Page 42 of Blue Velvet

I stand in the expected position, opposite the door, wearing nothing but a white negligé he gave me. It’s the only item of clothing I received from him that is somewhat sexy, even though it’s not much more than a very short nightgown with lace that shows off my legs and my tits equally.

I’m surprised to see him enter the room with empty hands. He’s looking very sharp, however, wearing suit pants and a white dress shirt that hugs his broad frame perfectly. His short hair is gelled up, and he’s freshly shaven, a look I haven’t once seen on him since I got here.

Surprise must be written all over my face. He’s smiling when he approaches me in his usual calm, confident manner.

“See, this is the kind of thing I would miss if your face was masked by make-up,” he says, caressing my cheek with the tip of his finger. “That subtle change of expression, that startled glow when you see something you didn’t expect.”

He leans forward and greets me with a kiss, something he rarely does. My body’s reaction is a clear telltale sign of how well he has me trained. There’s more than just butterflies fluttering through my middle. I can’t believe how much I want him, and how much that desire overpowers any aspiration for freedom I might have otherwise.

“Are you on your way to a date?” I tease, appreciatively scanning his get-up from head to toe.

“I guess I am,” he says, and my heart almost sinks for a moment before he extends his hand to me.

I cast him a quizzical look, but slowly accept his offer by taking his hand. Even after all that’s happened between us, his touch still feels exotic and exciting, causing my heart to speed up immediately.

I hold my breath when he leads me toward the door, unlocking and opening it as if it was the most normal thing to do. I’ve never walked up these stairs on my own. The only time I ever made it out of this basement was when he carried me upstairs after I’d dissolved into a crying mess. I was barely conscious enough that day to remember it.

“Are you letting me go?”

The words slip out without thinking, and I immediately regret saying it. He squeezes my hand and pulls me up the remaining steps as he reaches the first floor before me. His grip is so intense that it hurts.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he hisses in a sudden change of demeanor.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t get any ideas, toy,” he interrupts. “Come.”

I stumble behind him as he pulls me into an open living area that is right next to the stairs. He only gives me a few seconds to gawk at the beautiful living area, its light white and gray tones, and a modern fireplace surrounded by a seating area with white leather furniture. It all looks so chic, but yet simplistic and not lived-in. It doesn’t seem like he spends a lot of time in here.

He drags me over to a dining area that separates the living room from an open kitchen. The table has a glass top and sleek black legs, just like the chairs set around it. The table has been set with exquisite silverware and modern china for two people. The whole set-up would warm my heart, that is if he wasn’t manhandling me so harshly right now.

“Sit,” he commands, pointing to one of the chairs with a table setting in front of it.

I follow his order and notice something black lying on the floor right next to the legs of the chair. Curious, I try to figure out what it could be, but he’s faster than me. As soon as I’ve taken my seat, he goes down on his knee next to my chair and fetches the item that’s lying at my feet. I hear a clicking sound at the same time I feel something closing around my right ankle.

Cuffs. Those are leather cuffs, connected to a metal chain. I instinctively jerk back when he snaps the other one around my left ankle, ultimately tying me to the chair. I yank at it, just to see how much leeway I have, and realize that it’d probably be quite easy to untangle the chain from the chair. But that’s not what this is about, anyway. The cuffs are locked with a little key. Even if I was to get away from the chair, I wouldn’t be able to do more than scoot along in tiny steps, as the chain is too short to allow me to walk.

He gets back up on his feet and places his hand on my head, stroking my hair lovingly as I look up to him, unsure how I’m supposed to feel about this.

He’s smiling down at me. “It’s time to eat.”

24

Loran

Disappointment flashedin the green of her eyes when I locked the restraints. I don’t know if she realized it, but I took her earlier question as an insult.

Are you letting me go?

Her voice was high-pitched and so full of naive hope that I couldn’t help but get angry about it. It was one of the few reminders that she doesn’t want to be here with me, despite what her behavior in other moments may lead me to believe. She’s so eager when it comes to getting fucked, spanked, or forced to come after she thinks she’s surpassed her personal limit. But she’s very closed-up and resistant otherwise, especially for a girl who’s usually getting paid to entertain men with her body. I’ve always noticed that a paid woman speaks less of herself than a regular date. Most girls I’ve picked up in exclusive VIP clubs or at other events were so chatty and obnoxious—an open book—that it annoyed the hell out of me. I’ve always appreciated the reserved nature of a paid girl, because I didn’t want to hear their stories. I never cared who they were, and I never asked. On the contrary, the only part I enjoyed was making them stop talking by pushing my cock between their luscious lips.

But Ruby’s dismissive nature bothers me. There have been sparks here and there that have told me a little bit about who the person behind all those naughty desires might be, and each hint has made me more curious.

“You see, I could help you with that if I wasn’t... indisposed,” she says, as I walk over to the kitchen island to prepare our plates.

“I prefer it this way, toy.”

She shifts on her seat, restless and visibly nervous. It’s hard to tell whether she’s scared or happy, and the most likely answer is probably an equal share of both.

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