Chapter 20
Elene
"This is what we're going to do..."
I shiver when he whispers into my ear, his heated breath tickling the skin on my neck.
"You're going to stand here, your posture straight, hands down, head up, eyes on me—and you won't move an inch unless I tell you to," he orders. "You won't lean into me, you won't try to evade me, you won't touch me. You will just stand here and listen to what I'm telling you. Do you understand?"
I nod, unsure whether I'm allowed to speak.
His hands imprison my wrists, and he draws my hands down to position them next to my hips. I remain dead still, exactly as he has placed me, when he withdraws his touch and shifts around so that he’s standing behind me. I can feel his body heat at my back, and slowly I begin to understand why he was so adamant with his orders. I feel naturally drawn to him, my body yearning to slant toward him like a flower reaching toward the sun.
But if there's one thing that I've learned, it is to obey my client’s rules. I'm a good girl, and I crave to hear those words from Damon’s lips more than I ever have before.
So, I don't move. I don't follow my heart, but instead I listen to the rational voices in my head. I don't even flinch when his finger strokes the side of my cheek as his fingers comb a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"I'm going to look at you now," he whispers, his mouth so close to my ear that his breath makes my skin prickle. "I'm going to study every inch of your beautiful body, take in every part of you for as long as I want. You are not allowed to cover any part of yourself. You are not allowed to hide away from me."
The sound of a muffled yelp travels through the curtain, distracting my attention away from him for a split second. I know it must be coming from one of the red rooms, the rooms dedicated to inflicting pain. And I'm fairly certain that I recognize the voice...
"Stay with me," he hisses behind me.
I tense up, expecting a blow, but he doesn't strike me. Why is he not disciplining me? He's so strict with his commands, so determined that I obey him, but he hasn't laid a finger on me once to remind me of my place.
In a way, this is way worse than being struck for disobedience. I react to pain; it brings something to life, something deep within me. A slice of pain equals pleasure. It works for me. It's familiar and reliable for evoking bliss.
But this? This is new. It's… different.
I take a deep breath, continuing to stand frozen in place, and I can sense that he’s circling me. He's skulking around me as if he's that feline predator again, inspecting his prey before striking and devouring it.
I want to close my eyes, or at least lower my gaze, when he pauses in front of me. He stands in place, still inspecting, his eyes traveling along the curves of my body, doing just what he said he would do. His gaze stops at different places, resting on the side of my hip for a moment, then on my belly before slowly wandering up to my small tits.
He is standing about three feet away from me, still studying me, just looking. Yet I feel as if he's touching me, as if it's not his eyes but his skilled hands that are exploring my body inch for inch. I've never been ashamed about being naked in front of a man. It was part of my job, it was expected, and once you've done something hundreds of times, it comes as natural to you as brushing your teeth. Even nakedness loses its taboo after a while.
But now, I can feel the shame of humiliation glowing on my cheeks. My pulse races, and I'm trying my best not to let him see me trembling as he takes me in. My head moves down, tilting just for a second, before I catch myself and remember his instructions. It's too hard to look him in the eye, because it’s a dead giveaway about the part of my body he’s currently staring at.
But I need to focus on something while he examines me. I opt to analyze his hair, my gaze latching on to the dark brown wayward strand on the right side of his face partly covering his eye.
"You are fucking perfect," he whispers. "How can someone so corrupted look so pure and innocent?"
He looks up, catching my gaze.
"You're so beautiful," he says. "I almost feel sorry about the things I will do to you."
The things he will do to me?
My eyes meet his, filled with questions. Is he going to hurt me? But if he were into that type of thing, why did he ask to be taken to the black room instead of one of the red ones?
"Turn around for me, Elene."
The way he says my name gets me every time. His voice is husky and deep, more like a sigh, and somehow laced with affection. Every time he calls me by my name it feels as if he's reaching right inside me, squeezing my racing little heart before he retreats as quickly as he charged at me.
I do as I'm told and turn my back to him. Losing eye contact should make this easier, but on the contrary, I feel even more exposed. And he only makes it worse when he utters his next command.
"Bend over," he says, as if it were the most natural thing to do. "Bend over and show me that pretty little ass."
I blush but comply, making sure to hollow my back when I tilt my upper body, because I know it will make my ass look so much better.
"Good girl."
The words drape me in a warm and comforting embrace, spawning arousal at the same time.
"Now show me that beautiful pussy," he orders next, and I inhale, gasping with shame.
I turn my head, casting him a look over my shoulder. He's still standing there, his arms crossed in front of his strongly muscled chest, jerking his chin forward.
"Don't play that shy act with me," he barks. "I told you, you have nothing to hide in front of me. And it's not like you haven't done this before."
This is where he is wrong. I haven’t ever done this before. I've never been asked to expose myself in this way, and I'm most definitely not playing any kind of act right now. This is embarrassing as hell—but also so fucking hot.
I can't help but mewl with shame when I reach backward, grabbing my ass cheeks and pulling them apart as much as possible. I expose the most intimate part of my body to him, illuminated by that damn light right above my head.
But it's not even the gesture or the situation alone that fuels my embarrassment. No, it's not just that.
I'm afraid that he might see.
I'm afraid that he might see how wet I am.
My core has been tingling with need ever since we climbed the staircase and proceeded down the long hallways to this room. My insides are brewing with anticipation, because I've been waiting for this, for him. And it has only gotten worse since we stepped inside this room and he started commanding me around. I was shaky with lust and humiliation once he told me to undress in front of him. I took my time, not only because I was nervous, but because I enjoyed the way it made me feel. It was new and confusing, but my heart fluttered with every piece of clothing I took off.
"That's it," he breathes. "Stay like this."
I hear him moving behind me. He's coming closer; I can sense his short but heavy-footed steps, barely audible on the soft carpet beneath our feet. I see his shadow approaching from my left. He comes to a halt, and while standing next to me nonchalantly places his hand on my bare behind. He pets my ass softly, but even this light touch sends sparks shooting through me. With every caress, his hand is moving closer to my wet center, until the tips of his fingers are only inches away from my hot core.
I start trembling, unable to control myself.
"Stand up."
His voice pulls me up like a string is attached to my head. I follow instinctively, my hands leaving my behind and returning to their previous position right next to my hips. His hand remains cupping my left butt cheek while he moves even closer.
"Do you want me to touch you?" he asks.
"Yes," I breathe hoarsely. My voice sounds weak and lacks the resolve it normally carries, but my answer is clear nonetheless. "Yes. Very much."
"Do you like this?" He probes, squeezing my ass. The grip comes so suddenly and with such force that I can't suppress a moan of pain. His fingers pinch into my flesh, sparking a familiar thrill, before he releases the tension just a second later.
Oh, God, I need more of that.
I don't need to verbalize my reply, because the sigh that escapes my lips is telling enough.
"You like it rough, don't you," he assumes. "You like to be bent over and fucked, hard. You like to be spanked and have your hair pulled. You like to be used like a little fuck doll and have your tight little cunt stretched by a big, thick, voracious cock, fucking you until you beg him to stop. Don't you?"
My heart is pounding. Every sentence, every word eggs me on, causing the voice inside my head to scream, "Yes! Yes! Yes!", while my body boils lustily with desire. Shit. I don't think I've ever been this horny.
"You like it when men make you scream, when they make you beg, when they take from you until there's nothing left," he goes on, fueling my excitement. "You like to feel the brute force of their cocks inside you even days after they've used you. Don't you?"
My chest heaves. I'm panting as if I'd just run ten miles to get here, as if he'd chased me up and down the stairs instead of just making me stand here and listen to his words. I'm watching him study me, barely touching me in the process.
He's driving me insane.
I'm frantically trying to catch my breath, but the way he's looking at me now is only making things worse. I can feel his dark eyes nearly penetrating me, watching every move I make, relishing in the sight of my heavy breathing.
"Spread your legs apart," he says in a low voice, inciting me to move by pinching my ass again.
I widen my stance, tiptoeing wider on my naked feet until he seems satisfied. Without my heels on, I'm so much shorter than he is, a feeling that's rare for me. I love how he towers over me. It's intimidating, making me feel overpowered even when he's not doing anything other than just standing next to me.
He lets go of my ass and suddenly I’m unbalanced, feeling lost without his touch. For a moment, I fear that he may move away again to stare at me from afar. I don't want him to go, to leave me standing on display like that again.
But he doesn't walk away. Instead, he steps in front of me, standing so close that our bodies touch in various places, the thick fabric of his suit brushing against my skin. The open jacket tickles my nipples, making me react with arousal. He raises an eyebrow in warning, and I can feel his erection poking my lower belly.
I look up at him, awaiting his next orders. Will he finally let me touch him? It doesn't seem right that I'm completely naked while he's still fully dressed.
He narrows his eyes as he locks me in place with his intense glare.
"Do you want me to fuck you?"
His question echoes through the room, but I can't find my voice to answer him, because I'm too overwhelmed. My lips move, but nothing except a hoarse croak comes out when I try to say yes.
"Of course," I choke out instead, after clearing my throat.
"How?"
"How?" I repeat.
"How do you want me to fuck you?"
"I... err... I mean. How..."
"Tell me, Elene," he cuts me off. "Or it won't happen."
It won't happen? Is he saying that nothing is going to happen if I don't tell him how I want him to take me? He can't be serious.
"Rough," I exclaim, blood rushing to my face. "I want you to be rough with me."
"Here?" he probes.
"Yes," I reply. "Fuck me. Here. Now."
The smile on his face darkens, a dark shadow accompanying the crease of his eyebrows.
"I don't respond well to orders," he says.
I exhale audibly when he places his hand on my hip. It's an innocent gesture, not much different than what you'd see between dance partners. But his touch holds a promise, a promise that speaks louder when he moves his hand to my lower belly, only tasting my skin with the tip of his fingers as he journeys lower.
This is the sweetest kind of torture. I want to scream, I want to jump at him, kiss him, feel his strong arms wrapping around me, and his undoubtedly monstrous cock swelling and burrowing inside me.
"What will I find if I continue, Elene?"
I swallow. Don't say my name like that. Not now. It stirs me in ways I can't control. Instead of answering him, I gasp for air, trying to control my impatient hunger.
"Are you wet for me?"
I nod, pressing my lips together but keeping my eyes on him, just as I've been told to do. Looking at him now, I notice for the first time that his smile is somewhat crooked, always colored with mischief, mystery, especially now.
"Let me check," he growls.
I almost faint when his hand moves further, cupping my mound before parting my lips with two fingers. He barely traces my clit, but I'm so sensitive, so fucking turned on, that his touch is like an explosion. A hissing sound escapes my lips when I react to his intrusion, but he continues, sliding between my folds with ease.
"Damn, Elene," he comments. "What a naughty, naughty girl you are."
He can't make me come. I know he can't. No one ever has been able to. But this feels so fucking good. I squirm, openly disobeying his rules while he finger-fucks me with one at first, then two. He places his other hand at the back of my head, grabbing a fistful of hair and pulling my head back. My eyes threaten to shut as I give into his intrusive touch. I groan when he uses a third finger to massage my swollen, tender nub. The sensation is too phenomenal for words. I'm trapped in hot vertigo, losing control of my muscles. My lips part as I pant for air, my eyes rolling back into my head, but he keeps working my throbbing core with skills that surpass any I have ever known.
No, he can't make me come like this. It's impossible. He can't. He shouldn't.
But he does.
I'm flying, floating on a hot stream of pleasure. My core muscles clench around his fingers, begging for him to stay, to make this feeling last forever. Heaves of unbridled joy take hold of me, blinding me in sharp and bright sparks. My throat cords up, holding in the groans of delight that want to escape my quivering body.
I want it to last. I don’t want this ecstatic bliss to come to an end. I want to keep flying, blind and muted by out-of-this-world relish.
But the waves recede, declining from a high of absolute bliss to subtle aftershocks. I try to hold on to every last bit of it.
His grip tightens around me, one arm wrapping around my upper body while he cups my still throbbing core with his other hand. My legs yield and I sink into his embrace.