Page 31 of Devoured
CHAPTER 9
Iris
Sweetie Pie hoisted himself up. “You are incredible,” he said, beaming. “Every damn time.”
I reached over and rubbed his hand. A small gesture of affection, enough to let him know that I was pleased with his performance, but it took a lot out of me. I didn’t care for physical affection when it came to many people, and while I was in the role of a domme, I couldn’t be too kind and keep our power dynamic straight. But Sweetie Pie and I had been seeing each other for years, and somehow, despite the fresh faces that rolled in every year, he was still loyal, still obedient to me. A hand rub was acceptable.
He zipped up his pants, and satisfaction rolled over my body, a head high that made me fill with invincibility. I had needed that for a while now, maybe as much as he did. Sweet Pie checked his phone.
“You took every cent this time,” he said.
The brutal nature within me was fun to explore, and after seeing how much money Roland spent around carelessly on that private showing of Cirque du Ciel for me, the financial domme was itching to get out and take revenge on a poor soul.
“You do transfer it there for me,” I said.
He nodded with a grin. “You deserve it. And more.” Each club member could transfer money from their bank accounts to the server’s accounts directly,orthey could hold it in the Dahlia District app, until they were ready to transfer it. I had transferred small funds directly from Sweetie Pie’s bank account before, but today, I wanted to empty his account and knew that anything in the app, he had deliberately transferred there for me. He knew what I could do.
Power surged through me. A smart, brilliant man like Sweetie Pie worshipped me.Me. He even let me humiliate him.
“I’ll be back next month,” he said. I stood. He held open the door for me. “That should hold you over, right?”
Such a sweet little pet.
“Ten grand will do,” I said.
I stepped to the side of the main floor, and Sweetie Pie exited behind me. Satisfaction coursed through me in a lazy wave. I was already done with our session. He hadn’t wanted to pillow chat this time, which was nice.
I glanced around; the club was decently full, but not busy. And yet Roland was nowhere to be seen. Had he gone home, or had Kendall finally snaked him into the Terrariums like she kept threatening to do?
That bright yellow hair caught my attention. She pushed a club member, a tall but skinny man, off of her.
“Stop,” she said. “Seriously. Cut it out. You know we can’t do that out here.”
“But you said you’re not going back there with me tonight,” he sneered. “So what the hell am I supposed to do here, babe? Am I supposed to wait for you to come around, or do I fuck you right here and now?”
“I said I’m on my period.”
“And I said I don’t care.”
“But I do care,” she said with urgency. “You need to loosen up. Come on. Have a drink.”
“I need a drink?Youneed a drink. Come on, babe. Who cares if there’s a mess? I don’t.” He put a hand on her cheek, pulling her eyes towards him. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I told you,” she hissed. “I’m not going to the Terrariums with you anymore. Not after what you did.”
“The period is an excuse then, isn’t it? A way to get out of doing me,” he narrowed his eyes and leaned in closer to her. “I can play nice, babe. Come with me.” His hand reached up to her throat. “I know you like it when I choke you.”
She visibly pulled back. “I never said that.”
“But I can tell, babe. Don’t lie.”
“I said ‘no,’ Mike.”
The image of a wide-eyed nine-year-old flashed in my mind: her bright blue eyes, her soft brown hair.She’s just a kid, I had said, throwing myself in front of her. Her heartbeat raced against mine.She’s just a kid. My foster dad seemed to grow then, bigger than a beanstalk in fertilizer, towering over us until his shadow covered every inch of the room.
You should feel lucky, my foster dad had said before he lifted his hand at me,You’re not my type.Those words still scarred me with guilt.
Mike would say something like that to me too, calling me a witch or a satan worshipper, but I didn’t care. My throat tightened. I couldn’t stop my foster dad from hurting her; I was too small. I had to ask for help.
