Executive Orders (closed for Momadness)

Samantha hesitated, heart pounding, as the heady scent of leather filled her senses. She had never set foot in a shop like this before. For the sake of protecting her reputation, and her secret, she'd never dared. It would be a death blow to her wholesome on-air image to be recognised in a place like this.

The few bondage toys she used to play with had all been discretely ordered online, and sent to an anonymous address, with the exception of a few gifts from Evie. Even online, she'd never spent much time exploring.

Samantha, as a general rule, did not particularly enjoy shopping. Most of the time, the Ice Queen knew exactly what she wanted and she got it. Or sent an assistant for it.

How many times had she sent Everett on a chase? Sent him to waste his time going store to store, or hours searching online, to find the specific jewelry or perfume or wine or shoes or whatever else she had decided she wanted? She shied away from that thought.

If she were to be truly honest with herself, too much time browsing those BDSM shopping sites she had made her purchases at left her… uncomfortable… stirred her arousal and her submissiveness, more than the cold, controlling side of her could stand. She'd rather avoid that. If she didn't look, she didn't have to face what she'd tried so hard to bury deep inside behind thick protective walls of icy disdain.

She took one tiny step, then another, eyes flicking wildly around the room, not sure she felt safe looking at any of it too closely, the hard, icy side of her raging at her to get out of there. This was too much, too deep. Escape. Protect yourself, before it's too late.

Everett squeezed her hand, tugging her forward, and Samantha drew a deep breath, pushing the panic away.

She walked forward, sliding her hand slowly over some heavy wooden stocks. The wood was smooth and cool and so solid. She'd played with self-bondage of course, but never anything like this. Her core turned molten with renewed longing. She could almost feel the thick heavy wood locking her in place… on display… inescapable. Her fingers trembled slightly, as she moved around the corner to the next display.

Anal plugs of every shape and size.

Samantha's ass clenched, an aching twinge reminding her sharply that Everett had fucked it hard last night. Before his thick cock had plowed her ass open, she'd never had anything inside it. Now, suddenly, she could imagine how it would feel to have her ass plugged. Her eyes roved over them… long ones, wide ones, inflatable ones, jewel-tipped… tails? She swallowed. Unicorn tails with long, rainbow tresses. Soft, furry foxtails. Fluffy, round bunnytails. Pink, curled pigtails. All attached to bulbous anal plugs.

She turned away, a fiery blush rising over her cheeks, moving quickly to the next display.

Masks. Lace masquerade masks, leather and feathers. A dark leather half mask, to cover the top of a submissive's head but leave the lower face open. Kitten ears graced the crown and inky lace covered the eye openings, making it somehow playful and seductive at the same time. Beside it, full hoods. Some with eye openings, some with only mouth openings. On the next peg hung a heavy black hood with zippers where eyes and mouth could be concealed or revealed.

Samantha felt her chest heaving, her throat tightening, imagining a hood close over her face. So confined… so vulnerable… her knees almost buckled. She clenched her fingers and moved on, as soon as she could walk steadily.

The scent of leather surrounded her again and she looked up to see a wall display full of riding crops, floggers and paddles. A vivid memory of Everett's belt striping her the night before flashed through her mind's eye. She could imagine the quick, whistling sting of a crop. She shifted her hips, pressing her thighs together.

She reached out hesitantly, not quite touching the floggers' braided leather hilts. So many to choose from. Wide, suede falls for a lovely, deep thud, or narrow, oiled leather tresses for the sharp sting. She could almost feel her backside burn.

She turned to the paddles, some wide and wooden, some leather wrapped. Her fingers stroked over several of them with letters carved into their surface, SLUT in sharp relief on one, BABY on another, imagining the welts they would leave behind.

Samantha swallowed hard and moved on, turning another corner to come upon a huge display of collars. She bit back a tiny gasp, trembling wildly as she stepped closer, unable to resist. Hesitant fingers inched slowly out, caressing the smooth leather here, the soft suede there.

Her eyes locked onto a wide collar of butter-soft red leather, clipped to a short chain lead with a matching red leather handle. A soft whimper of need breathed out without her even being aware of it. So intently focussed on what she was looking at, Samantha never noticed Everett step up behind her.

.....

Samantha shifted in the seat as the cab pulled away from the curb, turning herself slightly to the side and leaning back, settling more against Everett's chest than the seat in an attempt to protect her tattoo.

"C'mere, pet," Everett tapped at her legs, shifting her further until she was pulled completely across his lap, curled into his side. He kept one hand curled around the back of her neck, making occasional tiny strokes with his thumb against her nape. The other hand petted soft caresses against her bare thigh under her dress above the sheer silk of her hose.

She sighed softly, her lead lolling against his chest, more than a little surprised at how easy it was to just accept. She felt the occasional flare of icy disdain battering against her, urging her to take back her pride, her control, to kick Everett's ass. But somehow, the banked burn of her tattoo, or the gentle petting of Everett's hands, or the fiery heat of his kiss was always there to melt back the ice, give her the strength to push away the hard feelings and embrace Everett's control.

But the ice did not give up so easily. Maybe that's all part of his plan, it whispered in the back of her mind, maybe simply destroying your career is not enough. Maybe he is planning to make you complicit in it. Maybe he intends to show the world how you beg for it. How you squeal and moan and plead with him like a desperate, needy slut, begging to be allowed to cum.

Samantha squeezed her eyes shut against the cold voice, concentrating on the steady thump of Everett's heartbeat under her ear, the warm caress of his hands. He said forever. He wants forever.

He's lying.

He said I'm his.

His to destroy. His to expose to the world as a perverted, cum-craving slut who likes to tie herself up and be fucked by anyone who comes along.

NO. Not anyone. She attempted to swallow, throat squeezing shut around a lump of tears. Not anyone. Only Everett. She slid her hand inside his vest, clutching at his shirt and pressed herself closer, needing to not only hear the quiet thrum of Everett's heart but to feel its steady rhythm against her cheek.

Eventually, the cab pulled over to the curb, easing to a stop in front of one of the more exclusive high rises in the city.

Samantha blushed as she eased out of the cab, attempting to smooth down her skirt as the building doorman rushed over.

"Ms. Noelle," he nodded, offering his hand.

"Good afternoon, Douglas," she smiled.

"May I help you with your bags, ma'am?"

"No, thank you, Douglas. We've got them." She blushed again, hurrying toward the Penthouse elevator.

Samantha snuck a glance at Everett's reflection in the mirrored elevator doors, but could not read the expression on his face. She could guess what he thought of the extravagant building though. It was clearly expensive, and exclusive. In truth, while she couldn't exactly say she did not enjoy the luxury of it, she lived here for one reason, and one reason only. Her public image. As a celebrity, she wanted her privacy and she knew people expected her to maintain a certain lifestyle. Keep up certain appearances.

And so she lived in the huge penthouse apartment of one of the most exclusive buildings in town. Dozens of perfectly decorated rooms, filled with expensive art and furniture. Cold, austere, and immaculate.

Given the choice, she'd rather live in a little house with a fenced in yard full of flowers and colour and warmth and laughter. A house like her grandparents had before they'd passed. A home full of smiles and hugs and unconditional love. Samantha had lost them when she was barely five years old and that was the last time she'd felt safe or loved. The last time she'd felt she had someone who cared about her, or wanted to take care of her.

That's when she learned that this world was a cold, harsh place and you could only rely on yourself.

The elevator bounced slightly, stopping on the penthouse floor and the doors slid open with a soft whoosh.

Samantha stepped out into the vestibule, digging into her purse for her keys, Everett following close behind. She unlocked the door and walked into her foyer, dropping her keys and purse on the table next to the door as he followed, the snick of the closing door thunderous in the sudden silence.

Samantha had been watching Everett closely as she trailed him through her home. She'd seen the uneasiness growing in him, could see hints of his discomfort with the luxurious surroundings, as if he were feeling out of place, out of his element.

She very rarely invited anyone to her home, but those rooms where guests were welcome were designed to do exactly that. Her home was all about reminding those who were allowed to enter exactly who she was and they were not.

She was Samantha Noelle, media darling. Her home screamed privilege, power and icy control.

She could see that, even if only at a subconscious level, Everett was reading that message. And she could feel that message seeping back into her own mind as well, cool calm steeling her spine as she straightened.

"My dear. Where are your toys? You have toys in your office, but I didn't see any here. Please get them out for me."

Samantha bit back a smirk, eyes downcast. The dark commanding tone that had filled Everett's voice earlier was almost completely gone. If she played this carefully she would have him back under her thumb before the weekend was through.

Her chest clenched and for a moment she almost couldn't draw a breath. Damn it, suck it up! There is only one way this goes. You're going to save yourself and destroy this little shit. No one fucks with Samantha Noelle and gets away with it. She clenched her fists, fighting back the sting of tears. What did you think? That Everett will want to keep you? That you'll be his little pet? Happily ever after?

The world doesn't work like that, Sammy. The nickname dripped with icy scorn. You can't rely on anyone but yourself.

She looked up at Everett, letting a small smile grace her lips. Turning, she walked back into her walk-in closet, to a large locked armoire nestled in the farthest corner. She pulled open the armoire doors to reveal its contents. On hooks along the back hung several coils of rope in different lengths and thickness, several sets of leather cuffs and hogtie straps. Drawers along the right hand side contained a small collection of vibrators, clit and nipple stimulators and a large Magic Wand.

"All the toys I have are here… Sir," she murmured with a small smile.

Samantha's heart raced wildly, her mind skittering in near panic. Everett knew. He couldn't know. Backpedal. Now. Salvage this before it's too late. "Humiliation? Hardly." She forced a small chuckle, as though the idea were too ridiculous to consider.

"But risk? Oh yes. Doesn't a little risk make everything more intense?" She concentrated on keeping her smile soft, let her tongue dart out to lick her lips, as though she had not intended to share so much. She felt sure the truth of that would be easy to read. After all it was the truth. Risk did heighten the anticipation, the pleasure.

She just needed to keep his focus there. On the risk.

The rest was her dark, dirty little secret. No one was allowed in on that secret. Not even Evie. Samantha barely acknowledged it herself… pushed it to the deepest, darkest core of her being, that craving that Everett had unknowingly stumbled upon last night in her office. The memory alone of last night's humiliation had been enough to keep her arousal on a slow burn ever since.

Time to bury it again. Encase it in the thick wall of ice that she used to hide it away.

"Get out of that dress and bra and turn around... Now... my little pet Sammy. Get out of that dress now."

The dark commanding tone was back. Samantha could feel the anger, the determination. She inched back, a flash of Everett's face as he promised punishment back at the mall. Was that what he was planning? Was it time to face the private punishment?

Her eyes dropped to the paddle on the bed. A spanking she could handle, even enjoy. Though she knew better than to let him know that. Let him think a spanking was actually punishment.

And make sure he had too much fun to remember the promise of a public punishment.

Samantha's pussy throbbed and she clutched her dress in her fists, hiding her reaction in the fabric as she pulled it over her head. A jagged crack exploded down the center of her ice wall, exposing her core and she hastened to patch it up again, pushing the potential humiliation from her mind.

Focus, damn it. Focus on getting through this. Focus on Everett. Risk only. Not hu—nothing else.

She laid the dress onto the bed, lowering her eyes, hoping the flush she could feel burning her cheeks would be taken for shy embarrassment. Though there was an element of that, she knew it was arousal more than anything else.

She arched her breasts up, reached slowly behind her back to unclasp the bra, then shimmied the straps down her arms, jiggling her tits just a little more than was necessary. She dropped the bra onto the bed with the dress and crossed her arms in front of herself, cupping and lifting as much as hiding her nipples. As though Everett hadn't already seen them, played with them, tortured them.

She could feel his eyes boring into her, studying her… could feel the control, the banked anger in that hard gaze. Her knees trembled fainting, wanting to buckle and she fought desperately to remain upright, to strap icy steel to her spine and keep herself standing.

Deep behind that wall of ice, the little pet inside her wailed, scrabbling against the frozen barrier, wanting desperately to throw herself at Everett's feet, to wrap herself around him and feel his arms close around her, warming her, gentling her, as he had so many times today.

Samantha stood still, a flash of white gauze on her back caught her eye in her vanity mirror, but she looked away, determined to ignore the image. She turned to look at Everett, dropping her gaze to the leather sleeve her was holding. Her eyes flew up to his and she swallowed sharply at the dark grin growing across his face.

Samantha bit back a gasp as Everett growled at her, spinning her forcefully away from him. She felt the leather sleeve sliding up her arms and swallowed tightly, her eyes drifting closed. The scent of the leather filled her nostrils as the gentle tugging and clink of buckles eased the leather more snuggly around her arms, encasing them, immobilizing them, leaving her infinitely more helpless than she could ever manage on her own.

She panted softly, nerves and a frission of excitement buzzing through her. She licked her lips, mouth suddenly parched. The cracks in her ice wall were splitting, growing. A tiny niggling doubt over her ability to withstand Everett's games began to tease at the back of her mind but she ruthlessly pushed it aside.

"Before I put this hood on you, would you want something to drink?" Everett's warm breath teased her nape, ruffling the hair around her ear.

She licked her parched lips again, blinking at him a moment. Her mouth was so dry. Did he expect her to beg? Did he assume she would be embarrassed to accept a drink from him since she could not hold a bottle herself with her arms bound as they were? If so, he was sadly mistaken. She nodded slowly watching his reaction from under lowered lashes.

He didn't say a word, just wrapped the red posture collar that she had so admired around her throat and locked it in place before securing her to the bed frame with a length of rope tied between her collar and the canopy railing. Then he turned and left the room without a word.

Samantha stepped back, tugging lightly against the collar, testing, but it held strong. She twisted her arms a fraction, but they were secure, completely immobile. The nerves, twined with excitement, spiralled higher. Her soft panting breaths sped up.

Where was he? It didn't take that long to get to the kitchen and back… did it? Had he left her? Left her to be discovered by her housekeeper on Monday morning? She licked her lips. To be found naked and bound to her bed. Arousal spiked through her core, leaving her pussy slick and throbbing.

Then Everett was back, opening a bottle of water and lifting it to her lips. She whimpered her gratitude, as the cool water slid over her tongue, soothing her parched throat. Before she was ready to stop, he pulled the bottle away. He turned to pick up the hood from where it lay on the bed, carefully arranging her hair and working the hood over her face.

Samantha bit her lip, fighting to keep in the moan that pushed at her throat. She never would have believed how the hood felt. It did not immobilise or restrict her in any way and yet it somehow made the bondage she was already in so much more intense.

She was barely aware of the bottle tipping to pour more sweet water into her mouth, but she swallowed automatically, taking it all in until Everett moved away again.

Her eyes locked onto the mirror, to the woman standing bound to her bed, in sleeve and hood, unable to look away. So helpless. So exposed.

Everett appeared in the reflection. Leather slid snug around her ankles, locked in place. She shifted, her ankles tugged closer together as he secured a short chain between the cuffs.

He stood slowly, reaching up toward the hood.

Samantha shook, the collar preventing her from turning her head away. She started to step back but the hobbler chain limited her movement. Her eyes locked onto Everett's, but the blindfold slid down cutting her off completely.

"Finish the bottle slut." Everett's command whispered to her, and she opened her mouth, obediently finishing the water.

"No more water for you, but this will help keep your mouth busy."

Samantha strained to hear what Everett was doing. Something nudged at her lips and she felt a thick rubber cock push deep into her mouth. She pushed against it with her tongue, but it was buckled tight, almost gagging her as she panted for breath.

Everett moved away again and Samantha stilled, desperate to track his movements.

Without warning, a rough tongue licked at her nipple, and she jumped, shuddering moan turning into a sharp cry as a clamp bit down hard on the same puckered nub. Even expecting it, the same treatment to her other nipple caught her offguard.

She shifted, pressing her thighs together, her clit throbbing in time with her aching nipples.

Everett stood close, without touching her, then Samantha felt a tug on her collar. She hesitated, and felt a loop of rope placed around her waist, twist between her legs like some kind of rope thong rubbing hard against her pulsing clit before pulling up her belly. She felt a small tug on her nipples and Everett moved away again.

She listened carefully, but did not hear him leave the room. Was he just watching her? Was that the click of his camera? He was taking more pictures? She panted, need thrumming through her clit, each tiny shift of her body twisting the rope against it.

Slowly, Samantha became aware of a new sensation pressing on her, and she realised she hadn't had a chance to pee since before she left to meet Everett this morning. And since then she'd had her own espresso, the last of his latte, water at the tattoo parlour and at lunch, and another bottle of water just now. She shifted again, pressing her knees together. She was going to need a bathroom break the second he released her.

"Humiliation is what does it for you. How about we let your neighbors get a chance to see you... Perhaps a walk on the balcony?"

Samantha whimpered, pulling back, but a sharp tug on rope and her nipple clamps halted the movement. Outside? Like this? She couldn't possibly… His dark chuckle filled her ears.

"Definitely think it is time for a walk... pet."

Samantha yelped around the gag as another sharp tug dragged across her nipples and clit. She hesitantly stepped forward, blind and hobbled. She felt off balance, precarious. With her arms secured in the sleeve she had no way to catch herself if she fell.

She whimpered again, small steps following Everett's lead on the rope. The soft whoosh of cool night air billowed over her as he swung the balcony door open. She shivered, grateful for the blindfold that hid the world from her sight, and at the same time hating the blindfold for hiding it. How many neighbour were out there? How many eyes were watching her from the safety of their own buildings? How many people were pointing and staring at the woman encased in leather and rope, being led around her balcony like a dog? Did any of them know exactly whose balcony this was? Her pussy was throbbing in time with her heartbeat, the rope soaking up her juices.

The cool air prickled along her skin and she shuddered again, the need to empty her bladder intensifying. She whimpered louder, pressing her legs together. Gagged, bound and blindfolded, she had no effective way to communicate her need with Everett, and she was not going to be able to hold it much longer.

She braced herself for the pull on her nipples and stopped walking, pulling back from Everett. When the pull on the rope eased, she hoped that meant he had turned to look at her. She whined softly, clenching her thighs together, crossing her legs with a little bounce, desperate as any toddler who needs the potty, praying he understood what she needed before it was too late.

Pure shock stole Samantha's voice, pushing the submissive arousal that had been teasing on the edge of her awareness aside completely. If she had not been so completely bound in position, so utterly helpless to leave, she would have done exactly that. She would have stood up, knocked the fucking smirk off his face and walked out, consequences be damned.

Maybe shoved that fucking camera up his ass while I was at it.

Or tossed it off the balcony.

Drowned Everett and his fucking camera in the fucking spa.

Am I a damned dog now? Make sure you take the little pet for a walk so she doesn't pee on the fucking carpet?

Samantha could feel the blush growing across her cheeks, even as the pressure in her bladder built.

As if I would give the little bastard the fucking satisfaction!

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears threatening to overflow. Unwilling to look at Everett, but held nearly immobile by the posture collar, unable to turn away. The relentless trickling of water from the faucet behind her battered her ears and she clenched tightly, teeth gritting against the urge to release.

"Fine," she burst out. "You win. I'm begging. You've had your fun, we've played your little game." She drew in a breath, pressure almost beyond her ability to hold. "please… sir…" She could feel the heat in her face extending down her throat, knew that in the next few moments she would either spontaneously combust or piss herself. "please… let me go… I'm begging you… I can't hold it… please…"

She looked up, knowing that the desperation she was feeling would be obvious in her pleading gaze.

Everett didn't budge. He didn't speak, didn't shift an inch, just continued to hold up his phone, clearly recording her begging.

"no, please…" she whimpered, realisation dawning. "please don't do this… don't make me do this…" She twisted, struggling futilely against the sleeve, tugging against the rope on her collar, embarrassment and shame rising up to overwhelm her.

"please…" tears flooded down her cheeks, "no… no… noooooo!" The first tiny trickle released the floodgates and Samantha could no longer hold it in. Steam and the strong scent of urine teased the cool evening air as a long, golden stream arced, Samantha's sobs drowning out any other sound.

Samantha was too lost in her confusing swirl of thoughts and emotions to notice that Everett had turned off the camera and walked away.

I fucking hate not being in control! Tears threatened again, but she gritted her teeth, fighting them back. He took it away so easily. How could he do that to me? And why do I suddenly sound like a damned 5 year old?

When was the last time anyone dared to even try to punish her for anything?

Samantha had a sudden clear memory of her grandfather spanking her bottom hard. Poppy. Tears glimmered again in her eyes as she remembered the sadness and disappointment in Poppy's face as he set her back on her feet afterward, the heat of his hand as he so gently lifted her chin to look into her tear-stained face.

"Do you have something to say, miss?" he asked her in his soft, gruff voice.

"I'm sorry, Poppy," she mumbled.

"And?"

"I won't do it no more."

"Good girl. Then we won't need to speak of this again." And then those big strong hands pulled her close, into a tight hug. "Now, who loves you?"

"You do, Poppy."

A soft kiss landed on the top of her head. "That's right. And who's my good girl?"

"I am!" And tears were replaced with tickles and giggles and raspberry kisses.

Samantha sighed, ignoring the tightness in her chest. That was a long time ago. Poppy's gone. Long gone. No one's cared enough about my behaviour to punish me since.

Everett did.

He didn't punish me because he cared. He only wants to control me… to destroy me. Why did that thought squeeze at her heart? Why did she care? Didn't she have every intention of turning the tables on him as soon as she could?

She didn't raise her eyes when she heard him return, not sure what she feared more… him seeing what was in her eyes, or her seeing what was in his.

"Your punishment in private is over."

Samantha felt the heat rise in her cheeks again as Everett gently wiped her clean and tossed the tissue away. She had not had to rely on anyone else for anything in more years that she could remember. Don't need anyone taking care of me.

No, you don't trust anyone to take care of you. That's not the same thing at all. And you do need him to do this for you, because your hands are otherwise occupied in case you've forgotten.

"Hey. Look at me."

Samantha kept her eyes locked on the floor.

"I said look at me."

She slowly raised her eyes, aching to feel Poppy's arms wrapping around her, hear his gruff voice telling her she was his good girl. Longing for the comfort that had always followed her punishment when she was a child.

But Everett only studied her a moment as he quietly freed her from her crouching position and led her inside, finally settling her onto a couch and sliding the hood back down over her face.

Samantha stared past him at her reflection in the dark glass of the window.

She might claim to hate not being in control but that woman, the one in the glass, she clearly loved it. That woman arched her back, not because the arm sleeve forced her into it, but because she knew it thrust her tits up, showing them off. That woman craved the smell of the leather, the snug pressure of it cocooning her flesh. That woman felt the heat of Everett's eyes on her like a caress, felt the heat curling in her core.

That woman wanted to be Everett's good girl.

A sharp tug on her nipple chain drew her attention away from her reflection. "Focus on me. Now. That's it. Talk to me. Let me hear what you are thinking."

Samantha lifted her eyes to meet his, tears threatening again. She opened her mouth to speak, and hesitated, closing it again. Part of her wanted to scream at him, to demand an end to the games. She wanted to tell him to take the damn pictures and show them to the world because she was fucking done!

Her eyes flicked to the woman reflected in the window for a moment, and then quickly back to Everett. "I… " she looked down at Everett's hands, "I'm s-sorry…" she couldn't remember the last time she'd apologised for anything, but choked out the words. "I'm… sorry… for c-cumming without permission… sir."

"You are my good little girl now. You will always be my good little girl."

The praise washed over Samantha as Everett sat beside her and pulled her close. She let her head drop onto his shoulder, silent tears soaking his shirt. This was what she'd ached for, what she needed deep in her core. Warmth. Comfort. The firm control of someone who cared enough about her to check her behaviour and correct it. Someone who would still forgive, and… love? Did he say… love?

The hard cock pressing into her side barely registered as Samantha's mind whirled in shock. Did he mean…? He couldn't possibly… She shifted position, immediately grateful for the leather sleeve binding her so tightly, removing any need for her to decide whether she wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

One lean hand curled around her breast as the other tilted her chin up. She could only stare, wide-eyed as Everett slowly leaned in closer, taking her lips in a slow, tender kiss. Heat and passion slowly built as the kiss became more demanding and Samantha began to return the kiss, avidly chasing his tongue with her own, sucking and nipping at his lips.

Pull him closer. She knew now, she wanted to pull him closer. She could only clench her fists inside the sleeve and moan into his kisses.

Then he pulled away, and she wanted to cry out, beg him not to go, but she bit back all but the tiniest whimper. He laid her down gently and stood back to quickly strip off his pants and boxers. Stepping inside the loop of her hobble-chain, Everett lifted her legs to his waist and leaned in to kiss her again.

Samantha felt his wide cock head tease at her passage and she moaned, writhing, bucking her hips as much as she was able, desperate for more, aching to feel his cock plow into her depths.

"Please ... please daddy... please..." She wrapped her legs tight, trying to pull him closer.

Everett reached up, slipping the blinders back over her eyes, cutting off her vision. She felt the cock gag pushed back into place and buckled tight. She whimpered, no longer able to beg with her words or her eyes, left only to clench her legs and lift her hips in a mute plea for more.

"This body is mine. I want it all! I want every part of you." The words were a gravelly whisper in her darkness. She was a nameless, faceless, living toy. A doll to be used for his pleasure. A body to be fucked. To be owned. "You... are... MINE..."

His thick rod slammed into her, stretching her wide, filling her deep and Samantha could only scream behind the gag as waves of pleasure washed over her all bound together by his cock pounding into her and his claim echoing in her ears.

She wanted to tear off the sleeve and wrap her arms around him, tangle her fingers through his hair and dig them into his back, drag him closer and closer. She wanted to beg and plead and scream his name.

She thrashed under him, the chains on her nipples pulling harder and harder, pain shooting from her tits down to her toes, twisting and blending with the bolts of pure pleasure tingling over the same nerve endings with every pounding thrust of his cock.

A bright flash of pain and one breast bounced free, followed quickly by the second. Samantha cried out around the gag, arching her back, writhing as Everett's lips and teeth locked onto her tormented nipples in turn, working them over as he continued to rock his hips, pounding into her, pushing her higher and higher, closer and closer to the crest of pleasure.

Samantha moaned, tossing her head, squeezing her legs around his waist, clenching her pussy walls, milking every thrust. She wanted to feel his climax, wanted to know that he was satisfied with her. She needed to show him that she wanted to be his good girl, his pet, his toy. His anything, as long as it was his.

Just his.

She tried to hold back her orgasm, to wait for him to cum with her. But the relentless pounding pushed her over the edge and back up again, over and over. She was blind, lost in the darkness, nothing but panting moans and grunted groans, nothing but the heady scent of heat and cum, nothing but questing fingers teasing nipples and clit and a hard cock endlessly, relentlessly fucking her pushing her over the cliff again and again until with a final, muffled scream, she surrendered to the darkness, slipping blissfully into unconsciousness.

An annoying buzz poked at Samantha's awareness, along with a tantalizing scent that prodded at her belly, bringing its hollowness to her attention as she drifted to wakefulness.

Lassitude flooded her and she stretched gently, mid-motion before the realization that she was no longer bound to prevent it hit her. She lay still a moment, taking stock. She was laying naked on the sitting room couch, a pillow under her head and a blanket tucked around her. The tightness in her shoulders reminded her sharply that until sometime very recently she had been restrained, bound and helpless.

She bit back a tiny moan at the thought, shifting her hips at the fresh jolts of electricity sparking through her. A new, deep ache brought a flash of memories, a thick cock pounding endlessly into her, orgasm after orgasm flooding over her as she was helpless to do anything but wrap her legs around the pistoning hips and enjoy the ride.

She had no memory of Everett finishing, releasing her, removing the hood or restraints, but obviously he had. Did she fall asleep on him? Oh god. Her cheeks burned. How pathetic was she? Granted she hadn't been sleeping well for quite a while, and her nerves after last night definitely didn't allow much rest, but to fall asleep in the middle of the best sex she'd ever had?

Admittedly, she felt better rested than she had in months. Years maybe.

Everett was better than any sleeping pill she'd ever tried. She smiled softly, stretching again. Maybe she just needed a nightly dose of…

Don't even go there! That's so not going to happen. Forget the fantasy and let's come back to reality now, shall we?

Samantha sat up, letting the blanket drift down. She drew a deep breath, her mouth suddenly parched. Where was this terror coming from that gripped her every time she thought about wanting Everett? Trusting him. Caring for him. Letting him care for her. And why was that the most terrifying of all?

She could hear him in the kitchen. Hear the oven opening and closing. Suddenly the mouth-watering aromas got stronger.

She blinked, drawing in a deep breath.

He'd cooked? For her?

Her hand drifted hesitantly up to her throat, fingers smoothing over the soft leather collar locked there. A sense of peace began to flower, the tiniest bud of feeling that all was right, was exactly as it should be in that moment.

She picked up the bottle of water he'd left on the table for her with a soft smile, twisting off the cap and taking several swallows to ease her parched throat.

"I hope you are hungry. I made us dinner."

Samantha looked up, watching Everett walk slowly towards her and extend his arm. She felt a gnawing in her belly and realised she was quite hungry.

"I am, Sir," she answered softly. "Thank you." She reached up, curling her fingers hesitantly around his arm as she stood to follow.

The delicious aroma grew stronger as he led her into the kitchen. Samantha saw a single place setting was laid out with one large plateful of food. She hesitated in the doorway.

Only yesterday she would have assumed that the meal was for her, and would have dismissed Everett without a thought. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the echo of her still fresh mark on her back and the kiss of leather still locked around her throat.

Today… right now… she wanted to be better than that inconsiderate bitch. She wanted to think of someone else first for a change. To focus on what someone else wanted, what he needed.

She squeezed her fingers around his arm and stepped into the kitchen, ready to follow Everett's lead.

Samantha stared at the forkful of casserole, eyes unfocussed, unseeing.

He had cooked. For her. His grandmother's recipe.

Home cooking. Comfort food. Caring. Poppy.

All gone. Gone and never coming back.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but, I am here if you want to talk. You are not alone anymore."

She blinked, looking up into Everett's eyes. "You don't have to say that," she whispered. Please don't say that. Don't lie to me. Don't make me believe you.

"Sammy?"

She pulled back, all the pain and loss and fear she'd denied herself welling up, bursting out in hoarse cry, "DON'T SAY THAT!!" Samantha scrambled away, and ran. Ran from the pain, ran from the promise of comfort and caring before Everett could take it all away again.

Phone.

She grabbed her purse on the way past, not daring to look back and ran for the second bedroom, scrambling past the racks of shoes, flinging open the closet and slamming the door behind her. The locks clanged into place and only then did Samantha collapse, sobbing, panting for breath, alone and safe in the small panic room.

She sat up, took a deep shuddering breath and another, digging into her purse for her phone and dialling with shaky hands.

"Hello?'

"Evie?"

"Sam?"

"I can't do this," she whispered, voice thick and shaking.

"Sam, what's wrong? Where are you? Talk to me! Samantha!"

"I'm… ok. I'm locked in the panic room. Alone. Safe."

"Sam! Did you call the police? Do you need help?"

"NO!" Samantha clutched at the phone. "I just… can't…"

"Is he still there, Sam? What's he doing?"

"Yes… no… I don't…" Samantha wrapped her arms around herself, hugging tight.

"Don't you have the cameras on?" Evie's voice gentled. "Turn them on, honey. Maybe he's run already."

Samantha hesitated, afraid. Afraid that he's gone? Or that he's still here? She had no answer, but switched the power to the surveillance system, a bank of video screens flickering to life. Everett sat where she had left him, running his hands through his hair, slapping one palm against his thigh.

"Is he still there? What's he doing?" Evie's voice jumped at her.

"He's here. He's upset."

"Angry? Raging? I'm calling the police!"

"No, don't!" Samantha watched the screens. "He looks… worried." He looked disappointed. Pained. "He's… he's cleaning the kitchen."

"Cleaning the kitchen?" Evie squawked.

"He made us dinner. He's putting it away."

"He made you dinner?" Samantha had heard that thoughtful tone in Evie's voice before. "I think you need to talk to him, Sam. I think you need to listen to what he has to say."

"Evie, I can't…"

"I know you, Samantha Noelle. You only fight yourself this hard when you're afraid of what you are feeling. Talk to him." The call ended.

Samantha wiped at her cheeks, dropping the phone into her purse. As it tipped to the side, the small memory stick he had given her tumbled out.

Reaching out a hesitant trembling hand, she picked up the stick, turning it over in her fingers for a few minutes before resolutely plugging it into the computer running the surveillance system.

She slowly scrolled through the photos, watched the videos. Images of herself, bound, covered in cum, in an obvious orgasmic stupor flashed past. Arousal built in her core. She waited for the cold anger, the haughty derision, the desire for revenge on the man who was using her, toying with her, fucking her, to override the arousal, but it didn't come.

She thought about today. About the things there were no pictures of… Everett holding her hand, cradling her in his arms. Gentle caresses and heated kisses. Comfort food and caring.

Even if she lost it all tomorrow, if he took it all away again, it would be worth it. He couldn't take her memories away. He couldn't take her mark. At least she would always have today.

If she hadn't just ruined it all. If he hadn't already gone. She closed the pictures, desperately going through the surveillance camera feeds, searching…

There he was, sitting on the bed on the other side of this locked door, elbows on his knees, head buried in his hands. Still here. Still here.

Samantha flicked off the power to the feeds and turned to unlock the panic room door, swinging it slowly open and stepping through.

"Everett?" she whispered, "Sir?"

Eyes locked onto the picture frames Everett had placed on the dresser, Samantha walked slowly into the room. She had kept those clippings framed on her wall as a constant reminder that no matter how much you loved them, no one stayed. You couldn't count on anyone but yourself.

Everyone who'd ever loved her. Everyone she had ever loved. They all left her. Left her lost and scared. Left her alone.

She'd spent two decades building walls against that pain. Burying the girl who lost the center of her world. Who lost her home, her anchor, her soft place to fall. Twenty years spent telling herself that she was happy alone. That she didn't need anyone else. That she didn't need the family she'd lost.

Tears filled her eyes. What would Poppy say?

He'd tell her she was letting fear rule her life. That's no way to live, Sammy-girl. She could almost hear Poppy's gruff voice washing over her. Life is precious. Love is precious. And you, Sammy-girl, are wasting both.

He'd tell her she'd spent far too much time dwelling on their loss, and not nearly enough remembering the time they had together.

He'd tell her he was disappointed in her. Fresh tears flooded her eyes, her chest tightening. You didn't die, Sammy-girl, we did. It's time you faced your fear and start living again.

She shifted her eyes to Everett.

"I... think I finally understand you now. I am sorry for the pain you have had to go through."

She drew in a deep breath and took the last few steps separating them, dropping to her knees at his feet, her eyes locked on his hands.

"I d-don't want anything to happen to you b-because of m-…" Everyone I love dies! She swallowed against the fear squeezing her throat, "but please don't leave me yet… please… just a little bit longer and then I'll let you go." You'll be safe and I'll have my memories. "please…"

"You push them away because you think if they get too close, they will die. That's it... You see yourself as some kind of self sacrificing hero forced to spend the rest of their days alone?"

Samantha shook. That wasn't what she was doing… was it? She was protecting herself from the pain. Choosing not to allow herself to rely on anyone else. Yes, but… She wasn't… She didn't…

She didn't really believe that god or the fate or the universe or whatever was somehow bent on making sure that Samantha Noelle stayed alone and destroying anyone who got in the way of that… did she?

She was not that arrogant.

Aren't you?

No!

You were a child when Poppy died. Nanna told you he never wanted to leave. That he loved you more than anything. Samantha felt the pain of that loss fill her, expanding, growing. And if it wasn't his fault, then it was…

Mine. A child's logic. I decided then that it was mine.

And then you lost Nanna, too. And Grandpa Jack and Grandma Rose. And…

Mom and Dad.

Everett was speaking, but Samantha's attention was all in the past.

By the time of her parent's accident, she realised, that child's conviction had frozen deep in her core. Somehow she was to blame. She was not a good enough girl. She didn't deserve to have a family. She was unworthy of love.

Without even being conscious of it, she had decided then that if no one could love her, then she would not allow herself to care for anyone else. She pushed all her focus into being the best, the top of her chosen profession. To proving she was worthy.

And in the process kept herself as alone and unloved as that child had ever feared being.

Away. Need to run. Samantha began to pull back.

"What are you doing? I didn't tell you to move slave. Last I remember, even while hiding in that little panic room, you wore my mark and my collar. That still makes you mine. That means you do what I tell you to do and you will remain on your knees... slave. That is... unless something inside you has changed since you entered that room."

Her eyes flew to Everett's, trembling fingers lifting to the leather still locked around her neck. His? She panted, chest rising and falling in rapid gulps as she struggled for air, for oxygen. Not alone? But what if…?

No. No more childish arrogance, she reminded herself sharply. Time for trust.

Samantha eased back on her knees, settling into position.

Everett's fingers lifted her chin. "I am relieved that nothing has changed slave."

She bit back a wild giggle. Nothing had changed. And everything had.

"Now, here is another piece of news that you are going to have to deal with. Three pieces actually. The first is I am going to die... one day... hopefully naked in bed with a beautiful naked woman in my arms."

Samantha shied away from the thought of Everett dying, not ready to push her new resolve. Instead she focussed on the heat in his eyes as they roved over her naked body, so slow and intent. Almost a physical caress.

She straightened slightly, spreading her knees a tiny bit wider, lifting her chest a fraction higher, feeling suddenly more attractive, more desirable. She smiled slightly. Everett's eyes on her pushed away the past, filled the future with potential, with hope… made her feel almost… worthy of it.

"Two. It doesn't matter about death. We will all pay the toll one day. What matters is how you live till you die. I refuse to live in fear of death. I expect you to do the same starting today and that is NOT a request."

Living her life without fear. Setting aside the pain and convictions of the last two decades of her life. Opening up her heart and soul to the possibilities of more pain, perhaps, but also the possibility of pure happiness, of love. It would not be easy, but Samantha was no stranger to hard work. Years in the business had taught her that nothing worthwhile ever came easy, but she knew with this, the rewards would be worth it.

Everett cradled her face in his hands, his thumbs tenderly brushing her cheeks. She let her eyes drift closed with a smile. The possibility of Everett was worth anything.

"Three, if you think you have the privilege of pushing me away, you forget yourself. I am not going anywhere... not for a good LONG time."

Samantha nuzzled into his strong fingers, daring to hope for his words to be truth.

His eyes locked onto hers, focussed, intent. "I am your Master. I am your Daddy. I am your Owner. I want to be more than that someday."

She blinked rapidly, feeling his thumbs swiping at the tears trickling down her cheeks.

"When I said that you are mine... I mean every fucking word of it. Until death do us part, you are MINE, like it or not."

Samantha felt a wave of peace swell up, filling her. She made no attempt to mask her feelings, hoping instead that they radiated from her eyes, her wide smile as she kept her eyes locked onto his.

"I am your slave. I am your submissive. I am your pet." She turned and pressed a small kiss against each palm as he still cradled her face. "I am yours, Master," she dared to whisper, "and I like it."

"It is time for your public punishment."

The shared laughter over Everett's Star Wars ringtone and his adorable blush faded away at his words. Samantha felt a curl in the pit of her stomach. With all the emotional upheaval of the last 24 hours, the wild rollercoaster ride between the heights of joy and the depths of despair and back again, she had forgotten all about the second promised punishment.

She swallowed, looking up into his stern eyes. His expression was utterly still. Implacable. If he felt any doubt, any concern for her reaction, it did not show at all. How could he be so sure when even she wasn't?

Doubt swirled through her mind. She really had no idea what she was letting herself in for… whether she could really do this. He may have been her executive assistant for months now, but she really didn't know anything about Everett. Could she really trust him?

That, at least, she could answer. That she knew. She trusted the man she'd spent the day with. She may not know everything there was to know about Everett Johnson… yet… but she had time to learn those details. She knew the important things. He had shown himself to be a caring, affectionate man. He'd been tender in caring for her, and fierce in his domination. He played her body like a fine instrument, wringing endless orgasms from her, repeatedly sending her soaring.

And he loved Star Wars, she bit back a grin.

She knelt back, spreading her knees and arching her back as she settled into proper position. She could trust.

"I will be right back." Everett walked away.

Samantha strained to listen, trying to hear what he was doing. He walked back into the room, dropped something on the bed and walked away again. She would trust, but…

Curiosity burned inside her, warring with the tiniest bit of trepidation. If she could just see what he was doing… see what he was piling on the bed…

"Eyes down pet. You have put your faith in me. Trust I am doing what is best for you."

She dropped her eyes quickly, sitting up a bit straighter. Warmth flooded her. He watched her. He paid attention. He noticed when she struggled. It was confirmation that she was right. She could believe in him. She could trust. The urge to sneak another little peek built and she bit her lip, fighting to keep her eyes focussed on the rug in front of her.

Trust she had. Obedience, on the other hand, might need a little work. Samantha Noelle hadn't let anyone else tell her what to do for a long, long time. That might prove to be a much harder habit to break.

Everett stopped moving around the room, coming to stand in front of her, his feet and legs filling her field of view, taking the place of the patch of carpet she had been studying. She fought the urge to look up, wanting desperately to search his eyes, but reminding herself that he wanted her eyes down.

Samantha squirmed in place as he stood silent. She couldn't see his expression, but she could feel his eyes on her, feel the heat of his regard like a physical caress. She could feel her nipples tightening, pouting, begging silently for his touch, his mouth. She swallowed a whimper, wishing she could press her thighs closed, attempt to soothe her throbbing clit.

She licked her dry lips, catching the bottom one in her teeth as she fought to hold her position until he released her. She knew it was wrong, it shouldn't be so difficult. She should be able to relax into it and just wait, but patience had never been one of Samantha Noelle's strong points. She would not make it easy.

She was going to give in… she was going to fail this first test. She couldn't…

"This is your outfit for the night. I want you to wear a pair of your earrings as well that you purchased today. You may stand up now pet."

Samantha blew out the breath she hadn't even realised she was holding. "Thank you, Sir," she breathed, barely making any sound, as she stood up. She quickly unfastened the fire opal earrings from her ears, replacing them with the new, red gold hoops while Everett finished his instructions.

"This is the order you will dress. First, your thigh highs and garter belt, then your heels. Your panties will go on next. Please begin."

"Yes, Sir," she settled onto the bed, picking up one thigh high and gathering it into her fingers. She lifted her left leg, tucking her foot into the toe of the hose and slowly extended her leg, pointing her toe and sliding the sheer hose up, up, up, smoothing it over her calf and up around her thigh. She picked up the other thigh high and repeated the process, easing it up her extended right leg.

Twisting in place, she looked over her shoulder to check the seams, straightening them into smooth, steady lines up the backs of her legs. Satisfied with them, she slipped into the garter belt, securing the clips to her thigh highs and smoothing it all into place.

She dropped the shoes onto the floor and slipped her left foot into place, bending over at the waist to reach down and buckle the strap, not unaware of how the move would push out her tight ass and frame her peeking pink pussy lips for his viewing.

He shifted in place and she heard what sounded like a muffled, bit back groan, but she didn't peek. She straightened slowly, slipped her right foot into her remaining shoe, and repeated the move, turning a bit to offer another view as she bent low, buckling the second strap.

Straightening again, Samantha picked up the leather thong panties, slipping her legs into them and shimmying her hips as she slid them up, settling them into place. There was something… what was…

Samantha heard a tiny click and an immediate soft buzzing shook her clit.

"Master!" Her eyes flew to his face as she clutched at his arm, her knees almost buckling under her.

Samantha shifted, the ropes tight against her, pressing lines of sensation into her flesh.

"Go take look in the mirror slave."

She paused, drawing in a deep breath, dropping her eyes for a moment to glance over herself before heading into the bathroom.

She looked into the mirror. At first glance, she looked much the same as always, other than the new hairstyle. She had even worn this particular dress on air. Closer inspection, though, revealed one clear difference. Without a proper bra, her naked breasts pressed obscenely against the thin material of the dress she wore, her nipples starkly visible, pointed and tight as the ropes framed her tits, forcing them up and out.

"You will NOT cum until I tell you otherwise. Look at the woman in the mirror."

Samantha barely had time to register the order when she heard the tiny click again and the remote began to hum. She cried out, bucking her hips, but there was no escape from the little vibe, secured snugly against her clit by the ropes holding it in place.

She moaned, scrambling with her fingers to adjust the ropes, but before she had a chance, Everett stepped close behind her, wrapping his hands around her wrists and pressing her hands against the bathroom counter. "No hands," he growled the warning.

Samantha writhed, whimpering, "please, Master… it's too much… I can't…" Her eyes drifted closed and she dropped her head back against his shoulder, hips sawing desperately.

"Eyes open, pet. On the mirror."

Her eyes fluttered, as Samantha collapsed to her forearms on the bathroom counter, grinding her ass back against Everett. "p-please, Master," she begged, "need to come… please… c-can't…" she humped the empty air, bucking against the relentless buzz, pushing back against the hard cock she could feel through their clothes. After the last 24 hours, her body was already over sensitized and aching. Need for her Master a constant low level hum that the tiny vibe was fast pushing into overdrive.

"pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…"

Everett reached around her and before she realised what was happening, wrapped a coiled towel around her open mouth, gagging her with a tight knot at the back of her head. "That's enough of that I think."

Samantha whimpered behind the gag, tormented eyes wide and pleading as she writhed.

Everett only grinned, reaching around to pluck at her pointed nipples, pinching and twisting, squeezing her tight aching breasts.

Samantha moaned, eyes rolling back, frantically trying to hold back the explosive climax bubbling inside her. Not without permission. Not without permission. Not without permission. Oh fuck… oh god… can't… She pressed against Everett, grinding herself against him, rubbing on his hard cock, fingers scrabbling at the smooth bathroom counter.

She lifted tear-filled eyes to meet his in the mirror, shaking her head as shudders began to wrack her legs, her knees almost buckling. I'm sorry, Master… I tried… can't hold it back… gonna… gonna…

"Go get us a taxi pet. Have your doorman do it."

Samantha hesitated only a moment, clenching her fists, knowing that no matter how tightly she tried to hold on to her control would make no difference. It was all tucked in Everett's hand. She lifted her chin. She would not cower in fear. She was strong. She was determined to be obedient. She would make her Master proud.

She walked over to the building doorman, drawing a deep breath as she got closer and closer, sure that at any moment the little vibe would kick into life.

"W-we need a cab, please, Douglas," she smiled.

"Certainly, Miss," the older man nodded, picking up the phone at his kiosk to make the call. Turning back to her he hesitated a moment, then smiled, "If I may, Ms. Noelle, the new hairstyle is very becoming. I almost didn't recognise you when you arrived."

Samantha blushed, with a tiny laugh, glancing quickly to Everett and back. "Thank you, Douglas."

"Do you… need help, Miss?" He glanced significantly toward Everett and back to Samantha, his pale blue eyes worried. "Is there anything I can do for you? Call security, perhaps?"

She blinked, surprised to recognise true concern in the doorman's gaze. The old Ms. Noelle would have overlooked it, responded with rudeness or disdain. Sudden flashes of memory winked through her mind, short conversations, compliments, small gifts for her on special occasions. The realisation hit her hard. He was the closest thing to a family that she had, like a dear old uncle watching over her.

"Thank you, no, Douglas." She picked up his hand and gave it a squeeze, smiling into the doorman's surprised eyes. "Mr. Johnson is… a friend."

He smiled back, patting her hand. "and will we be seeing more of him then?"

"I believe so," she smiled with a soft blush. "I hope so," she murmured, barely a whisper.

"Congratulations then, Miss," he smiled, as the cab pulled up. He opened the cab door and held it as Everett walked over to join them. "Ms. Noelle," he nodded, helping her in, "Sir," he nodded to Everett. "Have a pleasant evening."

The cab door closed and Samantha pressed against Everett, relief washing over her. She wanted to kiss him, to thank him, to ride him, to offer anything to express her gratitude at not being teased in front of Douglas. At the same time, she was eager to avoid doing anything to remind Everett of the remote in his palm. As if he's forgotten!

Everett turned to look at her, sliding his free hand over her knee and pushing it between her inner thighs spreading them apart, only smiling as she whimpered, holding them open. "You remember what I said. You will NOT cum until I tell you to. You will fight your orgasms with everything you have and I don't care if you get embarassed in the process pet. This is part of your public punishment."

He flicked the remote on and Samantha bit back a cry, teeth digging into her lip as she curled her fists in Everett's shirt, pressing her face against his chest, her hips bucking. "Master, please," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, "please…" The little vibe pulsed against her, pushing her fast toward the edge, her quiet whimpers growing to a breathless keening. "pleasepleaseplease…"

Everett flicked the remote off moments before she would have climaxed, reached her relief from the throbbing, swirling waves of pleasure almost so intense as to be painful.

Samantha panted for breath, unable to form words. Only staring at him with pleasure-hazed liquid chocolate eyes.

"We are going somewhere you are going to love..."

She had no time to wonder, as the vibe took off again, whirring to life against her already oversensitive clit. "Master!" She writhed, collapsing into Everett's lap, pressing her face against his thighs as her hips bucked up, unable to escape the buzzing torment. She whined softly through gritted teeth, fighting to hold back the sounds, to be still, but her body would not cooperate, needing to move, needing to escape… needing to come… oh god it was right there… she was going to…

A soft click and the vibration stopped.

Samantha's eyes drifted closed as she pressed her face against Everett's thigh, softly panting for breath, struggling to relax, to release the tension in her arms, the tight clench of her thighs. She'd barely caught her breath when the slow squeal of brakes heralded the cab's pulling to a stop at their destination.

Samantha drew a deep shuddering breath, fighting the jittery panic screeching in the back of her head. All but naked. In public. Worse than that, in a working dungeon, a kink club. If she were exposed here, her reputation would be ruined. Completely destroyed. Her career over.

She twisted her wrists, tugging ineffectually at the cuffs locking them together behind her. Nearly helpless. There was little she could do to protect herself without the use of her arms. No way to stop anyone from doing whatever they liked to her. Not safe… can't do this…

The wide leather collar encased her throat, locking snug and the tightness in her chest eased a fraction, letting her breathe. Finally came the leash, one end clipped to her collar, as the other slipped over Everett's wrist. Safe. Master would keep her close. Keep her safe.

"You can do this... so come on..."

Everett walked out of the changing room, leaving her little choice but to follow, her own need more than the leash keeping her close. He tucked her bag into a locker and turned to lead her deeper into the bulding.

Samantha tucked behind him, close at his back.

He paused and turned to her, looking directly into her eyes, holding her worried gaze. "You will heel, but you will not hide."

She dropped her eyes a moment before lifting them back to his. "Yes, Master… Rand," she whispered.

"I expect you to remember three things." Everett curled one hand around her bare breast, flicking his thumb across the puckered nipple. "You are stunning. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed about."

Samantha bit back a soft moan, pushing into his caress. "Yes, Sir."

"A slave's behaviour is a reflection on their owner."

She straightened, standing the tiniest bit taller as she pressed her cheek against his hand, rubbing softly. "I will try to make you proud, Sir."

"I know you will." He smiled. "I don't expect perfection, but I do expect the effort."

"Yes, Sir," Samantha promised. His eyes roved over her. She could feel a cool wisp of air passing across her from somewhere, shudders rippling along her skin. The hood hid the heat of her blush, but nerves were beginning to coil in her belly again. "The third thing to remember, Sir?" she whispered, curiosity pushing past.

Everett only grinned wickedly.

The tiny click was drowned out by the music pounding from the back of the building, so she was unprepared for the vibe buzzing to life. Her knees buckled as she cried out, shaking, dropping to his feet. She gritted her teeth, fighting back the whimpers, pressing her shoulders against his knees, alternately spreading her thighs wide and pressing them together in an attempt to ease the torment. "please, Master… I can't… hold… please…"

The vibe showed no mercy, pushing her higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge of the abyss. There was no stopping it, no respite. The scream was building inside her, ready to be torn free with the climax that was swirling… building… almost…

"You are at my complete and utter mercy. Cum again whore!"

The second orgasm in as many minutes blasted through Samantha like a lightning bolt, shooting sparks from the top of her head to the tips of her curling toes. Her entire body spasmed and shook, only Everett's hold on her keeping her upright and pressed to the wall.

The little vibe finally stilled, but her clit still pulsed, her pussy grasping at its emptiness, clenching with every beat of her pounding heart. She panted, harsh and deep, desperately sucking air into her oxygen starved lungs.

She tugged futilely at the cuffs binding her hands at her back, aching to collapse into Everett's embrace, throw her arms around him and hold tight forever.

No such thing as forever.

For as long as he'd let her then.

She could feel the tears filling her eyes again and blinked them back, squeezing her eyes shut against them. Tears not of pain, or humiliation, she realised, but of gratitude. Gratitude for this man who… though neither of them had planned it, or possibly even imagined it… had found her, used her hard yes, but cared for her as well. Was even now protecting her and giving her exactly what she needed, even when she would deny it to herself.

Gratitude and something far deeper that she shied away from giving any name, not ready to admit the true depths of his hold over her heart and soul.

His grip was easing, her weight settling back onto her own legs as she locked her knees, hoping to steady them enough to stand again.

"Good girl. Now... no more orgasms, do you understand?"

She nodded slowly. She understood, and would do her best to obey, but she knew that the final control over her orgasms was held tucked in her Master's hand and it would be his decision alone whether he pushed her beyond her ability to hold back.

"Good. I have someone I want you to meet. Someone who will shock you and another reason you are here. Be silent. Be obedient. Follow me pet."

Samantha's eyes grew wide, the tightness squeezing her throat preventing anymore that a tiny squeak of nervous assent as Everett turned with a quick tug on her leash to lead her back into the corridor.

She fell into a heel position, behind and to the right, close but not hiding. It took a few strides to find her proper balance with her arms bound behind her, but Samantha lifted her chin, arching her back to thrust her naked breasts up and out. She rolled her hips, a soft sensual sway with every step.

She was strong. She was beautiful. And she would make her Master the envy of every person here tonight.

Samantha followed Everett through the large central space and around its groups of chairs, concentrating on keeping every movement soft and sensual while keeping her attention on her Master, sneaking only a few quick peeks at the activities on the stages.

He took a seat indicating a spot in front of him with a single tap of his foot.

She stepped forward, slipping to her knees a little less gracefully than she had hoped. With her arms cuffed together behind her back, it was somehow so much more difficult to maintain her balance.

She settled back, easing her knees further apart. Her efforts at kneeling might not be as effortless as other slaves, but now that she was safely on her knees, she could offer perfect posture. She arched her back, pushing out her breasts as she simultaneously lifted her chin and lowered her eyes.

Holding the pose a moment, Samantha could no longer resist looking up into her Master's eyes, needing to see him, needing to watch for any new signal. Needing to calm her nerves with his presence.

"I take it you liked the pet room. I will give you some time in there in a bit... if you are good."

Everett's soft voice washed over her, and an image of the pet room flashed into her mind, human pets playing as puppies and kittens. She shifted slightly… confused… intrigued… she remembered looking into the room, halting as she watched, unable to look away. They'd looked so happy… so carefree… but…

"Don't be obvious, but look over my left shoulder. Do you see the two on stage, the woman and the older man. Does the man look familiar at all?"

Samantha glanced over to where he'd indicated, taking in the couple currently on stage. She didn't recognize the woman, but the man she was binding… even though his face was partially obscured by a half-hood… there was something about him. The mouth was familiar somehow.

"You have interviewed him before. No? Don't recognize him?" Everett murmured.

She looked again, studying what was visible of his face. She'd interviewed so many people… but she did feel like she knew him. Something about that square jaw, the dimpled chin…

"That is Devon Marcus, Editor in Chief of the New York Times."

Samantha's mouth dropped open in shock. Now that she'd heard his name, she could see that it was him. Devon Marcus. Locked in a cock cage and being suspended in rope bondage, completely at the mercy of his Mistress.

And looking as though he was enjoying every minute of it!

"I show you this... because I want you to understand you are not the only one with these kinds of cravings and urges. So... you may speak but speak only to me. What do you think slave?"

"I…" Samantha hesitated, looking over at Kaitlyn. She was strong, demanding, not hesitating a moment to take what she wanted from Devon. She was everything that people would expect Samantha Noelle to be… a ball-busting bitch.

A tiny crinkle grew between her eyebrows, and she bit her lip. She tried to imagine herself on the stage, controlling her partner, binding him, keeping him at her mercy. She looked up at Everett. Imagining him bound and helpless was just wrong! He wasn't…

"I just can't… I'm sorry…" She lowered her eyes, focussing on Everett's hands. New images filled her mind's eye. Images of herself suspended in the ropes, bound and helpless, completely under her Master's control. That was right. That was the way things should be. That was everything she wanted.

The disappointment filling Everett's eyes crushed her, squeezing her chest. She could barely force the whisper past the tightness in her throat. "I'm sorry… I… I can't be a Mistress." She leaned forward, pressing her cheek against her Everett's thigh. "I only want to be yours."

Samantha tugged at the wrist cuffs, pressing herself against the bars of the cage, seeking her Master's kiss. A tiny whimper escaped as he moved away and the cage began to rise, lifting her further and further away from him, from the comfort and safety of being connected to him through her collar and leash.

The cage spun in a slow circle as it continued to rise and she saw heads turn to watch, strangers' eyes feasting on her body, caged and on display. On her bound and naked breasts, pushing through the gaps between the bars.

She tugged again at the cuffs, but there was barely room to shift in her prison and all she managed was a soft clinking of steel on steel and a tiny swinging of her cage.

Desperately scanning the crowd, she caught Everett's eyes, saw him smile, and relaxed slightly, drawing in a deep breath. She could do this. She offered a small smile in return as the cage continued to turn, moving him out of her line of sight.

Not daring to meet any of the eyes staring up at her, Samantha turned her attention to Devon Marcus and his Mistress. She had moved around to bring her whip down on his inner thighs, marking the tender flesh repeatedly as he howled his thanks, a look of pure bliss in his smile.

The cage spun further and her eyes shifted to the next stage. A young woman was bound arched back over a curved wooden barrel, her Master alternately dripped hot molten wax on her body and then using the stinging swat of a riding crop to flick away the cool, hardened wax as she whined around her gag, writhing in exquisite torment.

Samantha shifted, eyes wide, her nipples tightening in the cool air.

The cage spun further and they too shifted out of sight. She scanned the crowd automatically, seeking out her Master's eyes, but could not see him. Where was he? Her eyes searched a little more frantically, panic edging in. She bit her lip, barely stopping herself from calling out. Objects do not speak. She curled her fingers into fists. Where… where... where…

And in that moment, the little vibe jumped to life, buzzing against her clit. Her entire body spasmed, the cage rattling loudly as she clenched her jaw and bucked, biting off a sharp cry.

Dozens of faces turned to stare, arms lifted, fingers pointing, but Samantha was barely aware of them. She writhed and twisted in the tight confines of the cage, scraping her hips against the bars, but only the bare space of a gap met her, no bars in the right place to allow her to affect the tormenting vibe.

She panted, moaned.

Objects do not speak.

She was going to come. She couldn't hold it back. She could feel her toes curling, her back arching in the tiny space she had… she was going to…

The vibe stopped.

Samantha sagged in relief, dragging against her wrist cuffs, her head dropping against the bars as she panted for breath. She could feel the wetness soaking her through the leather and rope holding the vibe against her. Hoped it wasn't visible from the floor, but she didn't have the energy to worry about it, even if she'd been able to move enough to look.

She panted for breath, her eyes searching for Everett, but still not finding him. This time, though, the panic was not there, because she knew he was. Whether she could see him or not, her little vibe let her know he was still there. He was still watching her. He was still keeping her safe.

Her eyes drifted as the cage spun. This time she saw another stage. A young man bound to a heavy wooden St. Andrews Cross. He had a long trail of clothespin clamps weaving over his skin like a line of dominos, across his chest from one nipple to the other, down his belly, over his bare groin, across his scrotum and up the underside of his hard cock. His Mistress held one end of a cord at his shoulder, until with one sharp tug, she ripped it away, sending little clamps flying as the cord pulled the zipper free, and the young man screamed, arching his back, shooting his climax.

Samantha gasped as she watched, and the little vibe flicked on again. This time, she could not hold back the startled cry as she bucked, rattling the steel cage. She rolled her hips in her tight confines, straining and tugging on the wrist and ankle cuffs, tremors wracking her entire body.

She gritted her teeth, whimpering, moaning.

Objects do not speak.

She could feel a trickle down her thigh. Sweat? Or something else? She couldn't tell. Didn't care. The only thing that mattered now was not cumming. She clenched her fingers. Closed. Open. Closed. Open.

She shifted, twisting, pressing up on her toes, pumping her hips, rattling the steel cage. Her teeth dug into her lip, fighting against the desperate need to cry out to her Master, to beg for mercy, to beg for permission to cum…

Objects do not speak.

She shuddered and squealed, the little vibe pushing her closer and closer to the precipice. No… no… no… She clenched her eyes, gasping. don't cum… don't cum… don't cum… Master!!

Samantha panted, struggling to catch her breath. No way of knowing when the tormenting little vibe would flick to life again.

She sagged against the bars of her little prison, eyes drifting closed.

The droning rumble of the audience below her seemed to grow louder the longer she spun slowly in her cage. She sent silent thanks again to Everett, for allowing her to remain hooded. The hood protected her identity, but it also served to hide the flush of humiliation surely staining her cheeks at the display she was putting on.

She only hoped she was not disappointing her Master. She had managed not to speak, but could not stay quiet. She was convinced that the sounds being torn from her were the only thing allowing her to manage… barely… to keep from cumming. Just as she knew that even that would soon not be enough.

The vibe flicked on again and she jerked upright, clattering the cage bars as she cried out and arched her back. Then quick as it started, it stopped.

She dropped her eyes back to the crowd below, flicking quickly past all the strangers faces looking avidly up at her, the pointing and whispering, searching idly for Everett but never spotting him.

The buzzing started again, spinning on and on and on. Samantha bucked wildly, sending the cage swinging slightly as she gasped and whined.

"Cum! Cum!!" The steady drone of the crowd began to resolve into a single chant, and Samantha arched up on her toes, fighting the crowd's urging along with her own traitorous body.

This time she would fail. She knew it as she writhed, the trembling beginning in her knees and moving inexorably up her thighs. The little vibe buzzed on and on and on. This time, they would all get what they wanted. All except her Master. The only one who mattered. He didn't want her to cum.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, biting her lip hard, fists clenched tight. Even if she failed at everything else, she would not call out to him. She would not beg. Objects do not speak.

The trembling worked its way down her arms, the entire cage rattling steadily with her as she arched back, tossing her head. She could feel the orgasm building inside her, beyond her ability to hold back. can't… can't… can't…

"Randspet! Master Rand speaking now. CUM!"

Her Master's blessed voice shouted over the crowd and Samantha's hesitation lasted barely a fraction of a second. She screamed, a full-throated, shattering howl of pure ecstasy as the climax she had fought back so long ripped through her, sent her soaring to the stars.

She drifted, struggling for breath, barely conscious. Only the bars of the cage and the cuffs on her wrists keeping her upright. The cheers of the crowd barely registered over her own gasps for oxygen.

The cage rattled again and slowly, slowly began to lower back down.

Samantha's heart stuttered in her chest. Down, down, down. Back to where her Master would be waiting for her. Would he be pleased with her? She wrapped her fingers around the chains on her cuffs, grateful for their presence, their strength. Grateful for the cage. They were the only things that could prevent her from throwing herself into her Master's arms in this moment. She would not embarrass him in front of his friends.

The cage finally stopped, still swinging just above the ground. The crowd growing quiet as she glanced about, finally locking eyes with her Master as he slowly walked over.

Never shifting his eyes from hers, he pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the cage, swinging the door open. The intensity of the fire burning in his eyes took Samantha's breath away.

Everett made no move to unlock her wrist and ankle cuffs, only curled his fingers around her breasts, with a squeeze, flicking his thumbs over her tightly peaked nipples. "Kiss me like you have never kissed before. I own you... now... own me with your kiss."

Samantha dove forward with a wordless cry, straining against the cuffs on her wrists. She poured everything, all the words she was not yet permitted, into her kiss. She arched, pressing herself as close to him as she could, devouring him. Sucking and nibbling on his lips and tongue, pressing tiny kisses against his stubbled cheeks and chin, humming her gratitude and adoration against his skin.

After several minutes, Everett eased back out of her reach and Samantha whimpered at the loss, straining against her cuffs, begging with her eyes. Only when she settled back, standing still and quiet, did she become aware, once again, of the crowd suddenly surrounding them.

"You have 20 minutes to play. The rule is, you act as my kitten, kittens stay on all fours at all times. Now... go on."

Samantha lowered herself to her hands and knees, hesitant, slightly uncertain. She looked back toward her Master. As much as the puppies and kittens had intrigued her before, at this moment, she wanted to be near her Master more.

Everett closed the pet door and nodded to her.

A playful mew sounded nearby and a ball of yarn rolled toward her, coming to rest against her leg. She looked at the yarn, then over to the other kitten, completely encased in latex.

Samantha lifted her hand… her paw… and batted the yarn back with a soft mew of her own. The other kitten grinned, pouncing on the yarn and batting it back again, and they spent the next few minutes playing that way, chasing the yarn, batting it back and forth.

Finally the other kitten wandered away and Samantha sat back on her haunches for a moment, looking around. She spotted a water dish across the play area and licked her lips, suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Crawling slowly over, she crouched down to her elbows, lapping at the cool fresh water.

She rolled her shoulders, the tension of the struggle she'd been through in the cage leaving her a bit stiff now that she was coming back from her orgasm high. She wandered over to a large, rope-covered scratching post and raised up scratching slightly with her fingernails, arching and rolling her shoulders in a soft stretch.

Easing back onto all fours, she stretched her neck up, rolling her head side to side. She arched her back, her hips waving high in the air as she pressed her chest to the floor, stretching her arms out in front of her.

"Randspet." She looked up at her Master's call. "Here, kitten."

Samantha clambered to her feet, crawling quickly to where he stood. She purred softly, rubbing her cheek against his leg, working her way around him, rubbing her shoulder here, her hips there, alternating tiny mews and soft rumbling purrs.

After circling him twice, she settled on all fours at his feet, looking up with a sweet smile, adoration brimming in her eyes. She was his pet. She was his kitten. She was his. And she awaited his next command.

Samantha hunkered down in the back of the cab with a choked sob, clutching her wallet. She pulled up her knees, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Where to, lady?"

She blinked, somehow grateful for the cabbie's bored indifference and impatience. She rattled off the address and settled back into the seat as the taxi pulled away from the curb, leaving Everett behind at the warehouse.

So, when is the wedding you two?

…when is the wedding…

…the wedding…

…the wedding…

Mistress EllenX's words ran over and over through her head, along with the horrified look in Everett's eyes when he'd looked over at her.

A wave of the same overwhelming panic that had washed over her in the warehouse swamped her again, and she rocked against the seat, head shaking. It had nothing to do with what she had done, or had done to her today, she realised. It was not even the words that continued to run through her head no matter how she tried to ignore them.

No. In that moment, when Mistress EllenX had said the words, Samantha had wanted it. Wanted it with every fiber of her being. That was what had so terrified her. She'd wanted it to her very core. 'Til death do us part. And the look in his eyes told her that Everett was appalled at the very idea.

She'd lost her mind. Obviously. If this was all part of Everett's planned revenge, it was a masterstroke. He'd played her mind and body so well that she fancied herself in love with him? Wanted to marry him? Wanted to be his forever?

The cab pulled over and eased to a stop.

Samantha looked up, thankful to see lights on and quickly paid the cabbie and stepped back, turning to run up the brownstone steps and knock frantically at the door. "please, Evie, please be home."

The door swung open. "Sam?"

For the second time in as many days, Samantha collapsed into Evie's surprised arms. "ok, shhhh… it's ok… come inside, sweetie."


***


The doorman was surprised to see Everett shuffling toward Samantha's building, shoulders hunched against the cool wind, his fists shoved in his pockets.

"Mr. Johnson, sir," he looked around, "are you… where's Ms. Noelle?"

He watched Everett swallow, a pained look filling his eyes. "She's not home yet?"

The doorman shook his head. "I can't divulge the comings and goings of residents, sir." He hesitated slightly, "is something wrong? Did something happen to…"

Everett sighed. "It was going so well, so perfectly…" He shrugged. "A friend of mine made a comment, asked when we were going to get married."

The doorman's eyes widened and he smiled, "oh?"

"Sammy… Ms. Noelle was upset at the idea. She ran." Everett looked into sympathetic eyes. "listen, it's Douglas, right?"

"Yes, sir."

Everett grabbed a pen and paper from the doorman's kiosk, scribbling down his cellphone number. "Douglas, would you let me know when she gets home? Please. I promise I won't come back and bother her again tonight. I just… I need to know she's home safe, ok?"

Douglass slipped the number into his pocket with a small nod. "I'm sorry, I can't divulge the comings and goings of residents, sir."

"thank you, Douglas."

The doorman shook his head, watching the disappointed young man walk away into the evening. Where was Ms. Noelle?


***


Evie settled a warm mug of peppermint tea in front of Samantha. "ok, start at the beginning. What are you doing here? Where is your Everett?"

"oh Evie," Samantha took a soothing sip of tea, "he took me to a… club."

"and?"

Samantha blushed. "I can't… it was…"

Evie grinned. "The best sex ever?"

"He does things to me… I can't… it's so…" she blushed again, a watery smile breaking through. "yes. Best. Ever."

"So, I'll ask again… what are you doing here?"

Samantha groaned. "His friend… she took one look and asked when's the wedding!"

A light trilling laugh rolled through the room as Evie burst into giggles. "let me guess, you panicked and ran?"

Samantha threw her napkin across the table at Evie. "It's not funny! You didn't see the look on his face. It was pure horror!"

Evie rolled her eyes. "Did you ask him about it? Or did you just run?"

"Ask him what?! Oh, by the way Everett, you looked for a moment there like you'd rather eat razor blades than consider marrying me, but how do you really feel?" she snorted, clutching one hand around the handle of her mug and unconsciously rubbing the other along the collar she was not even aware was still locked around her throat.

Evie eyed the gesture, but made no comment about it. "I didn't realise you'd become psychic. You know what he was thinking. You don't suppose maybe he was just worried about what you might think?"

Samantha opened her mouth to retort and then hesitated, closing it again. "I…" she blinked. "It doesn't matter. There's no way in the world we could ever…"

"Why not?" Evie arched a brow.

Samantha snorted, counting off her fingers. "He's so young. He's my executive assistant. He wants a career in the industry. We live in different worlds. He's blackmailing me. It hasn't even been two days!"

Now it was Evie's turn to snort. "Age is a number, nothing more. If he gets the career he wants, he won't be your assistant anymore. Who says your worlds have to be different? People can move." She picked up Samantha's hand, squeezing her fingers. "I have never known Samantha Noelle to give up anything she wanted without a fight. Obstacles can be overcome if you want something badly enough. I think you need to go home and think about that."


***


Samantha reached up, accepting the doorman's extended hand as she stepped out of the cab. "Thank you, Douglas," she smiled softly, heading in to the elevator.

"Good night, Miss."

Douglas pulled the slip of paper from his coat pocket and punched the number into his cellphone, sending a single emoji. Thumbs up.

Samantha closed the door and turned the deadbolt lock. She stood for a moment, simply leaning against the door, letting her head fall against it, eyes closed tight. After the emotional rollercoaster of the last two days, she was surprised that she had any tears left, but she could feel them burning her eyes, clogging her throat.

She shook her head, tossing her wallet and keys onto the table next to her door, and slammed her palm against the wall, flicking on the lights.

The itch of her own juices drying on her thighs brought her awareness back to her body. "Bath," she muttered to herself, "I need a bath. Now."

She stalked into the bathroom, stripping and dropping her clothes to the floor, caring only about soaking herself clean. She started the water running, hot as she could stand it, and poured in a generous splash of jasmine scented bubble bath, easing back into the rising water.

She stretched out in the large tub, lifting each leg in turn to smooth her wet hands along their length, then slid her hands up her inner thighs, scrubbing away the evidence of her multiple, shattering orgasms. She slowly, gently ran her fingers over her still swollen and oversensitive pussy lips, whimpering as she cleaned her folds, circling her fingertip around her battered clit.

The memory of Everett's dark voice, commanding her climax washed over her and she bucked up, clenching her thighs together, a breath away from obeying.

She tossed her head back with a sob, falling back into the soothing bath. Oh god, was he so deep inside her? Was his control already so all-encompassing that she was ready to climax at the mere memory of his ordering it? She shied away from the thought. Not possible. No. Her body was just overstimulated tonight. That's all. After spending hours with that vibe literally bound to her clit, it was no wonder she was still swollen and tender and on the verge of climax.

Her stomach rumbled and Samantha jumped from the bath, quickly drying herself off and wrapping up in a battered old comfy robe. Comfort clothes… like a warm, soft hug. She avoided looking in the mirror. Not daring, afraid to see the lies and denial in her own eyes.

She wandered into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator door. There in the center was a covered casserole dish. She stared, fingers pressed against her lips. Everett's shepherd's pie. Her stomach protested again, and she slowly, slowly reached for the casserole.

Dishing up a small plateful, she returned the rest to the fridge and put the plate in the microwave to heat while she poured herself a large glass of milk. The same delicious aroma from what seemed so long ago wafted through the kitchen as she pulled the steaming plate from the microwave.

She grabbed the glass of milk and carried them both into the small living room, curling up on the buttersoft leather of the overstuffed couch, setting her glass on the end table and balancing her plate on the arm of the couch as she flicked on the TV. Toy Story 2 blared to life and she grinned settling back to watch as she spooned up a mouthful of the casserole.

Her eyes drifted closed a moment, the flavours of the casserole warm and soothing and perfect. This was comfort food of the first order. Like a hug from her Nana. No. Like a hug from Everett's grandmother.

She grabbed up her cellphone, dialling Everett. It rang and rang and rang, before a tinny automated voice informed her that his voicemail was full and she could not leave a message. She could only try again at another time. She tossed the phone down with a sigh, not sure whether to be upset or grateful, no idea what she would have said if he'd answered.

Sarah McLachlan's haunting voice broke through her thoughts and she looked up, watching the sad little cowgirl doll be left behind, underscored by the sad melody. Tears filled her eyes and she blinked down at her empty plate. Was she going to be that sad little doll? Left behind with a broken heart when Everett was finished playing with her?

She grabbed the remote, turning off the movie and tossing the remote back onto the couch seat. Picking up her glass, she drained the last of the milk and grabbed the plate, heading back to the kitchen to put both into the dishwasher.

Heading into her bedroom, Samantha spotted several shopping bags still laying where they'd left them earlier. Shoving them aside, she stripped off her robe and crawled into the bed.

She thought about Evie's advice. If she wanted Everett, was she willing to fight for him? Before she could admit her feelings to him, she needed to admit them to herself. She wanted him. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to be his. She wanted forever.

Then she remembered advice from a guest she'd interviewed once. They'd spent quite a while telling her that trusting someone was not about what they might do, it was about trusting yourself to handle it, whatever happened. Could she do that? Could she trust herself?

She grabbed up her phone again, dialling Everett. Again no answer. She sighed, putting her phone on the bedside and rolling over to go to sleep.



The next morning, she slipped from the bed and headed to the shower. Casting a quick glance at herself in the mirror, she stopped midstride, staring. Slowly her hand rose, brushing along the collar still locked around her throat. How had she not noticed all this time that it was still there? Still locked in place. How is it that Everett's collar felt so natural, so much a part of her that she didn't question it being there?

She turned away from the mirror, clipping her long hair up and stepped into the shower, washing quickly and taking care not to allow her collar to get wet. She hesitated a moment and then picked up the razor, using a few quick but careful strokes to shave the slight stubble from her nearly bare mound.

Heading back into the bedroom, she spent a moment with her body lotion, smoothing it into her arms and legs.

Working a pair of nude hose up her legs and onto her thighs, she slipped into a red, sheer lace garter with a small ruffle, looking almost like an obscenely short skirt that showed off her smooth curving ass cheeks. She took the matching sheer lace bustier and fastened it on, stroking over her hips and tiny waist, exaggerated even more by the cinching.

She eased her feet into a pair of knee-high black leather boots, lacing them tightly, then strode into her walk-in closet. Pulling a mid-thigh length, red knitted dress from its shelf, she slid it over her head, smoothing the form-fitting, dress into place. The soft cashmere left her arms bare, stretching over her curves like a second skin.

As a final touch, she picked up a white shawl, wrapping it around her neck and shoulders, both for warmth and to disguise her collar. Ready as she would ever be.

She picked up her phone. Missed call? Everett's number? With shaking fingers she checked her voicemail. No messages.

"Well, that's just fine, Everett," she muttered to herself. "The conversation is coming to you!" Tucking her wallet and phone into her purse, she headed out the door.

Samantha paid the cabbie and turned to look up at Everett's apartment building. Never having been there before, she hadn’t been sure what to expect. It was an older building to be sure, the stonework worn and crumbling a bit in places, but cheerful riots of colourful flowers decorated several of the balconies, strings of lights on a few others.

It may not be Park Avenue, but it was obvious that it was no derelict either. The tenants who lived here were making it home. In fact, there were more bright, homey looking balconies here than you'd find on her own building. Including her own balcony.

She turned and headed into the building, unsurprised to find there was no doorman. A harried young woman juggling a baby and two toddlers came out through the security door and Samantha quickly stepped forward to hold it for her, using the opportunity to get in without having to buzz up to Everett's apartment for entrance. He was not going to get the chance to refuse her entry.

She stepped into the elevator, pressing the button and leaning back against the rail, not daring to glance at her reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. She drew in a deep breath and let it out, nerves fluttering wildly. What could she say? Maybe she should have thought this through a little more? Maybe she should just leave before he ever realised she was even there.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding smoothly open.

Samantha glanced up a stopped dead in her tracks. Everett stood at the other end of the hall, a lanky brunette kneeling at his feet, her ass hanging out of a pair of denim cutoffs, her huge tits barely concealed by her tiny white blouse.

She couldn't make out what they were saying at this distance, but the woman's ponytail did nothing to hide the collar around her neck. A tiny exhalation of pain escaped her. Everett could not possibly have heard it, but he turned, blanching when he saw her standing there. In shock? Guilt?

She didn't take the time to wonder. She had to get out of there. Now.

Not waiting to see what Everett would do, she turned and slammed the elevator buttons, squeezing out the barely open doors as soon as it hit the lobby, running for the first cab she saw.

She flopped back against the seat as the cab pulled into traffic, speeding away. Letting her head fall back, she closed her eyes, swallowing hard. Her mind was spinning in a thousand different directions. Pain lanced her heart, but fury filled her mind. She lifted her fingers to caress her collar.

Was everything he'd said to her a lie? When he locked this collar onto her throat and told her that she was his forever, was it all bullshit?

Or was it something he told every woman he used? Did he collar every woman he fucked? How many were there?

Her phone rang, but she ignored it.

The tenderness couldn't have been a lie, could it? The caring? Was it all just a delusion? Something he did to soften her up, make her more willing to go along with his plans? She smoothed her fingers over her hidden tattoo. Did that bitch have his mark tattooed on her as well? She'd thought that was something special. Something only between the two of them. Were there dozens of women wearing this tattoo? Had Max done the tattoo so many times he had memorised the design?

Her phone rang again and again. She shoved it into her purse.

Her text alert chimed and, curious, she pulled her phone back out to look.

"What you saw isn't what you think you saw. Come back here now. I own you and you will do what you're told. Come back NOW."

Hesitating, Samantha read and re-read the text. Was that a threat? Was it simply a command? Was it supposed to be some sort of explanation? Not good enough.

She typed a quick reply. "I will not be some concubine in whatever harem you've got going! And I'm not interested in any little ménage fantasy you've got either, especially with a low-class bitch like that one!" She hit send, then added a final, "I think we're DONE."

She regretted sending that last declaration before it even finished posting, and knocked on the cab window, asking the driver to turn around and head back to Everett's building.

Her text alert chimed again almost immediately and she snatched up the phone to read it.

"We are not done until I say so. There is no one else. And I am NOT having this conversation by text. You will come back here. Now, pet."

Samantha didn't answer the text this time. The cab was already pulling up to Everett's apartment building, and she quickly paid the cabbie and rushed out, thanking her lucky stars at her timing that she managed once again to catch someone at the security door, this time an elderly lady returning home with her little pug.

She held the door again, and the lady smiled. "Thank you, dear."

Finally, Samantha stepped out of the elevator on Everett's floor, thankful to see the hallway empty this time. Her phone was ringing again, but she ignored it, walking instead to Everett's doorway and knocking on the door, nerves once again fluttering in her belly.