Page 37 of Pandora's Pleasure

“You’re more likely to wear a strap-on and fuck them in the ass?” I surprised myself with that one.

“Very much so. I’m a dominatrix.” She held out her hand. “Now, Virgin Princess, you have ten seconds to be honest with yourself or I’m taking that back.”

“What if I decide to wear it?”

“Your permission is not required for Damien to do whatever he wants to you while the pendant hangs from your throat.” She lowered her focus. “Including what I just showed you—and other things.”

“What other things?”

“Do you want me to spell it out for you on my whiteboard? I could sketch a level of debauchery that would make those photos look tame.”

My breath caught as a rush of adrenaline spiked in me. I was reliving the sensations that had captivated me when I’d been bound with those silken ties.

I glanced around the room self-consciously, as though others might guess what we were discussing.

“He won’t care if I’m wearing this or not.” I struggled to convey the obvious. “Damien hates me.”

“That’s because you trigger him.”

“In a bad way.”

“Not inthatway,” Madeline purred. “He assumes his fantasy of you could never be realized because of your innocence. Which means he’s concerned you’d look down on him if you discovered his secret.”

“Never.”

“Would you like for him to adore you?” She reached for one of the shot glasses of tequila. “How would you feel if you were able to bring him to his knees?”

“He likes that?”

“Figuratively speaking.”

Damien adoring me?

Was such a thing possible?

If wearing the necklace meant he would talk with me again, I’d have the time to prove my case. Perhaps he could be persuaded to plead with his father not to pass mine over as a candidate. If I pleased Damien, he’d make that scandal go away.

My body thrummed from the shot of Patrón—or maybe it was from the possibilities of what was to come. Those photos and that footage would likely never fade from my memory, their imagery promising to slide into my dreams and have me soaking wet before I awoke.

I yearned to feel the same level of pleasure as that woman in the video, whose erotic writhing had left me mesmerized. I wanted to beher.

“I’d never do anything like that,” I fibbed.

I glanced at her phone, wanting to see the footage again.

She gave me a knowing smile.

“What kind of woman does that?” I insisted.

“A woman who respects herself, who is honest about her needs and doesn’t let the world dictate her happiness.”

“That’s impossible for someone like me.”

“I disagree.”

I yearned to have that kind of life. It was as though Madeline had sensed my deepest and darkest fantasies. She knew what Damien needed…and this was it.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.