Chapter 8
Chelsea
Fucking kegels.Why didn’t I learn how to do them properly at some point. I’m pretty sure if I had the power to fucking hold a jade egg in my vagina with a weight dangling from it, I could keep his cum from sliding down my thighs. Too bad I can’t just do a reset and get some sort of factory barrier covering the area. Like a tamper-proof seal that will keep everything in. He’d have to break it the next time he pounded into me, but something tells me that would just excite him even more.
Problem is, I can’t blame him completely. No doubt it’s how wet I am that’s causing everything to move like it is. Going a few days without him touching me has me about to cream my thighs at just a glance. I’ve never been this horny before, and I fucking hate it.
He’s kept the shield off of me for the last week or so, but the desire to touch myself waned considerably after the piercing episode. I may like to push buttons, but I’m not an idiot. I still have prime flesh that, as of yet, is not mangled, and I want to keep it that way. For now, at least.
As we walk through his house, I squeeze my thighs together, making the whole process a shuffling affair. Gritting my teeth, I move as quickly as I can while ignoring the slickness coating my inner thighs. What’s worse is the more I squeeze and contract, the more I get turned on. The friction is almost unbearable, but if I allow myself a looser gait, more of his essence will seep down and possibly sully my dress.
His chuckle is the only indication he’s noted my discomfort. Not that he’s going to do anything about it. I should be grateful that he wiped most of it away. Instead of a dress comically sticking to my ass, I just have the personal humiliation of feeling him as I walk. His strong hand settles on my low back, infusing my skin with his warmth.
My body still tingles from when I first saw him dressed up. Him in a suit is awe-inspiring; him in a tux is just devastating. I knew this party was fancy, but black tie is not something I’m accustomed to. My lips turn down as our training flies through my mind. Already I’m second-guessing the stupid forks and spoons. I wasn’t raised fancy like this. As much as he’s worked with me, I’m worried I’m going to embarrass him, and worse, disappoint him.
He carries himself with such an innate grace that I cannot even begin to match. His good breeding shows with every step, every flex of his muscles against the starched fabric. I may not have his fluidity of movement, but with my face and thighs, I’m sure to distract anyone from the minor faux pas, I’ll make tonite. A good face will overshadow good breeding any day. Those who don’t agree are just lying to themselves.
We shuffle into the limo, me first, him close behind. His breath is heavy against my cheek as he settles in on the chair next to me. My body thrums with unrequited arousal. Being this close to him sends my clit twitching into overdrive. If only he'd get me off, then maybe I'd be able to concentrate. I detest that within about a month, he's turned my body against me. I can't seem to survive without this touch anymore, and it infuriates me. From day one, he told me he'd make it so I couldn't think without thinking of him; well, he wasn't wrong. It's even worse when I'm this close to him. His woodsy cologne promises dark, forbidden nights under the stars. Fuck. I'm tingling all over again.
Turning from him, I breathe in clean air that will soon be tainted with his musk. I recite my time's tables, the first thing I can think of that's not sexy, and I can go over and over in my head. But he won't let me do that. He won't let me shut him out. His fingers skim along my thigh, my ear, my neck - anywhere he can get to from my position. His warm sighs inflame my heated skin until everything is tight and just wanting to burst. We play this cat and mouse game as the limo makes its trek through the night. Bright lights and full houses go unnoticed as he turns my face towards his and engulfs my lips with his mouth. His touch is gentle at first - a soft nip here, a slide of a tongue there, but all too soon, he becomes demanding, forcing his way past my lips to mimic what his cock did to me less than an hour ago.
I groan, thrusting my hips up to him, needing some sort of touch, a connection. Hell, at this point, I'll hump his thigh. My dress holds me back, the tight form like a cage as it's caught between the seat and my ass. Whimpering, I reach for Master Grigori, pleading with every brush of my fingers against his pants. He's getting hard again. I can feel his erection growing with every pass of my palm. He encircles my wrists, pulling me away from him. The mask of confusion slips down over my gaze as I try and touch him again. His body at least wants my touch. Why is he holding me back?
With a dark chuckle, he points out the window to a mansion looming up a long flight of stairs. And I thought Master Grigori's home was huge. My jaw drops as I take it all in - the people milling about in classic servant attire, ready to help at any provocation, the lights surrounding everything, the smooth, polished-looking stone as it gleams up from the depths. I was so concerned with my arousal, I didn't even realize we'd stopped. Tapping on the glass behind us, Master Grigori waits for it to lower before speaking to the driver.
"Give us a few minutes, then pull up to the entrance."
"Very good, Sir."
The window rolls back up, leaving us in privacy. My body tingles as I think through why he'd want a few minutes alone with me. If he thinks he can get me off so quickly, he'd be right. I'm so primed that all he'd have to do is rub me for a little bit, and I'll go. Shivering with anticipation, I watch as he slowly turns to me.
"I want you to kneel in front of me."
I hide the disappointment as best I can. Probably he wants me to suck him off before we get inside; that way, he's not uncomfortable while hobnobbing it with all the other rich people. If I ever get a chance to see Bethany again, I'll never chide her about oral. It seems my lot in life is to do so much of it that I can't be around him without the urge to just open my mouth if he looks at me the right way. Sighing, I settle as best I can in between his splayed thighs and rest my hands, palm up, on my thighs like he taught me. The dress is tight enough that I can't go down all the way to my ankles without feeling like I'm going to rip it.
"Why so disappointed? I promise you, you'll like what I have in store for you very much."
He's not wrong. Even if it is oral, I'm starting to like it. The way he does it makes me feel dirty, used, even loved. His eyes soften as he stares down at me, my lips tight around his cock. I feel so close to him in those moments. Still looking at the floor, I don't notice what he has in his hands until he dangles it in front of my eye line. A perfect, silver circle encrusted with what appears to be diamonds rests in his palms. From the middle hangs an ornate, filigree symbol, also covered in diamonds. I'm mesmerized by the flash of the gemstones as it sways in the light.
"You once accused me of leaving you unprotected since you didn't have a collar. As this is your first outing as my submissive, I felt the need to address that." He fingers the hanging symbol until it sways a bit. "This is my crest. Anyone who sees it will know it belongs to me. As such, you also belong to me. This is just for fancy occasions. I have another one for you at home that you will wear at all times. It's not fancy, but if we go out somewhere, it will denote that you are owned."
My heart swells as he says that it's proof of ownership. This is what I've always wanted - what I thought Professor Richards would provide. There's no way he would give me anything close to this. I want nothing more than to strut about on campus, preening in front of him, showing him what he's missing. When did I become so shallow? Instead of focusing on what this means for Master Grigori and me, I'm more concerned about rubbing it in Melody's face? I close my eyes, and Master Grigori shuffles about, coming behind me to fasten his collar. I lift my hair out of the way, shivering as the cold metal brushes against my skin. It's heavy as it lays on me, a constant reminder about who I am and who I belong to - as if I could ever forget it.
As he locks it in place, the car starts moving again, rocking me back into his chest. His rumble of approval as he slides his fingers about my throat, making sure I have enough space to breathe is enough to make my head spin. All too soon, the door opens, and a strange hand reaches in to help me out. Obeying the silent command as Master Grigori nudges me forward, I take the hand and ease out of the limo. Fingering the collar around my neck, I stand to the side as Master Grigori follows me out. In all of our conversations, he neglected to tell me what to do as we walk about. Do I defer to him and walk behind him, head bowed?
Glancing at the other couples arriving, I notice several have necklaces that could double as collars, but it could just be the fashion and not an indication. Before I have time to really overthink it, Master Grigori stands next to me, arm extended for me to take. A stupid flutter of girlish fantasy fills my stomach as I loop my arm with his. All those times I watched love stories, it filled me with a longing to be like them. To be better than my parents and their paltry offerings. To actually be somebody. Until now, it didn't really hit home that to be owned by such a powerful man made me somebody. It doesn't hurt that Master Grigori treats me better than some of the other submissives I've known. He could have lorded his mastery over me in a way that left me small and useless. Instead, he built me up every chance he got. He trained me to be next to him in high-class functions. He could have easily let me fend for myself and laugh along with all the other snooty people, but he didn't. He gave me so much, and all he asked for in return was my unquestionable obedience.
Shame floods me as we mill about with the other people. Upon closer look, it's easy for me to spot those more likely in a similar situation to myself. Not all of them had collars, but several of them stood next to their man, eyes cast to the floor. My heart swells to near bursting as I hold my head up high and hug onto Master Grigori's arm. It's not that I judge them as less than I am. Every dynamic is different, and every relationship has more nuanced expectations. However, Master Grigori hasn't yet squashed my spirit or made me feel less than. I'm not equal in any sense of the word, but being made to posture like they are would have crushed me, and somehow, he knew that.
Names and designations surround me in a blur. There's no way I'd be able to keep them all straight. Thankfully Master Grigori reminded me that I won't have to remember anyone. Since I have the collar around my neck, no one will address me personally. Instead, they will talk to him, and if he deems it necessary or appropriate, they will talk to me. My only job this evening is to look pretty, answer smartly, be cordial, and convince everyone in the room we're head-over-heels in love. Though I'm not sure why that's important, I do my best to keep up appearances. Thankfully, I don't have to try too hard. If there's a sparkle in my eyes, it's not affected. I can't help but show what growing feelings I have for him. This night is magical enough that I can't help but feel things.
"Pretty, young thing you got there, Grigori. What's your name, sweetheart?"
Startled, I look over at the man speaking to me, unease slithering up my spine to prickle my scalp. He's about the same height as Master Grigori, towering over me with a smug set to his lips. Greasy, black hair is slicked back, making him look like the villain in so many movies. As he smiles, he reveals a solid gold tooth, adding to that look. He’s the complete mobster, bad guy package - complete with a faint Russian accent.
He moves in closer, holding his hand out to me. I glance over at Master Grigori, unsure of what to do. Instead of offering my hand in return, I look at the floor and shuffle backward, hiding in my master's shadows. If they’re not supposed to talk to me, then the safe thing is to let Master Grigori take the lead. He did promise to protect me, and at some point, I’ll need to start trusting his word. Now is as good a time as ever.
"This is my new submissive, Uncle. As her collar denotes, she's in high protocol right now. If you have any questions for her, you can ask me."
Relief floods my body as Master Grigori reaches behind to pull me flush to his body. With his arm around me, I feel much safer. The scowl on his uncle's face, however, makes my insides quiver. Holding my head up high, bolstered by Master Grigori's touch and words, I stare the other man down, daring him to go against his wishes. He doesn't speak to me again but smirks before changing the conversation.
"There's a meeting with a few of the houses in the main conference room. You're expected to make an appearance."