Page 35 of Deadly Rival

“Yes. Sir.” I spit the words, which gains me a knowing smirk. Then I grip the bottom of the hideous top and pull it over my head. Don’t think about what I’m doing. Don’t look at his smug goddamn face. Get the horrible clothes off my body, and have done with it.

The top tangles in the leash, and I battle with it for a few mortifying seconds before I get it free. It lands on the floor, and I kick it away.

Don’t look at him. Pretend he’s not even there.

Bra next. I unhook it, freeing my breasts from the extreme, uncomfortable push-up, and fling it to the side. Sebastian lets out a rough groan as my breasts fall free. “Oh, that’s a good little slut.”

What the fuck did he just call me?

My head snaps round, the sudden motion digging the collar into my neck. All my resolve to pretend he’s not there evaporates. I look at him, and oh, God, I wish I hadn’t. He leans forward, legs spread wide, all the relaxed elegance he showed a moment ago long gone. His expression is pure feral desire.

The refined veneer he wraps himself in has shattered, and what it’s revealed is so, so much worse.

“Carry on,” he demands, gaze burning a path through all my defenses. I’ve never felt so vulnerable, but that expression keeps my hands moving. It doesn’t matter. He can call me what he likes, he can strip me, but if I play his game, I’m safe for tonight.

And tomorrow, I’ll get out of here. I’ll find a way.

I yank down the skirt and lacy panties. Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. I clutch the chain of my leash, just to give my hands something to do. I’m not going to cover myself. That would make it worse.

He makes a noise, and it sounds almost like a laugh. What? My head turns, drawn by a magnet, to see his lips twisted up in the way that is starting to scream danger. He relaxes into his seat, some of his composure back, and scans me up and down.

“This is the best game of Simon Says I’ve ever played. What should I make you do next?” He makes a show of thinking. “I know. Jump up and down.”

Fifteen

Sebastian

Jacob and Gabriel warnedme this could happen. That the sudden rush of power, of realizing I have complete control of another human being, could unbalance me and send me spinning along a path I never meant to go down. They gave me tips to overcome it, to stay calm and not lose track of what really matters, but they’re not working.

Blood pounds in my ears, and God, Ophelia is just so fucking beautiful, naked in her collar and high heels. She’s beautiful, and the horrified disbelief on her face just makes this even better. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy punishing her, but, Christ, I am.

“What?” Her voice is high, and I can't tell if it’s anger or hysteria.

“What, sir. And you heard correctly. Take the shoes off first, if you like.”

A bit of the Calder haughtiness makes itself known as she balls her fists. “I’m not doing that.”

I shrug, though inside, I’m screaming. She’s calling my bluff, and even I’m not sure what I’ll do next. I get to my feet. “Okay. If you’re forfeiting the game—” I drop my hand to my belt buckle.

“Wait! No.” There’s panic in her voice. Panic, and true fear. When did I become such an evil bastard? I pause, head cocked.

“You want to keep playing? Tell me properly.”

Her knuckles whiten as she drops her gaze, though the collar keeps her head up. “Yes. Yes, sir.”

I sit, affecting nonchalance even as triumph surges through me. She’s really going to do it. She’ll do whatever I say.

Fuck. It’s almost too much.

She bends to remove the shoes, and her perfect, rounded ass juts toward me. I can’t wait to touch her. My fingers itch, but I hold myself back. First, I can enjoy the show. She makes a meal of removing her shoes, delaying the inevitable, but before long, she’s facing me, skin beaming red.

I twirl my hand like a Roman emperor. “Go ahead. Until I tell you to stop.”

She closes her eyes and mutters something, I don’t know if it’s a prayer or if she’s telling me to go fuck myself. Either would be understandable. Then she jumps, delicate little lifts on her toes. It’s every bit as ridiculous as I thought it would be, and the way her tits bounce has my hand straying to my crotch, rubbing the aching iron bar of my cock through the fabric.

She’s looking everywhere but at me. I almost command her to look me in the eyes, but I don’t trust myself to speak, I’m so caught up in the way her body moves. Her skin gradually deepens from its usual light tan to a deep, beaming red. Is she getting tired yet? Bad luck, if she is, I could watch this all day.

Her leash jolts around to the rhythm of her jumps, and the end catches under her foot. She stumbles, grabs the leash and shoots me a desperate glance. She’s breathing hard now. I should put an end to her misery.

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