He was proving a point.He was using my body against me.This wasn’t about my pleasure.It was about his power.
But God, the pleasure.
He let go and returned to licking me.His tongue worked me mercilessly, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, reading every gasp and whimper and adjusting his technique accordingly.Then his teeth grazed my clit, a sharp edge of pain that made me cry out, and the sensation shot straight through me like lightning.He did it again, scraping gently, and the pain transformed into something else entirely.He slid two fingers back inside me, curling them to hit a spot I didn’t know existed, and the dual sensation made my vision blur.
“You’re close.”His voice was rough, triumphant.“I can feel it.Your cunt is clenching around my fingers, desperate to come.But you won’t.Not until I give you permission.”
“Please.”The word came out broken, a sob.“Please, I need?—”
“What do you need?”
“I need to come.Please.Please let me come.”
“Who owns you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting the words, fighting the truth they carried.
“Who.Owns.You.”Each word punctuated by a thrust of his fingers, a flick of his tongue.
“You do.”It came out as a sob.“You own me.Please?—”
“Then come for me.”
He sucked hard on my clit, his fingers driving deep, and the orgasm crashed through me like a wave breaking against rocks.I shattered.My legs buckled, my vision went white, and the only thing keeping me upright was his hands on my hips and the wall at my back.
It went on forever.Endless pulses of pleasure that wrung sounds from my throat I’d never made before.He worked me through it, gentling his touch as the tremors faded, until I was boneless and gasping and utterly destroyed.
When I finally opened my eyes, he was standing again, his mouth wet with me, his expression coldly satisfied.
“Don’t forget this,” he said.“Don’t forget who gave you this.Don’t forget who you belong to.”
He turned and walked away, leaving me exposed and shaking against the wall, my dress bunched around my waist and my underwear tangled at my knees.
I slid to the floor.
The tears came then, hot and furious.Not from pain.From something worse.From the way my body had betrayed me so completely, responding to a man I hated, begging for release from someone who saw me as nothing but a possession.I could still smell him on my skin, could still feel the ghost of his mouth between my thighs, and I wanted to scrub myself raw until every trace of him was gone.
I’d felt so strong yesterday.So capable.And he’d just proven, beyond any argument, exactly how little that mattered.
I was his.My body was his.And now we both knew it.
Eventually, the tears stopped.I tugged my underwear back into place and smoothed my dress down with shaking hands, then pushed myself to standing.The hallway was empty.I could hear him moving somewhere in the manor, but I couldn’t face him.Not yet.Maybe not ever.
The back stairs led to a part of the house I rarely visited.I climbed them without a destination in mind, just needing to be somewhere he wasn’t.Somewhere I could think about what had just happened without his scent in my nose and the ghost of his touch making me ache in ways I refused to examine.
The second floor was mostly guest rooms, all of them empty and perfect, like a museum no one ever visited.But at the end of the hallway, a door stood slightly ajar, and warm light spilled from inside.
I should have turned around.Should have retreated to my own room and tried to piece together what was left of my dignity.Instead, I pushed the door open.
Alice sat in a worn armchair by the window, a cup of tea cradled in her weathered hands.The room was different from the rest of the manor.Smaller.Warmer.Full of photographs and books and the accumulated evidence of a life actually lived.It smelled like lavender and old paper and warm cookies, so different from the cold marble and leather of the rest of this place.
“Miss Hughes.”Her voice was surprised but not unwelcoming.“Are you lost?”
I must have looked terrible.Face blotchy from crying, hair disheveled, eyes wild.But Alice didn’t comment on any of it.
“May I sit?”
“Of course.”
