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CHAPTER FIVE
After Milton orders me back to my room, I try to get the chastity belt off for five minutes. Before realizing they’re designed to withstand a tug and pull from an opposing participant. My skin is flushed, and my breaths are sharp. A panic attack brews, and the man causing it won’t vacate my mind. I can’t stop thinking about his own torment etched into every shadow of his face while having me on his bed and putting this inhumane thing on me. His cock cage crushing his own erection, battling it down to submission. It’s sick. Psychotic. Who would do this to themselves? And why do I love that Milton’s done it to me?
Hours pass before Milton finally calls from downstairs that dinner will be ready in half an hour. The electricity is still out, the generator out of juice, but it’s here inside of me. Sparking and short-circuiting. Zapping through my veins and igniting every nerve inside of me.
Deciding to change into something looser for dinner to accommodate my new tortuous endeavor, I go inside the closet, knowing a pair of jeans is out of the question. Flicking through the dresses, I can’t believe the gowns and stunning cocktail dresses hanging from silk hangers. My fingers brush against expensive fabrics with the price tags still on. Expensive enough for my mouth to drop in horror.
Spotting a dark red number with a low neckline and short enough to be daring, my mind goes wild, knowing how fun it’d be to wear it to dinner with Milton. It is tempting to antagonize the monster he keeps caged inside—the one trying to contain me.
Spilling all kinds of makeup onto the counter in the bathroom, I start applying foundation, blusher, and a deep shade of umber eyeshadow. After making my eyelashes long and thick to complement the nude gloss swiped across my lips, I get dressed. I don’t wear a bra beneath since I can’t put panties on. After putting on a pair of strappy heels and spritzing perfume on my skin, I go downstairs.
This time, Milton’s in the dining room, seated at the table lit with candles. My plate and a glass of wine are already waiting for me. Like this morning, he’s flicking on his phone, and it irritates me, knowing he could be tapping a reply to Rika.
Can’t wait to see you too.
Lifting my chin and holding my head high, I saunter into the room. The click of my heels steals his attention.
Leaning back in his seat, he takes my appearance in oh so slowly. He looks exceptional tonight himself. Opting more for a casual look—a white shirt with the top button undone, hair damp and pushed back from his shower, his stubble less tamed than usual. His dangerous eyes where I want them most—on me.
“This looks nice.” Taking a seat, I pop a red grape into my mouth. He’s made a cold feast that looks amazing. A man of many talents. A doctor. A chef. A torturer. “May I ask why you’ve given me such gorgeous dresses to wear if I’m to stay locked away in your medieval mansion?”
Leaning forward, he grabs his glass of wine, and I delight in him draining its contents in one go. “I’ll bring it up with Lisa the next time I see her.”
“Maybe Lisa thought I could wear them to show off to your security men—”
Buzzzzzzzzz.
With a shriek, I jump off my seat. The beltshockedme. Milton’s husk of laughter fills the room as I drive forward, gasping into the table. What the fuck wasthat?
“You were saying?” he asks as I attempt to compose myself. My face flames when I feel my arousal way worse than before. There must be some sort of shock thing on the chastity belt, and he confirms it when he holds up his phone. “I can just press this button—”Buzzzzzzz.The shock goes straight through my core, and I gasp, squirming on the seat and trying my best not to fall off. “—to shut you up when you’re pissing me off.”
“Mi-Milton.” I squeeze the chair. “Can I use the bathroom?”
Anything to get this off me right now. He presses it again, and I try my damn hardest not to react. I grip onto the chair until my fingers ache and slump forward, waiting for him to stop. Finally, he does. “No. Eat first.”
Fuck him to hell.
Picking up a breadstick, I dip it into a creamy dip that he’s laid out. Putting my lips over the tip, I suck it off slowly, knowing he’s watching my every move. Showing my teeth, I bite down, the crunch making him shift in his seat.
“Heidi.” A warning.
“Yes?”
He presses the button, and I moan, nothing to do but ride it out. No way to even rub against the leather. The belt is too tight, too constricting. When he stops, he pours himself another glass of wine, and I take a sip of mine, smirking to myself over the rim as he drains that one too and goes back to eating.
My, my, aren’t all the cracks beginning to show?
Putting a slice of wafer-thin meat onto buttered garlic bread, it tastes so good that I eat every bit and drink every drop of wine. Until I’m full and alcohol sings in my veins, dancing around all my desire for the maddening man across from me.
“So,” I drawl out half-drunk, eyes fluttering to meet his. He’s staring right at me, leaning back in his chair with a dark, insatiable look in his eyes.There he is.The man I want. The real him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“What I’m wearing.”
“Your dress?” He smirks casually, knowing it’s not what I mean. But I’ll play along. “Hmm.”
“Nothing to say?” Rising as gracefully as possible, I step around the table. “I’m sure plenty of men would appreciate it.” His eyes flicker to my ass as the dress rides over my butt cheeks, showing off the leather strap he locked me in. “They even might help break me out. At this point, I’ll have anyone—”
