Chapter Three — Alex
I stare down at the black box on my bed and take a deep breath.
Am I ready for what’s inside?
I twirl a strand of my hair around my finger and then tap my finger to my chin.
I don’t think I am.
I check the time on my phone: 7:32 p.m. I have less than half an hour until Callum picks me up, and I haven’t done my hair or makeup.
It doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not — I need to rip the Band-Aid off and find out what outfit Callum’s picked out for me.
In any other circumstance, I don’t think I would be nervous.
But with Callum, nothing is as it seems. Because this option—wear an outfit of his choosing—seemed too benign.
It seemed too easy. Like a trick. I almost didn’t pick it for that reason.
I knew there must be something else to it.
Still, all of the other options seemed so ridiculous that it felt like I didn’t have a choice. So I picked it. Also, I’ll admit, a part of me was curious. What outfit would Callum pick for me? As nervous as I am to open the box, a part of me is excited, too.
I take a deep breath and open the lid.
The first thing I notice is just how red the material is. Deep, rich, cherry red. I lift the object gingerly from the box like it’s contaminated. I’m shocked by how little fabric there is.
I spread it across my light blue duvet. It’s a beautiful red satin dress. I check the tag: Alice and Olivia. It’s a designer dress, but it looks incredibly short. Obscene, almost.
I check the tag again. Size 2. It’s my size, but it looks too short for a size 2.
I borrowed an Alice and Olivia dress from a friend once, and I swear it wasn’t this short.
Of course, different dresses are different lengths, but still.
I’m not super tall myself, so dresses usually hit at about the right length for me.
I flip the hem of the dress and spot it immediately: it’s been shortened.
Of course, I think to myself. Of course there’d be a catch. It’s not like he’d just pick out a beautiful dress for me. I mean, what would be the punishment in wearing a beautiful dress?
I rummage through the box and grab the four remaining items inside. There’s a pair of black strappy heels that look like they’re five or six inches high. The red sole jumps out immediately. Louboutins.
Well, at least I’m going to get an expensive pair of shoes out of this.
The next thing I fish out is a beautiful silver diamond choker. It’s a tennis necklace, but the chain is quite short. I put it on immediately. It’s stunning.
And the last thing — I can tell by the outside of the box what it is. It’s a remote-controlled vibrator. The box has been opened and then resealed; I can tell by the way it’s taped.
I open it and pull out the toy. It’s still sealed in plastic — it hasn’t been touched. There’s a small manual describing how to use the remote control in conjunction with the toy, along with a pair of batteries.
I hunt for the remote control in the box, but it’s not there. Of course. It doesn’t take me long to figure it out. Callum has the remote. I can’t say I’m surprised.
There’s also a card in the box. I open it.
Alex. Can’t wait to see you tonight. Remember, I don’t want you in anything else except for the items in this box. Oh, and you can wear your regular necklace if you wish. It suits you.
I roll my eyes. If I wish — as if I need his permission to wear my own necklace. I mean, I guess I do in this circumstance. He’s making the rules here, and if I want the million dollars, I don’t want to give him any excuse to change the terms on me.
It takes me a second to realize the implications of his note.
Nothing else. What else? It hits me — underwear.
And a bra. I examine the dress. The material is fairly thick.
I can probably get by without a bra, but no underwear?
I never go commando, and what makes it especially daunting is just how short the dress is.
Well, maybe it’s not as bad as it seems, I think to myself.
I throw off my clothes and slip it on, then stare at myself in the mirror.
Wow. The dress is gorgeous. It has a plunging, deep V-neckline and shoulder straps that just barely cover my shoulders.
It’s a fairly thick material that provides enough coverage for my nipples as long as I don’t get cold.
I’ve been in that situation before, and there are some dresses that, no matter how thick, require a bra or at the very least nipple tape underneath.
I could try wearing tape with this dress, but I don’t know if I want to chance it.
I search for my nipple tape and throw it in my purse. I can decide at the restaurant.
I walk back to the mirror and look at myself.
The length, though — I was right. This dress is short.
It’s so short that the bottom of it barely grazes the bottom of my ass cheeks.
If I go on my tiptoes and it raises just a few inches, I’m partially exposed.
I’ll have to walk super carefully, and bending down will be completely out of the question.
My cheeks heat up as I imagine what the next few hours are going to be like.
I grab the toy and rip open the plastic. I study it carefully. It’s kind of a U shape, and it seems like there are motors in two places. I look at the little manual and realize that part of it goes inside me, and the other part will rest outside on my clit.
I slip the batteries in and then insert the toy. I’m able to insert it easily, which makes me realize that I’m already wet. I’m embarrassed by the realization that part of me is excited about tonight. I shake off the thought. That’s just biology. It doesn’t mean I actually like this man.
Once I have it in, though, I realize I can’t even test it out myself. I take it out. Part of me is furious at Callum for putting me in this position, but then again, I can’t say I’m super surprised. I knew there’d be some kind of repercussion for pulling one over on him in the poker game.
He’s a prideful man. I knew it would hurt his ego. I’m not surprised he wants to regain control by trying to put me in my place.
I sit down and start putting on my makeup. As I’m curling my lashes, a thought comes to me: the note said I had to wear the things in the box, but it never said anything about inserting the batteries. In fact, I could just pretend I didn’t even see them.
I smile as I continue putting on my makeup. I check my phone. Fuck — 7:57. He’s going to be here in three minutes.
I quickly slip the batteries out of the toy and insert it. I haven’t done my hair yet. I run a brush through it and clip on my regular necklace. I’m still putting on my lip gloss when the doorbell rings.
I grab my phone. I’ll be out in two minutes, I text him.
There will be consequences for every minute you make me wait, he responds almost immediately.
My adrenaline spikes. A part of me is curious, almost wants to be late, but I know I’m in enough trouble as it is. I swipe on the berry-colored liquid and quickly do up the heels. I grab my purse and phone and hurry out the door.
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, slamming the door, huffing slightly.
He looks amused — probably by the fact that I’m late — but after a half second he stops, grabs my elbows, and steps back slightly.
“You look stunning,” he says.
Fuck. I watch him swallow, and his eyes dilate slightly. A surge of warmth runs through me. I hate that I crave this. Crave his approval. It’s just a compliment, I think to myself.
“Thanks,” I say, trying to brush it off. “Alright, let’s go.” I try to step past him.
He holds me in place, though. As I try to step by him, I just end up closer. I can feel his body heat as he leans into me and whispers in my ear.
“Did you follow my instructions?”
I nod, and his hand drops from my elbow to my waist. He runs it down the side of my body, and when it reaches the hem of my dress, he rests there, his fingers lightly brushing my skin. My entire body feels like it’s tingling.
“Good girl,” he says.
Electricity runs through me, and I feel like the wind is knocked out of me for half a second. He steps back and moves his hand to my lower back.
“Follow me,” he says, as he guides me towards the car.