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I have no idea why I gave such a bland answer when it was the most pleasurable and exhilarating experience of my life. Maybe there’s a part of me that suspects this is a one-off, and he’ll forget all about what we shared today as well as his promises of financial support.
I want to ask, but any hint of rejection while I’m still delicate might be too much.
“I’m getting you some food,” he says. “Stay put, or there’ll be consequences,”
“What kind?”
“Painful ones that don’t result in orgasms.” He turns on his heel and stalks out of the room.
“It’s not like I can move anyway,” I mutter under my breath.
“I heard that,” he replies from down the hallway.
Now that I’m a little more clear-headed, I finally get to take in my surroundings. This isn’t a playroom, it’s a sex dungeon, and it’s insane.
The entire space is over twice the size of his living room, with the throne positioned on the far side, directly opposite the bed. Beside it is a leather chaise, where I imagine he’d dump an exhausted slave girl.
There are more pieces of kinky furniture than the gyno chair—a cage that’s a little more spacious than a casket, a spanking bench that could double up as a place to tie someone up for anal sex, a leather examination table, and torture racks against the wall.
That’s not even counting the rails of toys. It looks like he’s purchased the Red Room’s entire catalog, including all the items they keep in their mysterious back room.
I’m still marveling at how much effort Professor Segul has invested in his perversion, when the man himself emerges from the hallway, carrying a huge tray.
My stomach rumbles in anticipation of food, and I sit up straighter on the bed.
“You didn’t mention any dietary requirements when we made arrangements for dinner. There’s a bit of everything here,” he says, sounding almost embarrassed.
“I eat anything,” I say with a tired smile.
He sets down a charcuterie board that looks like it’s been prepared for the Greek god, Hades. It’s made of mottled olive wood stained dark and covered in enough treats for six.
Little bowls of almonds, olives, sliced figs, red grapes, and dips lie among an array of sliced meats and cheeses. There are three different types of bread around the edges, and each look like they’re from that expensive bakery on the high street.
Professor Segul returns with a pitcher of sangria and pours me a glass.
“Would you like a robe?” he asks with a quirk of his lips.
When I give him a hesitant nod, he disappears behind the red curtain.
I bring the sangria to my lips and coat my tongue with fruity red wine.
Professor Segul is everything I could have asked for in a sugar daddy. He’s sexy, intelligent, generous, and he knows how to give a woman pleasure.
Beneath his stern exterior is a man who actually gives a shit. He’s the complete opposite to the boys at university who disappear after they’ve gotten what they want.
A girl could get used to a man like him.
I pick up a piece of olive bread, dunk a corner of it in the onion dip and add a slice of what looks like roast beef. Compared to instant noodles, the first bite tastes like heaven.
There has to be a catch. No one could possibly be this perfect.
Professor Segul moved down to Marina to replace Professor Eckhart. He’ll return to London the moment the old man is well enough to resume his duties, and I’ll be long forgotten. That, or he’ll meet a more experienced submissive.
Girls like me can’t even secure the care and loyalty of their own fathers, let alone hold onto a man. It’s only a matter of time before Professor Segul moves onto someone else.
He returns with a fluffy robe over his shoulder, but my gaze fixes on what he’s holding in his hands. It’s a small fondue set filled with melted chocolate, and he has a gleam in his eye that sends sparks down to my clit.
After setting down the fondue, he helps me into the robe and rests beside me on the bed. I wait for him to explain what he’s planned, but he wraps an arm around my shoulder and tucks me into his side.
