But she couldn’t get it from Anton, either. He’d make her hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. She watched the bruises and welts fade in the mirror a little more each day as her opportunity to get damning evidence of his abuse slipped away.
A decisive peace fell over her as she saw herself taking control of her life and for once doing what she wanted, leaving her gilded cage with Michael and her warped cage with Anton for a world that was scarier, but free.
She met the reflection of her eyes steadily and applied her cherry-red lip gloss, pressing her lips together with a pop.
Not a victim.
Not a whore.
The woman who walked into Dome today would be different from the one who’d left on Thursday. This Vivian had determined to be honest and unapologetic.
She signed in at three fifteen. At three thirty her name was called and she went back to that room that made her ache so deeply she couldn’t think.
Anton smiled when he saw her. “I knew you’d be here. I am rarely wrong about people.”
She smiled back and crossed the floor to lay her purse on the massage table. “I’m leaving Michael.”
A look of surprise fell over Anton’s features, but she pressed on before he could reiterate his speech about not getting attached.
“What you’ve done to me is completely wrong. You should be locked up. I worry about the other women coming here, what you’re doing to them. But I also wonder why they aren’t reporting you, either.
“You’re right. I’m not your girlfriend. My husband is out of town right now. He’ll be back next Thursday. Until that time I’ll see you, but then I’m done. With you and with him. I’ll figure something out.”
He arched a brow, his face a mixture of shock and amusement. “My flower is opening up and growing up, I see. Taking responsibility for your own decisions now? Right or wrong?”
“Yes, Sir.” She put emphasis on the Sir, not wanting him to think her little monologue meant she wasn’t going to fully submit to his every sadistic desire behind this door. She’d already decided she would. She had three or four sessions with him at most. Then she’d never see him again. He could show that shit to Michael, or post it on the Internet, or sell tickets for all she cared. She was done pretending that was why she came to him.
He’d opened something inside her. Fucked-up bastard or not, she couldn’t punish him for that. But she also couldn’t indefinitely submit to it. She couldn’t lose the part of herself she’d just found, or have her entire personality subsumed underneath his sadism.
He chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t know whether you’re very brave or very stupid. I certainly don’t consider you very smart.”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t aware I had to pass an IQ test to be your part-time sex slave.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ve indulged you and let you speak your mind, but take too many liberties and you’ll wish you hadn’t come back to the devil for a few last sins.”
She lowered her eyes to the ground as a tremor went through her. “Yes, Sir.”
“Did you do think about the cane when you touched yourself?”
The blush in her cheeks was all the answer he needed.
“Lock the door,” he said.
She obeyed and followed him into the apartment.
He used her as an object, a toy. Within minutes of the second door closing behind them, he had her naked and on her knees.
“Do you know what you are to me, Vivian?” he asked, stroking her cheek absently.
“No, Sir.”
“You are a series of warm holes, each of which I will take and use for my own pleasure. If you please me, I’ll show you kindness and return that pleasure.”
She couldn’t stop the little whimper that came out of her mouth.
“Deep down, you’re a filthy little slut. Aren’t you, flower?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“My blackmail held no further power over you and instead of enjoying your freedom and making new living arrangements, instead of taking the opportunity to report me to the authorities like a sane individual, you decided it might be fun to come back here and see just how hard I could ride you until your time was up. Do I have that right?”
She didn’t look up, but imagined there must be a smirk on his face. He must be thinking she was the most perfect victim to ever walk through his door and spread her legs for him. Her entire body felt hot, flushed with a wanton desire that climbed with each mocking word that tumbled from his mouth.
“Yes, Sir.”
He cupped her chin with one hand, raising her face so her eyes met his as he stroked a thumb over her lower lip. “Today I want to use this hole. Open. Show me what a good little cocksucker you can be.”
Her lips parted. She wasn’t sure which was wetter, her pussy, or her mouth, which had started salivating as soon as his cock prodded her lips. She inhaled the musky male aroma of him, felt herself slipping further under his control. She had the fleeting fear that letting herself go like this might mean she no longer had a choice to leave him when Michael returned.
Could he break her will so quickly? How much fire am I playing with? Rhetorical questions.
As his cock slid into her mouth, his hand gripping the back of her neck, trapping her there, she wondered if she’d have the strength to leave either man. Or if she was wrapping herself in yet another bubble of denial. Something to make it easier to face herself, to ease herself into the bed she’d just made.
She took him in, sucking, swirling her tongue over that impossibly soft skin. She felt the first glistening beads of pre-cum drip down her throat, and she pulled back to lick the tip of his cock, tasting him. She reached up to fondle his balls and was rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.
Then he put an end to her teasing as he started to thrust harder. She allowed her jaw to relax, knowing all he wanted from her was a passive hole at the moment. She accepted it as he fucked her mouth, finding herself growing wetter the more coldly he used her. Whatever was wrong with her, she no longer cared as he spilled into her and down her throat.
“Swallow every drop.”
Well, that was wasted speech. She’d intended on doing that anyway. It would have only been a hard order to obey if he’d denied her the pleasure of drinking him.
Anton went soft in her mouth and pulled out of her. She felt herself as a bundle of nerve endings all poised and waiting for any sensation from him. Would it be pleasure or pain? A little of both maybe?
Neither.
“Are you hungry?”
“What?”
He snapped his fingers in front of her face, no doubt to wipe away the glazed look that must be in her eyes. She looked up at him trying to think if she was hungry or not. She hadn’t eaten since eleven that morning, but she wouldn’t have thought of it if he hadn’t asked. She was too distracted.
“Are you hungry?” he repeated, sounding agitated now.
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’m going to get us some food, then.”
She wanted to say, ‘What about me?’ but she stopped the words in time.
He looked down at her and chuckled, petting her head like a dog that had pleased him with a good trick. “Don’t worry, flower, we’re not finished. But I missed lunch again, and I don’t have time to get into what I want to get into with you before my five o’clock. You don’t have a set time to be home now. We don’t have to rush.”