Chapter 7

Tara

After signing the NDA and going home to pack my things, I left my cell phone as instructed. There's something freeing that comes with leaving that ball and chain behind, even though I'll have to use some other method to conduct my meetings. Look, I can't just drop off the planet for a month, and it's frustrating that I didn't know about that part of the deal beforehand. I could have made arrangements ahead of time, if I'd known.

I should have researched more about what it means to be the Butterfly, damnit. What else don't I know about this deal?

I've only been a member of the Monarch for three months. That ceremony was the first one I've seen in action. I knew the winner got to pick her Dom or Domme, or multiple, and is given the time of her life, which was all I needed to hear to want it for myself. Come on, a night of debauchery—let alone an entire month—where I'm fucked in ways better than the missionary position? Yes, please and thank you. No way would I willingly give up on this privilege until I won.

I need this. Fucking hell, do I need this.

My life is one big hustle. The stress of my job, my family's constant degrading, and the assholes who run in my social circles always picking at me nearly had me at a breaking point last year. The more they pushed, the harder I fought to hold my ground.

I've turned into a cold-hearted killer in the conference room, and an ice queen in the bedroom.

I hate it. I hate myself. I hate that I can't see a way out. I hate why I started and how I can't stop.

Hell, I'm not even sure why I grind so hard every day anymore. Is it out of love or spite?

I need a break. A time out. An escape.

It's not all about hot sex and thrills at the Monarch. It's about submitting to someone safe, knowing I have the power, and freedom, to explode if I need to. Ryker's club is renowned for being a safe space, and the Dominants here are top tier.

Or so I hope.

All the entertainers are gorgeous, and the men who stay so close to him are all absolute thirst traps, but Ryker Hudson is in a league of his own.

And he's mine for a month.

I think we can teach each other a lot.

As a private car pulls up to the front steps, I take a minute to appreciate the position I'm in. This isn't going to be easy. I have no clue how I'm going to handle this man. It's clear he detests me, and I don't blame him, but I'm still going through with this. And as I'm escorted inside, up the elevator, and to my private suite, I see Mr. Hudson is still going through with this too, considering he's sitting on my couch with a scowl.

Does the man ever genuinely smile?

"Have a good evening, Butterfly." The driver places my two suitcases just inside the door instead of taking them into my new suite. Dipping his head at Mr. Hudson, he leaves, and I'm left alone in the dimly lit suite with my new Dom.

After a long pause, Mr. Hudson stands, smooths out his tuxedo jacket, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. "From this point forward, you will call me Sir. Only Sir." He slowly makes his way over to me. "Strip."

Keeping my gaze locked on his, I take off the gown I'm still wearing by simply unfastening the safety pins used to hold the straps together. Just like on the stage, it falls to my feet in a glittery pale blue puddle, leaving me bare for his pleasure.

Sir walks slow circles around me like a wolf observing its meal. "We will use a light system. Green for good. Yellow for borderline. Red for stop."

My heart rate kicks up, and a chill skates down my bare flesh.

"Trust and honesty are the most important things between a Dom and his sub. I will not lie to you. And I have to trust that what you're saying is truth, especially with the light system, just like you will have to trust me to know how to bring you…" He stops in front of me and wraps his hand around my throat before leaning in until our mouths almost brush. "Exquisite release through pleasure." His hot breath warms my lips. "And pain."

I swallow hard.

"Your file didn't give me much to go on, Butterfly. You like both praise and humiliation?"

My heart thuds. "Yes."

"What are your hard limits?"

"I don't know of any," I say carefully.

He cocks his brow at me.

"Sir," I tack on quickly.

"Then we'll find them together." He runs the tip of his nose along my cheek until his breath tickles my ear. "Do you enjoy my hands on you like this, Butterfly?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Do you understand I am your master for the next thirty days?"

Quick math tells me that's a week beyond when the building goes up for auction. There's a strange satisfaction knowing I'll still be reaping the benefits of my deal, even after he's gotten his end of the bargain.

I also know that all because I said I'd make sure Brisbane Realty didn't bid on the property doesn't mean another company won't outbid him at auction. Mr. Hudson could still lose the property, but I've already secured my reward. "Yes, Sir."

"Get on your knees."

My legs buckle and I not so gracefully descend like a good girl.

"Stick out your tongue."

I obey, feeling equal parts turned on and humiliated. He's got me on the ground like a dog, and I swear, if he asks me to give him a paw, I'm going to punch him in the dick.

Or suck him off.

Christ, this is confusing.

I can't tell if I like it or not. But when he shoves his thumb into my mouth, I decide it isn't so bad.

Until he tries to gag me with it.

"Suck." He presses down on the back of my tongue, and my gag reflex kicks in.

"Relax your tongue." His lips curl into a cocky smirk. "And suck."

I know how to give head. This is harder. The pressure is different, and my eyes keep watering. Squeezing them shut, a tear slips free as I wrap my lips around his thumb and draw it in till my cheeks hollow.

"Good girl. Open." I obey, and he replaces his thumb with three big fingers instead. My lips wrap around them, and he snaps his fingers by my face. "I didn't say close your mouth, Butterfly."

More tears prick my eyes, but I keep my gaze locked on him and open my damn mouth again. He shoves his fingers down my throat and I gag hard and ugly.

"Breathe through your nose," he growls, unyielding. With his fingers in my mouth like this, I can't get my throat to stop convulsing. Saliva builds up, and I choke on it. He pulls out and wipes his fingers on his pants, then walks away from me. "We'll work on that."

Jerk.

I'm stuck between wanting to throw something at him for humiliating me just now and begging him to do it again.

"You will stay on your knees until I return, Butterfly." He shuts the door and leaves.

With. My. Belongings.