“Look at your shorts, pet. There is a dark spot now. Are you truly that wet?”
Yes, I totally am that turned on, just from him touching me over my clothes. But what he’s doing isn’t enough. More. I want more.
“You want more, da?” he murmurs in my ear as if reading my thoughts. “You want my hands underneath this tank top and below the band of your shorts.”
A question. Somewhere deep in the recesses of my frustrated ache, my mind comes back online to answer. “Yes! Da!”
“My language sounds so cute in your mouth. I will have to teach you more to say to me while I am fucking you.”
He says that…then he takes me by the hips and sets me down beside him.
My body keeps pulsing after he pushes me away, like an engine from an old car still crackling and popping after you’ve taken away the key.
Irritation starts to seep into my desire as I demand, “That’s it?”
“Yes, that is it. For now.”
That “for now” sounds truly ominous as he switches his gaze back to the television.
After about fifteen minutes of sitting there, staring at him while he watches his brother’s game, I realize he’s totally serious. He revved me up, just to leave me hanging.
Which does feel exactly like the punishment he promised me.
But I can’t just sit there like a good little pet and let it go. “So this is what you want to do with your three-hundred K? Spend the whole five days frustrating me?”
“Not whole five days, nyet,” he answers without looking away from the TV.
His eyes are intent like what’s on the screen is way more interesting than who’s sitting beside him.
I start to get up. If he’s going to watch hockey, I can play on my phone. Or maybe read a book. I’ve been meaning to read that last Stephen King novel from 2019 before the new one comes out in April…
But when I can reach for my phone, he says. “Sit. No phone. Boredom is part of punishment.”
Ugh!
Chapter Eight
So that’s how I end up sitting there for the next hour while Cheslav watches hockey.
And if that wasn’t torturous enough as soon as the game is over, he draws me back into his lap.
“Is your pussy dry again?” He makes the same disappointed tutting sound Vlad did when I thought about going for a knife. “I will assist you with that.”
Almost as soon as he grabs ahold of me, massaging my breasts and pussy over my clothes, my entire body lights back up. Forget that last hour of doing nothing. It’s as if I never calmed down at all.
“Please,” I find myself whining. “Please don’t stop. Please let me come.”
“I like your sweet begging, pet. But are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes!” I nod desperately even though I know it’s a trick. This is just a cruel question he’s asking before he sets me aside again.
However, I’m wrong about that.
“If you wish it.” He presses his hand harder into the cloth separating my clit from his fingers. “You may come.”
His voice is light with amusement, but for me, it’s no joking matter. I finally release, and it’s….
Not that great, actually. More like a few ripples of pleasure as opposed to the waves that I experienced the first time he took me. Even worse, my core is still throbbing. Not as bad as before, no. But in a way I recognize.
Back when I was a cheerleader and occasionally dated, almost always after my lover left the next morning, I found myself…I guess the only way to describe it is still turned on. Like, the evening’s activities hadn’t quite scratched the itch.
Usually, I’d furtively reach down and make myself come again. To get the rest of the desire out. I’d always felt ashamed of myself while doing that, but that shame was nothing compared to the misery I’m feeling now.
“Was that not enough?” Cheslav croons into my misery. “Were you hoping for more?”
I grit my teeth. I want to touch myself so bad, but I’m unwilling to get in that kind of trouble. His way for the five days and all that.
“Do you have anything to say to me, pet? Anything that might change my mind?”
I pounce on his invitation and open my mouth to defend myself. But then I close it again with the realization that he’s playing a game with me.
Like a literal game with rules and strategies.
A game I can’t win by doing what I did before. Earlier I’d defended myself over and over. That tactic hadn’t worked, so now it was time to try something else.
I slow my breathing, reviewing the tape of what’s happened tonight like Cheslav watched his brother’s last hockey game with a cold, dispassionate gaze.
Everything he’s done since I returned has been a punishment. Punishments meant to teach me a lesson. So what does he want me to learn?
The truth dawns, dark and unyielding. He doesn’t want me to defend myself. The only way to win this game he’s playing with me is to submit.
The strong Black accountant rears back in horror at that realization.
Yet some other part of me, the same part that still demanded to be satisfied after my past lovers left rises to the surface. An odd thrill passes through me when I think of surrendering to this man. Completely and without reservation.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, letting that previously hidden part of me take the wheels. “I’m sorry I snuck out and disobeyed your rules. I have a standing monthly call with my two girlfriends. And by the time I woke up, I only had five minutes to decide whether to cancel.”
I sigh and admit, “I was so confused when I woke up. By what happened between us this morning—and quite frankly, how I responded. I thought I was a good girl. I only just met you…”
I swallow. Embarrassed by myself. “Anyway, I guess I thought doing something normal would clear my head.”
His eyes stay cool as I tell him this. Then he says, “You said you were talking to one friend.”
“Yeah, I found out when I got downstairs that one of them had cancelled. So it was just the one friend and me.”
“If this is true, what is this girl’s name?”
I shake my head and tell him the truth again, “I don’t want to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll drag her into this if I do.”
He raises his eyebrows. “You think if I find out about your friend, I’ll make an arrangement with her, too?”
I suck my teeth. “To be clear, what you call ‘making an arrangement’ is blackmail and extortion.”
His eyes darken. “Blackmail and extortion? Is that what you call what we’ve been doing? What you were begging for just a few moments ago?”
“Yes,” I answer, even as my face heats with embarrassment. “Because blackmail and extortion is what it is. And my friend is a good person. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
His hands find my body again, but not to torture me this time. With a lift and a few body part arrangements, he sets me back down on his lap. This time facing him.
“Do you believe this is how I usually conduct my affairs?” he asks, his expression and voice cold. “That I arrange to fuck pageant princesses every month, the same as you calling your friends? That I would make similar negotiation with this friend of yours at just the mention of her name?”