Dom Vs: Domme: The Deluxe Trilogy: A Billionaire Romance (Dom Vs. Domme Book 0) (60 page)

I’m barely listening. She lost me at the wedding talk. “We’re not getting married. Not tomorrow, not in a year, probably not in a decade.” Even if Ian and I somehow became engaged, I doubt I would go through with a marriage anytime soon. Too much to deal with, both realistically and emotionally.

“Come on. Humor me. You have hardly said a thing about you and this guy since we last talked about his cock and what it does to you. What’s new?”

I keep my lips shut. I still haven’t told Eva about submitting. Of course, if any Domme were to go easy on me for it, it would be her, my best friend. Hilariously enough, the raging lesbian is the last one I have to worry about turning on me professionally and socially. She may not
get it,
but I don’t think she’d treat me much differently. Still, I haven’t been able to bring myself to say anything to her.

Because at the end of the day, I’m still embarrassed by it.

And now Ian wants me to be a 24/7 submissive for a few days. For some stupid reason I agreed to do it. Don’t ask me why! I suppose I’m curious. He says it will be the last of my training before… before what? Before I’m capable of being his submissive at a moment’s notice? That I could submit to another man if I wanted to? I have no idea what it means. Not sure I want to know right now.

I don’t even want to know what he has planned for me. I know
one thing
I’m demanding of him, and that’s a couple of hours a day when I can take off the collar and be my own woman. Not his sex toy, like I was the other night.

As hot as it was.

It’s hard for me to think about this, because I’m hanging out with my Domme friend and trying to have a good time at a boutique. So I ignore Eva’s prying about my sex life with Ian and tell Champagne Girl that I would like to ring up the black and blue dresses. I hand her my credit card and continue to admire myself in the mirror. I have a tailor who can make the minor alterations necessary to have this dress
really
pop.

She returns not even five minutes later. “Ms. Alison,” she begins sheepishly. “I can’t charge this card.”

“What?” My veins thicken as I take the card and wonder who the fuck I call about this. Eva sits up in her seat and watches with intrigue. “It didn’t go through?”

“Oh, I didn’t run it.” Poor Champagne Girl looks like I’m about to smack her on the head. I don’t doubt that some clients do that in here. “It’s just there have been very specific instructions left regarding any purchases made by you.”

“
What?
” I haven’t been here in at least four months! The last time I came here everything went smoothly.
What the fuck is going on?
“You’re shitting me, right?”

Girl is cowering now. No. No she is not shitting me. As I imagine the fucking worst, she says, “Someone has offered to cover all purchases you make here.”

I lower my scolding finger. “Excuse me?”

“The note says that a separate card is to be charged anytime you want to purchase something from our boutique. I’m sorry if I frightened you, Ms. Alison.”

I…

Who the fuck is buying clothes for me?

No.

Oh no.

I know who it is.

“This very generous benefactor’s name wouldn’t happen to be Ian Mathers, would it?” My hands are on my hips, and Eva is cackling behind me. “Because you can tell him to piss off for me. I will buy my
own
clothes.”

Champagne Girl doesn’t have to tell me. I know it’s Ian. He probably did this after I agreed to his upcoming submission game.

There are a lot of things I’m willing to play around with. Having him pay for my pretty dresses is not one of them.

Who does he think I am? One of his middle to lower class girlfriends he can “spoil” with treats from his money? I don’t think so! My father’s been spoiling me since I spilled out of my mother’s womb. Before that! Shit, I remember him telling me that my mom would take “in utero” French lessons. Meaning she paid for a French tutor to read stories to me in the womb. I would like to point out that I don’t know French, so that was a waste of money.

I know I was whining about having to pay Stephanie May 50k a month, but I’m not
that
hard up for money. I can drop a couple grand on these dresses and barely see it nudge my bank account. What I will see, however, is the way Ian looks at me when I show up in a dress he bought for me, and not as a present.

As a
favor.
A
courtesy.

Fuuuuck him.

“I don’t care what Mr. Mathers says. I will be buying my own dresses, thank you.” I shove my credit card back into Champagne Girl’s hands. “Although…” On the couch, Eva is still giggling, her dress bunched up around her waist and her straps slipping off her bony shoulders. “I’m sure Mr. Mathers would love to make his contribution to the Warrens’ wedding celebrations and pay for a lovely bridesmaid dress to be tailored and dyed.”

“Oh! Ian’s buying me something?”

I grin at my friend as Champagne Girl walks away, this time with the intent to run my credit card. “Seems like it. He’s not buying
me
anything…”

“Dearest Kathryn.” She’s awake now. So awake that her legs are crossing and she’s leaning forward, that glint of making trouble in her eye. “Why is someone like him trying to buy you clothes? Doesn’t he know you can afford your own well enough? You’re not Jasmine Bliss or, dare I say it and not get in trouble, Monica.”

I roll my eyes. Yes, those women don’t have anywhere near the amount of money I have, but last I heard Monica makes a hefty sum from her business and Jasmine has plenty of her own personal funds from her boyfriend. For them, however, part of the thrill is their men buying them niceties. Pretty sure women like Monica Graham, who
are
lifestyle submissives, get off on it.

I don’t get off on it.

“Hey, if the man wants to get me some clothes, far be it from me to tell him otherwise,” Eva says with a wink. “I don’t have nearly the same amount of money as you do anyway.”

“One day you will. Finish grad school first.” Don’t get us wrong. Eva’s
loaded.
Millionaire loaded, though, not billionaire. I know. It’s a tragedy. Girl doesn’t have a real job yet, though, so there’s that.

“Feh. Grad school.”

“I know. I remember.”

After changing back into my day clothes, I leave Eva to deal with the woman who will dye her dress. This is
after
making sure my card was charged for my clothing. I hope Ian enjoys knowing that he bought Evangeline Warren a sexy bridesmaid dress. He’ll probably give me an earful.

I rather hope so.

Since I don’t live too far from the CBD, I decide to walk home as opposed to hailing a cab. One of these days I’ll get a car to roll around in. I’m not big on driving, though, and cars are boring. I’d rather be driven around, and that is definitely an alternative I can look into. But it’s bothersome finding a driver and a car. Anita could do most of the filtering for me, but at the end of the day I still need to make the time to interview and find a driver I trust. Plus dealing with paying them.

Yeah, rather walk or take a cab.

“Ms. Alison,” the doorman says outside my building. He always greets me if he notices me, but today he’s approaching me, making sure he has my attention. “A letter was left at the desk to be delivered personally to you.” He hands me an envelope marked only as, “I.”

Uh huh.

“Thank you.” I flash the doorman a smile before hopping into the elevator and heading up to my floor. There’s a text from Anita on my phone, saying she tidied up my place and took care of the cat. Turns out Anita
loves
cats and has two of her own. When I randomly brought Sinéad home a few weeks ago, I never thought I’d see my assistant come back down from the cosmos. My housecleaner doesn’t even have to clean up after the cat. My assistant is more than happy to do it. The weirdo.

I wait to read the letter until I’m tucked away in my apartment, curled up on my sofa with a blanket around me and tea cooling on the coffee table. Anything Ian had personally delivered to me like this must be given careful attention.

Fuck the tea. I instantly wish I had grabbed alcohol the moment I see what’s inside the letter.

Chapter 5

KATHRYN

Sometimes I’m amazed at the amount of free time Ian has. After all, he had enough time to hand write this contract stipulating what’s going to happen for three days next week.

Three days of me submitting to him full fucking time.

Did I know that I would be expected to answer his every command? To cook for him if that’s what he wants? To be his maid, his sex slave? Oh, and the best part... I’m supposed to at least pretend I get off on it.

Soft-spoken. Dressed in whatever he wants me to wear. Somehow still doing my work at the hotel while serving his every whim as well.

And at night, I’m sure I’m supposed to do whatever he wants in bed and then wash his dick for him in the shower.

Fucking men, I swear to
God.

Eva’s got the right idea. I need to become gay.

Ian was kind enough to include a list of things that I will
not
have to worry about during our trial. No electrocution, no hot wax, not suffocation, no latex, no other partners or public sex… oh well thank goodness for that!

However, I also have a lovely list of things that I can look forward to possibly happening. The moment I put on my collar, I’ll give him permission to do whatever the hell else he wants to me. Sure, I can say my safe words and they’ll stop, but it’s the principle of the thing. The man will basically own my body, my actions for three days.

I don’t just need a drink. I need an escape.

Three hours later I find myself at The Dark Hour on a Sunday night. You never know how it’s going to be on Sunday. It’s one of the few days people like us have off to spend time indulging in kinks, but it’s also the night before a long work week. So, it fills up, but people tend to leave early. Hence me being here shortly after dinner, having a strong drink and taking in the sights.

This time I don’t take a private booth. I am secluded in a corner, however, just far enough from others that they don’t really bother me, but close enough to see the action. It’s mostly established couples here, although a few stragglers make the rounds, trying to strike up a threesome here or there. Hey, when a sub’s horny, he or she will do what it takes to get relief.

A couple of guys make eyes at me. I stare them down, threateningly, encouraging them to go find love for the night elsewhere. I’m not here to pick up a sub. Besides, Ian and I are to a point where I expect him to be exclusive to me, and it’s only right I honor that in turn. That includes touching a male sub – or not, in my case.

Even though a lot of them are ripped to hell and back, their chains enticing, their abs begging for my lips, my hands, my pussy grinding against them. One guy has a face perfect for sitting on.

Can’t think about that.

I’m here to soak up the fun of other Doms, Dommes, their toys and their pets. I need as close to a thrill as I can get before I go ahead and try this lifestyle thing with Ian. Not only that, but I need to better understand it before submitting my mind to that sort of headspace.

I came to this club when I first considered submitting to him. Watching the Andrews switch was a unique experience in that it helped me understand their lifestyle a bit more. Except that was
sex.
The Andrews don’t lifestyle. The only people I personally know who do that are Eva’s family, but I’m not close enough to them to sit down and have a one-on-one girl talk with Monica about
serving.

Thirty minutes pass before I find someone suitable enough. A young woman wandering around, doe-eyed in her faux innocence, but aware enough to know what she’s looking for. She swaps smiles with many of the men in suits. At one point she approaches a man I don’t recognize, getting on her knees and placing a hand on his arm. Since she’s barely wearing lingerie, let alone any clothing at all, the man is able to look right at her hardened nipples and thong bunching around her ass. He turns her away only because he’s already spoken for, his full-time sub currently in the restroom.

The girl with curly brown hair almost doesn’t see me flag her down as she walks by.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” she says with a demure voice. She doesn’t drop to her knees for me, although her head is bowed and her hands clasped before her. “I’m afraid I’m not looking for a woman tonight.”

“Don’t worry. You’re not my type either.” I gesture to the empty chair in front of me. “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes, though. I’ll buy you a drink for your time and trouble. What have you? Cosmo?”

If she were having any luck tonight, I’m sure she would politely turn me down and go find a cock to suck. Yet it’s a slow night at The Dark Hour. She’s not going to turn down a free drink for twenty minutes.

“What’s your name?” A server brings a drink for the girl.