29. Hailee
Chapter twenty-nine
Hailee
D ameon graciously opens the car door, shielding me from the prying eyes of his driver. Stepping out into a dimly lit alley, we approach what appears to be a discreet back entrance to a venue. The door swings open, revealing a burly security guard who nods in recognition at Dameon before allowing us entry. His blank gaze passes over me; I might as well be invisible.
Dameon guides me through a labyrinth hallway and into a bustling kitchen, where the culinary staff move with efficiency. No one spares me a glance or acknowledges my existence. I’m little more than a shadow passing through their world. Given my outfit, I’m surprised I’m not garnering at least a few curious looks.
We push through double doors into a stylish restaurant, causing me to dig in my six-inch heels.
Oh.
He’s brought me to a classy restaurant.
Dameon stops and looks back at me. The horror on my face must clue him into my thoughts, because he leans down and whispers into my ear, “Stop. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. Look at the people. What do you see?”
The tightness in my chest eases slightly, allowing me to take a deep breath and steady my racing heart. I glance around, taking note of the patrons for the first time. The restaurant is full, every table occupied by couples, with a few tables hosting small groups, like double dates. Only one table stands out, with four men and one woman. Everyone is dressed impeccably, but as I stare, the subtle details that I hadn’t noticed initially become apparent.
One woman’s dress is completely transparent, while another is writhing in her seat, seemingly teetering on the brink of orgasm. At a different table, a gentleman is hand-feeding his companion, and she sensually licks his fingers clean after every bite.
Suddenly I’m enveloped by it—the overwhelming sexual tension that chokes the room. It’s a level of intensity I’ve never experienced before, not even at Eden. The heat of it almost suffocates me. I suck in a quiet breath, my eyes widening as I take in the scene before me, trying to absorb every detail.
“You’ll fit right in. Trust me,” he assures me, pulling me through the restaurant by my hand. This time, everyone takes notice; the women offer friendly smiles, while the men’s eyes openly appreciate my scantily clad body. I hold my head high and follow Dameon, proud to be on his arm. As we reach our booth, he gestures for me to slide in first before joining me. The shift of the plug inside me serves as a reminder that I’m stuffed to the brim. Or rim, in this case.
A waiter approaches and begins detailing the menu options and specials. His attention is solely on Dameon, so I tune him out, observing the couples around us. I do a double-take when I catch sight of a woman kneeling under a table. With the red soles of her stilettos peeking out from beneath the tablecloth and the unmistakable expression of pleasure dancing across her partner’s face, there’s no denying what’s happening. I burst into giggles, drawing Dameon’s attention.
“What would you like to eat?”
“Whatever you would like me to eat,” I reply automatically, ignoring the frown that creases his brow. Too bad. If he wants a traditional submissive, that’s exactly what he’ll get. I wasn’t paying attention to the waiter anyway. Dameon orders for us both before dismissing the waiter. As he stretches his arm across the back of the booth and leans in close, his delicious scent surrounds me, tempting me to close my eyes and breathe him in.
He grips my jaw firmly and locks eyes with mine. “You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs. “Every man in this restaurant wants you. I saw the way they looked at you, wanting to possess you, stuff you full of their cum. But they can’t, can they? Because you belong to me, don’t you, kitten?”
“Yes, master,” I reply breathlessly, but his frown deepens.
“Perhaps I should give them a taste, show them what they’re missing,” he muses. My breath catches at his suggestion. “Your oral skills are unmatched. They’d be envious once they experience what you can do with that tongue of yours.” His fingers squeeze my cheeks together, and he nibbles on my lower lip that juts out. I’m dripping wet from his words. I don’t want to be, but I can’t help the way my body is wired. The idea of pleasuring others for him is exhilarating, but the reality is not that enticing. I don’t want to be passed around, not like this.
“If that’s what my master desires.” I attempt to mask my unease, but he pulls back in disbelief. I peer into his angry eyes and can’t, for the life of me, work him out. I’m giving him exactly what he wants. Why is he reacting this way?
The waiter approaches with our entrées, and Dameon retrieves a remote from his pocket and activates it. The butterfly vibrator nestled against my clit hums to life at a low intensity, sending ripples of pleasure through my body. I bite back a moan, knowing he has every intention of torturing me tonight. With a sinful smirk, Dameon begins to feed me my meal by hand, his fingers lingering in my mouth as I suck and lick them eagerly, like the kitten he wants me to be.
“How do these feel?” He lightly traces circles around my nipple through the tight band that holds my tits in place. A whimper slips from my lips this time, as the pressure of the nipple clamps heightens every sensation. The slightest touch will make me come.
“Sensitive, master,” I manage to gasp out, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Good,” he murmurs. He pulls the band down, exposing my tits to his hungry gaze, and ravenously sucks a clamped nipple into his mouth. My body instantly convulses in my seat as the climax hits me head on. I throw my head back with a silent scream, and I can do nothing but surrender to the sensation, letting it consume me.
“Stunning. You come so prettily,” he whispers, his words a soothing balm as my orgasm ebbs.
“Thank you, master,” I utter breathlessly, mentally pulling myself together. Not daring to adjust the band without his command, my hands remain by my side, leaving my chest exposed.
Suddenly, a piercing wail disrupts the atmosphere, and we turn toward the source—the table occupied by the group of men. Their companion lies naked upon the table, serving as a surface for their dessert as they dine off her. She’s in absolute heaven, her body trembling in the aftermath of an intense orgasm.
“Looks like they’re having a feast. Although, that’s a lot of dick for only three holes.” He locks eyes with me, a wicked glint dancing in this gaze.
“Get on your hands and knees and crawl over to them. Offer them the use of this pretty little mouth of yours,” he commands, his eyes dropping to my lips. “If they decline, move onto the next table until you’ve serviced four men in this restaurant. I want you to swallow every drop they offer you.”
What. The. Fuck.
I stare into his beautiful sea-green eyes, desperately hoping he’s not serious. But his face is etched into stone… He’s deadly serious. This must be a test. A test of my obedience to determine whether I can fulfill my role as his perfect submissive. The word “red” lingers on the tip of my tongue, but I hold it back. Sharing, subject to his discretion, was a clause in the contract that I willingly signed. My hesitation hangs heavy in the air between us.
“Well? What are you waiting for?”
That’s the thing—I don’t mind being shared. In fact, I love it. I enjoy the feeling of being watched, desired, wanted. If it were my old Dameon asking, and this was just a fun, kinky date we were on, I would do it in a heartbeat. But it’s not. He’s pushing me to say no so he can use it against me, to remind me that I’m not doing my job. There’s a part of me that’s tempted to say “yes, master” just to gauge his reaction. But my dignity is worth more than that.
I look deep into his tumultuous eyes and murmur, “Red.” The word escapes in a whisper, so faint I’m not even sure he caught it. He remains stoic, but then, in a sudden shift, he closes his eyes and exhales a relieved, “Thank fuck.” Running his hands down his face, he slumps back into the chair, the tension draining from his features like water gushing from a broken dam. He looks utterly spent. I’m baffled, trying to make sense of it all.
“Wait a minute, you didn’t really want me to do it?” I ask.
“No! Of course not!” He turns toward me, grasping my hands in his and planting a tender kiss on the back of them. It’s the first time his face has softened since that night in the kitchen.
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head.
“I’ve been pushing you all week, hoping you’d push back. You’ve been on autopilot ever since that night I got wasted. If I have to hear another “yes, master” from your lips, I swear I’m going to lose it.” He tugs on his hair in exasperation.
“Hang on, I’m just giving you what you want.” I narrow my eyes at him, jabbing my finger into his chest. “You said that night that I was to do my ‘fucking job,’ because that’s what you’re paying me for. Have I not been the perfect sub for you all week?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, you have, gorgeous, but I don’t want a slave,” he responds, his tone softening. “Why do you think I haven’t touched you? I don’t fuck mindless robots. You’re cold and closed off. I just want things to go back to the way they were,” he pleads, his eyes searching mine.
I close my eyes, anger bubbling beneath the surface. “The only reason I’ve been a mindless robot is because of you !”
“I know. I’m sorry, kitten.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for my behavior that night and the things I said. I had an eye-opening realization that night that sent me spiraling. I lashed out at you, hoping to regain some semblance of control. I’m not trying to excuse my actions because I know I can’t.”
His admission surprises me; it’s not something he would typically say.
“I’ve done a lot of thinking this past week. I even saw a therapist,” he adds. Suddenly, it all clicks into place. “I know how much therapy has helped you over the years, so I thought it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.”
“And did it help?” I sigh, my anger deflating.
“It did, but I’m still working stuff out.” He lifts his shoulder. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
His openness and willingness to seek help makes me smile. I’m glad I’ve influenced him in some small positive way. “I know,” I say, pressing my lips to his. He responds by deepening the kiss, his tongue melding against mine in a sensual dance. His kiss is tender and loving, brimming with so much feeling that I draw back, gathering the courage to voice what has been weighing on my mind all week. “But, Dameon, we can’t go back to the way it was before.”
“What? Why not?” His expression falls.
“Because…” I pause, grappling with my own emotions. It’s a leap of faith to admit this, risking my emotions, the walls I’ve built to protect myself. But it’s all or nothing at this point. “I’ve fallen for you,” I confess.
The smile that spreads across his face lights my soul on fire, reigniting the spark of hope that I snuffed out this past week. And boy, have I missed those dimples.
He starts to speak, but I gently press my finger against his lips. “Let me finish, please. I’ve fallen for you, and that’s why we can’t go back,” I say firmly. He shakes his head slightly. “As much as I want to return to the way things were, we can’t. We were behaving like a loved-up couple, and while it was incredible and it made me fall even harder for you, I can’t go down that path again while under contract.”
I pause, gathering my thoughts. “You’re paying me to do a job, to be your submissive and cater to your every desire. I’m more than happy to abide by the terms of our agreement, but we need clear boundaries, and emotions can’t be a part of it. We have to maintain the professionalism we’ve had this past week. It’s my responsibility to uphold these boundaries, and to enforce them. And it’s my fault that things escalated, and the lines got blurred. If that’s not what you want, I understand, but I can’t offer you more than that while you’re still my client.” I drop my head, hoping he hears the sincerity in the voice and understands my perspective. I’ve put my thoughts, feelings, and emotions in his hands.
“What are you suggesting, that we terminate the contract?”
“Well, we can either maintain the professional boundaries we’ve established over the past week, or… we can end the contract and try dating for real,” I propose, holding my breath as I await his response. His silence stretches, and I can sense the freak-out racing through his mind. Disappointment digs its claws into me.
He doesn’t want me.
“Here’s the thing,” he says at last. “I like you, Hailee. I like you a lot. That was the realization I had the other night. In fact, I more than just like you. And it’s taken me this whole week to come to terms with that. I don’t want a 24/7 dom–sub relationship anymore. I only want you, every part of you. But I’m still grappling with the idea of a relationship without a contract. Edward seems to think I’ve been using it as my safety net to ensure that I won’t be betrayed again.”
“Wait. Who’s Edward?” I ask, puzzled.
“Dr. Edward Avery, my therapist.”
“I think Edward might be onto something,” I say, biting the inside of my cheek to stop the smile threatening to spill across my face. “Why don’t we keep things professional until you’re ready to let go of the contract? I’m a patient woman, I can wait.”
He blows out a strained breath as if I’ve just suggested that he bend over so I can conduct a prostate exam. I can’t help but laugh at his pained expression. He narrows his eyes playfully and flashes that panty-dropping smile.
“Okay, deal,” he agrees, crashing his lips to mine and kissing me deeply.
“Deal,” I sigh when he eventually lets me up for air.
Who would have thought I’d profess my love and have a mature heart-to-heart conversation with my master about our relationship, with my tits hanging out and a plug the size of an eggplant up my ass, in the middle of a kinky restaurant?
Certainly not me.