Page 12

CHAPTER 12

CLARICE

I push open the door to Simon’s office, my heart pounding as I prepare to ask him the question that’s been gnawing at me. But the second I step inside, he spins around in his chair, and the words die in my throat. His eyes are dark, hungry, and they lock onto me like I’m the only thing in the room. My pulse quickens, and I suddenly forget why I came in here in the first place.

“Lock the door,” he says, commanding. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order.

I swallow hard, my fingers fumbling with the lock as I do as I’m told. The click of the latch echoes in the silence, and I turn to face him again. He’s still staring at me, his gaze unwavering, and I feel like I’m walking into a trap—one I don’t particularly mind being caught in.

“Come here,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. I approach slowly, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor. My eyes catch a glint of light as I get closer, and I realize he’s got something in his hand. It’s shiny, glinting like a gemstone.

“Planning on going back in time to the 70s with that gaudy ring?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, to steady my nerves. My voice comes out a little too high, a little too forced.

His brows arch, and he looks at me like I’ve just said something completely ridiculous. “What ring?”

He opens his hand, and that’s when I see it. It’s not a ring. It’s the jewel plug, the same one from the package I saw earlier. The rose gold metal gleams in the light, the heart-shaped gem at the base catching the sunlight streaming through the window. My face heats up, the flush spreading down my neck.

“I bought you a present, Clarice,” he says, his voice husky, dripping with something primal. “I think you’re going to love it.”

I stare at the plug, my mind racing. I’ve never done anything like this before. The idea is equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. “I… I’ve never…” My voice trails off, and I bite my lip.

“Do you trust me, Clarice?” he asks, cutting through my hesitation with that deep, steady tone of his.

The answer comes out before I even think about it. “Yes.”

He leans forward in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine. “Then trust that I would never do anything to push you too far. I’m in charge for a reason.” He stands, towering over me, and holds the plug up between us. “Now, are you ready to receive your gift?”

“Yes, Sir,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. My knees feel like they’re made of gelatin as I turn around and place my hands on the edge of his desk. The cool wood presses against my palms, grounding me slightly, but it’s not enough to steady my racing heart.

I hear him step closer, his presence looming behind me like a storm cloud. His hands are warm as they grip the hem of my skirt, hiking it up slowly, deliberately, until the air hits the back of my thighs. I shiver, not from cold but from the anticipation of what’s coming next.

His fingers hook into the waistband of my panties, and he tugs them down, letting them fall to my ankles. He leans in, his breath hot against the skin of my ass, and I bite my lip to stifle a gasp. His hands run up the backs of my thighs, rough but not unkind, and then I feel it—the wet heat of his tongue tracing a path up my leg, pausing just below my ass.

“Glorious,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent, like he’s worshipping at an altar. And maybe, in his mind, he is. “Absolutely glorious.”

I flush, the warmth spreading from my cheeks down to my chest. I’m not used to being talked about like this, especially not by someone who sounds so…sincere. It’s overwhelming but also intoxicating. I feel seen in a way I’ve never felt before.

He bites down on the curve of my ass, just hard enough to make me yelp. My hands grip the edge of the desk harder, my knuckles turning white. “Simon!” I hiss, but there’s no real anger in my voice. If anything, I sound…breathless.

He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through me. “You said you trusted me, didn’t you?” His hands spread my cheeks, and I feel completely exposed, completely at his mercy. “And look at you. Open. Wet. Perfect.”

My face burns, but I can’t deny the way his words send a thrill through me. I’m not used to this kind of attention, this kind of praise. It’s dizzying.

His tongue finds its target, and I gasp, my fingers curling into the wood of the desk. He’s…he’s good at this. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this—this slow, deliberate exploration, this overwhelming sensation that makes my legs shake and my breath hitch.

When the plug presses against me, I tense for a moment, but Simon’s hands are steady, his voice a low murmur of encouragement. “Relax,” he says, and I do, letting the toy slide in slowly, filling me in a way that’s strange but somehow…right.

And then he pulls my panties back up, leaving the plug nestled inside me. I frown, confused. “What are you doing?” I ask, my voice tinged with frustration and a hint of panic.

He steps back, and I hear the faint sound of a remote clicking. The plug comes to life, vibrating softly inside me. I gasp again, my hips twitching involuntarily. “I never said you’d be allowed to cum yet,” he says, his voice smug. “Patience, my gorgeous little human. You’ll work all day with this inside you. It’ll remind you who you belong to.”

I glare at him over my shoulder, but there’s no real anger in it. If anything, I’m…intrigued. And, if I’m being honest, a little excited.

I sit stiffly in the boardroom, my hands clutching the edge of the polished table. Simon is at the head, his voice commanding attention as he outlines the quarterly projections. His tone is calm, precise, and infuriatingly composed, considering the situation he’s put me in. The plug is still snug inside me, a constant, maddening reminder of his control. I try to focus on the numbers on the screen, but my mind keeps drifting to the low hum of the toy, barely noticeable but undeniably there.

My phone buzzes on the table, and I glance down. It’s a text from Simon.

"Sit up straight."

I glance at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s gesturing to a graph on the screen, his expression serious, as if he’s not orchestrating my torment from across the room. I straighten in my chair, my cheeks burning, and the slight shift makes the plug press against me in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

The vibration kicks up a notch.

I inhale sharply, my nails digging into the table. Someone to my left—Carl from accounting—glances over, and I force a smile, hoping I look like I’m just deeply engaged in the presentation. My phone buzzes again.

"Eyes on me."

I lift my gaze to Simon, who’s now discussing something about market fluctuations. His voice is steady, but there’s a glint in his eyes as they meet mine. He’s enjoying this. I exhale through my nose, trying to steady myself, but the vibration increases again, and my thighs press together involuntarily.

My phone buzzes. "Don’t move."

I bite the inside of my cheek, willing myself not to squirm. The plug is relentless, and the heat pooling low in my stomach is becoming impossible to ignore. I glance around the table, paranoid that someone will notice, but everyone seems engrossed in Simon’s presentation. Except for him. His eyes flick to me, and he smirks.

I grab my phone and type quickly. "Please, can I be excused?"

His phone buzzes, and he glances at it with a barely perceptible shake of his head. "No."

The vibration intensifies, and I stifle a gasp, pressing my lips together. My body is betraying me, creeping closer to the edge. I type again, my fingers trembling. "Mercy."

He reads the message, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ignore me. But then the vibration drops—not all the way off, but low enough that I can think again. I exhale shakily, my shoulders relaxing slightly.

Simon’s gaze lingers on me for a moment, and I see the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he returns to the presentation, his voice steady and authoritative.

I try to focus, but every so often, the vibration shifts, just enough to keep me on edge. I glance at Simon, and he arches a brow at me, a silent reminder of my place. I drop my gaze, my cheeks flushing, but I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips.

This man. He’s infuriating, yes, but he’s also… something else entirely. And despite the torture he’s putting me through, I’m not sure I’d want it any other way.

The meeting finally ends, and I feel like I’m about to combust. I stand next to Simon, my legs trembling slightly as he exchanges pleasantries with the board members filing out of the room. My skin is on fire, my breath shallow, and I can barely focus on the polite goodbyes. Every shift of my weight sends a jolt through me from the plug still nestled inside. The vibration is low now, but it’s there, a constant, maddening reminder that I’m not in control.

Simon’s hand lands on my lower back, guiding me out of the room. His touch is firm, possessive. I glance up at him, my lips parting as I try to say something—anything—but he cuts me off with a look. His eyes are dark, intense, and I feel like I’m drowning in them.

The moment the door to his office closes behind us, I grab him. My hands clutch at the lapels of his suit, and I pull him down to me, my mouth crashing against his. He responds instantly, his arms wrapping around me like steel bands, his tongue claiming mine with a ferocity that leaves me breathless. I moan into his mouth, my body pressing against his, desperate for more.

But then he breaks the kiss, his hands gripping my waist. He lifts me effortlessly, throwing me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. I yelp, my hands instinctively grabbing at his back as he carries me toward the lounge area of his office. And then he starts spanking me. Hard.

“Simon!” I gasp, but there’s no real protest in my voice. Each smack of his palm against my ass sends a shockwave through me, the plug shifting inside me with every strike. I bite my lip, trying to stifle my moans, but it’s impossible. He’s playing me like an instrument, and I’m utterly at his mercy.

He tosses me onto the plush leather couch, and before I can even think about moving, he’s binding my arms behind my back with the Reaper’s Lingerie. The leather cuffs cinch tight, and I moan, my body arching as he secures them. He steps back, and I watch him with wide eyes as he picks up the ball gag.

“Open,” he commands, his voice a low growl. I obey instantly, my mouth parting as he slides the ball between my lips. The straps tighten behind my head, and I let out a muffled whimper. He smirks, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

And then he’s back, kneeling between my legs. He pulls down my panties, and I shiver as the cool air hits my skin. He picks up the Phoenix, a wild luxury sex toy with remote control vibration and thrusting abilities.

"Spread your legs," he commands. My pussy throbs as I obey, showing him my everything, and I can’t help but moan around the gag as he slides it into me. The ridges and twists feel incredible, and I’m already on the edge just from the intrusion.

He turns it on, and the vibration starts slow, teasing me mercilessly. I squirm, my hips bucking involuntarily as he smirks down at me. But then he pulls out his compad, and I watch with wide eyes as a holographic image springs to life. It’s us—me, pinned to his desk, him ravishing me with a ferocity that leaves me breathless even now.

“Do you remember this, Clarice?” he rumbles, his voice low and husky. I nod eagerly, my body trembling as the Phoenix pulses inside me. He strokes himself slowly, his eyes locked on the hologram, and I whine around the gag, begging him with my eyes.

“You want to cum, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a dangerous purr. I nod frantically, my body trembling with need. But he shakes his head. “No. Not yet. You’ll watch first.”

I moan, my hips bucking as the vibration intensifies. The hologram plays on, and I’m impossibly turned on by the sight of me submitting to him, of him taking me so completely. He strokes himself faster, his breath hitching, and I can feel my own release building, teetering on the edge.

He suddenly howls, his body tensing as he cums, his seed splashing against me. The sight, the sound, the feeling of him losing control is too much, and I cum with a muffled scream, my body arching as the orgasm rips through me. He watches me, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction, and I collapse back onto the couch, groaning out aftershocks.

Shomun tsks, his red eyes narrowing as he looks down at me, still trembling from the aftershocks of my orgasm. “Clarice,” he says, “did I give you permission to cum?”

I shake my head, my heart racing. The way he says my name—like a warning, like a promise—sends shivers down my spine. My body is still thrumming with pleasure, but there’s a sharp edge to his tone that makes me realize I’m about to pay for my disobedience.

“Now I’ll have to punish you,” he growls, and I feel a mix of dread and anticipation coil in my stomach. He stands, towering over me, and I watch with wide eyes as he pulls a set of nipple clamps from the drawer of his desk. The chain connecting them glints in the light, and I swallow hard.

He kneels beside me, his hands moving with practiced precision as he attaches the clamps to my already swollen nipples. I gasp at the sensation, the sharp pinch of the metal biting into my sensitive skin. My back arches involuntarily, and I hear him chuckle darkly.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over the chain connecting the clamps. “I wonder how much you can take.”

He leans in, his breath hot against my ear, and I shiver. “Now, Clarice,” he commands, “take the chain in your teeth.”

I hesitate for a moment, but the look in his eyes leaves no room for argument. I lean forward, my lips parting as I take the cool metal chain between my teeth. The movement pulls on the clamps, and I whimper around the chain, the pressure on my nipples intensifying.

“Good girl,” he purrs, and I feel a thrill at his praise, even as the pain and pleasure mix into something almost unbearable. He sits back on the couch, his eyes locked on mine, and I can see the hunger in his gaze. “Now, pull.”

I bite down on the chain, pulling it gently, and the clamps tug at my nipples, sending a jolt of sensation straight to my core. My hips jerk, and I moan around the chain, my eyes fluttering shut.

“Harder,” he growls, and I obey, pulling harder. The pain is sharp, but it’s tempered by the pleasure that’s building inside me, a confusing, intoxicating mix that leaves me breathless.

“You’re doing so well, Clarice,” he murmurs. “But I think it’s time for the next part of your punishment.”

His hands move to the Phoenix, still nestled inside me, and he pulls it out slowly, the ridges and twists of the toy dragging against my sensitive walls. I whine, my hips bucking, but he holds me still, his grip firm.

“Patience,” he says, and then he’s guiding himself into me, his cock stretching me in ways the toy never could. I groan around the chain, my body arching as he fills me completely.

“Now, bounce,” he commands, and I obey, my hips moving in rhythm with his hands. The clamps tug at my nipples with every movement, the pressure building inside me, the pleasure teetering on the edge of pain.

“Please,” I beg around the chain, my voice muffled but desperate. “Please, can I cum?”

He smirks, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “Yes,” he growls, his voice low and guttural. “Cum for me, Clarice.”

The words are barely out of his mouth before I’m falling apart, my body convulsing as the orgasm rips through me. I feel him cum too, his cock pulsing inside me as he fills me with his seed. We collapse together onto the couch, his cock still inside me, his arms wrapped around me as we catch our breath.

He pulls the chain from my teeth, the clamps still attached to my nipples, and I moan softly as the pressure releases. His lips find mine, and we kiss, deep and hungry, the taste of him mixing with the lingering sensation of the chain on my tongue.

Shomun’s hand rests firmly on the small of my back as he guides me toward the bedroom tucked into the corner of his office. My legs are still shaky, and the lingering sensations from earlier make every step feel like I’m walking through a haze. I glance up at him, still half-expecting him to say something—anything—but his face is impassive, his red eyes focused ahead.

“Sit,” he commands as we reach the edge of the bed.

I lower myself onto the mattress, my body sinking into the soft fabric. He kneels in front of me, his hands moving with precision as he removes the jewel plug. I bite my lip to stifle a moan, the sensation of it sliding out almost as intense as when it went in. Next, he releases the nipple clamps, and I hiss as blood rushes back to the sensitive skin.

“You’ll sleep in the Reaper’s Lingerie,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I frown, my voice small. “How am I supposed to pull the covers up without my hands?”

He smirks, his red eyes glinting. “You’ll just have to snuggle up to me for warmth.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes, but there’s a part of me that’s secretly thrilled by the idea. He stands, towering over me, and I feel a shiver run down my spine as he slides into bed beside me. His body is warm, his scales smooth against my skin as he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

“Better?” he rumbles, his breath hot against my ear.

I nod, nestling closer to him. His body heat is like a furnace, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he begins to drift off. His snoring is soft, almost rhythmic, and I let out a quiet sigh.

As I lie there, I realize I never brought up the break-in at Silas’s. My heart skips a beat at the thought, but then I remember how good it felt to be with him earlier—how completely he’s taken over my thoughts, my body, my everything.

“Tomorrow,” I whisper to myself, my eyes growing heavy. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

But for now, I let myself sink into the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling me to sleep.