Page 13 of Sweet Torture (Torture Games #1)
TEN
GRIFFIN
W hat the fuck just happened?
I look at the mess she has made of me, and I am seething. I know better than to be this unprofessional at work. One of my enemies could have walked in here and found me with my cock wrapped in lingerie.
They would have seen me at my most vulnerable because there was no stopping what her words were doing to me.
I get up and walk awkwardly to my private bathroom.
Most of the mess is contained in Naz's panties, but the flimsy little thing is mostly lace and not equipped to take a load like mine.
I hold the soaked thing between two fingers, deciding what to do with it.
She said to keep it in my pocket. But the stains it will leave behind will last forever.
Was that her idea ?
I place my hands on the basin's rim and inhale loudly through my nose.
This woman is driving me insane. I have tried to warn her repeatedly that this silly game will never work on me.
And yet I have made a complete mess of my suit, her panties, the relationship I have with my partner, and not to mention the turmoil she has unleashed on my mind.
I stare at my image in the mirror and see my arm lift to wrap trembling fingers around my neck. It is the only thing I can think of doing to give me an inkling of stability at this moment. I squeeze my fingers tighter until redness starts to spread up toward my face.
When I release the hold, I don’t feel the same euphoria as I did in the past.
The rush flowing through me feels like a cheap imitation.
I clean myself up as best I can and walk back to my desk. The whiskey Naz left on the table is insufficient. I go to the cart and I refill the glass.
It is criminal for one person to have so much power. Or am I just jealous that I have finally found some competition?
I take my seat and reach for the phone. I need to fix things with Mike before I do anything else. He looked pretty nervous when he walked in here.
The line's ringing is only interrupted when I smash the handset back down in the receiver. Then, I pick it up again and dial my reception. “Jason, get me, Mike!”
I don’t know why I am always so hard on the boy.
“He left for the day, sir. I will leave a message for him to call you back ASAP. Unless you would pre–”
I slam the phone down for the second time. In just a few minutes, this woman has turned my life into shit. How did I convince myself that she would be reasonable and not influence my business?
I stare ahead until my eye catches the ornate invitation with embossed gold lettering.
That could be interesting. Very interesting indeed.
I pick up my cell and text Naz.
I need to talk right now. Meet me at my place.
See you there, little one.
I grind my teeth and walk out with the soaked panties clutched in one pocket and her downfall in the other.
She is at my building before me and waits with the same picnic basket at the entrance to the building.
“There you are. I was worried,” she says, concerned.
Worried? About me?
“Let’s talk upstairs,” is my short reply.
The door opens, and she greets the doorman with a greeting that he enthusiastically returns.
I don’t even know his name. I follow her to the elevator, and we wait for the door to open.
In the elevator, the silence emboldens me.
I pat my breast pocket to make sure I didn’t leave the invite in the car.
When the doors open, I take the basket from her and gesture for her to walk ahead. I open my front door and allow her to walk in first.
She moves to the kitchen counter, where I place the basket, and she starts unpacking without a word.
I join her, leaning against the counter, crowding her a little.
“What would you like to talk about, little one?” She avoids my eyes.
I huff. “You know I hate that fucking name, right?”
She smiles secretively and nods, “I know.”
She continues to unwrap sandwiches and shit until there is nothing more to do other than lean with her hip on the counter and stare at me.
I bait her for a few minutes more. If I am going to get my way, I need to be cunning as hell about it. “What am I supposed to feel after something like that?”
She places her hand on my shoulder and applies pressure. “Anything you want. And you can talk freely to me as well. If you don’t like something, we can work it out, and I won’t do it again. All you have to do is say the words, little one. ”
“You mean like saying I hate that fucking name?” I smile crookedly.
Her eyes gleam in mischief.
“That is not something that hurts anything else except your pride, and you can afford to get knocked down a notch or two. Now tell me what you are feeling.” Her tone is demanding yet gentle. She would make a great assassin. Her kindness would catch her target completely off guard.
I exhale all the pent-up agitation over our relationship dynamic and think about this critically. “I didn’t hate it.”
That is the best she is going to get out of me.
“But I feel like you crossed a boundary, and now you owe me,” I add quickly.
She steps into my body and envelops me in her embrace. Her warmth diffuses into my rigid form, and my shoulders relax.
“I am so sorry you feel that way. I would never want you to feel violated.” She rubs my back with assertive strokes.
I wouldn’t put it that way.
She backs away to look me in the eyes, and I miss her warmth instantly. “However, you are welcome to use your safe word anytime you feel I have gone too far. Why did you not use it when you felt uncomfortable?” she asks while rubbing my arm.
Dammit, I don’t want to lie about this. And I never had to explain myself. I just want to manipulate Naz into going to the function with me.
I change tactics. “I know how you can make it up to me. I need to attend a function, and you will be my date.”
She backs away completely and scrutinizes my face. My arms lock over my chest, and I feign nonchalance, but apparently not well enough.
“You are trying to trick me. A bond between a Domme and her sub is based on trust; if you break it, there is no going back. Do you understand that?” Her breathing changes.
She is completely serious, and I see that I might have made a grave mistake. But I don’t back down.
“This isn’t such a big deal.” I dismiss her with a wave of my hand.
She scoffs, and her eyes widen in disbelief. The volume of her voice also rises to an impressively high pitch. Her hands are in the air while she paces in short bursts and then pins me down with her finger.
“Not that big a deal? It is a huge fucking deal! I was thinking the worst. That you were on your way to terminate the contract and show me the door. Do you know how terrified I was on the way here?”
Now, I tilt my head to the side and consider her words carefully. “Why were you terrified that I would cancel the contract? Are you afraid of losing me?” My smirk is telling, and I expect her to start backpedaling .
She chooses another route. “What matters is that you feel good after every interaction. And the fact that you tried to manipulate me into doing your bidding is completely unacceptable. This is not the way this business transaction works. You tell me what you need, and I decide if you deserve it. Do I make myself clear?”
Her hands are on her hips, and her breasts have this little bounce to them as she chastises me.
“Crystal, now to get back to my function. You will need a gown. It is a fancy affair, and I won’t be surprised if we get to meet some foreign dignitaries.”
I turn around and pop an olive into my mouth to rile her up even more. She waits for me to turn back before she answers with a huff.
“That is not how this works, Griffin. I get to decide, and it is explicitly stated that I will not attend any social events.” Now, she folds her arms over her chest, but it only enhances my view.
“Well, that is unfortunate because if you read the contract, I stated some social interaction would be needed if I am expected to remain monogamous in this agreement. Or would you like to see another woman on my arm at the events I need to attend?” I lean comfortably against the counter with not a care in the world.
She is gaping, searching for words, and I take the respite to devour something that looks like a cheese ball on a cracker before I administer my final blow. I take the invite out of my pocket, step into her body, and dip the corner into her tempting cleavage.
“Besides, didn’t you state a few minutes ago that I should tell you what I need? I need a date. Wear something red and that lipstick of yours. I have a feeling I might be a little naughty that night.”
I turn around and leave her in the kitchen, trapped by her desire to dominate and the hypocrisy of her demands.