XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast (5 page)

Chapter Four
“Nadia. Come with me.”
She nodded at Dominic’s cold words, following him naked into the hallway. He looked like the Angel of Death. No, not an angel. An angel would be beautiful. He looked powerful, and fearsome, and unforgiving. His blue eyes burned incandescently every time he looked at her.
He was going to punish her. She didn’t know how, and the dreadful anticipation carved into her, leaving her raw.
“What were you going to do with this, Nadia?” he had said, his voice taunting yet furious. “Planning to kill me with a paring knife?”
She hadn’t responded. She hadn’t needed to.
Why didn’t you try killing him when you had the chance?
Not that it would have worked
, she thought as she padded silently after Dominic. He would have easily been able to disarm her. But when he was having sex with her, he wouldn’t have suspected it. She could have gone for his throat, for his eye. She could have done
something
to kill him. Done something to eliminate the threat that was looming over her family.
She felt tears edge from the corners of her eyes, and wiped them away hastily.
You didn’t think about it when he was fucking you, did you? You couldn’t think of anything else
.
She bit her lip, hard, the pain keeping her emotions at bay.
You let him do this to you. You failed them all
.
Dominic had left with the knife, anger evident in every inch of his carved body. “I can’t just leave this unpunished, Nadia,” he said, and then he’d shut the door, locking it. She hadn’t slept, waiting for morning and his promise.
Would he hurt her? Would he hurt them? God, what had she done?
He led her to the large, tile-floored foyer. Was he going to throw her out, naked, to find her way in the desert? Where were they anyway? She felt her palms begin to sweat.
He turned to her. “The floor here is filthy,” he drawled, his eyes still trained on her like a hawk. She glanced down. The floor was anything but—she doubted there was a speck of dirt anywhere in the house. She waited.
He pulled out a bucket filled with clear water, and a washcloth, the size that one washed her face with. She glanced at him.
“My punishment is to clean your floor?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.” If anything, she felt relieved. Manual labor was easy. It was…
“You’re not quite finished yet,” he said softly.
She paused in reaching for the washcloth, looking at him speculatively.
He was handing her a pair of stiletto heels. She stared at them in bewilderment. “You want me to wash the floor in these?”
“Among other things.”
She shrugged. She’d be on her knees most of the time anyway, she reasoned as she slipped on the imposing looking shoes. Besides, it would obviously give him some prurient satisfaction, and anything that…
“You’re not through yet,” he interrupted her train of thought. “I’ve got one more piece of equipment for you.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at the contraption he held in front of her. “What is
that?
”
“You put a leg in each strap…” he explained, then smiled, slowly, harshly. “Here. I’ll just put it on you.”
She swallowed hard. Between the straps was a pink plastic dildo with some kind of attachment on it, like a little Y near the base. The device was not quite as large as Dominic, but still large enough to give her pause. He expected her to wear that thing—no, to
take
that thing—as she knelt down in the torturously sexy high heels, scrubbing his floor.
This was the real punishment. And she got the sense it was just the beginning.
He knelt in front of her, guiding her hands to his shoul ders, lifting her feet as he slipped the straps over first one foot, then the other. He eased the toy up between her thighs, and she felt the cool plastic graze her sensitive flesh. She was still a little tender from her bout of lovemaking with…
Sex
, she corrected herself.
Not lovemaking
. She was still tender from
fucking
Dominic.
“Hmmm. Might need a little help here,” he muttered, as if he were a mechanic. Then, without warning, he started rubbing her pussy, spreading the lips of her labia and massaging her clit with ruthless intensity.
She gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he circled her slowly, carefully, with the innate skill that made her lose her mind. How did he manage that? Was it with all women—or was she simply too susceptible to his touch?
“That’s better,” he announced, then urged her thighs to spread wider. He maneuvered the dildo against her, pressing in slowly, letting it glide deep inside her. She felt the attachment, nestled up against her clit. He spread her further, and she felt either side of the Y close snugly against her clit. When it was all adjusted to his satisfaction, he stood up.
“There,” he said. “You might want to start by the door and work your way toward the living room.”
She could see the deep blush that stained her skin. Awkwardly, she knelt down on all fours, unable to keep her legs clamped together because of the device. She could feel his hot gaze sliding over her as she began to scrub, the warm cloth moving in slow circles against the cold stone tiles.
She did a few squares of tile, then reached for the bucket, glancing over her shoulder. He was staring at her, as she ex pected. However, he was holding something. She paused, trying to figure out what it was. It looked like a remote, she realized. He smiled, then hit a button.
Suddenly, the attachment clamped on her clit started to flutter, slowly at first, then vibrating more enthusiastically. She felt it like a sensual slap. “Oh!” she cried, dropping the cloth into the bucket with a splash.
“Don’t forget near the baseboards,” he said, in a bored tone of voice, even as the rhythm of the vibrator increased.
She didn’t answer, picking up the cloth instead. She moved slowly, carefully, trying to ignore the delicious, dizzying pressure of the vibrator as it hummed against her. Her body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending hyper-aware. She bit her lip, trying not to moan as the incredible feelings licked over her.
“Hmm.” He walked toward her, nudging her hand. “Missed a spot.”
She wiped at where he’d gestured. As she stretched, he pushed another button.
Suddenly, the dildo inside her was moving, first clockwise, then counterclockwise, shifting and twisting as it filled her. She let out a low cry of pleasure, then shut her eyes tight, cleaning blindly.
He moved to stand in front of her. He was wearing slacks and expensive Italian shoes, and all she wanted to do was jump up and attack him. Not to kill him…no. To force him to finish the sexual torture he was inflicting on her.
Have you no loyalty? Don’t you know what this man is?
She stared at the floor as if her life depended on it.
“How does it feel, knowing I can do this to you whenever I want?” she heard him ask. “Knowing that whatever I ask you to do, you have to do…or you’ll pay the consequences?”
She didn’t answer. The cloth moved across the floor slowly, erasing spots that did not exist.
“Your body is mine,” he repeated. “I can take you whenever and however I want.”
Right, left. The cloth went back in the bucket.
He flicked another switch, and everything increased…the dildo sped up, the vibrator thrummed against her clit mercilessly. She gasped, her eyes going half-lidded.
He shut it off. “I can also withhold things from you.”
No!
she wanted to cry out. She gripped the washcloth like a vise, her body shrieking in unfulfilled torment.
He got in front of her, unzipping his pants. His cock sprung free. “I can tell you to do things to me.”
She stared at his enormous cock, thrusting in front of her. Then she looked at him.
“Taste me,” he instructed.
He wanted to punish her. Did he not know that she was so turned on, that
he turned her on so much
, that even this was more pleasure than punishment?
She didn’t hesitate, her body already going for him, her mouth latching on to the tip of his cock and circling it, her tongue tracing around the rim of its bulbous head, tickling the fissure at the tip. His moan of pleasure was tinged with surprise. He fisted his hands against his sides, inadvertently flicking the switch again. She gasped against his hot, hard flesh as the dildo and vibrator started up again, causing a tornado of sexual sensation to crash through her.
She started to move, taking him in deep enough to gag. Letting go of the washcloth, she gripped his penis in both hands, stroking him eagerly, hungrily. Her hands slid up and down his shaft. One reached down to cup his balls, exploring them, then tickling the delicate flesh just behind them. He groaned loudly, leaning back, his hips arching toward her. He increased the pressure of her toy.
She pulled away from him for a second, gasping as the pressure of her building orgasm singed her. She was close…so close…
“Don’t stop,” he ordered, guiding her head back to his swollen erection. She started working on him, devouring him, savoring every masculine taste of him. He shifted his hips, nudging deeper against her mouth, and she nibbled at him, mindless with her own pleasure but still careful enough to only let the edges of her teeth graze his flesh. Groaning, he lost his balance, falling against the wall. She gripped him, not letting go, increasing her suction softly as she moved faster against his shaft, her tongue dancing and flicking over his feverish skin.
He increased the setting to the highest level. She growled against his cock, the vibrato of her voice matching the hum of the toy currently buzzing its way against her core. She made hot, animal-like noises against him. Her tongue seduced his cock as the toy was seducing her. She was breathing hard, almost insane with the intensity of her desire.
Finally, she was pushed over the edge. The dildo pressed against just the right spot, and her clit was shivering with sensation, and the orgasm shot through her, starting at her cunt and seeping out toward her every extremity. She pulled away, screaming, gasping with ecstasy. Her hands gripped his cock, urging the hard flesh, rubbing it frantically.
“Nadia,”
he yelled, eyes closed, head back. The cum spurted out of him, across her chest, down her breasts. She glistened with the iridescent liquid. She held him as he quivered, bathed in the hot drops, shuddering and panting with the aftershocks of her own climax.
He leaned back, his breathing labored, his cock still gleaming from her mouth.
She held him, resting her forehead against his strong upper thigh. Softly, so softly that he couldn’t possibly have noticed, she pressed a tiny kiss against him.
The device stopped with a snap. Wordlessly, he lifted her up, then removed it from her body. He held it in his hands, looking at her.
“I own you,” he said, in a low, solemn voice.
She looked away. He nudged her face until her eyes met his, gleaming like a wizard’s stare.
“I own you,” he repeated, “because you can’t help yourself. Because I can do things to your body that you can’t even imagine.”
He kissed her, hard, and she felt her whole body shake with the pleasure of it. It ended as quickly as it began.
“Don’t try a stunt like that again,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, her neck. “Stronger people than you have been trying to kill me for years, and they haven’t succeeded yet. Your best bet for survival is to make sure I’m satisfied, Nadia. That’s what you should be focusing your energy on.”
With that, he walked away. She swore the son of a bitch was whistling under his breath.
She kicked the bucket across the floor, swearing in Russian.
I own you because you can’t help yourself
.
“Bastard!” she growled from between clenched teeth. Then she looked, saw the sodden mess she’d made.
“You’ll be cleaning that up, Nadia.” His voice floated ghostly from the far end of the hall.
She wanted to scream. Now, she
really
regretted not killing him.
She headed for the kitchen, grumbling, searching for a mop to clean up the foyer. Her mind whirred.
He was right: no one had ever made her feel the way he did. Her body still shivered with sensual aftershocks. If it were any other situation, she’d gladly give herself over to the pleasure he seemed able to coax from her with no effort whatsoever. It scared her, to think about how easily she’d give herself over to his control.
But he was messing with her family, the one thing she had dedicated her life and well-being to protecting. Now, he thought to make her feel inferior? To taunt her with the threat that, if she didn’t keep him “satisfied,” he would exact a crueler punishment?
Fuck that
.
Her eyes narrowed. Oh, she’d make sure he was satisfied. She might not have had a lot of experience with the pleasures of seduction, but she was a damned fast learner. Before she was done, he’d be just as snared as she was.
She smiled coldly.
And then, I’ll destroy him
.

“Mrs. Granville. So nice to see you,” Henry’s accountant, Robert, said with a small, puzzled smile. “And, er, unexpected.”
Jelena smiled at him, feeling a little at loose ends herself.
How am I supposed to pull this off?
“Is there anything the matter?” Robert prompted, his sandy blond hair falling in front of his glasses, making him look young and almost vulnerable. “I mean…with your account? Did you have any problems with your allow—” He stopped himself, coughing on the word. “I mean…with your…er, deposit?”
Allowance. A grown woman, receiving an allowance. Good grief, is this what she’d come to?
She shook her head. “No, Robert. I received my allowance”—irony tinged her words—“just as I have every month for the six years.”
“Good.” Now he looked thoroughly baffled. “So, um, how can I help you?”
“That is the question,” she said, simply, sitting in the chair across from his desk. “How can you help me?”
“I’m a-afraid I don’t understand,” he stammered, as she stared at him.
She needed his help. But he was Henry’s accountant, wasn’t he? What in the world would convince him to help her? She had no leverage. She had nothing. She…
She was staring at his face, deep in her own thoughts, when she noticed that he was avoiding staring at her. When he did look at her, it was a quick, almost hungry look. A searching look.
She licked her lips, without thinking.
He stared involuntarily, and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He fidgeted with his tie. Then, it seemed, he realized he was staring, and he quickly shuffled papers on his desk. “I…I don’t understand,” he repeated.
“I need money,” she said softly. “I need help. Your help.”
And she finally thought she saw where she might get some leverage.
She stood, slowly, uncertainly. She hadn’t tried to seduce Phillip—she had begged, she had offered, but she hadn’t seduced. No wonder he had said she was a martyr, a victim.
She’d been told she was beautiful, but it was something that was simply there—like having blond hair or hazel eyes. It was a fact. Now, as she approached the young man and saw his color go hectic, a slight flush covering his throat and cheeks, she realized that being beautiful was more than a simple description.
Beauty was a tool. She’d used it passively, the coin to purchase safety, security.
She needed to use it as a weapon.
She sat at the edge of the desk, close to him, at the same time wondering if she were being too obvious and campy. She’d hate to be coming across as some bad parody of
The Graduate
.
“Henry is cheating on me,” she said, putting in words what she’d only suspected. “Sometime in the future, probably soon, he will divorce me and replace me. He will leave me penniless if he can.”
Robert made a little noise of embarrassed protest. She waved it away, her throat constricting with emotion.
“My sister is in trouble,” she whispered. She should be seducing him, not pleading, right? But she couldn’t help it. He seemed so sincere, staring at her. “I need your help, Robert. Is there anything you can do to help me?”
He stood up, staring into her eyes. Then he took a step away from her.
She watched as he headed for the door, despair gnawing at her. Would he kick her out, then? What else could she do?
But instead of turning the door handle, he locked it. Then he looked back at her, with a helpless, overwhelming hunger that made her smile, a touch wickedly. When was the last time anyone had looked at her like that?
Never. Henry’s desire was completely self-centered, a performance rather than a gift.
She felt her own hunger stoked by Robert’s evident admiration. She felt a warm glow of confidence start to burn in her chest.
“Maybe there’s something I could do to help,” he muttered, walking back to his desk…back to her. He stood next to
her
, a flush of pink across his cheeks, but his eyes were determined. “Your husband has a lot of different accounts. He never pays attention, just tells me to ‘handle everything’ and not bother him with the details.” The resentment in his voice told her just how her husband had “handled” working with his accountant. Henry always wanted someone to give orders to. Someone he expected obedience from.
Oh, yes, Robert would help her. She felt a surge of something deliciously unfamiliar at the thought.
Passion?
No.
Power
. So this was what Phillipe was talking about.
“If some of his money was to get temporarily misplaced,” Robert murmured, “he wouldn’t notice. Especially if it weren’t in the monthly report that he doesn’t miss anyway. As long as he had his spending money…” Robert cleared his throat, then looked at her, a small, mischievous smile on his face.
“Thank you, Robert,” her voice purred, approvingly. Would it be that easy, then? She wanted to kiss him with gratitude.
“But it’s putting my job on the line,” he interrupted. “I’m taking a lot of risk here. Once he found out—and he would—then my reputation would be ruined. He’s one of my biggest clients, and I’ve got a small firm here. I couldn’t just…”
She frowned, irritated. Was he backing out, then? “What are you saying, Robert?”
He sighed, looked away—then looked back at her. “I would need, er, a
really
good reason to do this,” he said.
She stared at him, not comprehending.
He seemed to steel himself, taking a deep breath. Then he reached out, fondling her breast lightly, tentatively. His palm froze over her nipple, and he stared at her, questioning.
She closed her eyes, not wanting to show triumph. It was too easy, really.
“Do you want me, then, Robert?” she found herself saying softly. “Do you want something specific, in exchange for helping a woman in distress?”
His eyes widened, and she felt his hand tremble against her. Then, without a word, he moved forward, kissing her with a hard fierceness she would not have expected from such a wiry, prepossessing-looking young man.
His mouth was firm on hers, his tongue teasing her lips, his hand increasing its pressure on her breast as he nudged her back further onto his desk. The door was locked. He wasn’t expecting anyone to interrupt.
It would be here, then.
She parted her legs, and he stepped easily between them. He reached down, fingers digging into her hip as he tugged her against him. She felt his erection, a sizable hardness, surprising her. And, even more surprising, her body went wet at the sensation.
In the past six years, every episode of sex with Henry had felt orchestrated—when he wanted, how he wanted. She was barely a participant. This was different. More urgent. More real. She wasn’t sure how else to describe it. It was simply
more
.
She kissed back, hard, and heard him growl against her lips as her hands went up to remove his tie, undo the buttons of his shirt until she could press her palms against the hot skin of his chest. He did the same, undoing the buttons on her blouse, taking it off, leaving her in just her skirt. She shifted her weight, wriggling, shoving her skirt up her waist and tearing off the panties that got in the way.
“Jelena,” he breathed against her hair as he tore off his shirt and coat, undoing his pants and letting them drop to the floor. He was hard, jutting out against her. She stared. She hadn’t seen anyone’s penis but Henry’s in…well, ever. She studied it, cupping it in her palm, circling it with her fingers. He groaned, leaning against her. It felt like hot velvet. A bead glistened at the fissure at the tip.
She lifted the bead to her lips with a fingertip, then tasted it with her tongue.
He took off her skirt, leaving her naked on top of his desk as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of his clothes. “God, I’ve wanted you,” he breathed, kissing her again, his hands stroking her chest, her waist. She could feel the hot length of his cock against her thigh.
“Condom,” she breathed, not so far gone that she wasn’t thinking of that.
He chuckled, somewhat embarrassed. Then he opened a desk drawer, producing a foil package. He tore it open with his teeth, then rolled the membrane on.
She expected him to simply go at it: stick it in, get it over with. Instead, he reached down, between her thighs, his fingers parting the darker blond curls over her sex. His touch was gentle but probing. He felt the folds of her, feeling the beginning dampness. He kissed her, distracting her as his fingers slowly plunged deeper, brushing past her sensitive clit, wakening her. Arousing her. She melted against him, her legs starting to circle his, drawing his cock closer to her in creasingly wet slot. He laughed against her lips, his free hand cupping one breast and kneading it, gently, thoroughly.
She started to breathe harder, her body jolting at the sensation. She had expected enduring the sex, as a price for the cash…as a price for her sister’s freedom and safety. She had not expected to enjoy it. She certainly hadn’t expected to enjoy it as much as she currently was. Her hips bucked against his hand as his fingers probed deeper, rubbing against her clit, pushing against her inside.
“More,” she urged, as her body got into the sway of it. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him inexorably closer. “Please.”
“You like this?” he teased.
To her surprise, he tugged her, pulling her off the desk. She stood flat on her bare feet. He nudged her around, leaning her over the desk.
Her body felt cold without his hand delving inside her.
This
, she thought,
would be less enjoyable
.
But she was wrong, again. He entered her slowly, but one hand still snaked around her, searching out and finding her clit as he carefully entered her, inch by inch. As he filled her, her body still felt a delicious stirring. He moaned when he finally buried himself to the hilt, his hips brushing the back of her buttocks. Her breasts were pressed against the cold granite of his desktop, her waist balanced along the edge, blocked only by his wrist as he continued to manipulate her clit. He withdrew almost the whole way, then pressed back in, slowly. She sighed when he filled her, and whimpered, ever so slightly, when he retreated.
His pace was relentlessly patient. He stroked inside her calmly, even as her blood began to race and her body began to heat, wanting more than he was giving her. Her breathing went ragged. She backed up against him as he pumped behind her, constantly resisting the enticing wriggle of her ass as she muttered for him to push more, harder, fill her…
He stopped, only the tip inside her. “Do you like this?” he said, and she could tell he was taunting her…drawing it out.
She slammed back, forcing him inside her with a swift plunge that was almost painful, and they both groaned in response. “I want to feel your cock ramming inside me,” she ordered in a rough purr. “I want you to make me come.”
He seemed shocked by the order. Aroused by it.
She’d succeeded in breaking his control. Suddenly, he was plunging into her, grabbing her waist and pulling her against his cock. She breathed hard, trying to catch up as he slammed home, angling with her, forcing her against the desk. She was on the elusive edge, but there was something that wasn’t working. Something that wasn’t right. She wanted to tell him to stop, to wait, but it was a bit too late.
She could feel it when he came. He let out a low, surprised grunt, and then shuddered against her uncontrollably, collapsing on top her of her, crushing her against his desk.
She frowned. That was exciting.
And, well, a bit disappointing.
He withdrew finally, and when she turned, he was all business, getting dressed. She got dressed, too.
“I can get you all the money you need,” he promised, his voice fervent.
“Thank you.”
He suddenly looked young and hopeful. “When can I see you again?”
“Soon,” she said gently. She kissed him, and he seemed to sway against her. She nudged him away.
When she got back to her car, she flipped open her cell phone, dialing Phillipe’s number.
“Jelena,” he greeted her, his cultured voice smooth as satin. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so…”
“I’ve started to get the money,” she said. “One hundred thousand. I can get more.” She gritted her teeth. “I intend to get more.”
He seemed startled. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I don’t have time—” She bit off the sentence. He didn’t care about her timelines—didn’t care about Nadia’s life. She took a deep breath. “You’re interested in women with power. I’m interested in learning about it. I wanted to know if you might also be interested in giving me some lessons.”
He paused, and she could sense he was intrigued. Men and their egos. He didn’t want to help her, but he couldn’t resist being seen as a master.
“All right,” he said. “Come to my house tonight. And I’ll teach you a few things.”
She hung up. She’d learn fast. She’d save Nadia.
But first, she thought, she was going to take some steps. She had money now.
She dialed another number, and started to set her trap.