Stealing Serenity Read online

  Nuryenko commented on its beauty and on hers too.

  “Irinya is my slave,” he told Ross and the woman promptly lowered her head in obedience.

  They were speaking in Listonian but for some reason she was able to understand every word.

  It was just the four of them, plus the waiter who kept popping in and out.

  Serenity wore a black dress, short with a deep plunging neckline. Her cheeks were flushed, especially as Ross explained the reality to Nuryenko.

  “I don’t permit her to wear underwear. I find it keeps her much more pliable, not to mention available.”

  “I agree,” Nuryenko concurred. “My Irinya is always aroused this way, she never knows when I will touch her or how.”

  Leaning across, Ross commanded Serenity to open her legs.

  She gasped but dared not disobey. The cool air wafted between her thighs. She prayed the others would not smell her arousal. Her nipples peaked wantonly.

  “Do you whip her much?” Nuryenko wanted to know.

  “Not often for correction,” said Ross. “She’s a good girl for the most part, but I find she craves the whip. I am not so cruel as to deny her if you know what I mean.”

  “Irinya responds best to a spanking, don’t you, girl?”

  “Yes, Master,” said the stunning young woman.

  “She will have the roast duck,” Ross said to the waiter who had returned to take their orders. “And I will have the wild boar.”

  Serenity felt a wave of helplessness. He was choosing her food as he had chosen her clothes. And for some reason she knew she was not to speak without permission. It was Ross’ will and she was obedient to that will.

  “Do you often share her?” Nuryenko wanted to know.

  Ross smiled at this. “I’m afraid I’m a bit jealous in that regard. Serenity is my property…and mine alone.”

  Nuryenko shook his head. “You Americans are too sentimental. Irinya often services my friends and my staff. It keeps her humble and mindful of her place.”

  “I understand,” said Ross. “It is enough that Serenity understands the choice is mine, don’t you, darling?”

  It was her chance to speak and her throat closed instantly. Would she be able to summon the will?

  “Yes,” she croaked. “Master.”

  The word came from her throat natural as could be.

  He took her hand sliding his fingers over hers. Leaning in, he kissed her neck. She sighed, eyes sliding closed.

  “Ah,” said Nuryenko. “So it is true love.”

  “I adore her with all my heart,” said Ross.

  She turned her head, wanting to be kissed on the lips.

  “Not yet,” he said.

  She begged him and again he denied her. The third time she tried to speak nothing came out of her mouth. It was as if the breath had been stolen from her.

  “Now you understand,” said Ross.

  Nuryenko was laughing and Irinya too and the waiter who had returned to the table.

  Ross took her hand and helped her to her feet.

  She was barefoot, her exquisite black heels having disappeared entirely.

  Ross pulled her across to the dance floor. A magnificent waltz was playing. He danced with her as he spoke, sharing what would happen.

  “I’m going to put you over my knee back at the table. You will be bare-assed as I spank you right in front of our friends.”

  She tried to tell him they weren’t friends of theirs but his eyes were so hypnotizing.

  As the dance progressed she could feel the threads loosening, the dress unraveling. She was powerless to stay clothed.

  Ross showed no mercy, forcing her to stay in place as the material disappeared. Leaving her nude.

  He kissed her like this right there on the dance floor. It was a deep soul kiss as his hands dug into her behind and she thought about being spanked in front of all those people.

  A musky scent filled the air. It was her submission, the smell and heat of her arousal.

  “Please, Master,” she said.

  He took it as an invitation, not as if he needed any. Lifting her in his arms, he took her back to the table.

  Nuryenko and his slave were busy eating. The waiter was pouring wine for them.

  None seemed to take notice as Ross sat down fully clothed and pulled the nude female across his lap. She gasped, feeling his cock through the material of his trousers. Despite his nonchalance he was hard for her.

  “I should like you to count, darling,” Ross told her.

  Thus Serenity was made to punctuate her own humiliation, her public punishment, the hand of a man she barely knew cracking down upon her wriggling, squirming buttocks again and again.

  But she did know him and with the very first impact it was clear. This man knew her so intimately. She worshipped him. She needed him, just as she needed this.

  He paused to finger her clit, erect and so very vulnerable, the juices of her pussy leaking out all over her thighs. Serenity moaned and at a certain point she begged to be able to come.

  Ross pinched her ass pointedly.

  “Is this for your entertainment slave…or your correction?”

  “M-my correction.”

  “Then don’t ask me again for pleasure,” he warned.

  The next several blows were especially harsh and she counted them out with gusto.

  Seven…

  Eight…

  Nine…

  How much longer?

  When the count reached twelve Ross pushed his chair back from the table.

  Serenity fell at his feet.

  He snapped his fingers and she knew what she must do, right there in front of the others.

  Her cum tasted sharp and pungent as she licked it from his hand.

  The discussion turned to distant things, politics and war and peace.

  At a certain point Ross pressed his hand to the top of her head and her heart seized with dread and desire in equal measure.

  It was time to suck Master’s cock, in front of his guests, in front of everyone at the restaurant.

  She worked on his zipper, barely able to make her tiny fingers work. She was so scared, so needy.

  His cock sprung free. She sighed, beholding its erect wonder.

  Once, twice she kissed the tip of it. Then she touched it to her cheeks, rubbing the side of the shaft against her cheeks. He was steel wrapped by velvet. The scent of him, pungent and pure male, filled her nostrils, flaring them.

  She let her tongue run along the vein, the big one on the underside.

  To his credit he scarcely budged. It only added to the mystique of course.

  The control was his. She was a slave, barely worth noticing, even when engaged in such an intimate task.

  Delicately she formed her lips into the shape of an O, preparing to take him. She wanted him as deeply as possible. Her heart thundered. She wanted to suck him and then to swallow, pumping the seed from him like the gift it was.

  The bestowing of a god upon his humble devotee.

  Closing her eyes, she took him inside her, inch by inch, pocketing him in her mouth, giving him the slight suction, the teasing pleasure every man desired. By now she knew how to fellate without gagging, how to relax the mouth that belonged to him so he could use it.

  Indeed all of her belonged to him, even the ability to feel pain and pleasure.

  On her own she felt nothing, was nothing. It wasn’t a matter of putting herself down, though. Her self-esteem was fine. She was just wired this way. She was meant to be a slave, like Ross was meant to be a Master.

  Ross tensed in that way of his, very subtle, but more than noticeable to her. He was preparing to climax.

  She shifted her position, pressing herself, offering.

  He rocked his pelvis very slightly, fucking her mouth. She grazed her teeth over his skin, just the way he liked. The extra boost was all he needed. He began to swell, longer, harder, wider.

  Jets of semen streamed forth.

  Ser
enity, kneeling before him, her ass freshly spanked, reminded of her place, took it, gulping as fast as she could, on and on her belly filling.

  She made sure to get every drop and afterward she licked him clean before putting him away reverently, the flagging member so beautiful as she tucked it back into his undershorts.

  Reaching down, he caressed her cheek. She turned her face, kissing his hand, so much love the tears couldn’t help but slide down her cheeks.

  Later—on his timetable not hers—they would fuck.

  For real.

  His reignited cock between her legs. Maybe his tongue there first as a precursor.

  Oh god, she loved him.

  Oh god, she loved being a slave.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Serenity woke in a cold sweat. It was half past three. She tossed and turned after that until finally the alarm went off.

  Great. Now she’d be facing the day exhausted. As if it wasn’t going to be complicated enough dealing with Lucretia.

  And Ross, don’t forget him. No sooner had the little voice in the back of her head said his name when she felt a hot chill up and down her spine.

  The dream had been so real. As if she’d been alive in some other life, some alternate universe. But it couldn’t be her, not the real her. Sexual slavery, even of the consensual sort, disgusted her.

  Didn’t it?

  After her shower she checked her email, at the kitchen table now with her cereal and coffee. As was her habit, she wore only her towel. She would get dressed afterward.

  There were two messages.

  The first was classic Lucretia.

  Darling S., did you have absolutely the best time last night? Tell me all about it over lunch, dear. Love and hugs, L.

  The second was from an RL1970.

  Ross?

  Can’t wait for dinner.

  RL

  P.S. Did I mention all black?

  Serenity clenched her fists. No, he most certainly had not said all black and she’d be damned if he’d dictate her underwear, thank you very much.

  “It’s not like he’ll be seeing it,” she said aloud. “Or any of the rest of me for that matter.”

  She typed a quick reply.

  In your dreams, sport. I told you I have plans.

  He must have been online because the answer came barely a second after she’d hit the send button.

  Still sticking to your little white lie? One would almost think you’re looking to be punished, Serenity.

  Her heart skipped a beat. How dare he write such a thing, scandalous, totally inappropriate? She would tell him off but it would only encourage him.

  Instead she wrote back to Lucretia, tentatively setting up lunch at one o’clock at the Enchanted Lava Garden, their favorite Asian-fusion establishment.

  The rest of the morning was a blur. She had some dim memory of moving her things to the big corner office where she would take up her role as day-to-day executive.

  She also hired a new assistant and helped brainstorm an idea for advertising Panale, one of the products in the company’s cosmetics division.

  Possess Me Panale was the perfume’s new slogan.

  Everyone loved the allusion of sexual conquest, particularly the notion of having the model appear in a black choker, simulating sexual ownership.

  “I have got to admit,” said Rochelle Lewis, usually one of her toughest critics. “Whatever’s gotten into you, it’s hot, hot, hot. I can see why Nuryenko put you in the big chair.”

  She told herself it had nothing to do with Ross. He was a negative influence, nothing more and she needed to wipe him from her mind.

  As far as tonight went, she intended to work late.

  Let him show up on her doorstep at eight. She’d be miles away. Right here behind her desk.

  In the meantime was lunch with Lucretia. Fifteen minutes to kill before she had to leave. On a whim she checked her email.

  There it was, a fresh message from RL1970.

  “I won’t look at it,” she said aloud. Though naturally she did.

  * * * * *

  “Of course I could have told you Ross was my offspring,” Lucretia said, spearing a bit of asparagus in soy and ginger. “But where’s the fun in that?”

  Serenity, who had yet to touch her lettuce wraps, was in no mood for Lucretia logic. “How is it fun to blindside a friend? You do realize last night could have been a total disaster?”

  Lucretia raised a well-trimmed eyebrow. For a woman of sixty she could easily pass for fifty, especially with her eccentric wardrobe of caftans, scarves and thigh-high boots.

  “But it wasn’t a disaster, was it?”

  “No,” Serenity was forced to admit. “Not professionally anyway.”

  “And personally?”

  “Personally I have your son stalking me.”

  Lucretia’s laugh made everyone within a five-table radius turn their way. “So he’s taken a shine to you, eh? I thought he might. Be grateful, he’s an absolute doll.”

  “A doll who’s into BDSM, you mean.”

  “Precisely. So when are you going out with him again?”

  Serenity frowned. “Are you getting none of this? I’m as vanilla as they come, I wouldn’t know a ball gag from a ball cap.”

  Up went the eyebrow. “So you’ve been researching.”

  “In pure self-defense, that’s all.”

  Lucretia’s fork waved in the air before settling at the edge of Serenity’s lettuce wraps. “Mind if I try a bite?”

  As if she could stop her.

  “He told me to wear black. All black.”

  “Oh my.”

  “It’s impossible of course.”

  “Because you’re not submissive,” Lucretia supplied.

  “Exactly.”

  “And yet….he’s gotten under your skin quite a bit.”

  “That means nothing.”

  “Maybe.” Lucretia shrugged, her classic qué será, será moment.

  “You have to call him off,” Serenity begged.

  “And tell him what exactly?”

  “I don’t know, tell him anything. Tell him I’m a lesbian.”

  Lucretia snorted. “I’m afraid the horse is out of the barn on that one, darling.”

  Serenity frowned. “Why? What did he say to you?”

  “He didn’t say anything. It’s written all over your face. Your eyes tell me everything. He makes you edgy, he’s impossible but you can’t stop thinking about him.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  Serenity tried not to think about it now, the last email exchange before lunch.

  RL1970 had told her point-blank he couldn’t stop thinking about her and what he wanted to do to her.

  She told him he was a pervert, which he took as a compliment.

  “I’ll have you,” he said in conclusion. “Make no mistake.”

  The arrogance of the man! Presuming sex. Sex his way no doubt, dominant style.

  She had half a mind to block him.

  He’d get the message sooner or later. Let him stand on her porch all night. That would cool his jets.

  “You’re biased because he’s your son, Lucretia.”

  “I’m biased because I see two lonely people,” she corrected. “Can you fault an old woman for that?”

  “Hah. The day you’re an old woman is the day I submit to your son.”

  “Be careful. Time has a way of making fools of us all,” Lucretia cautioned.

  Serenity pushed her plate to the center of the table. “I can’t eat,” she announced.

  “There’s a word for that.”

  “Disgust?”

  “Lust, my dear, plain old-fashioned lust.”

  Chapter Three

  “Knock, knock.”

  Serenity froze as she saw the figure in the doorway.

  It was him all right. So much for him cooling his jets on her porch all night.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

  “I had a feeling you’d try t
o pull something like this.”

  “I am not pulling anything,” she declared fiercely. “I am working late in my office. Which makes you a trespasser.”

  “The new security guard let me in. Turns out he speaks Listonian too.”

  “Wonderful. It’s official, then, the whole world is conspiring against me.”

  “You already ate,” he observed, noting the untouched fast-food bag on her desk. “Not very healthy, though.”

  “I don’t need a dietician. And I don’t need anything else you have to offer.”

  “We’ll just skip dinner,” he said, ignoring her completely. “And go straight to dessert.”

  She sat up straight in her chair. “Are you hearing a word I’m saying? Get out, Ross, now.”

  He smiled slantedly, his lips angled sharply. Did he have to be so damn charming and obnoxious at the same time?

  “Just save your work—whatever you’re doing over there—and get your purse.”

  “Give me one good reason.”

  “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “Your paddle collection?”

  “No, and don’t worry, it’s nothing else at my place either.”

  “I wasn’t worried. And I wouldn’t go to your place if it was the last shelter on earth.”

  “Duly noted.”

  He had his hand out for her. He’d moved right across the room and around the side of the desk and now he was waiting to help her stand.

  “I am not crippled.”

  “It’s called being a gentleman.”

  “You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word,” she said, though she let him take her hand nonetheless.

  He pulled her to her feet.

  Bracing herself, she waited for him to kiss her again.

  He did not.

  Relief mingled with something else. Not exactly disappointment but a letdown nonetheless.

  They stood inches apart. His eyes impossible to read.

  She felt the heat in her cheeks. So much for holding her cards close to the vest.

  He wore an open-necked shirt tonight and a sports jacket with jeans. The ensemble made him look casual and that much more dangerous.

  She could make things out, new things like the slight peek of bare skin between his pectorals, bronzed and smooth. And the outline of his crotch, insolent, sizable.