“I wasn't finished with you yet.”
“You weren't finished with me yet?”
“That’s what I said.” He lazily starts to circle me, walking slowly around where I’m standing. He looks like he’s inspecting what he paid for.
“I could break my Mistress Contract and leave. I could give the money back. Then you’d have to be done with me.”
Something sparks in his eyes at my words—something that looks close to anger. I want to know why he’s pushing this and dragging me back here. Is this about that night in the casino? Me telling him no and making him look like a fool? Men and their egos can be a real bitch. I run into a lot of men like that working at the casino. Men like that don’t like when a woman takes them down a peg or two. But for some reason I don’t think Charles is the type of man who would care what other people think. He doesn't have an ego. He just is who he is, take it or leave it. If it’s not about his pride, it means this whole thing could have something to do with my brothers, and that problem has the potential to make me stay. If I can't get some information from Charles, I’m finally just going to have to ask my brothers what he has over them.
“But you won’t. No, you’d never go back on your word.” It’s eerie how well he knows me. Saying I would break the contract was just a way for me to try to get some information from him. I want to find out his endgame without losing myself in the process, because I’m starting to think Charles Townsend is someone I could easily drown in.
“Fine, you win. Do with me as you like. Do I strap myself in or is that your job?” I try to make my tone as flat as possible as I walk toward the bed, careful not to brush against him.
“Mandy, while I will have you in those straps soon enough, first we need to go over the rules of your Mistress Contract.”
“I read the contract several times. I know all the rules. I’m to keep my mouth shut, my legs spread, and I’m never to ask questions about your life outside of our time together.” I turn to face him, trying to pretend the rules don’t bother me in the least.
“Yes, those are the standard rules for all contracts, but each buyer is allowed to add a set of their own. Did you not see that in the contract as well?”
I did, I just forgot. This takes me by surprise, and I stop. “Yes, I’m sorry. It did say something about the buyer being allowed to add their own as long as they are approved by the auction house.” I visibly swallow when I finish. I don’t know why this has my heartbeat picking up, but it does.
Pulling out a piece of paper from the inside pocket of his jacket, Charles walks to the corner of the room, takes a seat in a chair and lazily leans back in it. I expect him to start listing off the rules, but he just pats his leg, signaling for me to come sit on it.
I roll my eyes, but do as I’m instructed. I stroll over to him, my heels sinking into the lush carpet, and I sit, making sure I plop down heavily on him in the hopes of hurting his leg a little. I may not weigh much, but maybe my bony ass will leave a bruise. He makes no sign of distress at this. He just wraps one arm around my waist to pull me closer, pressing me into his erection. At the feel of his cock against my thigh, I’m the one who ends up gasping.
He’s huge all over, evidently—something I really do enjoy about him. He makes me feel feminine when I'm near him. His height means he always towers over me, even when I wear my most ridiculous heels. Not only that, he easily has to weigh more than two of me. Not many men make me feel small and delicate, but Charles does.
He leans in, taking my earlobe in his mouth, nuzzling me and making my eyes fall closed. It’s a sweet soft contact, but he soon bites me, making me jump and my eyes pop open.
“You fully belong to me.” He proves his point by using his free hand to cup my thinly covered pussy. “When you act like a brat, I don’t have to storm out of the room to control myself. No, now I can bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you until you apologize, and until you beg me to let you cum. I’ll make you promise to be a good little girl or I’ll keep punishing you.”
I moan at his words, pushing myself into his hand. “You like that kitten? Because I’ll fuck you on every surface of this goddamn casino until you scream the place down.”
I’m so lost in his words and in this sensation that all I can do is beg. “Please.” How does he keep doing this to me? One second I want to smack him, and the next I want him to make good on his threat. I'm going with being completely under-sexed as the reason for this. My body is ready to go and doesn’t care that my mind can't seem to keep up with it.
“Already begging. I knew you would. It’s who you are.” Before I can ask what he means, he pulls his hand out from between my legs. I bite my lip to stop myself from protesting, and watch as he picks up the paper he dropped down in the seat next to him. Pulling me a little closer, his arm tightens around me before he starts reading.
“Number one, you will at all times carry a cell phone with which I will provide you. Whenever I text or call you, you will respond immediately.”
That doesn't sound too bad. I always have my phone glued to my hand.
“Number two, you will always wear skirts or dresses with no underwear. I want nothing coming between me and what’s mine.”
I just nod my head in agreement. I also always wear skirts; it’s the best way to show off my heels, but I’ve never gone without underwear. I guess I should be thankful we live somewhere warm.
“Three, all meals are to be eaten together, and by my hand.”
“Like, you make them?” I ask, wondering about his strange wording.
“No, kitten, I mean you sit in my lap and I feed you.”
I’m starting to think I’m not going to like some of the Mistress Contract rules.
“Four, where I go, you go.” And there it is. I wouldn't have to wonder what he was up to. I would know if there was another woman, though I don't really think there would be. I’d never seen him with one before, even though they were always throwing themselves at him. But in all fairness, I didn't think he was going to bust out all this kinkery either. “Unless I tell you to be someplace else,” he finishes.
“So you want me to pretty much be your assistant again, but this time you get to fuck me when I annoy you.”
“Watch your mouth, kitten.”
It takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. Instead I just glare into his dark eyes, making him flash his perfect white teeth at me. It’s then it hits me that I’ve never seen him smile like that before, and I can't help but stare.
“No, you're not my assistant, I have someone for that. You’re my submissive, and I’ll want you by my side for whatever I might need—reading me my emails while I eat your pussy, sneaking you under my desk to suck my cock to get me through boring meetings, or just laying you naked across the couch in my office so I have something beautiful to stare at all day.”
I’ve heard of Dominant/submissive couples before, but that seems a little over the top, even if my body seems to find the concept intriguing. This is Vegas; everything happens here. Sex is openly talked about, and no subject is taboo. And for some reason, the first thing that pops out of my mouth is, “Do I have to wear a collar?”