Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 168587 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 843(@200wpm)___ 674(@250wpm)___ 562(@300wpm)
I gasp, jumping back as it runs down my calves, and into my high heels that are cuffed to my ankles. “What the fuck, Bethany!” I shout.
She slams the empty glass on the counter and smiles at me. “Have a good night. We’re going to be slammed.” Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder and storms off with a fucking smile on her face.
I wiggle my toes, feeling the drink at the bottom of my heels. My feet already sliding, shoving my toes to the end. The heels have a high arch, making the alcohol puddle inside. I pick one foot up at a time, kicking the heel to my ass, trying to tip it upside down to let the drink run out. It works but some remains. So I grab some bar napkins and start shoving them into the side of the heels, trying to soak up whatever I can.
“What can I do?” Beau asks me with a sigh.
“Get me a new fucking drink,” I snap, picking up my tray. I turn, heading to VIP, and realize why Tyson gave it to me. It’s elevated up off the main floor. I have to go up and down ten stairs. Each fucking time. In these heels. That are now wet. I already want to cry.
Goddamn him.
Tyson was right. I’ll be crawling to him tonight. And it won’t take me long.
TYSON
I sit at my desk when the door opens. I look up to see Lake enter, wobbling like Bambi, and I sit back in my chair as she shuts the door and leans back against it. I refrain from smiling.
Tears silently run down her pretty face. She’s been crying for a few minutes because her makeup is already ruined. She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she drops to her hands and knees, a cry ripping from her parted lips. I don’t know if it’s from relief or pain. The way the collar is made, she can’t avert her eyes in shame. She has to look up at me while she slowly crawls across my office floor to my desk. I stay where I’m at, enjoying the small victory.
She comes around my desk and looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips.
I lean forward and run my thumb over her lip before pulling it down to show me her perfectly glowing white teeth.
You don’t get more royalty than her in my world. A queen of sorts forced to marry the riff-raff—a man who gave up his high-ranking title to slum it with the peasants.
“Was that so hard?” I ask, and she whimpers. “You’ll learn that your pride will get you in trouble, darling.”
“Pl-ease?” she chokes out.
“Turn around, remove your shorts and put your ass up in the air. Face on the floor.”
Her face falls. “Ty—”
“Go back to work, Lake.” I dismiss her at her refusal to do as I say. Turning to my computer, I start responding to an email I have when I hear her softly crying. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see her turning her back to me. She pushes her shorts down her legs, places the side of her tear-streaked face on the floor, and spreads her legs, placing her ass and cunt up in the air.
I turn my chair once again to face her while she sits impatiently. She rocks her hips back and forth, trying to get comfortable. Nothing will work. This is a punishment.
Reaching out, I push my fingers through the holes of her fishnets and run two fingers over her cunt. “Do you enjoy pain, Lake?” I ask. I’m met with silence. “Because you’re wet.” To prove my point, I plunge them into her pussy, and she rocks back against them. “You will learn that I will always win, Lake. No matter if I have to cheat.”
I unlock both of the locks and remove the shackles from around her ankles. Then I pull the heel off, and she cries out in relief. I hold up the shoe, turning it upside down, and liquid runs out of it. I frown. “Why is your shoe wet?”
She remains facedown, and I pull the other one off. Same thing.
“Lake?” I bark her name.
“I knocked my water off the bar and spilled it on my heels,” she softly answers.
I lift the shoe to my nose and sniff. It smells like Red Bull. Why is she lying? “Turn around and face me. Stay on your knees.”
Lifting herself off the floor, she does as I say and looks up at me. I reach out and cup her tear-streaked face. “Last time. Why are they wet?”
She blinks her watery lashes, and whispers, “I spilled my water…”
“Get up, put your shorts back on, and sit on the couch,” I command, cutting her off. She’s not telling the truth.
Getting to her feet, she slides on her shorts and manages to walk over to the leather couch and plops down, her arms wrapping around her chest, but her chin is lifted high due to the collar still in place.