Alexandre looks horrified. “Of course not,petit!” he exclaims. “You are not my pet any longer. You are my lover, and you will eat at the table like anyone else. Yvette will keep her opinions to herself.”
Can I be your lover if you own me?The question flickers in my head, but I ignore it. Instead, I let him dress me in the maid’s outfit as always, carrying the tray downstairs to wash the dishes and feeling a sort of warm, pleasant domestic-ness about it all, even if it’s all somewhat strange still. There’s a certain ownership I feel about the apartment after last night, that it’s mine in a way, now that Alexandre and I are really together. Even if none of it really is, even if it’s all his, just like I’mhisin the most strict sense, the feeling matters to me more than anything, and I think it’s the same for him.
I have tobelieveit’s the same.
I feel lighter than ever as I go about my daily chores, my heart hammering with excitement at the thought of meeting Alexandre’s friends or perhaps even being introduced as his lover.Loversounds so much better thangirlfriendorpartner, I think as I dust the art and statues, much more European, more French. Sophisticated.
The hours fly by until he comes back with food and wine for dinner and another package for me. He takes me back to my room, and this time when he undresses me out of the maid’s outfit, he lets his hands wander. I can feel the desire in them, see it in his eyes as his fingers trail over my breasts, between my thighs, parting me so that he can stroke my clit, until I’m panting softly. Alexandre sinks to his knees, fastening his mouth between my legs and sucking it into his mouth, rolling the tight, hard nub between his lips until I clutch his hair and cry out with a sudden, intense pleasure that makes my knees buckle. He scoops me up, laying me stomach-down on the bed as he frees his hard cock from his pants and thrusts it into me, gripping my hips until he finally comes with a cry, biting and sucking on my neck as he fills me with his cum. I shudder around him, too, clenching and moaning as I come for a second time.
I feel limp and blissful as he goes to get a cloth to clean me up, more like a doll than ever, but I don’t care. Why would I? I’ve had more orgasms in the last twenty-four hours than I have in months, and if a man owns me, it’s a rich, handsome man with a huge cock and a penchant for cooking me delicious meals and dressing me in pretty clothes. Why would I fight it, even if he treats me like a doll?
You’ve gone full Stockholm Syndrome,the small voice in my head whispers as Alexandre cleans his cum off of my thighs, but I ignore it. It’s so easy to ignore now.
“I brought you a new pretty dress,” he says, smiling at me as he unwraps the package he’d brought home along with the food and wine. And itispretty. It’s soft lavender linen, another wrap dress like the silk one I wore on our first afternoon out. Alexandre puts it on me with nothing underneath it, the delicate linen brushing over my skin as he braids my hair over one shoulder and then shows me the jewelry he purchased, a simple rose gold bangle with a raw amethyst set in it and a matching set of earrings. “No necklace this time,” he says, dragging his fingers down my slight cleavage. “I like seeing your breasts unobstructed.”
I shiver at his touch, looking at myself in the mirror, pink and flushed and smiling, and I barely recognize the girl looking back at me. I haven’t looked this relaxed or happy in a long time.
There’s a knock at the door, and we go out to the living room. To my disappointment, the first person to arrive is Yvette. “You can help me start preparing dinner,” Alexandre tells her, but her gaze goes immediately, laser-like, to my neck.
“What the fuck have you done, Alexandre?” she asks in her thick accent, her voice rasping for once instead of soft. “Have you fucked the pet?”
“That’s none of your business,” Alexandre says stiffly. “Help me in the kitchen, please? The other guests will be arriving soon.”
Her upper lip curls as she walks past me, and my pulse leaps into my throat. “Whore,” she whispers as she slides past, low enough that Alexandre can’t hear. “You’ll pay for this. I don’t know how or what spell you’ve put on him, but I’ll make certain you pay.”
“Alexandre won’t allow that,” I whisper, with a bravery that I don’t feel. But she just laughs, whisking past me into the kitchen, and I feel cold fingers crawling down my spine at the venom in her words.
I’d forgotten about the threat Yvette posed, just for a little while. But now it’s plain again, plain and terrifying, and I’m about to have to spend an entire evening with her. Tonight matters. I know it does. It’s the first time Alexandre has had a dinner party since bringing me here. He’s going to have me sitting at the table, with his bite mark on my neck, some of his cum still inside of me, his lover instead of his possession.
Yvette could ruin everything, and I know she wants to.
I just don’t know how she’ll manage it.
And I’m fucking terrified.