Chapter 21
The First Taste
Jenna
As promised, Ian takes me to my flat and lets me pack up my most important things the next day.
It’s not much I need. Just a few books, my sheet music, and some clothes that fit his new dress code—which I can’t decide whether I love or hate.
I already have plenty of cute pink and white dresses and blouses, but playing into Ian’s innocent image of me feels more than a little wrong—in so many ways.
“Can I use my laptop?” I ask, lifting it from the coffee table. I shouldn’t have to ask, but after he confiscated my phone, it feels like the only thing that makes sense. Part of me balks at my compliance, but another part finds relief in the clarity of his control.
“You may bring it, but I’ll hold on to it for a while. Just until I know you’re not planning something reckless out of desperation. You’ll have your phone back as well eventually. Until then, if you need to call someone, it will be under my supervision.”
Gulping, I simply nod. I’m not sure why, but I don’t have much fight in me today.
I barely even feel the urge to resist. Ian has been patient and caring all morning, making me breakfast and helping me write the email to my boss—quitting and saying I’m unwell at the same time, like he suggested—and I’m so weary and rattled that I just want to lean into his stability.
I shouldn’t want his comfort after everything he has done, but I can’t help gravitating toward him.
Screaming in his arms last night was intimate in a way I could have never imagined, and letting him comfort me afterward and spending all night tightly wrapped in his arms has made me rely on him in a way that shouldn’t be possible.
It’s not exactly trust I’m feeling, because I still fear him, but I also know that he can provide the comfort I’ve been starving for all my life.
Once I’ve finished packing, Ian takes me along for grocery shopping.
I’m surprised he doesn’t have someone to do something as menial as going to the supermarket for him.
But what surprises me more is that he lets me be out in public after what he’s done.
But then again, like he said, he’s not keeping me against my will.
He hasn’t even done anything illegal—at least not this time.
It’s strange to walk there at his side by the cart, answering questions about what kinds of food I like, listening to expectations and rules. He is very practical, the tenderness of last night gone. But his cold facade also doesn’t seem as acute as I used to think.
“I don’t want you to leave the grounds without my explicit permission.
” He lifts a pineapple to his nose and inhales, then tries two others before putting one in the cart.
“No going upstairs, unless you’re willing to risk Killian taking his liberties with you.
And no drinking. I need you sharp and focused every day.
” He holds up a bunch of bananas. “Do you like bananas?”
“Sure,” I say, my gaze flickering up and down as I stand to the side, not really sure what I’m supposed to do.
He puts them in the cart and moves on to the nuts section.
“No unhealthy snacking. Candy, crisps, and other unhealthy food only belong on the weekends.” He takes several different types of nuts from the shelves and tosses them in the cart, then points at the section with crackers and rice cakes.
“Go grab something you like. Only whole grain.”
I feel like a little girl as I hurry off to do as told—as if Ian is my uncle or a good friend of my parents.
Not a twenty-one-year-old woman who’s been taking care of herself for years.
Part of me likes it. It was never by choice that I became independent too early, and on a certain level, it feels good to have rules and boundaries instead of having to figure out everything on my own.
My mom never cared enough to set boundaries about what types of food I could eat or where I could go.
But feeling like this with Ian is also beyond wrong. I cringe a little as I scurry back and obediently put the whole grain crackers I’ve picked in the cart, all the while thinking about the orgasm he gave me yesterday and the way he held me as I fell asleep in his bed.
The same ambivalent emotions continue when we get back to his house and he spends an hour drilling me at the piano.
Then he sits me down at the kitchen table and serves me lunch, telling me in a stern tone to eat up.
Once I’ve finished, he cleans up and says, “Go practice for another hour. You’d better have fewer mistakes when I come check on you. ”
I swallow hard. What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Nervousness courses through me while I practice in the music room. But there’s also a twinge of anticipation.
He’s strict as ever when he returns an hour later as promised. He comes to stand beside me, crossing his arms over his chest, authority rolling off him in thick waves. “Let’s hear it,” he says.
I play the pages we’ve been working on. It goes better than before lunch. I still make mistakes, but they’re only small ones that non-musical people wouldn’t even notice. But Ian hears everything.
“Twenty-two mistakes,” he declares once I lift my hands from the keys.
“Oh.” I glance to the side, taken aback by his precision. I knew he’d notice, but I had no idea he was counting. “I’m sorry.”
Lowering his chin, he levels me with a stern gaze. “You may decide how you want to be disciplined. My cock or twenty strikes with a cane.”
“Your co—” I stop myself from parroting that word with stunned surprise. Is he going to make me choose between rape and pain?
I close my eyes and make a mental perusal of my body.
No, it wouldn’t be rape. Heat pulses through my veins at the mere thought of feeling him inside me.
But that doesn’t mean I want him. I shouldn’t.
I open my eyes again, and I can’t deny the desire I feel at the sight of his stern expression.
He’s watching me like I’m an errant child, and I feel every bit the young girl about to be punished by her teacher.
Or guardian. Because I think that’s what he has become. His responsibility, he said.
It’s so, so wrong.
“What will it be?” he presses with an edge of impatience.
“Your… I don’t know.”
He lowers his voice to a rumbling warning. “What will it be? My cock or the cane?”
Oh God. I scramble through the confused mess of my brain. I don’t want to take the cane. Six strikes yesterday in the office were more than enough. I’m still fragile from the emotional upheaval and everything that happened. I think I’ll break down if I have to take more pain like that.
I squeeze my eyes shut and push a hard gust of air through rounded lips. “Your cock.”
“Very well. Get up and take off your panties.”
I rise and pause, thinking he’ll stop this madness any moment.
But he just keeps watching in all seriousness as I reach under my skirt.
I train my gaze on the piano keys and push down my panties, tensing at the feeling of moisture on the fabric as I slide them down my legs.
Then I hug my arms around my waist and wait for the next step.
“Hands behind your back like a good girl,” he instructs and steps behind me. “Squared shoulders.” He pulls my shoulders back, and a surge of heat rolls through me even as I want to combust from shame as I’m forced to stand up straight and wait for his discipline—his cock—like a good, obedient girl.
“Now turn around,” he says, and I slowly turn to face him.
“I’m not going to spoil your innocence just yet.
” He reaches up under my skirt and finds my clit.
I release a shuddery moan. Even after he made me come yesterday, it still feels like I haven’t been touched for years, and the sensation has a whirl of heat rushing to my core.
He slides his finger down and just inside my opening.
“You won’t get anything in here until I decide it’s time to take your secondhand virginity. ”
I gasp. I want to protest. Not just because of his outrageous words, but also because I’m desperate for him to push his finger deeper—to replace it with something else.
But I hold back my words as shame keeps twisting, warring with the pleasure one moment only to merge with it and drive it higher the next.
He pulls his finger out and lifts it to my mouth. “Since your anal virginity is Killian’s to claim, I’ll have to make do with your mouth.”
I pant hard as he pushes his finger past my lips, smearing my own wetness across them.
I want to bite down and refuse him entrance, but my body is no longer mine.
My lips part to let him in. There’s nothing I can do as he pushes his finger across my tongue, feeding me the taste of my own desire.
I whimper. Repeatedly. Still, I just stare at him, locked in place by the spell he has woven around me.
Slowly, he pulls his finger out. “I’m sorry the first time in your mouth won’t be pleasant.”
“What do you mean?” I ask in a thin voice.
He doesn’t answer, simply pressing down on my shoulders to get me on my knees.
“This is not for your pleasure. It’s to discipline you.”
I watch him open his belt and see the big bulge straining behind his pants. He’s already hard. And he’s huge.
“I’m not sure I want this,” I whisper when he pushes his pants down, leaving just the thin material of his boxers. It’s too much. Too fast. Too wrong. And I’m so damn scared.
“No?” He leans down and grabs my chin. “Do you want the cane instead?”
I shake my head.
“Then be a good, obedient girl and open your mouth.”
I slowly part my lips and open, my eyes darting all over, trying not to look at him and failing miserably.