Authors: Elizabeth Finn
Jacob notices as well and giggles—yes he’s that gay—in amusement while shaking his head and commenting to Derek. “You’ve obviously got yourself an interesting one here, huh?”
Derek looks to my eyes briefly before returning the comment. “You have no idea.”
As I try on dress after dress, Derek strikes down every one. The dresses are outlandishly sexual, and lewd in many cases, and I’m happy he hates them. But what the hell is he expecting? Jacob finally gives up trying and asks Derek that very question. Derek’s only response, “Demure.” Now demure, I can do.
Jacob appears stunned for a moment but exits the room, returning minutes later with evening gowns that actually look like evening gowns. I try on a number of satin and silk gowns that fall slimly against my skin and hug my slight curves. Derek appraises each, nodding his approval before Jacob starts pinning the too-large dresses onto my small frame.
Once finished with the evening dresses, Jacob starts saying his good-byes as he gathers the dresses, but Derek stops him. “She has no day clothes suitable for Trimbles. We’ll need as many casual dresses as you have in her size.” And just how the hell does he know that?
Jacob returns with an armload of day dresses a few minutes later. I like them all. They are exactly as Derek requested, demure. As I try on a light gray twill dress that drops to my knee, I look myself over, suddenly feeling a flush on my skin. I look like a girl, like a real girl, the type of girl who knows what it means to
be
a pretty girl. The dress is fitted and sleeveless on the top and slightly pleated on the bottom, giving me the hourglass figure I so wish I had. It has an over-wide black belt, and as I stand looking from top to bottom with a flush on my skin and an unexpected smile on my lips, I look to Derek, who is watching me intently and curiously. He looks to Jacob and nods once before looking away. But as I watch, his eyes travel back to my body and his tongue passes unconsciously over his bottom lip. I wonder, not for the first time, just what that means. I finish trying on every last dress, and most of them we take with us. The driver loads them into the trunk of the limo before we pull back into traffic.
As the blocks tick off, I notice Derek has returned to avoiding my eyes and ignoring me. But a few minutes later, he shakes his head, as though giving in to some secret battle, and I watch as his jaw clenches visibly before he raises the privacy shield between the driver and us. As I look to him in confusion, he looks calmly back at me.
Many moments later, he finally speaks. “Kneel between my legs.” His expression has returned to impassivity as he regards me, watching and waiting for me to move.
I rise slowly, moving to the floor in front of him. He looks down at me as my body bristles with electricity.
As his eyes burn holes into me, he continues. “I want you to suck my cock.”
I gasp at his instruction, suddenly terrified and entirely out of my element, but he looks back at me calmly, and I realize very quickly I want this. Sex may have terrified me, hurt me even, but this I want. I want to see him, taste him, and I’m not sure what that means. He terrifies me, but I’m also drawn to his beautiful, strong body and his dark, intimidating eyes.
With a trembling hand that does not go unnoticed, I reach up to the waist of his pants and quickly undo the button before lowering the zipper. His eyes are on me, but I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. As the zipper lowers, I can see his black underwear beneath, and my breath catches at the sight of the bulge that distends the fabric there. Slowly, terrifyingly slow, I reach for the waist of his underwear and pull them away and down his groin. His hard and erect penis thrusts up instantly, and I realize that Liz was indeed right, “impressive.” My brain fights the idea that this fit inside my body. While I know it did, I can’t imagine that it did. No wonder I can’t sit down without nightmarish visions of Derek’s dining room table flashing in my mind. Still, however much pain it caused me last night, I want to touch it now, badly.
With another trembling hand, I reach out to him. At the touch of my fingers, his body stills and waits for more. And I give it freely. With a quick look to his eyes, I let my fingers caress the length of his shaft. I study every long inch of him, tracing my fingers over the rigid veins slowly as he continues to drill through my brain with his eyes. I’m well aware my gaze is intensely mesmerized by his body, and I’m spending an overly long time looking at him and touching, but he’s making no move to stop me. So I continue on, enjoying this exploration immensely.
His testicles are hidden beneath the fabric of his underwear and pants, and as my fingers work their way down to the juncture of his shaft and his balls, I pull gently on the waistband of his underwear to expose more of his body to me. I half expect him to stop me; but instead, he lifts his hips slightly, allowing the fabric to be shifted lower on his groin. His testicles are heavy and large and overtly masculine. The skin is taut in his arousal, and my fingers run gently over it. I keep thinking he’ll stop me at any moment, but he continues to allow my touch. It hasn’t escaped my attention that, when he said, “suck my cock,” he most likely was not referring to my spending an inordinate amount of time playing touch and feel, but he’s patiently waiting for me to finish.
My fingers move their way back up to the head of his penis, and I trace the peak of skin that runs up the underside of his foreskin before stroking the pad of my thumb down the length of the underneath side of his shaft. I know I must be wearing out my welcome, and after a small eternity of touch, I finally look up to his eyes once more. His lips are parted, and his eyes are impossible to read, but his shallow breathing tells me I must be doing something right. With a lick of my lips, I lower my mouth to the head of his cock. As my lips pass over the head of his penis, his head drops back in pleasure, and his hips thrust upward in desire. I don’t know how to do this, but I don’t care. I’m sure he’ll make me feel inept and pathetic if I do something wrong, so I decide to taste and suck him in the way I want. As I move up and down along the shaft of his cock, I suck him as hard as my mouth will allow. He’s so incredibly large and long, and I’m not sure why that’s so captivating, but it is. I pull my mouth from him and return to the side of his shaft, licking and kissing every throbbing vein as I move along the silken skin.
His breathing and the occasional flex of his hips tell me he’s enjoying my inexperienced mouth. As I reach the engorged head again and pass my lips over it, he starts thrusting his hips against my mouth while he grips and knots my hair in his hand to stay my movements. I suck deeply while he fills my mouth to overflowing with his length and breadth. My mouth can’t accommodate more, just as my tight vagina couldn’t take more the night before, but this at least doesn’t hurt. And the look in his eyes is unrestrained want and desire … for me, the woman he hates.
I suck harder as he groans audibly, glancing quickly in my eyes before his eyes flit away with an obvious refusal to give me that connection. Whether he’ll look at me or not, I can tell he’s losing control; I can feel it in his erratic and trembling movements, and whether he wants it to be because of me or not, it is. He’s waging an internal battle that is playing out in his eyes. He hates being so close to losing himself in front of me, and yet, he is panting and ready to lose himself entirely
because
of me and enjoying every second of it.
He holds my head steady as his hips continue to thrust, forcing his cock into my mouth, and I suck as hard as my mouth will allow, challenging him to meet my eyes. Whatever fear he instilled in me last night, I’ve set it aside for this moment, worth its weight in gold, if he’ll just look at me. And as he finally falls apart, he does. He looks to my eyes and holds them harshly in his gaze as he unleashes himself into my mouth, filling my mouth with his semen. As every last drop of his cum is emptied, he watches me swallowing his salty liquid while his brow furrows harshly.
When his body stops pulsing jets of his cum into my mouth, I slowly pull my mouth from him, watching him as his eyes take me in. He’s panting, and so am I. When he’s finally able to break my gaze, he stows his cock, fixes his clothing, and finally shifts his eyes to focus again on the view out the window. He looks confused, upset even, and as I revel in the incredible taste of him still lingering on my tongue, I note to myself that he just broke his rules. In all his control and tormenting dominance, he caved at my touch. I broke him. Even if only for a moment.
Chapter 5
The vagina doc, Dr. Michaels, is a middle-aged bland-looking man with a gentle personality. I’m at ease at once with him. Derek has blessedly decided to stay in Dr. Michaels’ office during my exam, thank God for small favors. Whatever ground I gained with my mouth in the limo would be dashed in a second if I had to suffer stirrup time with Mr. Pennington watching.
As we turn to leave Derek in Dr. Michaels’ office, he throws out one last comment to the doctor, while pinning me to the wall with his eyes. “Take a look at her right elbow, too, if you will. She had a bit of a temper tantrum last night.”
My eyes bulge and my cheeks flush scarlet red as Derek continues to appraise me. Apparently he
was
watching. As I pull my eyes from his and follow Dr. Michaels down the hallway, I concede that Mr. Pennington has indeed just taken back the reins.
Once changed in the exam room, I take my place on the table. I’m very aware I’m still incredibly sore, and this could be incredibly uncomfortable, but Dr. Michaels moves quickly. Within mere moments, my exam is done and his swabs collected. I’m given a birth control shot that will stop my monthly menstruation. It will be effective within twenty-four hours, and I’ll need only visit him every few months to be re-injected. It seems being a whore is quite the regimented, organized business.
Once Dr. Michaels is finished with me and I’m re-clothed, he walks me to his office. As we enter, Mr. Pennington looks up from the magazine he’s been reading. Dr. Michaels takes a seat at his desk while I sit in the chair next to Derek.
When the good doctor is seated, he directs his eyes to Derek and speaks. “Her elbow is fine. Bruised pretty bad, but nothing to worry about. However, I’m more concerned about the state of her vagina. Someone’s obviously worked her over.”
Derek’s eyes snap to mine in an instant, as a completely unrecognizable expression settles in on his beautiful, cold features. I think for a moment it might be pain, or guilt even, but as his jaw clenches and his darkened eyes hold mine steadily, his look becomes anything but compassionate. As his eyes return to Dr. Michaels, I wonder in curiosity why it is that the doctor didn’t simply ask me about the apparent state of my nether region. I suppose my health is now the responsibility of Mr. Pennington, and my input is no longer necessary. While Dr. Michaels holds Derek’s eyes, it becomes quite obvious. Mild mannered as Dr. Michaels may be, he knows how to hold Mr. Pennington’s feet to the fire. He’s forcing Derek to be accountable for me and for his actions, and from the look on Derek’s face, he’s well aware of this fact.
But Derek doesn’t shy away from Dr. Michaels’ question and answers bluntly and truthfully. “I took her virginity last night.”
“Well, that would explain it. Since when is Trimbles hiring virgins?”
“Good question. You’d have to ask Grayson what the hell he was thinking with this one. I sure as hell don’t know…” His eyes flit coolly to mine, caring nothing at all for the embarrassment and insult he’s hurling at me.
Dr. Michaels regards us both in curiosity as Derek holds my eyes, and I hold his in obstinate anger and fury at his comment.
Eventually, Dr. Michaels responds, “She’ll be fine but give her a night to recover. Her shot’s done, and she’s ready to go. I’ll call you with the results of the swab and the blood test, but given the fact she was a virgin until last night, I hardly expect to find anything.”
Mr. Pennington stands to leave, and I follow. He doesn’t say a word to me as we exit the building, and it isn’t until we’re back in the limousine and he’s raised the privacy glass that he speaks to me. He’s upset, and it terrifies me. “Why didn’t you tell me I hurt you?” My mouth falls open as I search for the right response. Did he hurt me? I’m sure he didn’t. I’m sore. I’m not hurt.
“Derek … er … Mr. Pennington, you didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.” My cheeks are flushing as I speak, and given the look in his eyes, he doesn’t believe a word of what I’m saying.
“What if your appointment with Dr. Michaels hadn’t been until later this week? Huh? I’d have fucked you tonight without a second thought, and would you have stopped me?”
“I didn’t think I could stop you.”
“You have no business being here if you don’t understand your rights. You can quit at any time, and you can refuse me at any time as well. If you don’t have a good reason, you’ll likely lose your job, but it is your choice. You
have
to tell me if you are hurt. I will never set an expectation that you accept a man, myself included, if you’re hurt, but if you don’t make me aware, you can’t expect me to make the right decisions. You tie my hands if you’re dishonest or hide something from me.” He’s speaking forcefully, and the anger radiating from him is like tendrils of a fiery whip lashing out at me. I’ve upset him, and I don’t like it.
He breaks from my eyes and looks out the window, once again ignoring me. He has ended this conversation, and with each passing block, it is clear he has no further interest in speaking to me. When we pull up to Trimbles, the driver opens the door and I step out, but Derek doesn’t follow me. I’m left standing alone on the curb. The doorman collects my dresses from the trunk, and I’m escorted with my packages up to my room.
Once in my room, I strip out of Liz’s dress and soak for a long time in the bath. The pain I felt this morning is already dulling and diminishing with every passing hour, and the water feels good on my body. As I exit the bath, I hear a knock on my door, and when I pull it open, I’m happy to see Liz standing there. She bounces into the room and starts riffling through my new dresses, looking over each appraisingly. I take in her appearance, and I suddenly feel very out of place once again. I’m standing by in my old tattered jean shorts and T-shirt. At least my shirt is fitted and not one of the oversized holey ones buried in the dresser. Liz, on the other hand, is in another form-fitted dress with heels. Again her hair is impeccable, her makeup flawless. She is such a girly girl and pulls it off so incredibly.