Chapter Six
Abigail
When I walked into the kitchen, Jacob was leaning into the oven, looking at two tinfoil pans. He must've brought home takeout.
The faint smell of garlic, tomatoes, and spices drifted into the room, and I realized I was starving. I hadn't eaten much that morning. I'd been so overwhelmed and relieved, by the time Jacob brought me to his penthouse, that all I'd wanted to do was take a shower and go to sleep.
Now I wasn't sure what I wanted more, that food or the orgasm Jacob had denied me. He closed the oven and turned to the counter, picking up a small black box sitting beside his keys.
"Come here, Abigail," he said.
I crossed to him, not bothering to conceal my curiosity as I stared at the black box. He opened it to reveal a length of shining silver chain with sparkling pale blue gemstones at either end.
As he lifted it, I realized that it was not a necklace, as I'd thought, but something else. The blue stones set off two silver clamps shaped like long Vs with tiny metal teeth at the end.
A delicate circle of silver wrapped the V of the clamp, and as he lifted it and slid the circle up, I saw that it would control how tightly those teeth would grip.
I'd seen pictures of nipple clamps before, but I'd never seen any in person. Definitely none this beautiful. Jacob didn't have to prepare my nipples for the clamps. They were already two tight beads, ready for whatever he wanted to do with them.
"Have you worn clamps before?" he asked as he placed the first silver clamp against my left nipple. I shook my head.
"No," I whispered.
"Given how you responded to the spanking, I think you'll like these."
I nodded my head, unable to speak. The bite of those tiny silver teeth into my hard nipple sent shockwaves through my hyper-aroused body.
He fastened the second clamp, and I swayed on my feet. I hadn't imagined it was possible to feel this much sexual need at one time. Then it occurred to me.
He was going to make me eat dinner like this. Naked. My nipples clamped, my pussy soaked. I was swamped by confusion.
What kind of game was this? I understood the punishment, but I'd felt him. He was rock hard and ready to go. Why didn't he just take me? I belonged to him, after all.
"Why?" I whispered. Jacob ran his finger down my nose and smiled. I'd always loved his smile, even now when he was being a bastard.
"Why did I spank you? Why did I clamp you?"
"No. Why aren't you . . . Why don't you want to—"
"Why didn't I fuck you?" he asked, his smile growing even wider.
I nodded in response, not sure I trusted myself to speak. Jacob tilted his head to the side and studied me standing before him, fighting not to squirm.
"Did you think the spanking was the punishment?"
At that, he turned around, took the foil pans out of the oven, and began to plate our dinner. I stood there dumbfounded, marveling at the depth of his evil.
The chain on the clamps swayed, tugging on my nipples, sending jolts of pain and pleasure from my breasts straight to my pussy. For the first time, I felt like a pet.
Clearly, he enjoyed this—having power over me, playing with me. Making up arbitrary rules about my body and then punishing me for my transgressions.
I wished I could say I wasn't enjoying it too, but that would be a lie. This was too new, and all I had to offer, aside from my intense arousal, was confusion. And obedience.
Fine. I could obey. I had a lot riding on keeping Jacob happy. But that didn't mean I wouldn't be myself at the same time.
Trying to ignore the clamoring demands of my body, I checked the kitchen drawers and found silverware and napkins. While Jacob dealt with the food, I set the table.
The dining room was tucked beside the entry hall, separated from the rest of the penthouse by glass French doors, currently propped open.
The long and rectangular formal dining table, polished to a fierce shine, was surrounded by upholstered chairs that looked comfortable. The type of chairs that invited long, intimate meals.
I swallowed. I didn't want a long, intimate meal. I wanted to eat fast and then get fucked. By Jacob.
My own mind felt foreign, as unlike me as my nudity and the glittering jewelry pinching my nipples. I didn't usually think about sex. I never called it 'fucking', even in my own head.
Jacob had done this to me.
He made me so hot, so needy that I was devolving into a creature of sheer carnality after less than a day. I was going to set the table, but my head wasn't thinking of domestic skills.
My head was thinking, eat, then get to come. Please, please, let me come. Or, preferably, come first, then eat. But that wasn't going to happen. With a small sigh, I focused on the task ahead.
Half of the long table was covered with shopping bags. I took that to mean that Jacob didn't want us to eat opposite one another, the whole of the table between us. That worked for me.
I'd always hated when two people sat that way, raising their voices to be heard just for the sake of formality. My parents had done it every evening, sticking me in the middle, translating from one end to the other.
Setting the napkins and silverware at our places, I turned to get drinks and almost crashed into Jacob. Suddenly, I was acutely aware that I was naked in his dining room and acting like his hostess.
He didn't seem the least bit surprised, handing me the warm plates, piled high with what looked like lasagna, before he headed back to the kitchen, asking over his shoulder,
"Wine or beer? Or a cocktail?"
"Wine, please." I arranged our plates, folding the napkins in precise triangles. Silly when we were about to use them, but setting an attractive table was one of the frivolous, wifely things John had expected that I'd enjoyed. Fussy, but it could be fun.
I waited for Jacob to return before I sat, not sure what he expected of me. He walked back into the room carrying two glasses, a plate of garlic bread, and a wine bottle clamped under his arm.
"Sit," he said.
I did as ordered, watching him open the wine with easy competence. A deep, rich red, the scent of the wine drifted across the table, teasing my nose.
I had a feeling Jacob had good taste in wine. Taking a small sip from the glass he handed me, I confirmed my suspicion.
"Good?" he asked, nodding at the wineglass in my hand.
"Very."
I put the wine down and picked up my fork and knife. My mother always told me, 'A lady is never the first to eat', but I was starving and I didn't think Jacob would mind. I could be about to earn another spanking.
I was willing to take the risk for a bite of that cheesy, meaty lasagna. My guess was safe. Jacob smiled at me and picked up his own silverware.
For the next ten minutes, we barely spoke. I did my best not to shovel food in my mouth. It was hard. The lasagna was perfect, with just the right amount of garlic and extra Parmesan, the sauce almost, but not quite, spicy. Forget about the garlic bread.
Light, crispy, buttery—I could have eaten the whole plate on my own. The food was so good that I forgot I was sitting at the table naked, despite the abrasion of the chair on my tender ass.
Reality didn't trickle back in until my stomach was mostly full and a glop of sauce fell off my fork to land on my bare thigh. I looked down in surprise, still chewing, to see the warm, red sauce sliding across my skin.
The sight was so incongruous in the formal dining room that I immediately began to feel uncomfortable. I put down my fork and swallowed, the food sticking in my throat.
"Am I eating dinner naked, with clamps on my nipples?" I asked, watching Jacob for his response. I earned another one of those grins.
"You are. Do you mind? Because I'm enjoying the view."
He took another bite of lasagna. His eyes followed my blush, raking me from my hairline to the tips of my clamped breasts, all the way to the napkin barely covering my legs, now stained with sauce.
"I don't know that I mind," I said. "But I do feel like I left home this morning and stepped into the twilight zone."
"You may feel that way for a while," he said. "If you decide you want to stay."
I raised my eyebrows, deciding the only way to deal with this was to brazen it out. I had the feeling that a few weeks with Jacob, and I would not be blushing quite so much.
Lifting my wine glass, I took a sip, finally able to appreciate how good the wine was now that my stomach wasn't grinding in starvation.
"If I decide I want to stay?" I asked. "I thought I'd already decided."
"That was this afternoon. You might've changed your mind."
"I haven't changed my mind," I said. I thought about adding something like maybe I will if you don't let me come, but that felt like it would be breaking the rules.
I wasn't willing to subvert my entire personality in the service of Jacob, but I had to remember what this was. I wasn't his girlfriend. I wasn't his lover. I was his pet.
"Good. When you're done, please clear the table and bring back the white box in the refrigerator with one fork."
I was finished eating, and the thought of what might happen next drowned what was left of my appetite. I did as he asked, carrying both our plates into the pristine kitchen, taking a minute to rinse and load them into the dishwasher.
I wasn't sure if Jacob had a housekeeper, but he didn't seem like a man who did his own dishes. If I was going to end up doing them, I did not want to be stuck scraping off dried tomato sauce.
The refrigerator held a white bakery box, not large enough for an entire cake or pie but too big to hold just one slice. I took a clean fork from the drawer and brought it and the box back to the dining room.
Placing the box and the fork in front of Jacob, I returned to my seat. Jacob didn't open the box or touch the fork. Instead, he lifted his glass of wine and took another sip. I did the same, noticing that he'd refilled our glasses while I'd been gone.
"So you're staying," he said.