Chapter Three
Violet
At nine a.m. the next morning, she stepped onto her porch, dressed to kill and in a similar mood. She’d spent the evening reading an email from Elias, outlining the details of the deal Boudreaux had wrangled out of her bosses.
To say she was unhappy about it was an understatement—it was lucrative for them, for him, and for her if she cared about the hefty percentage of the fee allocated to her.
All she needed to do was tolerate the fucker living with her for a goddamn month as her full-time submissive. Honestly, the money wasn’t of interest despite how well it would pad out her retirement fund; if not for her pride, she would have told Eli where to stick his deal.
What she wouldn’t tolerate was Boudreaux thinking she was running scared.
He didn’t have that much power over her, not anymore.
Sleep had mainly evaded her through the course of the night, adding to her discourteous mood. The restless hours weren’t wasted, however—she’d spent them concocting a scene that would take her ex down several lofty pegs and make him think twice about continuing with this farce.
By the time she was done with him, he’d never want to ejaculate again.
Pulling the long red overcoat tighter around her, she cinched the belt around her waist and gave Boudreaux a disinterested glance. “At least you’re on time. I expect my subs to walk three feet behind me, head bowed, hands clasped at the base of your spine. Think you can manage that?”
“Anything you ask, I will do, my queen.”
“Less of that shit,” she snapped, unwilling to be fooled by his charm.
Sidestepping around him, she descended the porch steps and set a leisurely pace along the gravel path toward the Dungeon.
“I know your game, Boudreaux. Maybe you’ve wormed your way in with Evander and Elias, but then I’d expect nothing less.
It’s what you do, wherever you go. I refuse to be your prize here, no matter how much money you throw at the people around me. ”
“If this is a game, beignet, it is for keeps.”
She almost snorted. “Lost your chance for keeps, Boudreaux, when you chose the allure of submissives who could satisfy you more than I could. You might think you’ve got me where you want me, but the reality is, I’m in the seat of power now.
It’s my mercy you’ll abide by, my heart that’s locked in the vault.
If you don’t like it, I’m sure Frank will scurry home from his vacation to drive your wounded ego back to Louisiana. ”
The crunch of boots on gravel behind her indicated he was sticking with her so far. “We’re not at the end of our game, Violet. This is only the beginning. Believing you’ve already won is a dangerous victory.”
“What do I care? All you’ve bought is my time, Boudreaux.
Not my body, not my heart, and by the time I’m through with you, I’ll reclaim the piece of my soul I foolishly surrendered to you.
” Violet didn’t break her stride as she turned onto the main path, nodding in greeting to a couple of guests presumably going to the restaurant for breakfast. “Hell, after we’re finished this morning, I’ll own yours—what little of it is left after you sold it to the devil. ”
“Ask and it’s yours.”
“I prefer to take it.”
He had the gall to laugh. “Painfully, I presume? Dragging it from my exhausted body inch by agonizing inch?” He muttered something in bastardized French under his breath.
“I’m not afraid to submit, Mistress, nor am I too proud.
My journey here began with you, and I’m not returning home without you.
Let me know if you need me to continue to repeat that. ”
She stopped dead, whirling to face him with an eyebrow lifted. “Was that attitude?”
“Attitude? Moi?” There he was, his true self gleaming in his eyes, barely restrained.
Slapping him wouldn’t accomplish anything, she reminded herself. A handprint across that perfect cheek would soothe her frustration, but that was all. Knowing him and how he thought, he’d just see the violence as an act of unrequited love she refused to admit.
He’d understand the depth of her real feelings in short order.
“I suggest you lose it,” she told him quietly before turning away again. “The consequences are greater than even your dastardly brain can fathom. I won’t tolerate sass, attitude, or bullshit from you.”
“But they’re all the fun parts.”
Shaking her head, Violet continued walking. Ordinarily, she didn’t mind a sub with any of those qualities—it added some spice to a scene—but from him? Allowing any one of them opened the door to his dominance, giving him leeway to challenge her.
She strode up the steps to the Dungeon, opening the door to the sound of silence.
It was too early yet for the heavy players to start scening, which was why she’d chosen now to put Boudreaux through his paces.
It also meant she could enlist the help of a friendly monitor without worrying that his attention was on other scenes, other guests, other possible calamities.
Without removing her overcoat, she passed through the anteroom into the dungeon proper, shedding any facet of Violet she didn’t need for the next ninety minutes.
A little piece fell aside with each step she took down into the depths of the cavernous room until all that remained was the ruthless, merciless, unforgiving bitch she rarely freed.
Boudreaux’s soft hum of appreciation put her back up; he wasn’t here to enjoy the luxury of this playground. The scents of leather and lemon wax, smoke and disinfectant, were her home comforts, not his, and he had no right to them.
Approaching the gallows, a sturdy square frame crafted from thick beams of cherrywood, Violet reached up and stroked one of the lengths of chain dangling from an eyebolt. “Strip, Boudreaux. Do not keep me waiting.”
When she didn’t hear the rustle of clothing, she glanced impatiently over her shoulder. He stood behind her, unmoving. “Don’t tell me you’re shy. You had no problem baring your essentials yesterday. Undress or consider the deal you made null and void.”
“I thought you’d undress me, Mistress.”
Violet scoffed. “If I wanted to, I would. Don’t play the fool with me. I gave you an order; comply or leave.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
As he began unfastening the buttons on his silk shirt, Violet returned her attention to the gallows. Working according to the plan in her head, she began adjusting the chains how she needed them.
A quick search through the equipment cupboards netted her the required items for the scene, and she arranged them neatly on a rolling table.
“What are you deadlifting these days?” she asked flatly.
He hummed. “Two-fifty, two-seventy-five, when I can be bothered.”
“Bench press?”
“Same. General fitness is my goal, not becoming a bodybuilding champion.”
Violet raked her gaze over his bare chest, the ridges of muscle over his abdomen, the subtle thickness of his biceps, shoulders, and forearms. For his body type and weight, she supposed he was in peak fitness. “Let’s hope you’re not fluffing your own ego, Fontenot.”
She ignored his growl and sent a quick text to Fordham, her volunteer for the morning. Slipping her phone into the overcoat pocket, she released the belt and let the material slide down her back, her arms.
A quick ramble of rapid-burst French told her the outfit she wore hit the mark.
Trousers halfway down his thighs, Boudreaux stared at her like a cartoon dog lusting after the juicy steak dangling on a hook. Teeth biting his bottom lip, he stroked his gaze over her with the hunger of a man denied food for a month. “Tu es ravissante, chére. Tout simplement magnifique.”
Oh, he was resorting to French. How quaint.
Rolling her eyes, she simply flicked her wrist at him. “My patience is running thin.”
Boudreaux pushed his pants down to his feet and stepped out of them without taking his eyes off the swell of her breasts rising above the dark red leather of the corset.
Paired with black laces and webbing, it made a statement, especially against her dark hair and pale skin.
The matching pair of boy shorts weren’t particularly revealing, but they clung to her curves like a second skin, and protected her vulnerable areas from any unwanted advances.
The contrast between her dressed, sexy state and his nakedness gave her a heady sense of power.
Sinking into the Domme mindset, she cocked her head.
“Well done, you managed to obey an order. If you’re feeling brave enough to continue, go stand beneath the chains and hold your arms out in front of you. ”
Surprisingly, suspiciously, he didn’t offer a witty response, but simply strolled over to where she indicated and held out his hands.
Damn him.
Violet strode over, snatching a pair of cuffs from the table. With deft movements that came naturally after years of doing it on a daily basis, she wrapped them around his wrists, checked they weren’t too tight, then snapped the D-links to the chains hanging just above his waistline.
They ran through a large ring attached to the beam, then hung down his back.
She’d get to those loose ends in a few minutes.
With another pair of cuffs in hand, she bent and secured them around his ankles, repeating the entire procedure until his legs were chained to the bottom of the gallows.
“All tied up with nowhere to go. Safeword?”
“I don’t need one, Mistress.”
“When you play with me, you do.” She rose and faced him, smiling sweetly. “Trust me, you’ll need it.”
He sighed. “As you wish. Porcupine.”
Nodding her head in acknowledgement, Violet picked up the cock ring next, still smiling even though her heart was beginning to race at the thought of touching him.
She knew every inch of his cock intimately—what he felt like sliding over her tongue, pushing into her pussy.
How to trace the veins to make him groan, how to turn him from flaccid to semi-erect to hard.
Once, his cock had been her bible, her holy grail, her reason for breathing.
He knew how to destroy her with it.