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Chapter Three
Elias
Zel does her best to stop trembling under my scrutinous stare but fails miserably.
I opt out of scolding the young woman – who is ten years younger than me at twenty-five – for simply enjoying the way her tight little body vibrates. How her heaving chest makes her tits practically pop out of the pathetic thing she calls a dress. How the unnecessary panicked breaths bounce the inches and inches of locks that are making my hands itch and dick rock hard in my black slacks.
She continues her mumbled gripes during her frantic skimming and scribbled signing, all of which are lost to the man she calls her father. It’s obvious she truly hopes her words are getting to him, yet if she were to just clamp those plump, perfect-for-sucking-my-cock lips closed for only a moment, she’d see the manipulative bastard is simply relieved to no longer be in my debt.
The pen is carelessly dropped onto the pile of documents on a huffed. “Finished.”
I flash her a wolfish grin attached to a curt gesture towards my main living room. “Couch.”
Her light brown eyes widen in fear, and her mouth tips down to meekly argue, “But-”
“It wasn’t a suggestion.”
She seals her lips together, spins her body the direction she was instructed, and saunters away with my blue eyes glued to a backside that I can’t wait to have sitting on my face while I yank her hair.
“Mr. Whittington,” her father’s voice cuts through the thoughts threatening to banish the hard-on I planned to soothe in other ways. “May I say goodb-”
“No.” Strolling nonchalantly the same path as his daughter, I simply mutter, “Dietrich, dismiss Mr. Pierson properly and retrieve my tools.”
“They are already on the table, sir.”
“Wonderful.” Another heated smirk expands across my face and remains the duration of my trekking.
Zel pulls her hair to one side of her body, flops down on the curved black couch, and pushes her nervous stare up to where I’m now standing. “I don’t um…,” her fingers toy with a loose strand I’m only a few short minutes away from touching, “really understand everything I read. Could you put it in simpler terms, please?”
“Sir.”
Her eyebrows lift in confusion. “Huh?”
“You will call me Sir during playtime.”
“Playtime? What am I child?”
“A doll.”
A beep sound reverberates throughout the penthouse indicating Dietrich has set the alarm and dismissed himself to his personal quarters on the apartment level below.
I grin in satisfaction of our new solitary state at the same time I explain, “For the next three months, you are here to entertain me. You are to be my date when I do not wish to dine alone. Companion for events I do not wish to attend without the accompaniment of a beautiful woman on my arm. And most importantly, mine to use for pleasure – morning, noon, or night.”
“P-p-pleasure?”
“There’s no need to worry, little doll…” The statement is followed by taking a small step closer. “I always take good care of my toys.”
Her hands fly to her mouth to stop the shaky cry from escaping.
“Clothes off.”
More waves of fear drown her expression.
“Now.”
Tiny whimpers of trepidation tear past Zel’s closed mouth; however, they don’t stop her from obeying.
I anxiously watch every move she makes, growing harder each time an action makes the beautiful brown strands dangling from her head sway. Her tits, while tiny – too tiny for me to run my dick between – are still round and full with caramel-colored nipples and I bet taste just as sweet as they look. She possesses the smallest number of curves – a true testament to an overworked, underfed young woman – but they at least are displayed well at her hips, ass, and inner thighs. The patch of curls covering an area that should always be bare – at least for the next few months – calls me to abandon my original plans to accelerate the tending of it.
