"You'll see."
A sudden burst of courage made her spine stiffen. "You said it was my choice," Lauren managed, "you said I had the power to say yes or no."
Thomas was distracted by the swell of her breasts again, calloused fingers stroking over the skin. "It is your choice," he agreed finally, and then his eyes met hers again and the girl's knees nearly buckled. They were on fire- blazing with his need to fuck her, control her, own her. "And you will agree."
A few moments later, he brought out a silky dress for her- a simple wrap style that he solicitously helped Lauren step into and then slowly, deliberately drew the zipper up her spine, his long fingers straightening the fabric around her waist, smoothing it over her hips. Finally stepping back from her his heated gaze went over her, then Thomas nodded his head. "Lovely. Why don't you finish up and meet me downstairs? You'll be coming with me today." He watched her eyes widen with alarm and chuckled lightly. "Only a business lunch, darling. The wives are joining us for some photographs for the LSO charity. He watched Lauren's face fall. "Surely," he purred, "you're still grateful for your scholarship? You want to help other deserving students?"
Lauren rubbed her forehead, "Of course I do. It's just... it's different now."
"Now that you're the wife of a monster?" Williams didn't look angry, but his voice was frigid. Smiling humorlessly, he checked his watch. "You have thirty minutes to get ready."
Trying to get another breath and failing against the corset's iron grip, his bride managed to call, "Wait!" As he turned toward her again, Lauren nearly lost her nerve. "How long do I have to wear this?"
Stepping back, he brushed his lips over hers. "Until I take it off you."
Chapter 11 – Everything But Her Freedom, Of Course
In which Lauren finds that saying "yes" to her terrifying new husband is never as simple as it might seem. There's always a price to pay.
She had to admit, Lauren thought grimly, the fiend she'd been forced to marry was quite accurate in his promise to make her forget how sore and tender her undercarriage was. Because the iron grip of the corset currently compressing all her internal organs was doing a fine job of capturing all her attention. Thomas hadn't spoken to her once, other than to subtly give her more assistance in and out of his low-slung sports car and then whispering how lovely and elegant she looked, pointedly running his hand down the laces under her dress as he ushered her into Jerwood Hall, where a fundraising luncheon would also act as a photo session forThe Daily Mail. To Lauren's horror, she recognized the quartet on the stage as hers- well, the other three that made up the original quartet with her, along with a new cello player. Thomas, who had his hand on the small of her back, felt his wife stumble slightly. His gaze followed hers to the musicians and his hand squeezed her waist. Leaning in, he murmured, "They had to replace you, of course. While I am quite happy and proud to see you perform with the full orchestra, you no longer have time for these little engagements." The look of fury she gave him turned her eyes a chilly purple-grey. It was not a pleasant color or a pleasant expression.
Lauren's heart was hammering in its constrictive cage of steel boning and satin, and she formed a ghastly attempt at a smile on her face as the two clueless members of the quarter raised their bows to her in greeting as Macie looked away, expression stony. Waving back weakly, she numbly followed her monstrous spouse's guiding hand to their table.Act normally, don't show it, don't showanything!she repeated the furious mantra over and over, trying to recover her shallow breath before she passed out. There was a part to be played, after all. A somewhat hungover-looking Arabella and her vile husband were seated at their table, along with the handsome Number Three and his sweet Clara.
"Ah, our dear Lauren." Number One's voice was fond and avuncular, and it was all the girl could do to keep from launching across the table at him. Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek until she could taste the soothing coppery sensation of her little wound. She learned the habit when her mother died and Frank would be drunkenly crashing around their expensive brownstone in Manhattan, railing against the injustice of fate leaving him with a daughter instead of a wife. "How lovely to see you here, instead of laboring as the entertainment today."
The girl could feel Thomas's hand tighten on the rigid satin and steel compressing her waist, his long fingers still leaving their warning squeeze. "I loved playing with the quartet, Mr. Kingston-"
"Ben, dear. Do call me Ben, we're family now." Gaze darting between a pale and silent Arabella and the insectile stare of her husband, Lauren forced another facsimile of a smile.
"But I know working on the fundraising side with Arabella will be so..." Lauren almost choked on the words, and she could feel her husband's long fingers tighten again. "Will be so meaningful."
The black, beetle-like leer of The Corporation's president made her want to shudder, but the girl kept her set, bland smile until his sinister attention turned elsewhere. "Very good, little girl." Lauren shuddered involuntarily as Williams's rich, sonorous tone stroked along her sensitive ear. "There's my happy, content bride." Looking down to see her knuckles turn white as she gripped her linen napkin, he growled low in his throat. "No naughtiness, darling. I can feel you wanting to make a scene. But you know better, don't you?"
At that moment, his bride was trying to catch her breath again. Every time she started getting angry and breathing more heavily, the implacable strength of the corset would curtail anything but the lightest of gasps. When a photographer from theFail- as her friends here called it - came over, Lauren angled herself as nudged by Thomas to lean against him gracefully and smile as if she was the happiest newlywed in the world. Because if the reporter didn't believe it, her miserable father could die. Or maybe her vile husband would just cut to the chase and take her out instead. So Lauren pictured herself standing in the corner, watching the table laugh and exchange clever quips for the benefit of the reporter while dining on pheasant and salmon. Like it was someone else. Like it wasn't happening to her at all.
Finally sent home with Chuck as Williams returned to The Corporation's offices to finish the day, Lauren tore out of the car the moment it stopped, hustling up the stairs and jamming her keys in the lock and disarming the security system. In a moment she was in the ground floor bathroom and wiggling like a demented eel, tearing off the pretty dress given to her by her new husband and clever fingers frantically searching for the bottom or top of the laces on the corset, wanting to get the fucking thingoff."Goddamnit!" she hissed, "How the hell do I get- fuck!!" The symbolism of trying to tear free from her beautiful restraints couldn't be more obvious, and Lauren knew it. But her entire focus shrank to tearing this thing from her body- but when her fingertips finally reached the end of the lacings, she felt something strange, metallic. Frowning, she twisted, angling her body to look behind her.
"Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?" Lauren screamed, or tried to, with the limited amount of breath offered to her. There was the tiniest of padlocks at the top of the corset. At the bottom, and a third in the middle, so even if she tried to cut the laces loose, she was not getting free from this infernal contraption.
The sun was angling over the tops of the slate roofs around the house when the weary girl heard the door open and close, calm, measured footsteps coming through the entryway and into the kitchen. Lauren could hear a soft shuffling that told her Thomas was looking through the mail that she would pick up from the floor under the mail slot and then leave on the little mahogany table near the door where he kept his keys. Her full lips twisted bitterly. He had her trained like a faithful dog in only a matter of days. Though, today she was more like a show poodle, standing adorably on her hind legs and "arfing" on cue.
"Darling?" Despite herself, the girl shuddered. That Voice... She heard the footsteps move into the hallway, pausing between the great room and the wide stairway. "Where are you, little girl? Don't you know it's naughty to hide from your Sir?" Still, Lauren folded her arms over the monstrous device that had confined her all day, angrily refusing to answer him. To her alarm, she could feel her thighs press together as his footsteps paused, then turned in the direction of the bathroom where she was still sprawled on the pristine white tile floor. Breathing growing even lighter, the girl was horrified to feel her center heat up. It sounded like he was... hunting her? Thomas was silent now, the only sound in the quiet house the light 'click' of his A Diciannoveventitre loafers. Lauren suddenly wanted to get up - to run or hide or do something - but it was too late and the door opened, blinding her momentarily as the setting sun glanced off the bathroom mirror.
"There you are."
Shivering in spite of herself, Lauren could feel the cool tones of disappointment in her fearsome husband's beautiful voice. Thomas stood over her, hands plunged into his pockets as he examined her. "And why are you sprawled on the floor of the bathroom, little one?" When she refused to answer, he gave a sigh and elegantly hitched his trousers as he squatted closer, examining her. "You've been such a good girl," he murmured, disapproval clear. "And now I find my sweet bride sulking on the floor like a child?"
Taking a deep breath that seemed to cut off mid-inhalation, Lauren gritted her teeth. "You locked me into this infernal device."
"Yes," Thomas agreed, eyeing the torn dress resting on the sink. "And?"
Lauren was so enraged that she coughed as she tried to gather the breath to shriek at him. Thomas propped his chin on one hand, elbow resting on his knee as he waited for her. There was so much she wanted to spit at him, venomous, hateful, and cruel. The nerve of this fucking dick, and- and she wanted to beg him to put himself inside her again as he cut this miserable contraption away from her body, let her draw a full breath and come screaming on his cock, and- okay, seriously, what the fuck was wrong with her? Also, she had never said 'fuck' so many times within one 24-hour period.
"Hmmm..." Thomas settled himself comfortably on the floor next to her the warmth of his skin suddenly feeling comforting against her chilled skin, because really, this tile was fucking freezing, and there was another 'fuck.' "Let me extrapolate from the poignant scene I find before me." He enjoyed the look of hate his bride gave him from her watery, bloodshot eyes. "You attempted to be a bad girl and remove your corset without my permission." Lauren breathed heavily, coughed at the effort and looked away. "Then," he continued, "you realized the discipline garment you are wearing cannot be removed without taking out the padlocks first?" He cocked his head at her inquiringly, as if waiting for her confession. Instead, he enjoyed her slitted-eyed glare. "Then," Thomas continued casually, one finger beginning to idly stroke along the sumptuous swell of her breasts, heaving so delightfully over the satin confines of her corset, "being the stubborn creature that you are, you still fought against the corset until you ran out of breath, and ended up here on the floor of our bathroom?" Lauren made an abbreviated noise of fury and tried to pull away from his wandering hand, only to be held in place by the other. "Such a face," he scolded indulgently, enjoying how his bride was simply seething with helpless rage.
She was agoodgirl - she'dalwaysbeen a good girl - but Lauren was so angry! At herself, at him, at the whole bizarre, twisted mess that landed her here on the elegantly tiled floor of Thomas's ground floor bathroom. And she wanted to kill someone- but the girl's furiously rotating thoughts made it difficult to specify whom. "I hate this!" she hissed; common sense overridden by her ferocity. "I hateyou! I don't deserve-"
Within a second or two, she was off the floor and straddling her formidable spouse. "You will not speak to me in such a way, little girl." Williams's tone could have been chiseled from ice, and Lauren shivered accordingly. "I decide what you deserve. I decide how you will handle these challenges." His grip tightened unconsciously, and the girl gritted her teeth. She wouldn't show a thing to this man! "I have made every effort to give you as much choice as I can within the confines of..." for a moment, the unflappable exterior of Thomas faltered, then his mouth tightened again. "...of who and what we are. But youbelongto me." He watched her mouth open, hateful words ready to spill from those full lips and shook her lightly. "You want to be good, sweetness, I can feel it. You know that life with me will be so much more pleasant as a good girl, don't you?" The last query was nearly a whisper as Thomas leaned into her, mouth moving against her reddened cheeks. His hands were moving now, sliding soothingly up and down her bare arms, tickling along the top of the monstrous satin device and settling her thighs more comfortably over his lap. "Why be angry and rail against the little things, when you know..." here, his agile tongue slipped out, tracing a delicate line down her throat and circling her collarbones. "...youknowhow good I can make you feel? Hmmm?" Lauren's lashes were fluttering frantically, trying to keep her eyes open against the feel of his hot mouth on her skin. "Darling," he purred against her neck, enjoying the way his new wife's hips would twist against his groin, "you are such an intelligent girl. Such a strong girl- you've had to be. This is not the hardest thing you've had to do."
