Pushing a handful of hair out of her eyes, Lauren tried to control her embarrassment and fury over having given in so easily to this terrible man. Clearing her throat, she finally managed, "Yes... this should be uh... challenging. Uh. Walking. Today." Looking up, she could see nothing but care and concern on Thomas's beautiful face, which instantly put her on guard.
"Shall I help you move past this discomfort, lovely?" Williams chuckled at the look of suspicion on Lauren's face. She knew him so well, already. "Since you won't be running this morning-" pausing as the girl made a choked sound as she tried to sit up, he stroked her cheek tenderly. "I can assist you in not thinking about your sore, tender kitty-" Lauren gave a high-pitched noise when his broad palm cupped her center, and he continued on as if he hadn't heard her, "-I think you'll be quite surprised to see how quickly you can forget."
If Lauren had had more than 3 hours of sleep, or her drunken hormone hangover wasn't confusing her, she might have caught on to Thomas's wording and scooted away. But as it was, his warm hand actually felt rather nice on her desperately sore pussy and his sweet tone of concern was lulling her into a false sense of security. He could see it - see the moment her resistance and suspicious waned - and Number Two almost felt a pang of guilt about manipulating his sweet, just-broken virginal bride.
Almost.
"First..."
Lauren gave another high-pitched yelp when his hand cupping her center was suddenly smoothing cream over her still-swollen lips. The lotion was cool and vaguely comforting as she felt the worst of the soreness and over-sensitivity fade away. Her face flamed as Thomas pulled fresh undies up her legs.
"Better?" Thomas leaned closer to her red face; eyes determined to stare at her lap until his hand moved to her chin to force his bride to look at him. "Better?" he repeated firmly.
"Yes, thank you," Lauren's gaze tried to flutter away like an anxious butterfly but he shook her chin lightly.
Bending in to kiss her lips, he smiled, just on this side of smug. "Very good. Now, for the second part. Why don't you tidy up in the bathroom and then come back out to me?" Thomas phrased it in the form of a question, but the girl had no such illusions, nodding and getting up slowly. Refusing to look back at him, Lauren hobbled her way into the pristine master bath and sat down on the toilet with a sigh of relief. Last night had been much, much harder on the lower half of her body than even losing her virginity to her... that... to Thomas on what she still mentally referred to as the "No Diggity" night in honor of the song that apparently made every one of her morals go flying out the window of his Jaguar. Staring blankly at the greenery outside the paned windows, she edged around their discussion the night before.
Dom/sub. Huh.
Lauren had never heard it put like that, but she was assuming it was part of the wider BDSM world, but what part, she was uncertain. Thomas had waited for her agreement before doing anything with her sexually, which was deeply reassuring, even though the man HAD forced to her marry him. Flushing the toilet and washing her hands, the girl looked at her flushed cheeks, hair flying everywhere. Thomas Williams, the Terrible Number Two of Jaguar Holdings radiated danger, even before she knew what he was. So it shouldn't surprise her that the man was into exotic sex. Her hands slowed under the water; soap forgotten in her hand. If she didn't agree to be a sub, would he go somewhere else for it? Wouldn't that actually be a good thing? Lauren's eyes widened as she felt a sudden flush of fury sweep under her skin like a brush fire.Hell,no!she snarled internally,He's my husband and-Suddenly sitting down on the window seat, she stared out into the elegant little backyard garden. What did that even mean? Did fidelity have any part of a hellish union like this? A marriage she was dragged into under pain of death to a- what did they call these people nowadays? Was Thomas a mobster or was that just a New York thing? Kingpin? No, too old-school. Shadowy organized crime lord? Burying her face in her still-wet hands, Lauren was torn between laughing and crying. Here she was, hiding in her husband's luxurious master bath and trying to figure out what kind of criminal she was married to?
A knock on the door made Lauren shoot upright. "Darling? I'm waiting for you." The composed tone of her scary-ass husband was still meant to convey she'd been hiding quite long enough. With a sigh, she ran her hands through her hair and then opened the door. Satan was standing there, in the form of the handsome Thomas Williams, well-groomed and already dressed in another expensive suit. He looked her up and down with a sardonic smile. "Much better." Taking her hand, he led her over to their huge walk-in closet slash dressing room. When she'd first seen it, Lauren had squee'ed internally. A dressing room! And all those cool dressers and storage bits and elaborate closet space! And, a huge, well-lit mirror in front of a table for her jewelry, makeup, and such. There was pitifully little there, she didn't wear much makeup and her only jewelry aside from her wedding rings were the few, treasured pieces passed down from her mother that she'd managed to hide from Frank.
"Stand right here," Thomas's hands were pulling her robe from her and then her bra, which made his shy bride's hands fly to cover her bare chest. "Ah, ah, ah." he chided, "You cannot hide your lovely body from me." He pushed his chest against her back, feeling the warmth of her bare skin seep through his dress shirt. "And why would you?" he murmured into her ear, enjoying Lauren's corresponding shiver. Pulling her hands away, he spoke lower, a darkly persuasive tone that she couldfeelas well as hear. "Why would you want to hide these beautiful breasts? Hmm?" Holding her wrists together with one hand he stroked the other over her pink nipples, enjoying watching them stiffen. "Gorgeous, darling. A perfect size for holding... and squeezing..." he did both, hearing the little moan escape between her clenched teeth. "Firm enough not to need a bra, and these delightfully sensitive nipples, such a pretty color." Her diabolical spouse blew a warm breath on the aforementioned item and watched her shiver. Pulling back with a sigh, he smothered a grin as her eyes opened, looking mildly indignant that his attentions had ceased. "I have something for you."
Lauren's head was swimming a little between her dark husband toying with her breasts and the potent alchemy of his voice, but she managed, "Oh?" Looking down as he pulled something from a drawer, her brows rose. Thomas was holding a rather beautiful corset. The first one she'd ever worn was under her wedding dress, but she had really liked the sculpted waist it gave her. She had one of a swimmer's build than curves, and it made her feel rather luscious during the final fitting.
Before she remembered why she was wearing it.
"Now, darling. Raise your arms." Thomas was behind her again, close enough to feel his breath on her bare shoulder as he held the garment in front of her, shielding her breasts. Simply because it was covering that part of her from his amused gaze was reason enough to obey him, so she did. "I remembered how beautiful you looked in your corset under that lovely wedding dress," he began conversationally, settling the corset straight and taking the strings in his hands.
Lauren smiled with a little chuckle. "That's just what I was thinking of."
"Oh?" His beautiful cerulean gaze met hers in the mirror.
"Mmm-hmm," she nodded, "it was the first one I've ever worn, and- OH!" Thomas had taken the moment to yank the laces at her waist quite tightly. She could feel his practiced fingers rapidly tightening the laces downward towards her hips, the compression getting more aggressive as he went.
"Did you enjoy how lovely you looked in that white lace corset? Your tiny waist?" His gaze was on her back, but she could see a bit of a smile hovering around his mobile lips.
Lauren's hands were holding the top part of the corset to her breasts. It was a lovely pale green, satin, no itchy lace and wonderfully sleek. The cups were ruffled silk and felt smooth on her skin. "Yes?"
His eyes met hers again in the mirror as he gave another brisk tug, this time moving from the center upwards. "You don't sound certain, little girl."
She flushed, edging from one foot to the other. "How um- how do you know how to lace a corset, anyway? I doubt they had a course in this at Cambridge." He burst out in laughter, those long fingers still moving the laces expertly up her spine.
"Have you been researching me, darling?"
Lauren shrugged one shoulder. "It's on The Corporation website. I looked you up before you called me in that day to..." Remembering suddenly that the whole meeting was a miserable sham, her voice died off.
Thomas tugged silently for a moment, harshly enough for Lauren's hands to fly from her front to hold on to the table for support. She could feel her ribs folding in a bit, like the foldable legs on a card table but he was working so quickly she hadn't had a chance to notice.
"I learned the art of lacing a lady's corset," he murmured, "in New Orleans. In a boutique devoted to the means of shaping the female form. Corsets and waist-trainers, heels and hosiery..." she wheezed as he yanked the laces through the eyes just behind her breasts, and when Lauren could draw a breath, she could see her modest bosom heave in a somewhat buxom fashion, all flushed and pretty and swelling alluringly over the ruffled silk of the corset's cups. "It's quite precise, you see," her strange spouse continued, "one begins at the middle- because shaping the hips is quite different than the curve of the waist, or how the ribs sweep up to the breasts." He finished the lacing, tying off the cords with one last, deliberate jerk that pulled Lauren's grip loose from the table, making her fall back against him again. "Beautiful," he growled, his resonant voice deepening, thickening as his hands followed the curve of her corseted waist, up her torso and stroking over the silk hiding her peaking nipples from him. Very gently, Thomas reached in to adjust her breasts to their best position, swelling alluringly over the confines of steel boning and satin. His hand went to her chin again. "Look at yourself. How beautiful, how arousingly perfect you are." One hand slid down her back and Lauren shivered. "Your posture is magnificent, proud and straight," he made a pleased noise and dropped a kiss on her bare shoulder.
Trying to draw in a deep breath, Lauren spoiled the moment by wheezing. "It's a little..." she gave a hiccup of air, "this is really tight. Can we-"
"No." Thomas refused, still placing kisses on her skin. "You'll get used to it, I assure you. The beauty is worth the discomfort. And the self-discipline will help you."
"For what?" Lauren asked, "How will it help me?" Her dark husband was looking at her reflection in the mirror, a slow visual pass over every curve, every line of her body. Then he looked into her eyes and smiled. Not reassuringly. It was a terrible smile full of all kinds of murky, troubling promises.
