His Cinderella: A Possessive Dark Romance (Mayhem Ever After Book 3) Read online

  I was Alice, plunging headlong into the rabbit hole without a second thought.

  I came and stood before him, licking my lips nervously as I recalled his face buried between my thighs. I’d never had a man go down on me before, though they’d all expected me to do so for them. Deryk did it without hesitation, as if overcome and consumed by his lusty desire. It was quite a heady feeling, when a man locked gazes with you while his mouth was busy with your lady parts.

  Deryk reached down, and I felt his fingers encircle my ankle. He drew it up, and up, my arms pinwheeling to keep my balance. He threw my knee over his shoulder, stabilizing my stance but also forcing me to expose myself lewdly, completely, to his gaze.

  He lifted the chrome egg out of its box, and I discovered it had a black wire emanating from the bottom. After about six inches of length the wire terminated in a loop. A sleek chrome remote control lay under the egg in a recess. Deryk left that where it lay and gripped the chrome egg in his tapered fingers.

  I knew where it was going, my cheeks burning with a red flush. Deryk glanced up at my face, and I saw a bold eagerness burning within his gaze.

  He’s wanted to do these things to me for a long time, I thought in sudden realization. Now he was like a kid on Christmas morning, unsure of which present to unwrap first. His hand trembled slightly as he moved the egg inexorably closer.

  My mouth flew open in a gasp as he slid the metal egg deep within the quivering walls of my pussy. He left a few inches of the loop exposed and then withdrew his fingers from inside of me. While locking gazes with me again, he thrust the glistening fingers in his mouth and suckled wetly.

  “Your pussy tastes so good, Ella,” he growled. Deryk set my foot back on the floor and reached into the box for the remote. He depressed a button with a click, setting a blue light pulsing on the chrome console. Looking me dead in the eye, he hit another button and the device inside of me rumbled to vigorous, surprisingly powerful life.

  I gasped, bending at the waist and teetering on unsteady legs as he turned the intensity up several notches. It was bad, but when he switched it to a series of heavy pulses followed by one long, slow throb, I collapsed to my knees. Remembering I wasn’t supposed to come, I squeezed my eyes shut and groaned.

  “Is it on?” Deryk asked teasingly. “Here’s your task. Endure the vibe while you service me.”

  I’d regained some measure of self-control at that point and was able to lift my gaze to meet his.

  Deryk spread his arms out and sneered down at me. “Undress me.”

  I struggled to my feet, the vibe shifting inside of me. When I was just barely stable, Deryk flipped the intensity up a notch and my teeth clamped down on a groan. I unbuttoned his black silk shirt with trembling fingers, enticed by his nearness and scent to leap right off the ledge of climax. But I wanted to prove myself to him, and I stubbornly denied my body the release it so desperately craved—what it was being encouraged toward by Deryk’s manner and device.

  I got his shirt fully unbuttoned, revealing the smooth knots of muscle on his belly, and the firm, sculpted perfection of his chest. A dragon tattoo snaked along his corded arm, over his shoulder and onto his upper chest. I couldn’t resist placing my fingers on the design and marveling at its artistry as much as the sublime softness of Deryk’s skin. It had been so long since I’d touched him.

  Deryk’s hand closed around my wrist, a grin flickering across his face. “Did I say you could touch me like that?”

  “N-no, sir,” I gasped.

  “Continue with your duty,” he ordered, and I went back to removing his shirt. I tugged it off of his arms and then carefully folded it over the back of the seat. I moved up to unbuckle his pants, and Deryk shook his head. “On your knees first.”

  I froze for a moment, a smart-mouth comment on the tip of my tongue, but I let it pass. Petulantly, I sank to my knees, grimacing as the vibe pressed into different regions. Then I went to work on his belt, pulling it free. I rolled his trousers down over the arched, rippling contours of his thighs, down to his ankles, and he stepped out.

  I looked back up to find his erect member practically touching my nose. Instead of starting, as he’d possibly intended, I reached up with my hand and gripped his shaft firmly. Deryk’s stony composure melted almost instantly, his eyes squeezing shut at the same time as my fingers wrapped around his length.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, was I not supposed to touch you yet?” I teased sweetly.

  Deryk’s eyes snapped open, and he glared down at me while struggling to maintain his ire in the face of my ministrations. There we were, each trying not to climax while being stimulated by the other. I wondered if he recognized the inherent dichotomy of our position. Yes, I was on my knees, naked and subservient, and yet I held the most delicate portion of his anatomy in my hands, and he was utterly at my mercy.

  Deryk had always been a closed-off young man when we dated, and it was impossible to be truly close to him. But in that moment, I was as close to him as someone could possibly conceive, privy to his secret, most desperately held desires. In a way, he was as much my captive as I was his.

  “Your smart mouth needs something to occupy it,” Deryk said roughly. His hands went to the back of my head, pushing insistently. I opened my mouth and accepted his warm, throbbing cock. Deryk took control, forcing me to accept his full length and I struggled not to resist, gagging and choking as his dick nudged my throat. He finally allowed me to come off of him, a line of stringy seed dribbling off my lips and spattering on the floor. I gasped in heavy pants, and Deryk let me recover a bit before pushing me back onto him.

  Gradually, Deryk stopped guiding my motions, letting me control the rhythm. I surprised him, not to mention myself, by taking more of him of my own volition than by his control. Suddenly I was seized by lust, desperately giving in to my wanton side and making embarrassing, loud moans with abandon.

  Deryk teetered on his feet, head flying back as I pumped furiously on his member. He pushed a button in his throes of passion, which set the vibe into its most intense throbbing yet. I screamed out my orgasm around his cock as he released into my mouth.

  Deryk stumbled back, his member slipping out of my lips as he collapsed onto the stool. He sat there panting, an almost frightened expression on his face.

  “Sorry, sir,” I said sweetly between pants, not bothering to wipe the excess of his climax off my smiling face. “I came without your permission again. Are you going to punish me?”

  With a growl, Deryk came off of that stool like a bolt of lightning. He bowled me over, pinning me beneath his body, and shoved my thighs apart. Deryk removed the vibrating egg with a quick jerk on the attached loop, clearing the way for something bigger. He manhandled his erect cock against my wide-open, eager pussy. I cried out as he thrust himself in deeply, until his hand slapped over my mouth and cut it off into a whimper.

  Deryk pounded me, slapping his pelvis into mine with a rapid tattoo that mingled with his grunts and animalistic groans. His eyes were intense as they bored into mine, and I could see he had finally, completely, given in to his lust for me. At the moment I exulted in being used to satisfy this suddenly savage beast. I lost track of how many times I came—it wasn’t like I could ask permission with his hand over my mouth, and maybe that was the point—but at length Deryk collapsed on top of me, panting and sighing as our sweat mingled and cooled.

  We lay there, his cock slowly growing flaccid inside of me, and I reached up to stroke his sweat-damp hair. My old life felt a million miles away, and I feared I might be dreaming again.

  If so, I hoped to never wake up.

  Chapter Nine

  For a long time, I lay across Ella, our sweat mingling as it cooled. Her heartbeat thumped against my chest until it dwindled into so slow a rhythm I could no longer feel it.

  I lifted my head, rearing up on my arms to look down upon her. Ella’s eyes remained closed, her lips slightly parted as she puddled on the floor. She seemed to notice my scrutiny, her eyes o
pening to meet my gaze.

  We stared at each other for who knows how long. Nothing was said. Neither of us had regained the ability to speak, and yet volumes were communicated with a gaze. Ella’s blue eyes held no trace of fear or shame at her debasement. They were clear and filled with… What? Contentment? Boredom? It had been so long since I’d been close to her. So very long. I’d forgotten much, and what I did remember had been entangled in the webs of fantasy.

  Eventually I couldn’t take that stoic azure gaze for another moment. Leaping up off of her, I quickly moved to dress, turning my back on Ella.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Her voice held a note of disquiet as well as inquiry.

  “Yes,” I murmured and then added, “it was a long time ago, though.”

  Ella sat up on the floor and gathered her knees up to her chin. She looked at me over their rounded humps as I finished tugging on my shirt. The sweat made it a bit tricky, and the fabric kept rolling.

  “Do you need help?” she inquired.

  I glared down at her. “I can manage. And you will address me as ‘sir.’”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, arching her eyebrows. “Are you putting your clothes back on so I can take them off again… sir? Because that was fun the last time.”

  “I can manage,” I growled again, shoving the stubborn silk over my gleaming arm. “Get dressed. We’re going to eat.”

  “Get dressed?” Ella laughed, a musical sound that stirred memories of a much happier, simpler time in my life. “How am I supposed to do that, sir? You left the only clothes I had back at the Jolly Roger.”

  I started, having forgotten the circumstances of her being here. It was as if I had entered a new world whose origin lay in the moment I took her into my playroom. I glanced about and found a black silk lady’s bathrobe with a dragon embroidered on the back. I couldn’t recall where it came from. I was pretty sure I accidentally stole it from a hotel in Beijing.

  At any rate, I handed the robe to her and she stood to dress, her breasts swaying with the motion and distracting my gaze. Ella knew I was looking at her, her eyes fairly screamed, but she played it coy, folding the robe about herself and tying it closed. The robe terminated about four inches beneath her waist, which meant every step would make her indecent.

  “Next lesson,” I said firmly. Ella glanced up at me, standing a bit straighter as if at attention. “When we move around the house, you will walk three steps behind me, hands clasped behind your back, eyes on my waist.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, putting arrogant, mocking emphasis on the honorific. Again.

  I glared at her and then slapped the leather-topped stool with my palm with a loud pop.

  “Get your hands on here,” I snapped.

  Ella looked a bit confused, but did as she was bade, bending at the waist and placing her hands on the stool. The robe rode up, exposing her backside, which was perfect for my purposes. I could have grabbed one of the many floggers from off the wall, but I was incensed enough to reach for something much closer, my belt. I whipped it off in a flash and doubled it over in my hand.

  “From now on, when you call me ‘sir,’ it will be in a humble and obedient tone,” I said roughly. Then I brought the doubled over belt across her left cheek with a resounding smack that set her flesh dancing. Ella cried out, flinching under the lash but not breaking position. “Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said in a little girl voice, her hips rocking as if of their own accord. She looked over her shoulder at me, biting her lower lip. I had to resist the urge to unzip my fly and take her again right there. But she would not escape her discipline so easily.

  “Now I’m going to strike you ten times for your insolence,” I said. “After each time, you’re going to thank me. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ella said quickly, adopting a more neutral facial expression. I brought the belt down across her right cheek for the second time, and she yelped at the impact. My nails raked across her reddening flesh as she thanked me. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Good,” I said, adding a slightly less impactful smack on her left cheek.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said in a throaty voice. Her hips rocked almost nonstop now, and rather than ceasing when I next struck her with my belt, they only seemed to increase their gyrations.

  By the time I finished giving her all ten lashes, Ella was a quivering, eager lump of female flesh and I was hard as a rock. I could have—and should have—given in to what we both wanted then and there, but I was still annoyed with her. For some reason, I felt as if she was not taking me seriously, and it grated my nerves.

  “Get up,” I snapped. Ella stood up and adopted the precise posture, not bothering to tug her robe down the inch it would have taken to make herself decent. “Follow me.”

  I sped out of the playroom, with her hastily catching up to my longer stride. We moved through the hallway toward the stairs leading up to the main room, her bare feet slapping on the floor. I imagined her shapely legs thrust out from the bottom of the robe, and soon found myself regretting my decision to make her walk behind me.

  “Stop,” I said, holding up a palm. “I have changed my mind. You will precede me up the stairs.”

  Ella’s brow arched, and a ghost of a grin played at her lips.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, meekly preceding me up the stairs. Meekly, yes, but there’s no way she needed to put that much shake in her hips with each careful step. I was treated to a view of her most taboo skin, the robe no impediment whatsoever to my vision.

  She paused at the top of the steps, her eyes filled with query.

  I pointed to the left. “Into the kitchen.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ella replied. I followed her into the kitchen, pausing for the passage of one of the robotic vacuum cleaners as it whirred along. “I was wondering why this place was so clean, even though there aren’t any servants.”

  “It doesn’t get used much,” I replied. “The kitchen, never.”

  “Then how are we going to eat?”

  “Open a cabinet.” I gestured at the expansive kitchen.

  “Which one?”

  “Any of them.”

  She moved to obey, a distrustful expression on her face.

  “So, what, I open it and snakes pop out?” The door opened and revealed silvery plastic packages stacked neatly on the shelves inside. “What the hell is this?”

  “MREs,” I replied. “Meals Ready-to-Eat. Cousin Will makes sure we have plenty on hand.”

  “You know these things aren’t healthy. Right?” Ella removed one of the packages and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Spaghetti and meatballs? Somehow, I doubt it.”

  “Would you rather starve?” I snapped, my face contorting into a grimace.

  “No, I’m sure it will be fine, sir.” She flashed a smile that was one part meekness, four parts teasing lust. “Do you have a preference?”

  “No.”

  She riffled through several of the packages, setting those that didn’t pass muster on the counter before finally selecting a meal that didn’t terribly offend her.

  Her selection wound up being Swedish meatballs, though she eschewed the warm-up pack and heated the dinner on the stove top instead. I watched her cook from the counter separating the kitchen from the living space.

  She chuckled suddenly, turning her golden-tressed head my way. “Remember when I tried to make you blueberry muffins?”

  My lips curled up into a smile, and my heart felt lighter as I recalled the memory. “Yes,” I said, laughing as well. “You overfilled the cups and they exploded all over the top of the pan.”

  “And the oven,” Ella said. “Man, my dad was pissed.”

  Her face fell as she thought of her father, all but a vegetable now. My heart panged with sympathy and something else. I could recall that day, with the muffins and the huge mess and her father hollering at me. I’d taken the diatribe with good grace, and Ella had been so happy later that I hadn’t resorted to toxic masculinity…
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br />   “What’s wrong?” she asked as I glowered.

  “Nothing. Lost my appetite.” I stood quickly. “You should eat.”

  “Deryk?” Ella followed me as I headed for the front door. “What’s wrong? Did I say something, or…”

  “You didn’t do a damn thing,” I snapped, not looking at her. “I just need… I need to take a walk. Clear my head.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” She followed me out the door.

  “No. Stay,” I snapped, glowering at her. Ella stiffened, a hurt expression clawing its way onto her face.

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured sadly, closing the door and disappearing inside the house. The sun had just set, casting red-gold light over the treetops. I picked one of my favorite hiking trails and started off, not bothering to care what the trail would do to my ostrich skin shoes.

  My mind swirled with confusion. The old me, the one who loved Ella more than life itself, clashed with my new apathetic persona. I didn’t want to care about her again, because it had hurt so much to lose her the last time.

  I was afraid to consider if I even loved her any longer. Not because I was afraid to find I did not, but rather, the opposite.

  I tried to remind myself that she was property now, all mine, and both of our feelings were irrelevant. How many times had I fantasized about strapping her down and giving her the punishment that her abandonment so richly deserved? Too many to count.

  But I had given in and gone down on her almost immediately. As if I’d been under a compulsion with no way to resist. Despite my conviction to not sleep with her for at least the first week of her training, I’d collapsed and caved in to my own lusty desire.

  And my own emotions. There was no way to deny I was still twisted up over Ella. Now, with her in my grasp, I found myself running away from her and everything she represented.

  It would have been easier if she’d been defiant, petulant, even sobbing and crying. But that hadn’t been the case. If anything, Ella had turned quite eager almost as soon as I’d shown her the playroom.