A Jade's Trick (Lilly Black's Jaded Series Book 1) (36 page)

I don't spend one second thinking about my behavior. As his equal I have the right to behave any way I choose, but since we're playing his game tonight, I intend to give him more than he bargained for.

After my shower, I look through my closet and find the perfect outfit.  Pulling my hair to a high ponytail, I braid it, then I put on a white button-down shirt and a pleated, black plaid miniskirt I found hanging in my closet with several other skirts.  It looks like part of a schoolgirl's uniform, and as much thought as he puts into my wardrobe, he probably intended it for just this sort of scenario.

Fucking pervert
, I think delightedly.

I wear white stockings with bows on the back and a pair of black, chunky heels with straps around the ankles, and beneath my "uniform" is a delicate, white lace bra with no panties.  I'm ready well before the hour has passed, but I wait five minutes longer just to see if he's really counting.

"You're late," Cain snaps as I enter his office, earning him a rebellious roll of my eyes.

"You're only going to make this harder on yourself," he says, standing up from his desk chair and looking me over.  He gives no indication of how my character is received, and trying to gauge it for myself, I look down at his zipper as I realize he has shed his jeans for a dark grey suit.  He sits down on the burgundy leather couch along the wall and pats his lap, and with a mischievous grin, I put my hands on his knees and begin to crouch in front of him.

"Uh-uh," Cain says, stopping me at arm's length.  "Over my knee." 

I shake my head no.

"Miss Lucien, if you make me force you, your punishment is going to be much more severe," he informs me, and weighing my options, I realize I have none.  Cain will have his way.

Pushing out my bottom lip, I glare at him contemptuously as I obey, bending myself over his lap, my feet on his right side and my hands reaching the floor on his left.  I can feel the hem of my skirt barely covering my ass cheeks as he smoothes it out with his hand before the first smack comes down so surprisingly firm it startles me.  I tense as he brings his hand down again, harder, and though it stings, I like it, feeling the shockwave elsewhere
.
  He strikes again, this time a little closer to the center, and when he does, his hand lingers for a moment, it's warmth radiating along with the pain.

"Are you wearing a g-string?" Cain asks.

"No."

"No, what?"

"No g-string," I say insolently, and he slaps my ass hard for it. I cry out.

"No, Sir," he demands.  Sir.  Whatever he intended this game to be before I showed up dressed like this, he did not intend to act as my Master.

"No, Sir
,
" I say grudgingly, and he smacks me again, coming dangerously close to the middle.  As his hand gently massages the sting from my flesh, it inches ever inward until his finger lightly grazes me, and I feel his hard cock twitch against my side.

"Are you wearing crotchless panties?"

"No, Sir." 

"Are you wearing panties at all, Miss Lucien?" he asks, running his hand across my bare ass cheeks, dipping inward between them.  He knows I'm not.

"No, Sir," I say with a seductive, low voice, thinking I am about to get what I want, but I'm wrong.  He spanks me again, and feeling his palm, firm and vicious, on the backside with his cock, hard as stone, against the front is too much.  I want fucked so badly I ache, but feeling the wetness of my desire only inspires him to torture me more.  I get a succession of quick slaps, like a proper spanking punishment before he stops.

"On your feet," Cain orders me, and when I get up, he guides me to stand in front of him facing the desk.  Behind me, I feel his breath on my neck, his lips touching my ear as he speaks.

"How dare you come in here with no panties on," he hisses.  He grabs my braid, twisting it around his hand and pulling my head back.

"What did you think would happen when you came in here like this?" he asks in a low growl, but he gives me no time to answer.

"Do you think I'm weak?" he snarls, forcing me to bend over the desk.  He pushes my skirt up to expose my bare ass and spanks me again, but it barely stings at all now as I feel like I'm wet all the way to the back of my knees.

"No, Sir," I whisper, no longer wanting what comes with my defiance, and as his fingers brush over me from behind, I shudder, free to enjoy this with the lights on, my scars hidden by the position.

"Did you think when I realized you were naked under that skirt, I wouldn't be able to control myself?"  I give him only a moan in response.

"Do you think that just because there isn't a strip of lace between me and your hot, wet, little pussy, I can't resist touching it?  Tasting it?  Making it come?" 

Oh, fuck! 

"Yes, sir," I breathe, my voice weak with need.

"I can't," he says as he falls to his knees behind me, his tongue darting inside me as I feel his open mouth covering me.  His hands push outward on my inner thighs, spreading my legs until his tongue finds my clit, and he knows what this position does for me.  It feels dirty, like his words, and every light stroke of his tongue feels like it could be the one to push me over the edge until...he stops.

"Come here, nasty girl," he says, leading me toward his desk chair where he sits as I stand before him.  He untucks my shirt, turning me around to face the desk as I hear the glorious sound of his zipper going down and look back to see his cock waiting for me.  He pulls me backward into his lap, guiding me with his hands around my waist until I feel myself sliding onto his cock.  With his legs together and mine spread, he lifts and lowers me, quickening the rhythm, setting me on an unstoppable path that ends with me screaming in ecstasy and digging my fingernails into the wood of his desk as he forces me down, ramming his cock so deep into me it aches, holding me there, throbbing and clenching around him.  But it's not the end at all.

"Stand up," he commands.

"Yes, Sir, I say, happily complying, knowing I'm about to get what I crave more than anything in the world, but when he makes me sit on his desk before him, I realize that the lamp light is brighter than it seemed when I wasn't about to spread my legs right in front of him.  I tense, holding my knees together.

"Spread your legs, Miss Lucien," he demands, and I shake my head bashfully. He ignores it for now, unbuttoning my shirt and turning my bra cups down to expose my tits, biting my nipples, distracting me.

Gently, he pushes me onto my back as he trails kisses down my neck, parting my legs with his body, knowing that I won't say no to his cock, but when I realize it was just a ploy to get them spread, I instantly snap them together.  Cain sighs, running his fingers through his hair in frustration, then suddenly, he picks up his Tiffany desk lamp and throws it across the room, shattering it against the wall.  I freeze, thinking he's pissed until I notice a smile spreading across his face in the dim light coming from down the hall.

"Spread your legs, Miss Lucien," he repeats, and when I do as I'm told, he pushes my skirt up and guides my own hand between my legs.

"I want you to keep your hand here opening yourself to me," he says.  Though I'm not comfortable with it, I obey, and Cain begins, using only the very tip of his tongue, the act of holding myself spread open with my own fingers intensifying every slow, soft stroke.

"Give me your other hand," he says, and he takes my fingers in his mouth, wetting them before he guides my hand to my tit, folding my fingers around the nipple.  "I want you to play with your tits for me."  I give him an uncertain look, even more uncomfortable.

"I'm not asking," he says sternly, and I make the first tentative circle around my nipple with one finger, feeling the vibrations on my clit as he moans his approval.  He teases me, making slow, soft circles, but I'm so distracted and turned on by what he is making me do myself that I surprise us both, coming suddenly and forcefully.  I thrust myself against his mouth, and he pushes my other hand out of his way, putting both on my breasts, my fingernails digging into my own flesh as he gives me as much as I can take.

When I begin to squirm away, he stands and thrusts into me, and when I try to move my hands, he holds them there with his own, kneading my tits as his perfect, steely cock fulfills its destiny, making me tremble and writhe against him.  He leans over me, kissing me aggressively as I scream my adulation into his mouth, my heels dug into his legs to brace him, holding him deep inside.

His game played out, Cain doesn't resist when I push him back to sit his desk chair and slide into the floor before him.  His pants and suit jacket gone, I unbutton his shirt and push him to lean back as I begin leisurely tracing his abs with my tongue, working my way down.  When I take his cock in my mouth, I reach for his hands to put them on my head to let him control the pace, but instead he puts them on the side of my face, touching me softly as I move my lips up and down his shaft.  When I am gentle, he's gentle, but as soon as I start moving faster, tightening my grip, he gets rougher, twisting his fingers into my hair as he pulls my face into him.  With one hand around his shaft working in unison with my mouth, I keep the other low, making heavy circles with my wet thumb until I take him to the point of no return and allow my thumb to slip just a little lower, right to the edge of the spot he's afraid to admit he wants to be touched.  I hear his breath catch, but it's already too late to sabotage him as his cock surges, filling my mouth with his warmth.

"Oh, fuck, Evan..."  Cain cries, and I keep going until he pulls away from me, his voice now reduced to a barely audible murmur, saying my name over and over again, my face in his hands, his eyes fixed on my throat as I swallow.  He likes it when I swallow.

Cain pulls me into his lap, where I curl up, nuzzling into him, the gravity of this situation as it relates to my past weighing heavily upon me now, crushing the afterglow.  By twisting Cain's game, I fear that I have just inadvertently done the very thing that offended and horrified me when the girls in that chat room suggested that I visualize the abuse event during sex.  I didn't visualize it; I didn't think about it at all, but I unwittingly recreated aspects of it.  I feel the old, familiar guilt gaining a foothold as if the game resurrected the shame of my complicity long ago when I should have fought harder but was too inexperienced and scared.  When I was told to prepare to be spanked, I damn sure didn't offer myself up dressed the part with no panties on, nor were those spankings anything like what Cain's does to me, but that lowlife son-of-a-bitch probably did see his punishments as a sexual pretext.

And then there's the matter of Sir...

It was my mother's second husband, and he
tried to force me to call him sir, demanding respect he never earned.  I never called him that, not once, and it made him furious that he couldn't control me.  He could punish me.  He could overpower me.  He could do whatever he wanted to me, but he couldn't make me do anything but lie there, a wilted, boneless mass wishing I could pour onto the floor and slip through the cracks in the old, weathered hardwoods.

Until Cain came into my life, the bastard had won.  Though I was no longer that little girl pushing her hope chest in front of her bedroom door, for the past six years, I was still trapped inside her head and under his control, but as I feel Cain naked beneath me, his arms tight around me and his cheek against the top of my head, I know my abuser no longer has any hold over me.  In a bizarre flash, I imagine the sick fuck being forced to watch what we just did, to see me giving Cain everything he could never have from me no matter what he did to me.  It's a disturbing, yet immensely satisfying image.

"You're so amazing, Evan," Cain says out of the blue as if he has been privy to my entire thought process.

"So are you," I say.

"Did you like that?" he asks.

"You have to ask?"

"It's something I've never done before."

"I thought it was your idea," I say.

"The office was my idea, but the rest of it was your game."  I don't buy that.

"It's okay to admit to it.  It won't make you any more of a pervert than you already are," I say, but Cain just laughs at me.  "At least tell me you liked it."

"Oh, I very much liked it," he answers.

"So what game were you playing?"

"I wasn't playing a game.  I was going to do exactly what I did to you."

"Then why the suit?"

"Position of power."

"Not even boss/naughty secretary?" I say with a laugh.  "You said specifically to call you Sir, so I thought..." 

"Master is for the dungeon.  Your punishment was that there would be no dungeon tonight."

"Oh," I say, realizing that I had read too much into it as I rise to leave the room.  "Well, just so you know, Domina is not only for the dungeon."

"Understood," Cain says.

"And as such, I suggest you clean up the pieces of that lamp before somebody gets cut."

"The maid can get it...Domina," he says with that damnable tone.

"One day soon, I'll whip that sarcasm out of you, Playboy," I threaten and walk away. I don't want to see his reaction because he hasn't yet learned how he should respond to my threats anymore than I've learned to make good on them.