I end up sitting cross-legged a solid seven feet away from Mira, and Sam takes a spot on the floor beside me. The two other cubs make their way over to us. I’m a lot less graceful than Mira and Sam, practically shoving the bottle’s nipple into my cub’s mouth. The creature doesn’t seem to mind, even though the second female handler arches an eyebrow at me and reminds me to be gentle.
“What made you take interest in our zoo?” Sam asks, batting her eyelashes at me.
“My girlfriend,” I respond. “Mira.” I have no problem making it patently clear that Mira belongs to me. Soon enough, her rebellion will fade, and we can have more days like this. First, though, she needs to accept her place at my side.
Patience,I remind myself. I’m showing her the good before demonstrating the punishments she can earn. Fun first; punishment later.
Chapter Nineteen
Dorian
Mira’s in a good mood for the rest of the day. Once we finish up with the cubs, we take a drive through the canyons, and then I bring her to the candle store where we spend an hour making candles. I let Mira choose the scents for my candle as well as hers, because she’s so adorably excited about the project. Finally, we head to one of my favorite Italian restaurants so I can feed her. She’s talkative and wonderfully random with her topics; I soak up every moment of her attention. Occasionally, there’s a flicker of guilt in her eyes when I slip our future into the conversation, but she doesn’t confess.
We get back to the house and go straight to my bedroom after a nice long walk around the city. I close my door and lock it, setting the bag with our candles on the floor. Anticipation thrums in my veins, speeding my heart and sending blood rushing to my cock. I have a slew of ideas of what I’m going to do to Mira tonight, and I literally cannotwaitto get started. She appears a little uncomfortable being alone with me, but not afraid.
Not yet.
I slowly begin removing the cufflinks from my button-up, unscrewing them and leaving them on my nightstand. Mira swallows, idling in the middle of my room, alternating between looking at herphone and glancing at me. She knows something’s coming; I’m sure she can feel the tension in my energy, or whatever it is her sixth sense perceives. She just doesn’t knowwhat’scoming, or whatIalready know.
I toe off my shoes and roll up my sleeves, turning to gaze at her. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Her grip on her phone tightens, so much so her knuckles turn white. She gives me a jaded, startled glance, and I watch her delicate throat work with a swallow. My gaze falls to her bare neck. I want to get her a collar—not the traditional leather one used during scenes or with some dom/sub couples, but something that’s sparkly and pretty, something that only we’ll know the meaning of. A symbol of both my ownership and my worship. She’s not going to be my pet, sub, or slave, though she will submit to me in the bedroom. Mira will be myqueen.
Before the night’s out, I amgoingto own her. We’ll agree on the fact that she belongs to me, even if we disagree about everything else.
“No,” Mira says with surprising steadiness, though her breaths quicken. I allow myself a few moments of watching the swift rise and fall of her chest, remembering the way her gorgeous breasts looked when her breathing was laborious last night. The way her nipples tightened, the way she submitted to me so beautifully.
“Let me rephrase,” I say, taking a step forward. “Is there something youshouldtell me?”
She pauses for a long time, gazing at me. Contemplating her answer. I see it the moment she realizes just what I know. She doesn’t say anything; instead, she picks up her backpack, sits down on the floor, and begins rifling through it. Her hands sift through her belongings, neatly stacking two textbooks beside her, two notebooks next to the textbooks, and a leather pencil pouch on the notebooks. Then,she turns her backpack upside down, dumping out the contents and searching through the stray pencils and pens that fall out.
I know what she’s looking for; the bug I carefully placed in her backpack the first chance I got. One I didn’t have use for before today. I let her search, enjoying the thought of her anticipation and worry building as I retreat into the closet. I head over to the chest of drawers lying along the back wall and squat down to the lowest drawer. I open it, taking a moment to survey my options.
Most of the toys I keep here have gone unused. I’ve known for some time that my desire to dominate women came in a much different form than the kinky people around me; my acquaintances and friends dabble in power-play, but those dynamics often return to delivering pain. Connor’s sadism is legendary, his need to cause pain to find pleasure is absolute. Seamus is more malleable, his brand of domination changes from girl to girl, but it also often includes pain. Hurting my partners doesn’t interest me; controlling their pleasure is far more titillating.
And yet, I’ve never had the desire to do to someone what I want to do to Mira. I’m not just interested in setting a number of times I want her to come and achieving it; I found last night that I’m fascinated by watching her orgasm. It’s the most arousing, exciting thing I can imagine, and I want to watch it over and over again. I want to be the cause of her coming so many times she’s spent and exhausted; I want to hear her screams turn into hoarse, barely-there cries. I want her to be so tired in the morning, she can barely walk. That’s how I want,needto dominate and control her.
Some of the toys in front of me are non-starters; things I tried once and decided I had no interest in. Things that were more painful than pleasurable. I don’tmindexerting control through pain, it can be entertaining on occasion, but it’s not what I reallycrave.My hands ghost over several whips, a few of which were Christmas presents fromConnor and Seamus, along with the intense nipple clamps. I gaze at a dusty selection of toys, and find myself ignoring the ones I’ve used before. I don’t want to recreate past scenes with Mira, I want to make new ones. I settle on a slim, manageable dildo, two different types of vibrators, a crop, and a blindfold. I eye the selection of sensory play oils but ultimately decide against them. I can have fun with them another time, but they might be a bit much for Mira her first real go around with toys.
I leave my selected props on top of the drawer, only taking the blindfold with me back into the bedroom. Mira sits in the same spot where I left her, holding up a small, porous metal device that’s not even as big as a fingernail.
She glances up at me, lips thinning. I’m sure she’s displeased with the invasion of her privacy, but truthfully, the best way to keep her safe is to bug her. If she’d said the wrong thing to someone, I would know before my roommates, hide the evidence, and mitigate the damage before it could blow up into a scandal.
She drops the bug on the floor, lifts up her thickest textbook, and brings it smashing down on the device. I feel my lips curve with amusement at her nonverbalfuck you.
“You were a very bad girl,” I tell her, meaning every word. “Asking your guidance counselor to transfer you?”
Shewasa bad girl. I can’t fully blame her, but I desperately wish she would’ve talked tomerather than looking for a mid-year transfer to another school. Not only would that be a lacking method of solving her problems, it could also throw her education and career off track, potentially setting her back. She doesn’t deserve to be set back; she deserves to fly into the atmosphere.
We’re going to establish some very direct, very open communication tonight. Work on the fundamental building block that every relationship needs to have.
“What other choice did I have?” she asks quietly, looking down at the textbook.
“Talking to me,” I reply. “Expressing your fears. Workingwithme rather than against me. You won’t win against me, Mira. Not in the world we live in. You could win a great deal by teaming up with me, by choosing to be onourside.”
“So today was a trick?” she asks, sounding saddened. Forlorn in a way that grates at me. “The zoo, the candles, the nice dinner… all of it was to lure me into a false sense of safety?”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. I set up the day-date before I tapped into the audio of your meeting with your guidance counselor. I went through with the date because I wanted to show you the bright side of being with me. The fun we can have together, the enjoyment we can find with each other. I decided to allow my anger to cool down while reveling in my day with you, so I could be level-headed for your punishment.”
