Surely it can’t be real, can it?
Knowing Dameon, it probably is. It’s also larger than anything I’ve ever dared to try before. Covering it with a generous coating of lube, I tentatively insert the tip.
Oh God, it’s not going to fit.
I continue to push, biting my lower lip at the sensation of being spread wide open. Sweat beads on my forehead and I pant heavily with each thrust, gradually easing it deeper. After what feels like an eternity and a lot offucksescaping my lips, it’s all the way in, snug to the hilt. Bending over I catch sight of the sparkling red ruby nestled between my cheeks in the mirror. It’s mesmerizing, but I feel so full I could burst. The butterfly clit stimulator is a dream to put on after that. The final item is the collection of straps masquerading as a dress. I search for shoes in the box, but find none; evidently, he intends for me to go barefoot.
It takes a while but I eventually decipher how to put on the dress—it would have been helpful if it came with instructions. A long band runs down my torso, wrapping around my neck like a choker and cinching at my hips. Four straps extend from the central band, barely covering any skin. One crosses over my chest, concealing the nipple clamps while leaving the curve of my breasts exposed at the top and bottom. Two straps encircle my abdomen, while the last one barely covers my crotch. The tiniest shift will expose my pussy and ass to the world. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I can’t help but burst into laughter. It’s my first genuine laugh in over a week, and it feels good.
The outfit is utterly absurd. I’m aware of his penchant for showing me off—he’s a voyeur through and through—but I can only hope we’re headed somewhere where this type of attire is appropriate. I doubt he’d deliberately subject me to humiliation; he wouldn’t be that cruel. But then again, I’ve been wrong before. My amusement quickly fades, replaced by a swarm of angry butterflies in my stomach. The thought of potentially being humiliated in front of high society makes my palms sweat.
My phone lights up on the bed, its glow catching my attention in the mirror’s reflection. It wouldn’t shock me if it’s the master himself, issuing more commands. I audibly groan when I see the sender’s name.
Mark
This is your final warning, Hailee. Send me what I want, what YOU promised. Or I’ll destroy your life. Last chance.
Fuck!
How many times do I have to tell him no? He can try to intimidate me, he can even involve my mother, but it won’t sway me. I gave him what he wanted, I kept my word, and I followed through. I won’t do it again. It was wrong from the start, and I feel terrible about it.
Me
I already told you no. I gave you what you wanted, and you used it to your full advantage. I’m not sending you anything else. Stop texting me. Our deal is done.
I can’t make myself any clearer. Should I be worried about his threat? Yes. Should I take it seriously? Absolutely. Mark didn’t become the ruthless businessman he is without following through on threats. But right now, I just can’t find it in me to care. Beth has a new heart; he can’t take that away from us. And I’ve earned a significant amount of money from this contract. I have more than enough to support us for a very long time. How could he possibly ruin me?
“Hailee, you ready?” Dameon’s booming voice carries upstairs.Damn. I glance at the clock: it’s already five past seven. I completely lost track of time. I was supposed to be on my knees waiting for him.
Shit.
It’s my first slip-up since I’ve been the perfect little sub for him. He didn’t include a purse for me, so I plug my phone into the charger and rush downstairs, my bare feet thudding against the carpet.
He’s waiting near the elevator, hands in pockets, legs spread wide. When he sees me in the outfit he sent, his eyes ignite, his face transforming into something resembling a wild animal.
“I’m so sorry, master. It won’t happen again,” I apologize, stumbling over my own feet in my haste to reach him. His eyes widen momentarily as he reaches out to steady me, and for a fleeting moment, I catch a glimpse of my old Dameon. But just as quickly the moment passes, his arms dropping back to his sides, and the spark fades.
I sink to my knees before him, bowing my head. “I accept whatever punishment you see fit.”
“You’ll receive a punishment whether you accept it or not,” he chuckles darkly. “Stand.”
I rise to my feet, readjusting the straps of the dress that shifted during my near-face-plant. Once I’m finished, he moves around me, his gaze assessing me as if I were a rare piece of art. Squatting in front of me, he retrieves a box that I hadn’t noticed in the commotion. Flipping it open, he takes out a pair of patent black, six-inch Louboutin stilettos.
“Raise your foot.” I lift one foot as he slips the stiletto on, then repeats the process with the other. They’re higher than what I’m used to, but I think I can manage. I’ll probably be on my knees most of the night anyway.
“Present yourself.”
I spin around, straightening my legs, and bend over slightly. Honestly, I don’t need to bend over at all; the black band barely covers my ass, and from his position on the floor, he can clearly see the sparkly butt plug. He taps it twice before standing up, and I grit back a moan at how full I feel. He intertwines his fingers with mine, and a pang shoots through my chest, pushing through my walls, reminding me of how much I’ve missed him. How much I’ve missed the feel of his hand in mine.
“Let’s go.” With a simple command, he leads the way, pulling me into the unknown.
Chapter twenty-nine
Hailee
Dameongraciouslyopensthecar door, shielding me from the prying eyes of his driver. Stepping out into a dimly lit alley, we approach what appears to be a discreet back entrance to a venue. The door swings open, revealing a burly security guard who nods in recognition at Dameon before allowing us entry. His blank gaze passes over me; I might as well be invisible.
Dameon guides me through a labyrinth hallway and into a bustling kitchen, where the culinary staff move with efficiency. No one spares me a glance or acknowledges my existence. I’m little more than a shadow passing through their world. Given my outfit, I’m surprised I’m not garnering at least a few curious looks.
