Page 11 of Dancing With Distraction

She refuses to respond in a way that pleases me, as not even a whimper escapes her lips. Her obstinance spurs me on, and I crack the whip a second time, hitting the same breast in the exact same spot. I can see her faltering as she struggles to keep her restraint, and I whip her for a third and fourth time in quick succession. Finally, a small whimper escapes her plump lips as she gazes at the floor, and I take this as my first small victory. She will break.

“That’s my shlyukha,” I praise, knowing this is only the start of her punishment, and the thrill of pushing her boundaries is beginning to intoxicate me like it always does when we do this defiant dance.

I tap her ankle with my foot, indicating she needs to stand. She does so with her head lowered, a sign she’s ready to submit.

I take the Shibari rope from the wall and make eloquent work of tying her hands into position, as I don’t want her well-manicured fingers to taint where Victoria left her touch. My mind wanders to her again, imagining that she wouldn’t break so easily, but damn, it would be fun trying. The thought soon sends fury through my veins, knowing I’ll never be able to taste her, to unravel her, to let my inner beast take her in the way I need.

I pull back on the whip and strike Vivian’s backside with such force, she loses her balance and screams out in pain. Welts instantly appear, glaring brightly at me, and I smirk to myself. This is going to be gratifying.

“That was for refusing to be in position when I ordered your arrival,” I bark, and second lashing rains down on her peachy backside. I don’t give her time to recover, lost in my own emotions as I continue. “That was for your jealousy at The Ivy.” She shrieks as the force of the whip sends her hurtling forwards onto the bed. I grasp the ropes that secure her hands and pull her back into position. Her head hits my shoulder from the velocity of the movement, and I bite into her shoulder. She moans in pleasure, which only fuels my annoyance. This was supposed to be about her punishment, not satisfaction—she hasn’t earned that.

I turn her to face me and tip her head back so our eyes meet, giving her permission to look at me. I see passion there, desire and need, and suddenly, it’s no longer Vivian looking at me. It’s Victoria’s deep blue eyes staring back with that look of torment she had when I left Harrods earlier today.

My attention is pulled back to the scene before me, and I try to get some composure. I grab a handful of Vivian’s hair, pushing her onto her knees. She eyes me suspiciously, almost as if she can feel my inner turmoil. But she opens her mouth willingly, and I force my cock right to the back of her throat until she gags.

I throw my head back in pleasure as my hands fist her hair roughly, tugging at the roots and guiding her mouth at the pace I need. She twists her tongue around my shaft, and I groan in complete satisfaction, which encourages her even more. After all, she’s here to please me, her Master.

I close my eyes tightly and picture Victoria on her knees, sucking me dry, her smart mouth doing something useful. I groan aloud, gripping Vivian’s hair roughly as I release into her mouth. She takes me all in, swallowing every last drop.

My chest heaves with exertion as I release my hold on her hair. Vivian rises to her feet with a smile in place. She leans in to kiss me, which is against our rules because she didn’t ask permission. I don’t allow it, instead pushing her back forcefully onto the bed, and she lets out a sigh. I crawl over her body, supporting my weight on one hand and using the other to pinch each nipple until they pebble. She whimpers in frustration, trying to gain more contact, and I feel her squeezing her thighs together. I take a nipple in my mouth, biting hard while dragging my palms along her stomach, luring her into a false sense of security. The fact she thinks she still deserves to come tells me she hasn’t taken this punishment seriously.

I clamp my teeth hard around her nipple until the metallic taste of blood tinges my mouth. It spurs me even further as she writhes beneath me, moaning.

I drag my hands down her body to her sweet spot, applying just enough pressure with my thumb to give her hope that this will end well for her. I torture her like this for a few seconds before pulling away, causing her to groan in frustration, then I place my hands around her throat, making sure to smirk. Her eyes widen in confusion as I grip tight enough to render her still. I lean down until my lips brush her ear and whisper, “Don’t ever test my patience again. Next time, I won’t be as forgiving.”

Fear envelops her as her stare penetrates me. I apply a little more pressure, and she gasps for breath, making my cock instantly hard again. I realise in this moment that I want her to fear me. We aren’t equals . . . we will never be equals. She is a means to an end, and her recent behaviour makes me think she’s getting too complacent, and deep down, I think that makes me resent her a little more.

A tear falls from her eye, rolling slowly down her face, and I’m satisfied she’s gotten my message loud and clear, so I lift off her. She stays lying on the bed, still and surprisingly calm.

I go to the drawers to get a knife and fear returns to her eyes. I smirk as I turn her over with little effort before cutting the ropes. I make sure to nick her skin, the trickle of crimson satisfies me further. When I step away, she finally moves, sitting and rubbing her wrists together to allow the blood to circulate.

“Get the fuck out,” I spit, turning my back to her. “And next time, be ready and in position when you’re called.”

She grabs her clothes from the chair and leaves without a word, compliant and fucking quiet, just how I like her.

I make my way over to the bar cabinet and pour myself a large whiskey, downing it in one. Then I pour another, raking my hands through my hair in irritation. I thought this would help, but if anything, it’s created more of a monster inside me. I never lose control when I’m in Dom mode, and the thought unsettles me. But Vivian pushed me too far this week, and I could have easily snapped her neck for defying me. She should thank me for being so damn lenient.

Tori

It’s been the longest day at work, and after Dmitry left, I couldn’t get his blatant arrogance out of my head. The fact he told me to stay away from him even though he was the one who turned up to my place of work pisses me off, Prick.

I make my way to my bedsit with my heels in hand. I missed the last bus after meeting someone for a Tinder date and had to walk home. But these heels were not made for walking far, especially after an eight-hour shift spent running around for rich bastards who don’t even know basic manners.

I attempt to put the key in my door when I realise it’s already unlocked. I freeze, feeling panicked. Dropping one of my heels on the floor, I grip the other tightly in my fist. It’s the only weapon I have to protect myself and I’m a make-do kind of girl.

Edging the front door open slightly, I peer around it. The room is in darkness, and I can’t hear anything apart from my heart beating so fast, it’s pulsating in my ears. My hands are clammy with apprehension, so I grip my heel tightly and ease the door wider.

I make out a figure sitting on the edge of my bed, and for a split second, I consider turning around and running up to Phoebe’s place, but I’m already halfway in now, so whoever this fucker is, he knows I’m here. And then the need to fight kicks in. I’ve been running my entire life, and I won’t have some wanker scare me in my own place. Before I can really think it through, I launch my heel across the room and hear a thud as it makes contact with my intruder.

“Jesus! What the fuck, Victoria?” I recognise the voice, which, as usual, is dripping with hatred.

I switch on the light, my fear now mixed with utter rage. Marcus stands, his large frame taking up most of the space, and I resist the urge to recoil in his presence.

Squaring my shoulders, I storm past him like he’s not important and I’m not terrified. I go into my kitchenette, yank open the fridge, and pull out a bottle of wine. “I know boundaries were never your strong point, Marcus, but we agreed I would meet you once a week for lunch. You can’t just turn up here unannounced and break into my flat.” My tone is laced with hostility, making sure he knows he’s not welcome here like this. Up until now, he’s not pushed the boundaries, but I knew it wouldn’t take him long. He’s never paid any attention to my rules, but I’ve not challenged his behaviour in such a long time, and I know without looking at him to gauge his mood that I’m walking on a tightrope right now.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands. “You finished work hours ago.” He takes a few small steps towards me, closing the distance between us. I casually glance past him, wondering if I can escape without being too obvious, but he places himself where he’s blocking my exit. I pick up my wine and perch myself on the kitchen counter. Breathe in, breathe out. I can’t let him see my alarm, as it will only fuel his fire.

“What are you, Marcus, my goddamn keeper?” I take a sip of my wine before I push my luck too far. I see his eyes dilate because I’ve dared to question him. Picturing the psych-out he would have if I told him I’d been on a Tinder date, I almost smirk, hiding my mouth behind my glass. That would definitely send him over the edge, but he would make good on his promise if he ever found out.

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