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“Turn off the video,” the live, in-person Luke said from the shadows of the stairs.
Veronica pushed the button on the remote. She looked at the floor, scared of whatever was coming next, embarrassed he’d watched her watch him and her doppelganger engaged in something kinky. It was the kind of thing she’d suspected after he’d spanked her in his bedroom the previous night—and seeing the upstairs playroom while cleaning had sealed the truth. It was the kind of thing she would have fantasized—with him as the star—if she hadn’t been so tired and scared.
The room was across the hall from the rooms she and Luke slept in. She’d discovered it while cleaning but had largely tried to block it out of her mind. It had a large black box on one end with a padlock on it, video equipment, a leather sofa, a pole that looked like a stripper pole, a few pieces of dungeon equipment, and of course the rug the girl had been crawling on.
A long silence stretched between them as Veronica waited, tense—she wasn’t sure for what. An order? His hands on her? A question? Would he demand she tell him in minute detail how that video had made her feel? She didn’t know if she could even put it into words for herself. If hemadeher do something like that, it would make the fantasies okay.
She’d fought against it, so strongly. What she’d seen happening on that screen—it would never happen that way for her. Of all the sex she’d had, it had never been pleasant, never like her fantasies. It hadn’t even been good vanilla sex. It was just bad, start to finish, while she’d prayed it would end soon. She’d been dry, and it had hurt, but she’d kept going out with men, kept trying, like some nymphomaniac that pathologically had to fuck even though the act brought her no satisfaction. She couldn’t stand to be disappointed again.
Had that been the start of her masochism? That tiny thread of pain that had accompanied her every sexual encounter? Without an orgasm, it had been the one thing she could count on. Comfort in the discomfort because of its familiarity.
“Go to bed, Veronica. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Her head jerked up, and she chanced a look into his eyes. What had he seen on her face that was making him send her away? Had he changed his mind about what he was going to do with her? She should be happy about that. And she was, but her face was flushed, and the space between her legs was throbbing so hard she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk straight. Crawling to her room sounded like a more feasible option, but she forced herself to stand.
“G-goodnight, Luke,” she said. He hadn’t moved from his spot on the stairs.
He held her gaze and shook his head in disapproval. “Goodnight,Sir.”
Something strange fluttered in her stomach at him still wanting the formal address. She didn’t want to dissect it. “G-goodnight, Sir.”
He simply nodded his approval.
As she walked past him, he slid a hand under her dress to feel the wetness sliding down her thighs, then he let her continue on her way. She wanted to melt into the floor. If he’d had any doubt of her reaction to his perverted home movie, it was gone now.
FOUR
The only light filtering into Veronica’s room was from the full moon. She’d held her breath when she’d heard him come up the stairs, both afraid he’d come into her room and afraid he wouldn’t. If he came inside, she was scared of what he’d do to her, or make her do. If he didn’t come to her, was he rejecting her? Something in that scenario was more upsetting than it should have been.
His footsteps stopped just outside her room, and an eternity passed before she heard him change direction and go into his own room.
She let out a sigh of relief, but then unexpected tears slipped down her cheeks and onto her pillow. She was mortified. She tried to console herself with the fact that it wasn’t her fault. He’dmadeher watch the video. But it didn’t help. She still felt dirty. Once they’d crossed that threshold and he’d known without any doubt the things that made her hot, turning away from her was too humiliating. He’d somehow found her lacking.
The throbbing started between her legs again, and somehow the embarrassing thing she’d just experienced, mixed with the video into a new fantasy in her mind, with Luke’s nasty voice in her ear whispering awful things while she rubbed her clit.
She jumped when a doorknob turned; her hand stilled under the covers. A shadow fell over her, and Luke entered the room through the balcony. She was afraid he’d notice if she jerked her hand away, so instead she pressed it flat against her mound, hoping the blankets would camouflage what she’d been doing.
He flipped on the light and stood over her. Before she could protest or find a way to covertly move her hand from between her legs, he ripped the blankets away to reveal her fingers underneath her panties and a nearly transparent T-shirt she’d found in the drawer. Her nipples must be erect and clearly visible through the shirt as worked up as she’d become.
“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Were you thinking about what you just saw down there?”
She hesitated and then slowly nodded.
“Speak,” he said, as if he were training a small dog.
She wanted to argue and protest, to yell and curse at him. She wanted to throw a bedside lamp and watch as shards of glass cut the side of his face. Instead she said, “Yes, Sir.” Her breath came out labored when she spoke.
She started to move her hand away.
Luke’s eyes were hard. “No. Now that you’ve been caught, I want you to leave your fingers buried in your pussy. I want you to be very aware of what I caught you doing so you can’t deny it later.”
He retreated to the rocking chair in the far corner and sat, keeping his eyes on her. “Is this the first time you’ve had fantasies like this?”
“No, Sir.”
