Page 6 of Seven Nights

Griffin

I walkstiff-backed from the limo to my home office. I spent the entire ride from Chicago to my country estate north of the city with a raging hard-on, the constant throb repetitively tapping out Katelyn Willow’s name in Morse Code.

At least that’s how my dick feels as I lock the office door and unthread the belt on my dress slacks. I toss the belt on the desk, slide my jacket off then remove my tie and loosen the collar. The jacket and tie go on a coat rack, my mind marveling at how I can attend to such irrelevant tasks when my balls feel ready to explode with maximum force.

Huffing, I sit behind the desk, grab the belt and drape it across the back of my neck. The leather still bears my body’s warmth. I flash hotter at the thought of using a different leather accessory on Katelyn’s shapely bare ass.

Of course, she must first agree to my proposal.

Growling at the idea she might not show up tomorrow, I turn my computer on. The continued state of arousal leaves me fat fingered and half blind, but I type in my password and find the file I need. I make a few changes, mostly name and amount, and hit print.

I call up another file, a short movie few people have ever seen. While it loads, I go to my wall safe and pull out a box. Returning to my desk, I dive past the first layer of contents to pull out the object that already has my cock pounding harder inside my pants.

I wrap one hand around the object and draw it out as the other hand slides my zipper down. I free my erection, but don’t touch it. Not a drop of fluid leaves me, but I am orgasming and I will keep orgasming without paroling the semen that weighs heavy in my testicles.

I impatiently click play as soon as the movie finishes loading.

Katelyn appears. This is not an athletic reel from her training days. It’s newer, a little less than a year old. And, while she knew she was being broadcast live on a private server, I doubt she has ever considered the possibility that she was also being taped or that men like me would go through the trouble and expense of obtaining a copy.

A logo fills one square inch at the bottom of the screen. An ornate letter “A” rendered in silver against a black background signifies that the broadcast belongs to the Alstrom auction house. The company’s auctions are invitation only. In this instance, the guest list for the live feed was more exclusive than usual. Everything up for bid that day was made for the most intimate acts that can be perpetrated on a human body—some pleasurable, others decidedly not.

Originally, the live feed bored the fuck out of me. It was nothing but pretty jewel-encrusted toys to please and tease pretty little pets. Then someone had the good sense to coax Katelyn up to the podium. There as an employee of the charity trying to discreetly sell items bequeathed by an “eccentric” collector, she had dressed conservatively for the day, wearing an unadorned white blouse and a boxy black skirt that fell to her knees. With her face free of cosmetics, the gloriously rich hair was pulled back for a more severe look that did nothing to hide the sweet softness of her mouth and eyes.

The minute she stepped forward and held the next item with hesitant, slender fingers, the bidding grew exponentially. The auctioneer moved on from antique silver dildos and golden cock rings to cuffs.

The moment the man slid the restraints onto her wrists, a buried ember of need flared in the hazel eyes. The hitch in Katelyn’s chest and the quiver in her lips as the man cinched the restraints tighter had me unzipping my pants, sitting much as I am now—exposed and throbbing.

Her clipped responses to the auctioneer's questions told me she was a pretty little liar, each falsehood making my dick swell bigger.

Oh, certainly she told the truth when she agreed the restraints were comfortable and disclaimed having been in such a device before. But those sweet lips were false when she said she didn't like wearing them. And that lie, that suppression of her obvious desire, made her naughty enough to deserve the restraints, to be shackled to a bed, teased and punished until the sticky, pungent truth of her passions soaked the sheets.

With one hand busy bidding while the other stroked the length of my cock, I spent over a hundred thousand dollars for the jeweled antique restraints last worn by an Ottoman concubine. For a few weeks, just owning the cuffs and putting them on whatever pet warmed my bed kept me content.

For a few weeks.

Finding that none of the women had quite the same spark in their eyes, I put the cuffs back in their box, locked them away and summoned my head of security with a request to secure a tape of the auction and, more importantly, find the woman.

The dossier Devyn Cole brought me a month later ballooned my slowly growing interest into a near obsession. From that day on, every woman who tried to woo me, who unzipped my pants and took me into her mouth, had Katelyn's face.

Knowing I had to get her out of my system, to use her for a day or a week until she became nothing more than another blurry set of lips working my cock, I had Devyn put out feelers for what charity she moved onto afterOne Well At A Timeimploded in scandal.

Then fate intervened once more when an HR clerk accidentally filed Katelyn's resume in with the batch for a new chief compliance officer.

Now I am little more than twelve hours away from securing her services. The cuffs are in my hand, the antique leather creaking softly as my fingers sympathetically flex in time with the contractions I force along my pelvic floor. The crown of my cock surges forward with each squeeze, my balls quivering with one long, sustained orgasm.

Gaze locked on Katelyn, I stop breathing. Her lips tremble as she answers the man’s questions.

I’m going to buy those beautiful lips. They will suck and kiss at my flesh until I am tired of them—tired of her. Maybe I will show her the concubine’s cuffs, restraining her with them. Most likely I won’t. It depends on whether she disappoints me.

And I do expect her to disappoint me.

Women always do.

Katelyn

In the privatelexicon of Griffin Montgomery, “negotiating” means extending a platinum-forged pen and ordering me to sign a non-disclosure contract. Under the terms, I will receive an amount equal to the annual salary at my last job in exchange for silence and seven days of certain...activities.

Basically, whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.

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