She was conflicted, and that was all he needed. He opened the tube and rubbed a small amount of the cream between her legs. Then he returned the tube to his pocket and texted Sergio.
It’s about to get interesting.
I was already riveted, came the reply. Do I get to see her tits?
Very soon.
Maybe it was that she was already so aroused, but the cream seemed to work even faster than before as she squirmed in her seat, trying to soothe away her building desire.
“I should dose you with this cream every day several times a day until you crawl for me without any resistance or hesitation,” he growled into her ear.
There was a small answering whimper.
Anton unhooked her bra and slid it off, then he began to stroke her breasts again, now free of any fabric obstruction. Her eyes drifted closed as he massaged the exposed skin.
“No. Don’t take your eyes off Sergio.”
She opened her eyes and looked down at his friend again. Sergio had long ago forgotten about the ballet. The only show he was interested in was the one being performed above the stage in the not-so-private box.
A few other audience members had glanced up and noticed the bare-breasted woman, and they’d had the expected responses. One woman now sat stiff as a board in the eighth row, watching the dancers with feigned concentration, though her husband kept gazing quickly up at the box and then back at the stage, then back at the box—as if he couldn’t bear to miss anything on either stage.
Thankfully Annette’s focus was entirely between her own legs—and on Sergio. Anton was sure even with the cream, she might hesitate if she knew she was drawing a larger crowd than just his friend.
Anton waited for a peak in the music to snap the nipple clamps on. Annette let out a loud gasp that was swallowed up by the percussion section. The incredible tension on her nipples seemed to send even stronger sparks between her legs, as her hand drifted to ease away the ache. Anton smacked her hard on the leg.
“No! You will come when I say you can come.”
He caressed her legs for several minutes before finally giving her the relief she so craved, burying his fingers between her legs. He moved with the music, more forceful when the music peaked and pulling back when the music receded.
Annette gripped the edge of the balcony, struggling to maintain eye contact with Sergio. Anton leaned in close and whispered. “When I let you come, you will scream for me. No one will hear you but me at the top of the music, do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
As the music rose into a crescendo, Anton stopped teasing her and got serious. It took so little sustained effort and pressure with her swollen clit and her wetness dripping on his hands. When the music climaxed, so did she, letting out the scream he’d demanded of her. Again, her noisiness was swallowed up by the music.
A moment later, when the orchestra was so quiet you had to strain to hear it, Anton removed the nipple clamps. Annette let out a shriek, calling the attention of most of the theater. She dropped down to the floor to escape their curious stares.
The music picked up again, and the audience’s attention shifted back to the stage, most of them having no idea who had made that sound or why.
“You may get dressed,” Anton said.
Annette stayed on the ground, carefully putting her bra back on and pulling the dress up to cover her.
When she was finished, Anton produced a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her. “Go down to concessions and get yourself a bottle of water and a little chocolate. When you’ve finished it and collected yourself, you may return.”
She took the money from his hand and practically fled the box.
Annette stood in the hallway just outside the box, frozen in indecision. Why hadn’t she run away the last opportunity he’d given her? Maybe he was right, she could have called her sister and gotten her to safety. But couldn’t Anton call or text Brian just as quickly?
With her and Anton out like this, maybe Brian was just outside her sister’s house waiting for an excuse—he seemed paranoid enough to lie in wait for a kill order on a moment’s notice. And now, here was a second opportunity for escape in less than an hour. Was Anton that cocky and sure of himself, or was he really trying to let her go before… before what?
Should she just run away? Call the police? If she was quick about it, surely they could make it to Janette faster than Brian could. Wouldn’t Anton give her at least twenty minutes out here before he got suspicious?
But then there was the ugly truth that lingered and hovered in the air around her like some noxious incense that you couldn’t get away from no matter how hard you tried. She wanted him. She wanted him desperately, in the way normal people want air.
She’d come up with all the reasons why she shouldn’t want him. How evil he possibly was. How unfeeling to let Brian punish her. How disinterested to flirt with Katya right in front of her and allow her the chance to escape.
There was also the very reasonable thought that if she stayed and things turned deadly, then in her last moments alive she’d have no one to blame but herself for not taking these gilded opportunities to escape his clutches.
But she couldn’t find the will.
She didn’t want to escape him. There was something inside her that she didn’t fully understand, but needed to. There was a strange sense of comfort in giving up control. She’d worked so hard to help her sister achieve her dreams, but that had meant keeping a vice-like grip on control at all times. Control of every situation. Control of the finances. Control. Control. Control. It was exhausting.
She wanted to fall into Anton’s world and the sudden lack of responsibility or struggle—a world where everything was easy and taken care of. It was a dangerous craving.
And it was why it was absolutely vital that she only pretend to give him everything because she knew how deeply in trouble she was. This was the man who could break her. And not because he had whips and chains and a secret estate in the middle of nowhere and probably more money than God himself, but because Anton was the cliff she couldn’t escape falling off the edge of.
Tonight, seeing him so casually with Katya, she’d felt… jealous. Such a stupid emotion considering everything, but there it was. And here she was, left unattended yet again. Didn’t he want her?
She could have run, but she didn’t. Again. Even now. Instead she went downstairs to the concession area and stood in the short line clutching the twenty dollar bill he’d given her as if the piece of green paper was life itself.
When her turn came, there were any number of treats or confections she could have chosen. Alcohol—she probably needed it. A soft drink. Cake. They even inexplicably had fancy-looking hamburgers and gourmet fries. And yet, when the man behind the counter asked her what she wanted, she ordered a bottle of water and a bar of Godiva chocolate.
If she ate and drank whatever she got here in this lobby, Anton would never know what she ordered. And if he asked, she could just lie. Despite the dungeon, she was still stupidly convinced she was good enough at lying that she could find a way to fool Anton just like all the others. But he’d told her to get water and chocolate, and she couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried, bring herself to order anything else.
Once she’d paid her money and put the change in a donation jar, she took the snack and went to sit on a cushioned, hand-carved bench fancy enough to be in a museum where she proceeded to brood and eat her chocolate.