Page 53 of Tethered Souls
The next two are dismissed by him even quicker. The black Jenny Packham Ingrid cape gown, fully embellished with hundreds of sparkling crystals, and the Roland Mouret black-and-white asymmetric cady maxi dress – although two of my favorites for their feel of grace and power, are simply not “pervy” enough. Meaning there aren’t any slits for him to run his hands up. No deep Vs or low necklines for my breasts to accidentally escape from. He doesn’t say that, of course, but it’s there in his eyes.
Which leaves just two more dresses to try on for him – or rather one more because I’ve just realized what the last one I grabbed is. It’s a mostly sheer piece of red beauty I got for me rather than for him. A dress to hide in the back of my closet but never wear.
So I grab the final choice, a Maria Lucia Hohan crafted out of pure silk with a deep wide V between my breasts and a slit running high up my thigh. It’s a certain winner, a very pale dusty pink that glimmers under the light of his office. With a small smile, I run my hand up my thigh, pulling the slit up higher.
He doesn’t say anything. The speed of his typing doesn’t slow.
“Well?” I push after a couple seconds of silence.
“Show me the red one.”
My cheeks flush. “That’s not for the party. I didn’t mean to grab it.”
He doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t push again, but the air crackles with his demand. Electricity arcs through me until every part of my body feels too sensitive, and I just have to remove the dress from my skin. I can just put the blue one back on, then demand he pick from the –
“Good girl.”
My brain short circuits. My pussy spasms.
My arm damningly reaches for the Nensi Dojaka laid out on the sofa. The deep red of the silk sings to me like a siren song – a beauty ready to punish me for listening to it. The draped cut-out maxi dress is a sleeveless piece that is sheer everywhere but in the two small triangles of fabric covering the breasts and in two more pointing inwards at the waist, the tips of those triangular pieces having been sheared off and attached to a cord that criss-crosses over my stomach, a few inches above my belly button. Dangling between them, hanging from that same cord is a sash of fabric that runs all the way to the hem on the floor. There’s a lighter area of sheer fabric cut in angular lines over my midriff, but the rest of the dress is just as see-through – including everything from my hips down.Everything. The only coverage is from that thin sash that barely covers the V between my thighs.
“See?” I turn and show him that my ass is not covered in the slightest despite the draping of silk over it. Facing him again, I’m hopeful to see agreement on his face.
I do not.
“I’ll wear a red shirt,” he says as if it’s final.
My mouth drops open.
“I can’t wear this! You can see everything!” Grabbing the sash, I lift it away from me, proving my point.
His eyes heat as his gaze lingers there. “If anyone looks, I’ll cut out their eyes.” His gaze hardens. “And those of their family. And friends.”
Lost for words, I just stare at him. His attention returns to his work.
“But…” I finally get out.
“Wear the dress, little monster,” he says without looking up. “I’m looking forward to fucking you in it.”
Eighteen
HER
“Holy fucking shit!” Dayne exclaims as soon as I step back from the phone I’m face timing him on so he can see the dress in its entirety.
“Right!” I blurt. “It’s way too much. I can’t wear this. I never should have bought it.”
My bestie laughs, and my irritation softens at the way the tension leaves his eyes. When he first came on, he was so stiff, concern for me tightening his shoulders and neck. Now that loosens, leaves a bit, and I know he’s checked out every part of my body he can see – which in this dress is practically all of it, and is relieved to see no bruises.
Although I’ve been convincing him I’m fine, he knows me well enough to know I’d lie about it. Because if he even suspected I was being abused, he’d risk everything to come and get me, and I wouldn’t put him in that position.
“Look, I need you to concentrate,” I whisper as my eyes flick to the closed door. I’m hiding in my bathroom, building up the courage to go downstairs so Varius and I and hisentire fucking familycan finally drive to the venue for the party. I have about ten minutes until we’re supposed to go, and I need this answered in honest truth so I don’t chicken out and grab another dress to wear. The gods only know what punishment that would bring.
Taking a deep breath, I hiss, “Let me know if you can see my vagina when I walk.” Varius doesn’t want me wearing any underwear, but to hel if I’m going to listen tothatin a room full of some of the most powerful people in the world if my coochie flashes every time I move.
I take a few small steps towards the phone, then turn and shuffle perpendicular to it.
“Don’t worry,” Dayne laughs. “Walk like that, and I assure you no one is going to look at yourvulva.”
