Rosella
I sighed and stared at the entrance, waiting for Damian to appear through the door soon. I waited for him after Elissa informed me that Damian was visiting me that night. I had even dressed up while waiting for him.
Elissa had made me wear red lingerie to tempt him, and when I refused, she insisted on reminding me of my plans. "Remember, to get what you want, you must make sacrifices." Hearing those words from her changed my mind, and I decided to listen to her.
As long as I could kill Damian, I was willing to do anything, even if it meant losing my virginity and selling my soul to him.
The lingerie I wore made me look like a seductress. It was a triangle bra with adjustable straps, a thong-fit bottom, and a suspender belt.
Elissa had me do a complete makeover, which made me feel like I was a whore selling myself to Damian. My face was caked in makeup like a porcelain doll, and the dark lipstick on my lips gave me a fierce, confident look.
As I sat on my bed, waiting for him, I thought about what he would think of me when he saw how I had dressed up for him. He would probably think I was desperate for him.
When I heard the door click open, I adjusted myself on the bed and positioned myself in the center, waiting like the sex slave I was expected to be.
Even though I had not paid attention in class, I could still fulfill one purpose: giving Damian the desired pleasure.
My heart raced as he walked toward me. I had dimmed the lights, hoping he would come to the bed and that we would begin without distraction, but instead, the light flicked on, and I saw Damian's piercing blue eyes fixed on me as he approached.
I grabbed the bed cover and draped it over myself immediately. It wasn't part of my plan to see myself with full lights on.
"Why are you covering yourself?" Damian asked, stepping closer with slow, calculated movements. As he reached my side, I gulped when he extended his hand toward me.
"What are you doing?" I had not expected him to ask for my hand.
All I had expected when he entered the room was for him to claim me and for me to please him. I refused his hand, and he sat down on the bed beside me.
It was the first time I had seen him in casual clothing. He wore a crisp white shirt and fitted black jeans. His muscular frame hugged the shirt like it was painted on. Two buttons at his collar were undone, revealing the top of his bare chest, where a tattoo was etched in ink. I strained my eyes to read it.
Maria. That was the name tattooed on Damian's chest. Who could Maria be? An ex-lover? My curiosity flared, but this was not the moment to dwell on it.
"What a lovely night!" Damian exclaimed. "Cover yourself up, the servants are bringing us food," he instructed, and I quickly wrapped the bed cover around me.
When the door opened and the servants entered with a table and two chairs, I embarrassedly lowered my head until they left. "Come," Damian said, grabbing my hand and guiding me toward the table.
The cover fell to the floor, revealing my outfit. I instinctively tried to shield myself, but Damian spoke in a low, commanding tone. "Do not do that," he said, lowering his face toward mine. "You look hot tonight," he winked.
I stared at him, dumbfounded, and my body reacted, shivering under his gaze and touch. "Let us have dinner before we get to it," he murmured, kissing my neck.
I nearly collapsed from desire, but his hand held mine, steadying me. "Easy there," he said, guiding me to a chair and making me sit before taking the seat opposite me.
"I..." I could not speak, stammering like a fool. The food on the table was not what I had expected. The first thing I saw was spaghetti, and I was overwhelmed at the thought of such a lovely meal.
"This is spaghetti carbonara," Damian said, gesturing to the dish and urging me to eat. I cleared my throat and picked up my fork.
The moment I tasted it, I moaned. "It is delicious, unlike anything I have ever had," I said, licking my lips as I swallowed the first bite.
"Moaning like that makes me want to claim you," Damian blurted out.
I choked on the drink I had consumed and coughed, and he stood behind me, placing his hands on my back and gently caressing me. I closed my eyes, savoring the strength of his arms. "Your hands are rough but smooth," I whispered, tilting my head back and dropping the fork.
"Eat," he commanded.
How was I supposed to eat while he rubbed my back in such a way? Swallowing would only lead to choking, and I could not afford that.
"How do you mean, Your Highness?" I asked, and instead of answering, he lowered his hand to my inner thigh and delivered a sharp slap. "What..." Another slap came, but instead of pain, I felt a thrill coursing through me.
"You will regard me as your master, slave," he said.
He could have just spoken, yet the way he hit me made it all the more intoxicating. I was supposed to hate it, but I liked it.
Yes, master," I whispered, like a doll obeying him perfectly.
"Eat," he ordered again, removing his hand from my thighs.
Obediently, I picked up the fork, and as I did, he cupped my throat. I gasped in shock, thinking he was about to hurt me, but instead, I found pleasure in his touch.
His hands trailed down to one of my breasts, and my nipples stiffened under his fingers.
Damian fondled me, and I could not contain the excitement pooling inside me. I dropped the fork, which clattered to the floor, but he paid no attention. "Continue eating," he commanded, his hands still on me.
How the hell was I supposed to eat in that situation?
My body reacted instinctively, dripping with desire. "Master," I moaned as he kissed my collarbone and nibbled on my ear. "Right there, master," I grunted, biting my lower lip.
Then he released me, and the wave of pleasure vanished instantly. He returned to his seat. "What are you doing?" I demanded, missing the intensity of his touch. Like in the car, he left me longing for him, and I knew it was deliberate.
"You do not question your master," Damian warned sternly, and I lowered my head in apology.
Despite hating how he dominated me, I always played the part of his willing captive.
"Since you are not eating, I should assume you are no longer hungry?" he asked.
I opened my mouth to explain that I could not focus on the food while he was touching me, but Damian cut me off.
He stood, grabbed the whipped cream from the table, and shoved the rest of the food to the floor. I covered my ears at the loud crash, bewildered by the waste.
"Lay on the table," he ordered.
I hesitated. "Why?" I asked, but his command left no room for questions.
"On the table, slave."
I flinched at the word but reminded myself why I was doing this. "To get what I want," I muttered, positioning myself as he demanded.
"What did you just say?" Damian's voice sharpened, but I obediently ignored him, spreading my legs.
He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his sculpted abs, and I could not tear my eyes away from him. My gaze roamed his body until it rested on his waistline as he unbuckled his belt.
He dropped it to the floor, then leaned closer, placing his hands on my inner thighs and caressing upward. "I do not know who gave you the idea to wear this lingerie, but I love it," he murmured, gripping my chin to force my eyes on his. "What are you imagining, slave?" He slid down my bra straps, holding my neck firmly. "Tell me, little slave, what are you imagining?"
I tilted my head back and smiled. "I imagine your hands sliding over my breasts, teasing my nipples, then placing the whipped cream on them."
"And what else?" Damian asked, sliding down the other strap while keeping one hand on my neck. He cupped my left breast and slapped it. "Tell me," he demanded, his grip tightening and making me gag.
My face flushed as I struggled. "Then you lick the whipped cream off my body, master," I managed to say in between gasps.
"Dirty slave," he murmured, releasing my neck, and I gasped for air. "I am going to do exactly what you imagined," he said, touching my lips.
His finger teased my nipple as our mouths locked, and I moaned into him, craving more. I reached for him, but he slapped my hands away. "No touching, slave," he said, binding my wrists with his belt above my head.
"I love your breasts," he whispered, fondling them, teasing with his tongue. He smeared whipped cream across my chest and down to my waist. "Tell me how that feels," he murmured, licking the cream from my nipple to my waist.
"I feel so happy," I screamed, arching into his touch, scratching the table as he thrust a finger into me. "Right there, master! Mmm!"
"You enjoy the pleasure, slave," he said, slapping my breast as he thrust in faster.
"Yes, I do!" I gasped out of desperation. "Right there, master!"
"Talk dirty to me, slave!" he demanded. "I want to hear all your dirty thoughts about my cock."
"I want your cock inside me!" I yelled out, trembling under his control. "I want you to fuck me."