Saturday morning arrived with deceptive calm.
Jake had texted from Chicago the night before, confirming his Sunday evening return. We had thirty-six hours left.
Lisa stood naked before the floor-to-ceiling windows of my penthouse, looking out at the city below. The morning sun highlighted the marks from last night's auction—fingerprints on her hips, bite marks on her shoulders, the fading red lines across her thighs.
"Today we go public," I announced.
She turned, eyes widening. "What do you mean?"
"Not fully public. But outside these walls. Where the risk is real."
I handed her a small box. Inside lay a remote-controlled vibrator, sleek and powerful.
"This stays inside you all day," I instructed. "I control when. I control where. You control nothing."
She took it with trembling fingers. "Where are we going?"
"Everywhere."
The luxury hotel was my first destination. The Ritz-Carlton downtown, where powerful men made powerful deals. Where appearances mattered. Where Lisa would learn to maintain composure while falling apart.
I'd booked the penthouse suite. As we entered, Lisa gasped at the opulence—marble bathroom, panoramic views, a bed that could accommodate our darkest fantasies.
"Strip," I ordered once the door closed.
She obeyed, and I activated the vibrator on low. Her knees buckled slightly.
"On the bed. Spread wide."
I took my time with her, using every surface in the suite. Against the windows, her breasts pressed to the glass as I took her from behind. On the marble bathroom counter, watching herself in the mirror as she came. Bent over the balcony railing, thirty floors up, the city spread beneath us as she screamed into the wind.
Room service arrived while she was on her knees before me.
"Don't stop," I commanded as the knock came.
She continued servicing me as I called out, "Leave it outside."
But I had other plans. I pulled her to her feet, wrapping a short silk robe around her that barely covered anything.
"Answer the door," I instructed. "Let him set up the table."
Her eyes widened in panic. The robe would hide nothing if she moved wrong. And the vibrator was still humming inside her.
She opened the door. The young room service attendant entered, professionally avoiding looking at her directly, though his eyes kept drifting to her exposed legs, the visible marks on her neck.
"Where would you like the table, ma'am?" he asked.
"By the window," I answered for her, increasing the vibrator's intensity.
Lisa's hand gripped the doorframe as the waiter arranged our breakfast. The robe had shifted, revealing the bruise on her upper thigh. The waiter's eyes lingered.
"That's all," I said, handing him a hundred-dollar tip. "You saw nothing."
He nodded quickly and left.
The moment the door closed, I bent Lisa over the breakfast table.
"He saw everything," I said, entering her roughly. "He knew exactly what you are."
She came immediately, the humiliation mixing with arousal.
After breakfast, I dressed her carefully—an elegant sundress with nothing underneath, the vibrator still in place.
"We're going shopping," I announced.
The boutique district was crowded with Saturday shoppers. I guided Lisa through expensive stores, activating the vibrator at random moments. In the middle of conversations with sales associates. While trying on shoes. Standing in line at the register.
At a high-end lingerie boutique, I selected items for her to try on.
"Model them for me," I said loud enough for the saleswoman to hear.
In the changing room, I joined her, taking her against the wall as she bit her hand to stay silent. The saleswoman's heels clicked just outside.
"Is everything fitting well?" she called.
"Perfectly," I replied, thrusting deeper into Lisa.
At lunch, I chose a restaurant with booth seating. Marcus was waiting for us.
"My prize," he said, smiling at Lisa.
She looked at me, alarmed.
"Here?" she whispered.
"Not here," I assured her. "Tonight. This is just... preparation."
Marcus sat beside her in the booth while I sat across from them. His hand disappeared under the table, and Lisa's breath hitched.
"Tell me," Marcus said conversationally as his fingers explored her, "how did last night feel?"
The waiter approached for our order. Marcus didn't stop.
Lisa had to order while his fingers were inside her, while the vibrator hummed, while trying to appear normal.
By the time our food arrived, she'd orgasmed twice, silently, gripping the table edge.
"Tonight," Marcus said as we left, "I collect fully."
The afternoon brought us to an exclusive spa. I'd booked a private room with a massage table.
"Your masseuse will be here shortly," the receptionist informed us.
Once alone, I positioned Lisa on the table, face down.
"Don't move," I instructed. "No matter what."
I took her from behind just as the door opened. The masseuse—a professional woman in her forties—paused only briefly.
"Should I return later?" she asked calmly.
"No," I replied, continuing my rhythm. "We booked a couples session."
She approached, beginning to massage Lisa's shoulders as I continued taking her from behind. The surreal scene—being professionally massaged while being fucked—broke something in Lisa. She came harder than she had all day, moaning into the face cradle.
Evening approached. Marcus had texted the address of a private club.
"Very exclusive," he'd written. "Very discreet. Very intense."
The building looked nondescript from outside. Inside, elegant people in expensive clothes mingled in a dimly lit lounge. But I knew what lay beneath—private rooms where boundaries dissolved.
Marcus met us at the bar.
"I've reserved the exhibition room," he said.
Lisa's face paled. "Exhibition?"
"One-way glass," Marcus explained. "They can see in. You can't see out. But you'll know they're watching."
The room was elegant—a bed, a couch, mirrors, and one wall that was clearly glass.
"How many people?" Lisa asked quietly.
"Does it matter?" I responded.
Marcus and I spent the next two hours using Lisa in every way possible. Taking turns. Taking her together. Making her beg for more while knowing strangers watched from behind the glass.
At one point, mid-orgasm, she cried out, "Jake!"
Marcus and I both paused.
"What did you say?" I demanded.
"I... I don't know," she gasped. "I just... the fear of him finding out... it made me..."
"Say it again," I ordered.
"Jake," she moaned as we continued. "I'm sorry, Jake. Your mother is a whore."
It was the most intense orgasm I'd seen from her.
As we prepared to leave the club, my phone buzzed.
A text from Jake.
My blood went cold as I read it.
*Change of plans. Caught an earlier flight. Landing in two hours. Can you pick me up?*
Lisa saw my expression. "What is it?"
I showed her the text.
"Two hours?" she gasped. "But we're forty minutes from the airport."
"And you're full of two men's cum," Marcus added helpfully.
"Go," I told Lisa. "Shower in the club's facilities. Make yourself presentable."
As she rushed off, Marcus chuckled. "Close call."
"Too close," I agreed.
But as I watched Lisa frantically preparing to return to her role as Jake's mother, I realized something.
The close calls were becoming addictive. The risk was part of the thrill.
And part of me wanted Jake to catch us.
We made it to the airport with minutes to spare. Lisa had managed to clean herself up, though she still wore no underwear, and I knew she could feel the evidence of the day with every movement.
Jake emerged from the terminal, smiling and waving.
"Mom! Alex! Thanks for coming!"
He hugged Lisa, and I saw her flinch—her body was still sensitive from the day's activities.
"How was the conference?" she asked, voice steady.
"Boring," Jake laughed. "Couldn't wait to get home."
As we walked to the car, Jake chatting about his trip, I noticed something.
There was a mark on Lisa's neck that makeup hadn't quite covered.
And Jake noticed it too.
His eyes lingered on it, confused.
"Mom," he said slowly. "What happened to your neck?"
Lisa's hand flew to the spot. "Oh, I... burned myself with the curling iron."
Jake's eyes narrowed slightly. "Looks more like..."
He trailed off, looking between us.
The drive home was quiet. Jake kept stealing glances at his mother, at me, sensing something but not quite grasping it.
When we reached my penthouse, Jake paused at the door.
"Actually," he said. "I left something in the car. Be right back."
As he left, Lisa turned to me, panicked. "He knows something."
I pulled her close, kissing her deeply. "He suspects. He doesn't know."
"What if he—"
The door opened.
Jake stood there, frozen, seeing his mother in my arms.
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Then Jake spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
"What the fuck is going on?"
---