass. “What do you do when you're not at work or with a woman? Do you have a sport that you like or a hobby? Maybe a television show, although I haven't watched TV in a long time.”
“Really?” He cocked his head and continued to eat. “You don't like television?”
“There was only one in the apartment, and my father was on it all the time. I watched a little when at Ralph’s, but he was on the television all the time too.”
“I don't want you say his name in my presence,” Mr. Langston said coldly. “Ever.”
Closing my eyes briefly, I took a deep breath. Everything I did tonight upset him. “What about business? I saw the merger between Jones Investments and Sealand Accounting. That takes two medium businesses and turns them into a giant. They're the biggest rival now for Berringer. Stocks are going up. Clients are raving about the perks, and their new customer sign-on bonus is hard to beat.”
“You follow business news?” he murmured. “Why?”
“I don't really follow it, but it was headline news for weeks. Hard to miss. I actually applied to the Berringer internship program when I graduated high-school,” I said before taking a bit of my food.
The creamy pasta was delicious, but I was far too nervous to really enjoy it. Instead, I just shoveled it in automatically while talking. I'm sure it was a beautiful sight.
“You didn't get it?”
“Oh, no. I did.” I wiped my mouth. “But to keep the internship, I had to go to college, and that just wasn't in the cards.”
“But you applied anyways?” he stared at me over his glass of wine. “Why?”
“I applied for student loans. I got into NYU, but when my father found out, he forbade me to go.” I cringed at the memory. “Couldn’t continue to work full-time if I was in college, and he wasn't working at the time. We had to pay the rent somehow.”
“So your father made you give up a bright future where you could have pulled in way more money than you make working at the Weiner Hut—”
“Grill,” I interrupted him.
“—all because he was too lazy to get a job. And you let him do that to you?”
I didn't tell Mr. Langston about my college and intern opportunity so that he could judge me. I just wanted to have a conversation. “My father is my family. He was devastated when my mother died.”
“I doubt that very much.”
“And I was living there. I needed to pull my weight.” I gripped my fork tightly. “Anyway, back to Berringer.”
A ghost of a smile played on his lips. “Berringer has been King in this city for decades, but they could stand to be shaken up a little. This new merger is going to do just that, but they're a long way from taking the crown. People will talk about it for a while, but Jones and Sealand will get greedy. They'll make a few mistakes, and Berringer will be back on top again. It's not the first time that another investment company has risen up to try to take their place.”
“You know the market well. I guess that you should. Your company would be indirectly affected, right?”
Mr. Langston shrugged. “We have our own internal team that handles the kind of cash that Berringer might take on, but they're capable of handling more, and we have a few clients that we sometimes nudge in that direction. That sort of back-scratching works both ways, but it's not a big enough issue that would make or break me.”
The conversation lulled. I had nothing else to say and focused instead on my dinner.
“You're still young. It's not too late for you to go to college. That ten grand that Ralph is going to give you could pay for a semester,” Mr. Langston said.
“I thought about that,” I admitted, scraping my fork against the plate. “But I don't think that R…that he wants me to go to college. He's got a brighter future than me, and I would be better suited in supporting him.”
“You don't have to support anyone, Daisy. You're eighteen. You just have to focus on yourself. You've only been dating him for a little while. Why are you letting him run your life?”
I popped my head up and nearly snorted. That was rich coming from the man who bought me and left me a letter of instructions every morning. For the next month, he owned me, and he was going to lecture me on letting a man run my life?
There was a glimmer of regret in his eyes. Almost like he realized how ironic his lecture was, but he didn't apologize. Instead, he quietly finished his dinner and pushed his plate away. Slowly, I rose to clear the table.
“Put them in the dishwasher this time,” he ordered in a low voice. “Then go to your room. Strip and wait for me on the bed. I'll be there shortly.”
“I…”
“Now, Daisy.” His voice left no room for argument. I ducked my head and collected the dirty plates. Rinsing them in the sink, I loaded the dishwasher and fled to my room.
Closing the door, I leaned against it and let my eyes shut. I was still wet and pulsing from our last encounter, but part of me was hoping that he wouldn't touch me again until tomorrow. That he'd give me some time to process everything that was happening to me.
I trembled and stepped away from the door, reaching for the side-zipper on my dress and letting the sheer fabric fall to the ground. In an act of defiance, I left the dress on the floor and climbed into the bed.
And under all four layers of bedding.
My heart thudded against my chest as I watched the door and waited. Every single sound made me jump. I had no idea how long me made me wait. A few minutes. An hour. The air grew thick with tension with each passing minute.
My thighs were sticky as the ache inside me grew stronger. By the time he finally opened the door, I was close to begging for him.
Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt. “I want to see your body, Daisy. Come out from hiding.”
Swallowing hard, I slowly pushed the sheets back and climbed on top of them. “Yes,” he murmured. “I love see you on all fours.”
Immediately, I froze, and he chuckled. “It's okay. I'm not taking you tonight, Daisy. We're just going to play a little. Lie on your back, spread your legs, and raise you knees.”
So specific. So clinical. He almost sounded like a doctor. It comforted me that he was so precise. I needed those instructions. Needed to pretend that this desire inside me wasn't for him.
I wanted passion, but this wasn’t the passion of a relationship with someone that cared for me. This was one-sided, and I couldn't fall for that. My life—my heart—didn't have that kind of luxury.
The bed dipped as he climbed on, and when I felt his hot breath on my most private spot, I inhaled sharply. “Listen to me, Daisy. When I pleasure you, I don't want you to deny me. Don't restrain yourself. Give in to the pleasure. I want to hear your moans and feel your body jerk around me. Enjoy yourself tonight because in the morning, before I go into work, I'm taking everything. I'm going to bury myself in you so deeply that you're not going to know where I end and you begin. Tonight you're cumming on my tongue, but in less than twelve hours, you're going to be shuddering around my cock.”
Suddenly, his fingers were inside me and his teeth scraped the inside of my thigh. I was so captivated by his words that the invasion caught me off guard that I jerked and gasped.
“Yes,” he muttered. “That's it. Let go, my sweet.”
Then he pressed his lips against my pussy and darted his tongue out on my pulsating clit. My skin grew feverish with need, and I gave him everything that he wanted. The pleasure from his tongue was so intense, but I needed more. Lifting my hips to take more, I moaned in pleasure. I was so close…right on edge…
“Oh, God…ah….ah…ah,” I whimpered, but right as I reached the cusp, he backed off and slid his tongue inside of me instead. Frustrated but loving the new sensation, I dug my heels into the mattress and lifted my hips. I wanted something….Needed something….
“Deeper,” I whispered. “More. Please, Mr. Langston. Please.”
“Master,” he corrected, lifting his head and letting his fingers lightly play with me.
“Please Master. I need more,” I said, willing to call him anything he wanted me to if it meant his hands and tongue would continue pleasing me. Shifting against his fingers, I tried to guide them back to my clit, but he danced them out of reach.
“Talk to me, Daisy. Tell me what you want. I give you permission.”
“Lick me,” I begged desperately. “Please. I was so close.”
“So close to what, my sweet? What do you want to do?”
“Orgasm.”
“Cum, Daisy. Beg me to let you cum. I want to hear the words.”
They were on my lips without a second thought. I begged like a woman about to die. “Make me cum. Please.”
And then his tongue was right back at the magical spot, and all thoughts of logic fled. I moaned and screamed and panted as the firecrackers exploded inside of me. The pleasure was so intense that I teetered on the edge of complete darkness before falling over into the chasm.
“Oh,” I moaned, breasts heaving against my gasps. “Yes. Oh god, yes.”
Mr. Langston hummed against my pussy and the vibrations pushed my orgasm even stronger. I gripped the bedding in my hands, twisting and clawing at them with each gasp of delight. My eyes slammed shut, the darkness adding to my pleasure.
When the orgasm started fading, my limbs collapsed against the mattress, my energy spent in the best possible way.
It took a full minute to regain my breath.
“God, that was—” I started to say, opening my eyes and searching for the man that could bring me such enjoyment, but he was gone.
I was soaked in my own sweat, thighs covered in my own juices, and still craving more, but utterly alone again. With a groan, I pushed myself up and stared down at my body. His teeth marks were still evident on my thighs, and my body throbbed for him.
Guilt washed over me. Once again, I gave him everything that he wanted—even called him master. I’d planned on begging him for more time, for another day before he took my virginity, but after tonight, I had no leverage. Instead, I’d begged him to let me cum, and now he owned me.
Now he would take anything that he wanted from me.
Curling up in the bed, I buried my head in the pillow, confused more than ever. Frustration at myself for wishing Mr. Langston hadn’t left like that, and fear over tomorrow morning, made tears prick at my eyes. My fingers trailed up to the collar. I had to remind myself what I was to him. A paid sex toy and nothing more. No wonder he didn’t stay. The tears burned my cheeks as I hid under the blankets and tried to forget what I’d agreed to.