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“I’m going to push this in your arse now, Hallie. I suggest you don’t fight me on it. You’ll only make things harder on yourself.”
I felt sick with fear. How badly was this going to hurt?
Something cold and hard touched my entrance. He forced it inside me, and I stretched around it, a sting and burn focusing my attention. I struggled against him, but he held me down and pushed it in further.
I didn’t want to feel aroused, but somehow, I did. My pussy clenched, my clit tingling. I ground down on the edge of the sink trying to get some stimulation there to counteract the strange, dirty sensation of someone invading my other hole.
Suddenly, he released me, but the object he’d put inside me remained in place. I blinked back tears. “How long am I supposed to keep this in?”
“You’re going to wear it for our date. It looks beautiful.”
I widened my eyes in shock. “I’m supposed to keep this in me? Won’t it fall out?”
“It won’t fall out.”
“I... I can’t.”
“Yes, you can, and you will. Trust me, you don’t want me fucking you before you’re nicely stretched, and believe me, I will fuck you in every hole before we’re done, Hallie Wynter.”
I’d never even had sex the normal way, and he was planning on fucking my arse. I’d seen Tam’s cock, had been up-close and personal with it more than once, and I couldn’t even imagine him being able to fit where he’d planned.
Tam Cornell was one sick puppy.
“Now,” he said, “pull your skirt back down. We’re going out.”
The plug felt massive, as though I wasn’t going to even be able to walk properly. I shook my head. “I can’t go into public like this.”
“Yes, you can. I’m taking you for dinner, remember. We have a date.”
“Oh.”
Was he seriously saying that I had to leave the house like this? I stared into his face but didn’t get any hint that he might have been joking. I wasn’t sure Tam Cornell even knew how to joke.
“Okay,” I managed, though my voice was barely above a whisper. How stupid I was for thinking that Tam might actually treat me well for once. Of course, he was going to use this ‘date’ as a way of objectifying and humiliating me. Why had I ever thought things would be different?
***
THE RESTAURANT TAMtook me to in Covent Garden was upmarket—with white linen tablecloths, warm bread baskets, and too many sets of knives and forks to choose from.
“Mr Cornell.” The man, who I assumed to be the owner, shook Tam’s hand. “We haven’t seen you here in a while.”
Tam glanced my way. “I’ve been busy.”
The owner ducked his head with a smile. “Usual table?”
“Actually, we’ll take one more to the front of the restaurant this time.”
I was sure everyone could tell there was something wrong with me. My face felt like it was on fire, and I felt like I was walking funny. I didn’t know where Tam’s usual table was, but from his reply, I assumed it was somewhere near the back.
“Wouldn’t it be better to have a table that’s a little more private,” I said through gritted teeth, while forcing the smile to remain plastered on my face.
Tam smiled back, but his eyes remained cold. “Why would we want that. I want to show off my beautiful fiancée to the world.”
The owner’s eyes lit up. “Your fiancée! That’s wonderful news, Mr Cornell. Please, let me show you to a window table and then I’ll bring champagne, on the house, of course.”
Was it possible to smile while also glaring at someone? I wasn’t sure, but I was giving it a damned good go right now.
The owner showed us to a two-seater table, intimate, but in the window. A white tablecloth hung down, hiding the table legs and anything beneath. Tam pulled out the chair for me, as though he was a gentleman, and I sat. I tried not to wince as the act of sitting forced the plug deeper. Tam took the seat opposite, but then moved his chair to bring it closer to me.
