My first thoughts were to be shocked at Patrick. Girlfriend. Ohmigod he called me his girlfriend. My next thoughts were to be stunned at my own stupidity. Holy shit, Mr. Harris is married. His wiki said they were divorced and he never talked about her, I reasoned, so maybe Patrick was referring to a previous incident with a different assistant. That honestly didn’t make me feel any better though. I didn’t know what was more shocking to me right then, but the ghost of regret crossed Patrick’s face and my heart clenched painfully. He liked me, he cared about me.
“You really think of me as your girlfriend?” I asked softly, unable to meet his intense gaze.
“Lydia--”
“It’s a yes or no type of question Patrick.”
“Yes.”
Oh. I started to cry again, full-on heaving sobs in the parking lot, and I couldn’t stop. He wrapped his arms around me and rubbed my back, I held him tightly, unwilling to leave his embrace. “Can we go in the morning instead?” I pleaded. “Please Master, I just want to spend the night with you, just once before I go.” I couldn’t remember crying this much. Ever.
“Of course, Kitten,” he murmured into my hair. “You’re awfully emotional tonight.”
“That is the fastest way to ensure you won’t being anywhere near my pussy tonight, or ever again.”
He laughed loudly and eventually helped me back into the car so we could speed off towards his condo. I fiddled with my clutch and bounced my foot anxiously; I couldn’t believe I didn’t know Mr. Harris was married. How did I not know that? Stop calling him Mr. Harris, he’s Jon now. Jon. I couldn’t imagine calling him by his name, but it occurred to me that I had been calling Patrick by his first name for a while now. Jon was different though, and I think Pat knew that.
“Why didn’t I know Jon was married?” I asked suddenly.
“They usually say they’re divorced, he doesn’t wear a ring, he doesn’t talk about her, she doesn’t even live in New York. I think she’s in L.A. right now. You’ve met his daughter though, so it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.”
It was weird that he wasn’t divorced, but it wasn’t my place to judge. “Yeah, but I sort of assumed they were divorced.” I shook it off and took Patrick’s hand in mine, threading my fingers through his and catching the small smile it elicited from him. “Does this mean I get to brag about my boyfriend owning the company?” I teased, trying to keep the mood light.
“Kitten, you can tell as many or as little people as you want, I’m not complaining,” he assured. “I can’t do much about office gossip though, and I want you to remember that for when the secretaries start talking shit.”
“Or the boys club,” I muttered.
“Them too, honestly I don’t know who’s worse.”
We pulled into an underground parking garage and locked up the car before taking the elevator up to the penthouse. I leaned into Patrick’s side as his hand stroked my arm. It was so domestic, like going home with any other boyfriend. God, when was the last time I even had a proper date? Probably best not to dwell on that, it was kinda sad in retrospect.
The massive double doors to his apartment greeted us and he threw them open happily, ushering me into the cavernous foyer. The two-storey entranceway, all in light wood parquet, powder blue walls, and a double staircase were all stunning. I was turning around in circles as I examined the space, it felt more like a museum than someone’s apartment.
“Are you harbouring a small family upstairs?”
Patrick chuckled and lead me down the hall into the living area. My jaw practically hit the floor as I stepped into the room; plush white carpet graced my bare feet, burnt sienna colour walls with giant paintings decorated the room, and on the far side the wall was entirely floor to ceiling windows with a view of the city skyline.
“I have housekeepers, they’re sort of a family,” he said with a shrug. “They have the west wing to themselves, but they aren’t here all the time.”
“Ohmigod, look at that view,” I whispered, rushing to the windows.
I gazed out onto the New York horizon; my arms wrapped around my waist. I felt Patrick’s warmth before he touched me, his hand stroked my neck as the other freed my bun from the hairpins. My hair tumbled down, the waves falling just below my breasts and wafting the scent of vanilla around me. He left without a word and I turned to see him just as he flopped down onto the couch, his legs splayed wide and arms across the back.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered. I did, my skirt pooling around me as I gazed at him expectantly. “Now come here.”
Crawl? I must have looked confused because he suddenly cocked an eyebrow and pointedly checked his watch. I took the hint and fell forward onto my hands, crawling slowly across the carpet and feeling it scratch my knees. My skirt fanned out behind me and made the move easier. Patrick watched through heavy eyes as I approached him, I kneeled between his legs as I stared up at him, my head cocked to the side as I smiled.
He leaned down and pulled me up to meet his lips, his mouth forcing mine open and his tongue toying with my own. “Aren’t you cute,” he murmured against me. “Now hold still.”
I froze and waited for him; my eyes must have been the size of dinner plates when he picked up a large, decorated knife from the table beside him. My heart pounded as the tip of it grazed my collar bone. It was silver and gold and beautiful but it was several inches long and terrifying to look at. Electricity coursed through me and I fought the urge to move away. “How much do you trust me?” he asked darkly.
My eyes snapped up to his and my breathing became ragged as he trailed the blade down toward my navel. “More than I realized,” I whispered as my eyes fell shut.
Without warning he leaned forward and sliced the spaghetti straps of my dress, causing it to fall and exposing my tits to him. He moved lower and jerked the blade through the fabric, ripping upward and letting the scraps of the gown fall to the floor around me.
“I’m not morbid kitten, I’m not going to use this on you.”
He avoided saying he wouldn’t hurt me, I knew that was purposeful, and inside I couldn’t help the thrill of know he might pull the flogger out again. I breathed a sudden sigh of relief and held my hands in front of me, gazing down at my new manicure and wondering what else he would do with me. “I trust you, Master, no matter what.”
With a loud clanking sound, he tossed the blade back on the table. The sound of his zipper made me glance up, watching with fascination as he freed his hard cock. My mouth started to water, and I licked my lips unconsciously, sudden warmth spreading throughout my abdomen. He pulled me forward and I opened my mouth obediently, letting his shaft fill me and tasting the warm, saltiness of his precum. I moaned and glanced up at my Master, watching his head loll back as he pushed me further down his length.
I sucked hard, my cheeks hollowing out as my tongue swirled around his head. I grasped him tightly, my hand twisting as I pumped his length. I gasped as he pulled me back, drool dripped down my chin and connecting me to his length. Without a word, he forced my head lower and I trailed kisses across his balls, dragging my tongue against him. Patrick groaned and shoved me back, I fell against the floor in shock, my legs braced open and my arms not quite holding me up.
He moved fast; lunging down onto me and growling when I wrapped myself around him, my legs tight around his waist and my fingers threading through his hair.
“You know,” I gasped between kisses. “We haven’t fucked outside the office.”
He licked my throat slowly. “We had sex at the Plaisir, you can’t tell me you forgot,” he teased.
“I was mostly drunk, and it was a quickie, it doesn’t really count. Not to mention that it still counts as a work event.”
“Is this you hinting that you want to have sex in my bed?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Maybe,” I said with a giggle. “It doesn’t have to be right now, we have all night, but I do maybe want to christen your bed.”
“Good, because there’s no way I could make it upstairs at this point.” He shifted me slightly and I moaned as his cock probed my sex. “Fuck you’re wet,” he groaned.
Wet wasn’t the word for it, I was practically sopping at this point. With a quick movement, he was inside me and I cried out in surprise, his cock stretching me almost painfully. I arched my back as he pounded into me over and over, the head dragging against my g-spot and radiating sparks throughout my body. My nails dug into his back and I groaned in frustration as I felt his shirt bunching up, I pulled hard and it ripped under my touch. Patrick swore and sat back, he pulled his shirt off and jerked my hips back to his as I squealed in delight.
“I’ve got the flogger in the closet and half a mind to use it on you until you’re crying,” he said through clenched teeth.
Oh, fuck yes, please. I grinned up at him and slid my hands up my torso, cupping my tits and playing with the nipples as I held his gaze. He groaned, gripped my hips and slammed into me again. I screamed and arched my back, my fingers digging into the carpet while I writhed under him. My orgasm built quickly, and I jerked with surprise as the heat between my legs built faster than I expected.
“Master,” I gasped. “Please, I’m so close…”
He fell on me, never stopping his movement as his mouth suddenly latched onto my nipple. As his teeth grazed it, I came, crying out his name and clutching at his back desperately. It felt like it wouldn’t end, constantly on edge until he moaned and slammed into me fully. I cringed at the too-full feeling but ignored the pressure as his warmth filled my pussy and dripped down between my legs to the carpet. I stroked his hair as he laid his head between my breasts, his hands still braced on either side of me as he panted.
“Can I ask you an awkward question?” I asked tentatively.
“I’m still in you, pretty much any question is going to be awkward.”
“Okay fair, but I was going to ask if the guys at the club will use condoms?” It felt awkward to ask, but it had to be done. Having sex with Jon and Patrick bare was one thing, especially because we had exchanged health records, but I wasn’t comfortable doing that with a bunch of people.
“Yes, and for oral as well, dental dams, and latex gloves. It’s non-negotiable, however, a few people have been cleared to go without,” he replied easily. “You had blood work done three months ago if you remember, that wasn’t a drug test - well it was - but it was STD testing as well. That’s why we never worried about it.”
“Oh, how nice, thanks for asking me,” I said dryly. “We do have to get up soon, my back is sweaty, and the carpet is starting to itch.”
Patrick laughed and pushed himself up, pulling me with him and taking us to his room. I was too tired to look around much, but the huge custom bed beckoned to me from under the windows. I practically ran to it and jumped onto the down feather duvet, stroking the lilac-coloured silk reverently. I closed my eyes and was dozing off by the time he joined me in the bed, pulling the covers back and holding me close to his chest as we laid together.
I sighed happily and ran my hand across the short hair decorating his pecs, it was surprisingly soft. I nuzzled into him and tightened my hold, letting myself drift off as I was bundled in the most exquisite warmth.
***
“You promise you’ll come see me every other day?” I asked shakily.
“Everyday,” he corrected. “I’m not abandoning you, kitten, all you have to do is call.”
I reached out and grasped his hand tightly as I stared at the mansion in terror. “You’re coming in, right? You’re gonna help me get settled?” Please don’t leave yet.
Patrick kissed my cheek snapped his fingers at the doorman who retrieved my bags. “I won’t leave until I’m sure you’re not going to have a panic attack.”
I moved forward slowly, scared my legs would give out as he led me through the mansion. It was the same as it had been for the party, the only difference being the lack of people. I could’ve believed the place was empty until I saw a young woman walking naked through the corridor, her hair pulled into a high ponytail, wearing only a pair of stilettos and the ugly gold collar. It contrasted nicely against her dark brown skin. She averted her eyes as she walked past us, murmuring a polite hello to Patrick and not acknowledging me at all.
“Is that a requirement?” I asked.
He patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Wait until the handmaid comes, she’ll explain the rules.”
That was terrifying. I tried not to dwell on it as we came to stop in front of a large, ornate wooden door. It was carved with the same triskelion as my collar and bracelets. Patrick produced a key from his pocket and opened it for us, it was almost like a hotel; dark carpet, a wooden fourposter bed, crème walls and crescent wall sconces. The same type of room we came to before. I had just sat down on the edge of the bed when a knock sounded at the door, I jumped up and Patrick gestured for me to stay put while he answered it.
The same naked woman from earlier stood there, I wasn’t quite sure where to look but it felt rude to stare at her tits. She bowed her head slightly to Patrick.
“Corrine, this is Lydia,” he said as he turned to me.
Corrine smiled fondly at me and I reached a hand out reflexively. She ignored it and Patrick lowered my hand while he spoke to her, he went fast and I could barely keep up before there was silence again and they both stared at me expectantly.
“Um, yes?” I asked.
Patrick snickered. “I’ll leave you two alone, I’ll be back in ten minutes, I promise.”
I nodded and watched him leave, my stomach twisting and my hands becoming very clammy.
“So, Lydia,” Corrine said happily. “This is your first time here then?”
“Yeah, is it that obvious?”
She smiled warmly at me and rested her hand on my shoulder as she spoke, “It’s alright, it can be a bit much at first.” She handed me a metal case that I fumbled with; it was surprisingly heavy. “That’s your makeup and hair supplies - hair has to be up at all times, ponytails are generally easiest to work with. I can turn around if you want but you’ll have to give me your clothes.”
Fuck me. I was going to be naked, for a week or two straight. “Will I be naked the whole time?” I unbuttoned my blouse with shaking fingers, lying the material on the bed as I started on my pleated skirt.
“Yes, it’s honestly pretty easy to get used to. If you get your period you can wear a slip with underwear, but most of us plan it so we don’t have that problem while we’re here.”
“What about other rules? Patrick said there was other important stuff to remember…” Please don’t let me fuck up too badly.
“Talking, we don’t talk to each other out there. In the bedrooms, we have free reign, if a Master talks to you then you respond, but you don’t talk to other slaves in front of them.” She gathered up my clothes as locked them in one of my dresser drawers. “Different Doms will have you call them different names; some like Master, Sir, Mister, Missus, Mistress, or Madam, it all depends and you need to respect the title they choose. Sexually, you’re available for anyone your Master has said could touch you, they might bend you over the billiards table or fuck you in a hallway, that’s up to them.”
I sat back down on the bed as my legs threatened to give out, I reached up and started to arrange my hair as required. “What’s the difference between a pet and a slave?” I asked quietly.
“The intensity is different; I’m a slave, I live here fulltime now and I don’t have one set Dom so I’m subject to no set rules beyond who wants me, pets always have a dedicated Dom, they usually get more leeway – they’re usually seen as more of a partner but that’s debatable.”
I guess that did make me a pet then. It was almost comforting, knowing that Patrick explicitly chose to parade me around like his partner. Corrine was still talking and I just nodded along, fastening my new set of black leather pumps and adjusting my collar uncomfortably. Another knock came and I leapt to my feet and threw the door open; Patrick stood braced against the door jam with his hands in his pockets, his eyes roamed over me wantonly.
“This is a very good reason for me to visit every day,” he said with a grin.
I giggled and clasped my hands behind my back as I posed for him, all awkwardness about being naked in front of a strange woman forgotten.
“Corrine, give us a moment,” he said with a jerk of his chin to the hall.
She obeyed without question and shut the door behind her.
“What if I don’t want to fuck someone?” I blurted.
“Then you tell me and I’ll work it out,” he murmured as he kissed my cheek. “The only person on the no-touch list is Jon, who isn’t in Washington anyway, but if it gets to be too much you can use your safeword and everything will stop.”
Patrick held out his hand and I took it, following him out the door and down the hall to the foyer. My jitters had turned to adrenaline as I walked naked down the cool corridor, we passed two other women and I resigned myself to the fact that Corrine was right; they wouldn’t talk to me in front of Patrick, they wouldn’t even look at me.
“Rosing!” a booming voice called excitedly.
A man came out of the panelled room we had been in before, the red velvet curtains drawn but not quite drowning out the sound of laughter from beyond the barrier. I recognized Master O’Connell immediately, his broad, tall frame, with dark brown skin and pitch-black hair, stood out in the white marble space. I sucked in a deep breath and forced a smile as we approached him, trying to tell myself that he wouldn’t notice how naked I was.
“Ike, good to see you, is everyone waiting?” Patrick asked as the two did that weird handshake-hug thing. “I’m sure you remember Lydia.”
I leaned into Patrick and smiled shyly at the other man, his eyes travelled up and down my body, lingering at my pussy for longer than I thought strictly necessary.
“Of course, how could I forget?” he asked with a chuckle. “And yes, everyone is ready if you two are.”
“Ike’s going in ahead of us to let them know we’re here, then you and I will go in and I get to show you off a bit,” Patrick told me.
I gazed up at him, trapping my lower lip between my teeth as I thought about walking into a room full of strangers, buck ass naked. Master O’Connell went ahead of us and time moved far too quickly for my liking as Patrick pulled the curtain back and ushered me into the darkened room. It wasn’t empty this time; there were plush velvet sofas decorated around the space, several tables that looked more like a platform to stand on. The chandeliers glittered and cast shadows over the men around the room, most sat and chatted amongst themselves, some leaned against the walls, about twelve in total were here. No women though, not even any slaves.
All the men wore suits, different colours and styles, but all nicely tailored, and I was wearing a choker with black leather pumps. How classy. Patrick’s hand rested on my back as he walked toward one of the couches in the centre of the room, eyes shifted to me and watched as I clung to him. Some laughed, some just stared, others whispered to each other. My stomach was halfway up to my throat at this point, not even jumpy, just flat out stuck.
A tanned blond-haired, blue-eyed Adonis grabbed my hand and I faltered, stumbling lightly as I was jerked to a stop.
“Turn,” he ordered flatly.
I looked to Patrick without thinking, his eyes narrowed and he pushed me gently towards the other man. “Listen to Morgan, Lydia.”
I turned in a slow circle, feeling the Morgan’s hands roaming over me as he pulled me closer, without warning he jerked me down onto his lap and I squealed in shock. Patrick sat beside us, relaxing back on the chair as Morgan assessed me closer.
“How old is she?”
What a rude question.
“Twenty-three,” Patrick replied as another man handed him a glass of scotch. “She acts her age more often than not, but she can be mature if you need her to be.”
You have no room to talk! I fumed, crossing my arms defiantly as I stared Patrick down. Morgan shook with laughter below me as he took in my pissed off state. Patrick just crossed his knees and grinned at me over his glass.
“She seems like she would talk back,” Morgan said absently, his hand skirting up my side.
“Oh, trust me, her mouth works faster than her brain--”
“Excuse you!” I snapped. Oh shit. That was not the wisest thing to do.
Morgan’s hand seized my throat and I gasped uncontrollably; Patrick’s eyes practically glowed in the dim light. “Spread your legs, kitten.”
I closed my eyes and moved my feet slowly, feeling myself becoming more exposed and trying not to panic. Patrick knew what he was doing, I reasoned, he wouldn’t let me get hurt. They became impatient and pulled my legs apart, shifting me until I had one leg over the back of the couch barely touching the floor, and the other sliding across the hardwood. Morgan kept hold of my throat while his other hand probed my pussy roughly, my mouth fell open as his thick fingers spread my slick folds.
I recognized Patrick’s hands the moment they touched my calves and stroked upwards, trailing lightly up to my thighs and back down. My head lolled back on Morgan’s shoulder as I felt myself losing track of everyone’s hands, someone was teasing my nipples, another plunged their fingers into me and I arched my back as I moaned. I wailed when someone’s teeth met my nipple and tried to squirm away, I was held firm on the couch until another man grasped my jaw and probed my mouth with his thick fingers.
“Oh, she’ll do fine,” someone said, clearly amused.
“What are the limits for your Pet, Patrick?”
“Anal, her ass is mine and only mine, she can’t be whipped without me being there either, but feel free to use paddles.” He paused. “Or the canes, though I haven’t used those on her yet, so go easy.”
I wanted him to keep talking, his voice was soothing. The fingers in my pussy suddenly jerked upwards on my g-spot and I whimpered as my hips shifted uncontrollably. A murmur went through the crowd and without warning everyone pulled back, I opened my eyes and gazed around the room in confusion. I had never been so turned on and they just stopped? What was wrong with them!
“Kitten, stand up,” Master ordered as he pulled me back into a sitting position. “Stand on the platform.”
Oh. I swallowed and nodded, pushing myself up on shaky legs. I refused to look at the men, worried that something in me wouldn’t react well to it. I stepped up onto the glossy black platform and clasped my arms behind my back, refusing to look nervous in front of my Master and feeling the need to prove myself for him.
I caught his eye and smiled faintly, the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled back and my heart started to pound.
“Spread your legs,” Morgan said as he relaxed into the chair.
My feet slid to the edges of the platform as I followed his instructions. I allowed myself to glance around at the men and was surprised that I didn’t fall to my knees in terror; they all stared at me, some had erections, others just drank and assessed me without emotion.
“Touch yourself.”
My head jerked around to see Patrick watching me expectantly, it was now or never. My hand trembled as it slipped down my abdomen to my pussy, feeling the intense heat and wetness starting to coat my folds. My chest heaved as I played with my clit, my gaze never leaving my Master’s and only increasing the electric current building between my legs.
My other hand went to my nipple and I toyed with it as my other fingers started working faster, my orgasm building and sparks flowering behind my eyes as I pushed myself higher.
“Stop,” he snapped.
I sucked in a sharp breath and forced my hands to still. One little movement, the tiniest brush, and I would come. My knees trembled and I watched Morgan smirk sadistically as a few men laughed. I squeezed my eyes shut as I pulled my hands away, balling them into tight fists as I tried not to touch myself again.
“Now do it again,” Patrick said happily.
Oh, please no. I wanted to cry as our eyes met, but it felt like he was staring into my soul and I complied. Again, and again I brought myself to the edge, it felt like I spent an eternity up there and eventually I did start to cry, a tear leaked down my face that I couldn’t stop. I caught the man in the back masturbating as he watched me and I thought I had caught on fire with the heat that spread across my skin.
Morgan started next, his cock long and twitching as he leaned forward to get a better look. Patrick’s cock was rigid and straining against his zipper but he didn’t reach for it, I was disappointed in a way that he didn’t.
They ordered me into a million different positions; sitting, kneeling, on all fours, on my back, letting them see every angle and watching as the masturbating men got closer. I was grabbed suddenly and pulled to the crotch of a middle-aged man with white-blond hair, pale skin, and dark eyes, his cock just above average, uncut and already sheathed with a condom. He looked familiar but I couldn’t quite place him anywhere. I opened my mouth without a second thought, taking him between my lips and swirling my tongue around the tip, condoms didn’t taste great, but it was certainly better than an STD or unclean dick.
He held my head and fucked my mouth in short, quick thrusts, I struggled to breathe and pushed away, but he held me firm and quickly came in my mouth. The man held me to his groin as he moaned and filled the condom, after a moment he pushed me away and another man moved in close.
I felt small, pliable, and wanted. Men came and went without much notice on my part until finally there was no one else waiting. Ten cocks. I sucked ten cocks without a single thought about what I was doing, most of them wore condoms, only one didn’t, I didn’t mind either way, I knew everyone here was regularly tested, I just didn’t want them barebacking my pussy. Just as Morgan finished, I fell backwards and panted, my pussy dripping my wetness down my thighs and begging to be fucked. I laid back on the cool platform for a minute before Patrick picked me up, his arm slipping under my knees as he pulled me to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tucked my head into his shoulder, I wanted to sleep, I wanted to cry, to apologize, to beg forgiveness. But for what? I had nothing to apologize for, I had done everything I was told to. So why did I feel so guilty?
“Master,” I whispered, trying to hide the way my voice trembled. “I’m sorry.”
He shushed me and kissed my forehead as we climbed the stairs, we were down the hall and in my room before I knew it and I felt relief crash down on me like a ton of bricks. He set me down on the bed and I rolled over on to my side away from him, wanting to hide from his touch.
“Kitten,” he murmured, “You did so well, please don’t be upset.” He slid in behind me, his arms tight around my waist.
I didn’t deserve him or his kindness, not after that. “Go away,” I said hoarsely.
“I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re alright,” he protested, tightening his hold.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“Of course not,” he assured me.
I threaded my fingers through his, our hands joined and resting on my stomach as we lay in silence. I couldn’t understand my emotions, I felt so good about pleasing him but guilty that I had just sucked a bunch of dicks in front of my boyfriend. He told me to, I tried to reassure myself.
“I didn’t get to help you finish,” I said quietly.
He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He patted my hip as he got off the bed.
I listened closely as he moved around the room, when he came back he held a length of silver silk tensioned rope. He carefully wove it around my wrists, my hands clasped together in front of me, once it was secure he pulled my arms over his head so I was attached to his neck and unable to move away.
“Tied to me,” he whispered close to my ear. “This is how I want you all the time.”
“It might make it hard to do stuff outside,” I teased, trying to ignore how I felt inside still.
His mouth twitched at the corner and I giggled as he repositioned us; my legs wrapped around his waist as his cock probed my entrance. I gazed up into his face and felt my eyes start to water again as he pressed his lips to mine, kissing gently.
“I love you,” I mumbled against him.
His thumbs stroked my cheeks as he pulled back, his eyes glittering with excitement. “I love you too, kitten.”