“So, if I tell you to stop, will you?”
“Mmmm hmmm. Now hold still.” I freeze and he blots my puckered lips with a tissue.
“What if I don’t want to do the things you tell me to do?” I ask.
“That’s your prerogative. But if I feel you’re not adequately performing your duties as my sweet and obedient little cumslut, then I may have to replace you with someone who will.”
“Ouch.” He’s so mean sometimes. Kind of hurts my feelings. “I thought I was special.”
“You are special,so special, but part of what makes you special is your willingness to do what I tell you. And if you start fighting me about every little thing…” He sighs. “You can see where I’m going with this.”
“What if I walk out on you?”
“That would make me very disappointed, but what can I do? Chain you to my bed posts?”
I wonder if he might. “Would you do that?”
He laughs, throaty and warm. “Do you really think I would pursue you like some deranged stalker, Adam? Are my prospects for other lovers that dire?”
“No,” I say. The idea of leaving doesn’t appeal to me either. He’s hot and funny and he gets me. He also gets me off like nothing else. I really wish he’d devirginize my ass already. What is the hold-up anyway?
“But as long as you’re here,” Cassius says, looking at me intently, “you belong to me as much as my favorite chair or one of my beautiful chandeliers.”
“Like an object?”
“Exactly. A beautiful object, but one with great utility too. There…” He turns me toward the mirror, the big one that belonged to his mother, framed with an intricate gold-leaf pattern. Lavish and expensive, it’s my favorite of her many fine things. “What do you think of the color?” he asks.
“It’s bright.” Red like my pumps, which are still on my feet because Cassius didn’t say I could take them off yet. “I sort of look like Barbie, if Barbie had a dick and ripped abs.”
“Yes,” he nods, satisfied with the comparison. “The name of it is Cherry Bomb. It does sort of look like a cherry exploded on your mouth.”
Puffy and sensual, my lips are much more dramatic with lipstick on them. I’ve never really wanted to be a woman, but I’d make a pretty hot one. Cassius tilts his head, studying me the way Elliot sometimes would when he was taking my picture, the way photographers and art directors look at me when deciding how they’ll pose me next. I like Cassius’s attention the most—it’s a drug I can’t get enough of.
“Why’d you want me to wear lipstick?” I ask, making my lips extra pouty. Fuckable, as Cassius would say.
“I think you know why,” he says with that giddy smile he gets when he’s feeling horny, which is often. He points to the floor, and I sink to my knees on the plushpowderwhite carpet like I used to kneel in the pews during my father’s Sunday sermon. I open my mouth to receive Cassius’s communion and pray he’ll allow me to come.
* * *
It’s notthat I don’tlikeCassius’s guest room. I mean, it’sfine.It’s spotlessly clean just like every other room in his house and decorated in soothing shades of blue, but it’s not as nice as Cassius’s bedroom, and I have a hard time falling asleep when I’m all alone. Probably because I’m used to having my brother nearby, and even after he finally moved out, it wasn’t long before I was sleeping on his couch and could hear him snoring from his bedroom.
“Cassius?” I whisper to him late one night. He wears a sleep mask that makes him look like a real prima donna, but I don’t tell him that.
“Is that the sound of my cock attendant disrupting my beauty rest?” he asks in a low, sexy timbre.
“I can’t sleep,” I say and climb into bed with him. There’s plenty of room for me here and I hardly move during the night anyway. He lifts his face mask and stares at me with a mixture of annoyance and humor.
“Making yourself comfortable, I see.”
“My room is too quiet.”
“Listen to some music.”
“I’m lonely in there. Can’t I sleep in here with you?”
He groans and replaces his mask. “Fine.”
I shift under the blankets until I’m cozy, but it’s strange being so near to him without touching, so I scoot backward until my ass brushes against his hip.
