Chapter Twelve
Julian
I t’s another long day of ruling, or of trying to rule while my loyal subjects do their damnedest to thwart me at every turn .
I sit through endless meetings, fill out paperwork, award an old lady a civic honor. The entire time all I can think about is what I left Belle in the box .
The dress .
The note .
The lingerie .
I think of her defiant face, of the way that she looks at me like she’s not going to let me win. Hell, she already tried to escape once — there’s no reason to think that she won’t try again .
Just like there’s no reason to think that, when I return tonight, she’ll be wearing a thin silk dress, the thong I left her, and nothing else. I should be prepared for her to be wearing a full-on sack made of the ugliest thing that she can find .
But I’m not .
I recognize something in Belle. Something as deeply depraved and twisted as I am. There’s something in her that calls out to me, whispers that she’ll fit me like a puzzle piece, even if she doesn’t know it yet .
She’s there, just waiting for me to get back. The pearls and gold chain on her thong are probably already sticky and slippery, each white nub rubbing up against her most sensitive places, one at a time .
Belle wants me to dominate her. She’s aching for it .
I know she’ll fight it. But she can’t help what she wants any more than I can .
* * *
I’m hard before I even open the door to my chambers, because I’ve been thinking about this nonstop all day .
About Belle, in the dress, the thong I left her already driving her crazy. I can’t wait to see the lust in her eyes, the look like she’s slowly slipping under the surface of a pond, like she’s falling into a place she can’t get herself free of .
I think about pinning her against the wall, crushing my mouth against hers as I pull up the warm dress, tug on the thong until she gasps. I think about bringing her to the edge with just my fingers, sliding them over her wet slickness, listening to her gasp, watching the fire in her eyes .
I shake my head, walking down a long stone corridor in my castle. I shouldn’t be thinking these things yet — I’m getting ahead of myself .
But I can’t stop. I want her on her knees, lips wrapped around my cock. I want her bent over the table, legs wide. I want to tell her to fuck herself with her fingers until she’s right at the edge, and then I want her to beg for my cock .
I push the door open, visions of her dancing in my head — Belle on the couch, head back, lips parted, the slit in the dress already showing her creamy skin up to her thigh .
But she’s not there. The parlor is simply empty. The box is gone, so I know she’s found what I left, but Belle’s not there, waiting for me .
I put my things down, walk through the other rooms. She’s not in the kitchen, not in the dining room, and I start to get angry .
It was a direct order , I think. It wasn’t hard to understand .
I know she wants this. I know we both do .
Finally, I’m at the doorway to the bedroom she’s staying in, anger bubbling and popping inside me. I curl my hands into fists, close my eyes, and count to ten .
Then I knock. I want to pound on her door until it shakes on its hinges, but I am capable of moderating my behaviors somewhat .
There’s a silence within, and then finally, I hear her voice .
“Who is it ?”
This time I can’t help myself .
“Who the fuck do you think ?”
“I’m not ready .”
“You’ve had all day .”
“I haven’t been getting ready all day .”
I stand outside the door, hands clenched, fuming and impatient. I don’t like being denied, and I especially don’t like being denied by my submissives or my prisoners. I realize that she’s only one of those things right now , but she’ll be the other soon enough .
“I know you’re wearing it,” I say, letting my voice drop to a growl .
Silence. A slight rustle, and I know I’m right .
“I know exactly what you’re wearing,” I go on, letting my voice go gravelly. “And I know you’ve been waiting all day for me to come back, taking it on and off, thinking to yourself that you can’t possibly let me do this to you, and yet …”
More silence. Rustling .
“…when you put it on, you felt the thrill of obedience, of letting someone else take control for once. And you liked it, Belle, because despite everything I know exactly who you are .”
This time I let the silence stretch out for a long time, stepping back from the door .
At last, I hear footsteps on the other side. The lock clicks over, and after another pause, the door comes open, so slowly I think I might lose my mind .
She’s standing there, wide-eyed, her hair tumbling around her shoulders like she’s just come through a windstorm, the dress falling all the way to the floor around her bare feet .
It’s black. It’s pure silk, so dark that it feels like the light is falling into it, so thin that I can nearly see the individual goosebumps on her skin.
It whispers over her body, the thin straps over her shoulders, the neckline plunging between her small but full breasts, both nipples pointing straight at me .
“Come closer,” I growl .
She just looks at me for a long moment. Eyes flashing, and for half a second, I wonder if I was wrong, if she’s not what I know she is. If taking her submission is going to feel empty and worthless instead of the way I want it to feel .
But then something subtle shifts in her eyes. The fight doesn’t go out of them, but it changes somehow that I can’t quite name, from defiance to something else, something that wants every moment of this just as badly as I do .
Belle steps forward, out of her bedroom .