Chapter 22
Mike
I held Laura for a few moments longer, letting her tremble against me, then pressed the call button beside the bed. Elena appeared within seconds, her expression perfectly neutral despite what she must have heard through the door.
“We’ll take dinner now,” I said. “Set it up here on the bed.”
“Of course, Mr. Gallagher.”
Laura stiffened in my arms as Elena left, and I felt her trying to pull away. “Mike—sir—can I please put something on? Just… just for dinner?”
I tightened my grip on her waist, keeping her exactly where she was. “No.”
“But Elena will see—”
“Elena has already seen everything,” I reminded her, my voice firm. “And you’re going to stay exactly as you are. Naked. Available. Mine.”
Her face went scarlet, but she stopped struggling.
I loved that about her—the way she fought just enough to make submission meaningful, but ultimately gave in when I made my expectations clear.
The way she had begun to learn that I would decide—the reluctance in every line of her body as she bowed not so much to my command as to her own need to serve—only made my cock harder.
Elena returned with a rolling cart, expertly setting up our meal on a tray next to the bed.
Seared ahi tuna, jasmine rice, grilled vegetables arranged with the kind of precision that came from Michelin-starred training.
Laura kept her eyes down the entire time, her arms wrapped around herself, trying futilely to preserve some modesty.
The flush that colored her chest and neck was exquisite.
“Will that be all?” Elena asked.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
The door clicked shut, and I pulled Laura closer, settling her between my legs so her back pressed against my chest. I fed her the first bite myself, holding the fork to her lips until she opened.
She was still trembling slightly, hyperaware of her nakedness, of my clothed body behind her, of the way I could reach around and touch her anywhere I wanted.
And I did want. God, I wanted.
My two previous Selecta Arrangements girls before Laura had both been beautiful, both submissive, and both had satisfied certain needs.
But neither had affected me like this. Neither had made me feel this particular combination of protectiveness and possession, tenderness and savage desire to own every inch of her.
There was something about Laura’s innocence that drove me wild.
The way she blushed at everything. The way she tried to resist even as her body betrayed how desperately she needed what I was doing to her.
The sensor data didn’t lie—her arousal had been off the charts during every degrading thing I’d made her do.
But she still fought it, still tried to maintain some illusion of reluctance, and that made breaking through her defenses infinitely more satisfying.
Doing it here, on my private jet at forty thousand feet, added another layer to the pleasure. She was completely mine up here. No escape, no interruption, just Laura naked and plugged and sealed, learning to accept her place as my property.
I watched her take another bite of tuna, watched the way her throat moved when she swallowed, and felt something shift in my chest.
I’d dominated women before. I’d trained submissives, spanked them, fucked them, enjoyed their bodies in every way I wanted.
But I’d never felt like this—like I could watch Laura eat dinner for hours and be completely content.
Like the simple act of feeding her, of feeling her naked body pressed against mine, satisfied something deeper than physical need.
I didn’t think I’d ever get over it. The way she responded to dominance—the hesitation that made her submission so much sweeter, the tears and whimpers that showed how much it cost her to give in, followed by the desperate arousal that proved how badly she needed exactly what I was giving her.
The data feed had shown me the truth from the beginning, but experiencing it firsthand and learning to control it for both our pleasures represented something else entirely.
I fed her another bite, my hand sliding down to rest possessively on her hip. My thumb traced small circles on her skin, feeling her shiver at the touch.
This wasn’t just about sex anymore. It wasn’t even just about dominance and submission. Somewhere between watching her try on swimsuits through the surveillance feed and seeing her kneel naked on my jet to worship my cock, I’d crossed a line I hadn’t meant to cross.
I was falling in love with her.
The realization should have alarmed me. I’d built my fortune on calculated risks and careful planning, on never letting emotion cloud business decisions. And Laura was supposed to be a business arrangement—ten thousand a month for access to her body and the right to train her however I wanted.
But as I held her against my chest, feeling her relax into my embrace despite her obvious embarrassment at being naked while I fed her, I knew it had become something more. Something that terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.
I wanted to keep her. Not just for the duration of our Selecta Arrangement, but permanently.
I wanted to watch her grow and learn, wanted to be the one who broke through her resistance and taught her to embrace her submissive nature.
I wanted to see her face every morning and know that she was mine.
The possessiveness of the thought should have worried me. Instead, it felt right.
I finished feeding her in comfortable silence, my hand never leaving her body, constantly touching and claiming. When Elena returned to clear the dishes, Laura tensed again, but I kept her firmly in place, letting the flight attendant see exactly how thoroughly I owned this beautiful girl.
“We’ll be landing in about three hours, Mr. Gallagher,” Elena said as she efficiently loaded the cart. “Would you like me to prepare the bed?”
“Already done,” I said, glancing at the rumpled sheets where Laura had ridden the cushion so desperately. “Just leave us.”
When the door closed again, I shifted Laura onto the bed properly, pulling back the covers and settling her against the pillows. I climbed in behind her, nestling her into me and kissing her shoulder gently.
“We’ll wake up in Hawaii,” I murmured into her ear. “Will you like that?”
But Laura had already fallen asleep.
Laura
I woke to sunlight streaming through sheer curtains and the unfamiliar sound of waves crashing somewhere nearby. For a disoriented moment I couldn’t remember where I was, and then it all came flooding back—the jet, Elena, the riding cushion, Mike feeding me dinner while I sat naked in his arms.
I was alone in an enormous bed, the sheets cool where Mike’s body had been. I sat up, looking around the room for the first time in daylight. It wasn’t the jet’s bedroom. We must have landed while I slept, and Mike must have carried me here without waking me.
The room was stunning—all white linens and pale wood, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking an impossibly blue ocean.
A private lanai stretched beyond the glass doors, and I could see palm trees swaying in the breeze.
My suitcase sat on a luggage rack near the closet, and my sundress from yesterday hung neatly beside it.
I climbed out of bed, suddenly aware that I was still completely naked. My face went hot as I remembered falling asleep that way in Mike’s arms. Had he undressed himself after I’d passed out? Had he watched me sleep?
I found a white terrycloth robe hanging in the bathroom and wrapped myself in it gratefully before venturing out onto the lanai.
The view took my breath away—we were perched on what looked like a cliff overlooking the ocean, with black lava rocks visible through the crystal-clear water below.
In the distance, I could see other buildings that looked equally luxurious, all designed to blend seamlessly into the tropical landscape.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
I spun around to find Mike standing in the doorway, dressed casually in linen pants and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up. He looked relaxed and happy, his dark eyes warm as they took me in.
“Hi,” I managed, my voice still rough with sleep. “This place is… I mean…”
“Beautiful?” He crossed to me and pulled me into his arms, kissing the top of my head. “I’m glad you like it. This is my favorite resort in the world.”
I leaned into him, breathing in his scent—that expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely him. “How did we get here? I don’t remember…”
“You were exhausted. I carried you from the plane and then from the car.” His hand stroked down my back. “You needed the rest after yesterday.”
My face heated as memories of yesterday flooded back—kneeling between his legs on the jet, riding the cushion while he played with my bottom, being fed dinner while completely naked. The casual way he’d displayed me to Elena, as if my nudity and submission were the most natural things in the world.
“Come on,” Mike said, taking my hand. “Let’s get you some breakfast, and then we can explore.”
He led me back inside and ordered room service—fresh fruit, macadamia nut pancakes, Kona coffee that smelled like heaven.
We ate on the lanai, the warm breeze carrying the scent of plumeria and salt water.
Mike told me about the resort—how it had been built into the cliffside by a famous architect, how every room had an ocean view, how the black sand beaches were formed from ancient lava flows.
I found myself relaxing in a way I hadn’t in months, maybe years. Mike wasn’t demanding anything—sexual or otherwise. He was just… talking to me. Like I was a person he enjoyed spending time with, not just a body he’d purchased access to.
After breakfast, he took me on a tour of the grounds.
The resort was breathtaking—infinity pools that seemed to spill directly into the ocean, private cabanas nestled among tropical gardens, a spa built into natural lava rock caves.
We walked hand in hand along winding paths, and Mike pointed out exotic flowers and told me their Hawaiian names.
I felt almost like a normal girl on a normal vacation with her boyfriend, except for the constant awareness of the seal between my legs and the memory of everything we’d done on the plane.
By lunchtime, we’d settled at an open-air restaurant overlooking the water. Mike ordered for both of us—poke bowls and Mai Tais—and as we ate, he asked me about the philanthropy app proposal.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot,” I said, surprised by my own enthusiasm.
“I mean, there are so many apps that connect donors to causes, but they’re all so impersonal.
Just transaction platforms, you know? I want to create something that actually shows impact in real time.
Like, if you donate to a school in Kenya, you could see photos and updates from that specific school.
Maybe even video calls with the kids who benefit. ”
Mike leaned forward, his eyes intent on my face. “Go on.”
“And the matching algorithm could be really sophisticated—not just based on what causes people say they care about, but on their actual values and interests. Like, if someone’s passionate about education and technology, match them with programs that teach coding to underprivileged kids. Make it personal.”
“I love that,” Mike said, and the warmth in his voice made my chest flutter. “You’re thinking about genuine connection, not just dollars moved. That’s exactly the kind of innovation that could disrupt the whole philanthropy sector.”
We talked for another hour, Mike asking thoughtful questions and offering suggestions that showed he was actually listening, actually taking my ideas seriously. By the time we finished lunch, I felt more alive than I had in months. Like maybe I was capable of something meaningful after all.
“Let’s go for a swim,” Mike said, signaling for the check.
Back in our room, I dug through my suitcase for the swimsuits I’d bought. My hand brushed against something hard wrapped in a t-shirt, and my stomach clenched as I remembered—the large plug. And beneath it, coiled like a snake, the martinet.
I pushed the thought away and pulled out the white microkini. Could I actually put it on? It had seemed acceptable—if barely—in the dressing room, but on the beach? I started to put it away.
“No,” I heard Mike say from behind me. “That one. Put it on.”