Chapter Nine #3
This baffles him, even in the flashing changing lights, I can see the pale pink that creeps along his cheeks. “Stephen Prescott.”
“Pleasure to meet you. If you’ll excuse me, I have someone waiting for me.”
“And you are?”
I take a sip of my watered down Macallan and place the tumbler on a tray of a waitress passing by with empty glasses. “Just a flame with a moth waiting for him.” I reply.
“How did you get her to agree to go with you?”
I shrug, catching glinting gunmetal eyes to my right and I smirk. “ Lucky , I suppose,” I reply and simply step around him. Before bypassing both Damon and Jonas, I keep my hand low, making a motion for them to not follow.
I take the stairs two at a time, rushing even though I’ve paid for her entire night.
But I want this, God I want this. Even my minor moment with Prescott hadn’t lessened the almost excruciating erection I have had since the moment I saw her in her gilded cage.
I have to admit those wings of hers… The monster in me wants to tear them off, to pluck them, so she can never fly away from me again.
I have nothing prepared. No apology of any sort to spew out. No heartfelt words that come to mind other than a simple ‘I’m sorry’ even though I know that will never be enough.
But I have one thing and one thing only I can ever offer her. My heart. My devotion. My worship. Weeks she spent kneeled at my feet like my pet, ready and willing to serve me, beautifully. And I was an asshole . Every time.
“Daddy didn’t love you enough, did he, Siren? That’s why you warm my cock with your sweet mouth like my good little whore. So needy. So willing. So beautiful… Always so fucking ready to drink my cum. Such a good girl the way you crawl to me…”
She took my degradation along with my praise wonderfully. Like wax, melting into my mold – made for me with every spank. Pushing her plump ass back into the palm of my hands, seeking the comforting pain and pleasure I willingly provided.
Fuck.
I should have recognized what I felt for her then. Should have told her I loved her then. I should have… there were a lot of things I should have done. Even more I should have said .
I could crawl to her. Beg her to give me another chance, to love me the way she once did – but that is not what she needs and that is not our dynamic.
I need her subservience, crave it more than I need air to breathe like she needed my dominance and my aggression.
No. I know once I open the door to Room Seven she would already be waiting for me bootless, and in position with her hair braided.
I pass the guards standing outside of each room, looming closer, my pulse quickens with each step, my dick aching to be released, to feel her lips, her hands, her pussy, her ass squeezing me, tasting me, fucking me, taking me the way I’ve taught her how I love it.
So malleable, my Siren .
Made for me.
I open the door to Room Seven, and just as I suspected she’s kneeling, bootless, heart-shaped ass on her heels, hair braided back loosely, head bowed and hands on her stocking covered thighs, wings resting on either side of that perfect fucking ass. I swallow a groan of satisfaction.
“Palms on the ground and slide forward, forehead to the ground, Chloe . Ass up.”
She obeys, baring herself to me, that strip of fabric from her body suit and her fishnets the only barriers hiding her from me.
I hum lowly, allowing her to know she’s pleased me.
I swear I see her tremble in anticipation as I remove my jacket, hanging it on the coat rack behind me and lock the door.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” I stand behind her, admiring.
“This is the humble position. But when I order for you to be in this position,” I tap her inner knee with the tip of my shoes, and she spreads her thighs further.
I hum in satisfaction when I see just how easily I could pull it to the side and bare her to me, but when it comes to her destruction at my hands, I have always been a patient man.
“Perfect.” I praise, kneeling behind her. I lightly hover my fingertips from the backs of her knees, up her thighs. I don’t touch and she doesn’t move. No, she knows better than to move, but she quivers so much her wings shimmer in the low light of the dimly lit room.
I stand, unbutton my sleeves and roll them upwards, the inked runes on my forearms a dark contrast to the olive tone of my skin.
My fingers itch, tremble to touch her, dying to feel her smooth skin underneath my palms, to tangle those silky strands of chocolate and silver in them.
“Rise slowly, Siren. Palms back on your thighs…. Good.” I round her until I’m front row and center at the devastating sight before me.
Head still bowed, hands on her thighs… those wings…
God, those wings of hers instill every fucking image of ruining her in my brain.
Image after image like a reel of an old film.
Room Seven is not only the only suite without a voyeur window, it is also the room least used.
After every couple leaves, each room is disinfected, new sheets brought in even if the bed wasn’t used, in the corner, a side table of unopened toys sits with cleaning and disinfectants.
On the wall next to it, whips… chains… restraints.
And beside it, a first aid kit, along with a mini-fridge containing small bottles of water and cooling packs.
It is the only room with a saint Andrew’s cross and ties that are lowered from the ceiling, along with a breeding stand. It’s sick. I’m sick. I’m a horrible man with sadistic tendencies, but the only one I have ever wanted to sic them out on was her – my fallen angel.
I make my way to the sidebar, choosing various instruments to use on her, to hurt and heal, to cause both pain and pleasure.
To help her unravel just a little bit more but only for me.
“To make this easier for you, we will be abiding by the color system. Green is good. Yellow is to slow down or yield and Red… red is absolutely your safe word.” I say, opening the packages then spraying what I’ve chosen down with the cleanser and washing it in the basin provided by staff.
“Use your mouth and say the words for me. It will be the only time it is used freely before we begin. Now, Siren.”
“Gree..nn. Ye..llow… Re…d.”
My heart thrums with pride at the rasp in her voice. “Utter it, whisper it, scream it, stutter the word and I will stop. Do you understand?”
“Ye..sss..sir.” The way she hisses it makes me think she tried very hard not to fuck up. To speak. For me .
I feel nothing but astounding pride race through me as I finally, delicately, crook a finger and place it under her chin, tilting her head back so I can look at her.
Brown eyes like caramelized bronze meet mine and it’s nothing but a dagger to my chest. There’s makeup on the scar on her temple, removing it from sight but I know it’s there.
I’ve placed my lips upon every perfect flaw that mars her body.
The silver streak in her hair shines beside it, strands like spider silk I wholeheartedly adore, and I know I will love her even more when she sprouts them all over and not just this one spot.
“You are so tragically beautiful; it hurts every atom of my being to look at you. To be near you and not touch you and yet I can’t stop craving you.
A drug to an addict. I have tried to rid myself of these feelings and yet they stay .
Persistent so that I can’t think. I can’t eat.
I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep , unable to function because you haunt me…
these eyes, your lips,” I pause, running my thumb over them, her lipstick not smearing like I want it to.
“Memories of how good you feel squeezing my cock when you come for me… your scent … god, your scent is everywhere as though you still float around my house like the silent little specter you are.”
I leave out the part where I haven’t changed my sheets or pillowcases because they still smell of her.
Unable to wash the clothes she left in my hamper, t-shirts of mine that I need and still…
can’t bring myself to rid me of her scent.
Jasmine and berries and a hint of cinnamon or something akin to that.
I am pathetic and the frustration of not having her eats away at me and darkens my mood into something foul .
“Rise, Raven. On your feet.” I growl instead of cradling her in my arms the way I want to.
She rises, my finger still under her chin.
The top of her head reaches the bottom of my chest, and I ache, ache, ache to kiss her.
Holding back hurts me more than touching her does.
Squirming to rut, to fuck up into her delectable little cunt, I reach for the restraints that come down from the ceiling, ordering her to show me her wrists and tie them on.
I know things touching her wrists bother her, but we had made slow work of this before everything went to shit so I check in.
“Color?”
“Yel..low.”
I nod once. Progress. I make my way to the wall and turn on the pulley system that tugs at her restraints, watching her arms slowly rises above her head.
When they pull up, I watch until she stands on the balls of her feet and toes.
She gasps softly so I check in, stopping the pulley, the soft whirring above us dying down.
“Yellow.”
It seems many a thing will be yellow for her as this is all new until they’re green or red, but I’m willing to find out because she’s strong.
She’s as resilient as she is tired of being resilient, but like me fucking her with Damon and Jonas, this needs to happen.
Letting her see the darkness that resides in me…
yes, this , along with other things, needs to be just between us so we can move forward, and trust can be built.
For each other.
I place myself before her again, she’s now to my chin.
One hand on the warm curve of her hip, the other on the underside of her jaw so she can look at me, so I can drown in her thick caramel stare.
“I should apologize, shouldn’t I? For the way I’ve kept away from you…
I should grovel at your feet and beg you to take me back into your harem.
But then I would spend a lifetime walking on eggshells, afraid one thing could go wrong, and you’d cast me out like a dog on the street.
I should apologize and yet I won’t. When I was kind, you ignored me.
When I gave you preferential treatment you decided to abuse it.
Slapped me. Spit on me. A monumental brat.
The worst kind of brat. Do you know why? ”
“No.” She winces.
“Because you enjoy my punishment. You seek ways to torture me because you know even though I push you, I discipline you and fuck you like the wanton slut for my cock that you are, you know that I… love you. Isn’t that right?”
She gasps and a tear slips free. I grip her, stepping closer, my lips a mere inch away from hers. “Please…”
I was going to kiss her but to hear her beg for me…
fuck. I inhale, my hands going to the low V of her bodysuit and I pull it apart, ripping it from tits to pussy, a little yelp escaping her, then reach between her legs and flick my fingers into the sopping wet gusset of the strap that hid her from me and tear it, too, marveling at the new display below the light casting down at this venomous, dark little angel of death.
“Are you ready?”
She raises her head as though squaring her shoulders and then simply says, “ Green .”