Chapter 7

EMERSON

The following morning, Emerson headed down from her bedroom and into the office. It had been a long and frustrating night. She’d never been as aroused or wanted any man the way she wanted Viktor Romanov. She knew she should be approaching this relationship—and she questioned if that was what it was—with trepidation. He was not a man to be trifled with. And what the hell were her sisters up to, and why had they felt a need to keep it from her?

She’d thought about disobeying his edict about masturbation while she was in the shower. Her whole body was crying out for sex and for something more that she sensed only Viktor could give her. She’d had an actual debate with herself—she knew what she needed and had handled herself more times than she could count, but he and his contract had been very clear that from this point forward, he was solely responsible for her sexual satisfaction and pleasure. She’d come so close to touching herself—how would he know? She didn’t know the answer to that, she only knew that somehow, he would know and would punish her for it.

Viktor wanted—no it was more than that, he needed control and he meant to exert that control over her. Why was it that the thought of his doing so aroused her far more than any other sexual experience had? All he’d done so far was play with her, never letting her come but keeping her right on the edge. There was a low throb in her core that pulsed in a relentless rhythm. She knew what she was feeling was being amped up by anticipation, but she suspected that once she’d had him, she would crave him like some intoxicating and exhilarating drug. Emerson’s fear was that she would become addicted to him during the time of their contract. But what then? Would he awaken a need in her no other man could satisfy? She no longer felt like a fly caught in the spider’s web—no, it was far worse than that. She was the proverbial moth drawn to a flame.

They’d discussed punishments. He had assured her that they would be measured and even. That they would be given while she was nude. Most times, he had told her while he plucked and played with her clit in a room full of people, it would be a spanking, some kind of orgasm denial, or forced orgasms. He had whispered that he could tie her up and keep her on the cusp of coming for days if he needed to make his point.

“You will learn to obey me, malenkaya, and you will cherish my discipline,” he whispered in her ear, as he’d used his fingers to stroke around the opening to her core, never quite going in.

“And what if I refuse to obey?”

He chuckled. “Refuse all you like. Never doubt that I will love seeing my discipline on display for everyone in the club to see. If you aren’t careful, I will have you naked across my lap as I spank your beautiful backside until you capitulate. I will then set you in front of me, and you will service me with your mouth until I am ready to forgive you and satisfy your needs.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” she’d said with a nervous laugh.

“Not of myself, but of you. Even the idea of having me spank you turns up the amperage on your arousal. Trust me to see to all your needs, as you will see to mine.”

Emerson shook her head, trying to focus on the piece of pre-Columbian pottery that she was supposed to be authenticating and placing a value on for insurance purposes. How did one place a value on something that was priceless? While Kendra specialized in art and Tegan in gems and jewelry, Emerson’s specialty was antiquities—those objects from the Mediterranean dating back before the Middle Ages, as well as those from earlier periods dating back thousands of years.

Normally, she could get lost in the beauty and history of pieces such as the one before her. It had been sold to the insurance company’s client as being from the Olmec civilization of Mesoamerica, which had existed long before the Spanish Conquest. To think she was holding something that someone thousands of years ago had used in their everyday life. Would they have ever thought something so mundane to them would be so prized by those who would come long after?

But today was anything but normal, and she couldn’t focus.

She had to admit, if only to herself, that it wasn’t just the idea of the intense sexual connection she already felt with Viktor that had her on edge; it was the thought that he might spank her that had her all hot and bothered. She’d never been spanked; never even considered that she might want to be. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing or even humiliating and demeaning? She kept telling herself she shouldn’t hunger for such a thing… and yet she did.

And being tied up? Being forced to endure whatever he chose to do? She’d read about Shibari and how many practitioners—both the one doing the binding and the one being bound—found a sense of peace and well-being. That couldn’t be a bad thing, could it?

There was a knock at the door. It sounded insistent. She looked up and realized that her sisters had not yet materialized in the office. There could be any number of reasons for that, but Emerson suspected they were avoiding her. She didn’t blame them, and she wasn’t sure she wasn’t grateful. She’d blown them both off the night before, wanting to hug the experience last night to herself—not yet ready to share it.

The knock came again, and Emerson realized it was the same delivery man from the day before. Only this time, he wasn’t wearing the uniform of one of the local delivery companies. Emerson crossed the room and opened the door.

“Good morning, Ms. Ravenel. Mr. Romanov asked me to deliver these to you and to let you know he doesn’t care which one you wear this evening, but that you are not to put it on until instructed to at the club.”

Emerson blushed. Viktor had been adamant that she would dress and undress in his office as he would be the one to help her into and out of her corset. He’d shown her the private bath that could only be accessed through his office, which had included a shower fit for an orgy.

“Thank you. Can I tip you today?”

The delivery guy smiled. “No ma’am. Not today or any day. I work for Mr. Romanov now. He asked me to check to see if the flowers I delivered yesterday were on your desk…”

Emerson stepped back and indicated the flowers. “As you can see, they are.”

“Yes ma’am, but he also said they were to be in that vase I brought you…”

“I haven’t had a chance to change them back.”

“Well, he wanted to know. He also told me I was to check on your flowers—you know just pop in—every couple of days and to ensure they were replaced before they wilted.”

“So, he has you checking up on me?”

“Not at all. I think he just wants you to have fresh flowers without any of the work. My girlfriend works at the flower shop. She wanted to know if there were certain flowers or colors you like or don’t like.”

“I tend to like roses of all kinds and colors, including cabbage roses. I also like what my sister calls old-fashioned flowers—hydrangeas, chrysanthemums, peonies and the like. I’m a real sucker for wildflowers as well. I’m sure whatever she chooses will be fine.”

“Mr. Romanov wanted you to know the car will be here at seven and he is planning on you having dinner. He said to wear something your sister Kendra would approve of.”

Emerson rolled her eyes, groaned, and then laughed. “Thanks, again.”

Part of her wanted to be annoyed that he’d appointed his delivery man to look in on her and report back on the vase, but another part was more inclined to take it at face value as the delivery driver had said.

She knew exactly which dress Kendra would suggest for dinner with Viktor Romanov prior to a private tour of the Carriage House and hopefully some incredible sex. And he wanted to ensure she had replaced the flowers in the priceless vase he had sent home with her. She wondered how he’d greet the news that she had failed to jump to obey his commands. Would that earn her a spanking? And why did the idea of that cause arousal to ripple through her system?

The delivery man tipped his hat and was off to do Viktor’s bidding in what appeared to be a brand-new, state-of-the-art delivery vehicle emblazoned with the double eagle logo of Romanov Imperial. Emerson wondered idly if Viktor really was descended from the Russian imperial family. He certainly looked the part—all dark and noble. And if so, she wondered if he really did possess any of the Fabergé eggs. Lord knew he was rich enough.

She managed to get through the day and made good progress on several evaluations. When she was finished, she headed for her room, took a shower and washed her hair. Once she was finished, dried off and had put on her makeup, she put her hair in a simple braid, knowing that if Viktor wanted to see it down, he could see it in its natural state with no product in or on it.

Bare Bones had delivered two boxes; there were two gorgeous corset and thong sets within. Emerson chose a black corset made of eyelash lace and pleated tulle, which was the perfect coupling of provocative and sensual. It had a small underwire to give structure to the cups and detachable hip tulle panels that revealed more of the lace. There was also a matching thong composed of more silk satin straps with tulle.

He'd also had new lingerie delivered. Nothing cotton or practical about the bras—and no panties had been included. As the corset she’d chosen was black, and the dress she planned to wear was the same color, the black bra from La Perla seemed the obvious choice. The elegant creation featured embroidered motifs on a tulle background with a hand-finished double frastaglio technique, which produced the effect of flowers framing the decolletage. It did have an underwire to support her considerable bust, but the cups were unpadded. She supposed, in its own way, it was every bit as serviceable as the bras she’d worn before, but it was a whole lot sexier.

The dress had been one she kept telling herself she had no need for but couldn’t find it in her heart to give up. Now, she had a place to wear it and a man who would appreciate it—well, at least she had the dress. It was a black asymmetric mini dress made from crepe satin fabric and draped jersey panels. The sleeveless design was accented by a metallic brooch on the narrower of the two shoulders.

She shimmied into the dress, slipped on a pair of black kitten heels, grabbed the box with her chosen corset and thong, and headed down the stairs a few minutes before seven just as the car and driver rolled up. Emerson managed to escape into the car before either of her sisters could catch up with her. Normally, she might have felt bad about not sharing her experiences with them, but it seemed they had chosen to not share theirs with her.

The car drove her to the Carriage House, rolling up to the front entrance. The door was opened by a staff member who ushered her inside.

“Ms. Ravenel, how nice to see you again. Mr. Romanov has asked that you join him in his office.”

She was going to have to start learning people’s names if she planned to stick around for very long. The foyer in the building looked like many other foyers in Charleston—marble floors, polished mahogany paneled walls, artwork and elegant settees on which to sit. There was nothing at all to indicate that behind some of the closed doors there was a BDSM dungeon where club members played out their wildest fantasies and fetishes. She walked up the staircase and found Viktor’s office door open. The minute she entered the room, he came to her and kissed her cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” he said. “I like the dress.”

“Thank you, Sir. I brought the corset with me.”

He nodded. “Remove your clothes,” he said moving behind her and closing the door. Again, he didn’t lock it and she could feel the uptick in her anticipation and arousal.

She did as he asked, releasing the dress by the brooch closure on the one strap and allowing the garment to shimmy to the floor.

“Very nice,” he said approvingly. “I see you left yourself bare below the waist, and I like this bra very much.” Viktor whispered kisses across her shoulders as he brought his hands up from behind her to cup her breasts and thumb her nipples. “There will come a time that not having had you for any number of hours and seeing you like this, I will bend you over my desk and use you hard.”

Even Emerson could hear the hitch in her breathing, causing Viktor to chuckle. He fisted her hair and tilted her head back, taking her mouth in a passionate kiss that left her breathless and moaning as he pinched her nipple. His other hand ran down her belly to cover her mound possessively.

“Very nice indeed,” he purred. “Remove the bra. I want you to walk over to my desk and lean down on your forearms, feet shoulder-width apart.”

“Viktor?” He was going to spank her. She was certain of it. She’d been thinking about it on and off all day and it never failed to arouse her despite her not wanting it to. “Are you going to spank me?” That seemed like a silly question to ask, but still, she didn’t just want to assume.

“I am, and before you ask me why, I will ask you why the flowers for your desk were not in the vase I originally sent?”

“I hadn’t had a chance to swap them out…”

“Are they swapped out now?”

“Well, no…”

“Then it wasn’t a question of enough time, but just you choosing to ignore my instructions. Not, I hope, willful disobedience, but just not placing enough importance on doing as I told you.”

“Yes, Sir. I think that’s probably a fair assessment.”

“Then remove the bra and get in position.”

Emerson reached up to remove her bra and stepped out of her shoes. Moving to his desk, she leaned down on her forearms and placed her feet as he wanted them. It didn’t fail to escape her notice that not only was her ass on display; she was pretty sure he had a nice view of her pussy.

She tried to prepare herself, but nothing in her life had ever prepared her for his large, hard hand connecting with her backside with a loud smack the instant before pain flared. Emerson barely had time to process the fact that he’d just slapped her ass before another blow landed, setting her skin ablaze with feeling—pain and arousal being the two that vied for the most attention.

“Normally, I would make you count, but as I suspect this is the first time you’ve ever been spanked, I will go easy on you. Count of five this time but disobey me again and both the number and pain you feel will be doubled.”

The last three smacks were slower, harder, and he held his hand against her skin, holding in the heat. She bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

“You did very well, Emerson. I will expect you to have the flowers in their proper place tomorrow morning by ten. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Now, thank me for your discipline, and let’s get you dressed for a proper tour of the dungeon.”

“Thank you for my discipline, Sir.”

Viktor helped her into the corset and panties. He cinched the corset a bit tighter this evening and even though there wasn’t much to the thong, the way it rode up between her butt cheeks made her feel all five strikes of his hand.

Taking her hand and putting it through his arm, he walked her out into the office, down the stairs and through the massive set of French doors that led into the dungeon.

“Why do they call it a dungeon?” she asked as they wandered through the darkened corridors that led to small, staged areas containing an array of equipment. She recognized the St. Andrew’s crosses as well as the spanking benches and some gear that looked like it belonged in a real dungeon.

“Within the vanilla world, a dungeon is generally not some place you want to be—a dark, usually below-ground level space where people are held captive and either tortured for information or punished for crimes. Within the lifestyle, a dungeon is a place that a person—Dom or sub—can safely play, participate in scenes or watch, knowing a monitor is keeping an eye out for potential dangers.”

“Thank you for answering my questions and not making me feel stupid.”

“The only way to learn is to ask questions. There may be times when I ask you to wait for an answer, but I want you to learn everything you can.”

“To what end, Viktor?”

This was the question that had been plaguing her all day. What did he want from her? Certainly, he wouldn’t go to all this trouble just to get laid. She was certain that there were scores of women who would be happy to spread their legs for him.

“You are so straightforward and honest. I will be the same with you. You intrigue me. There is something about you that calls to a place I had long ago decided would never exist for me. But in order for us to be together, you need to understand and accept my need to be in control. You need to understand that I take the lifestyle very seriously.”

“Doesn’t everybody who belongs to Carriage House?”

“Not necessarily. Some do; some don’t, and it is up to each individual to decide how much they want to incorporate it into their lives outside the bedroom. I want to be able to carry it out into the world, not so much so everyone knows, but so we know and are connected in a way that most others aren’t. There are those who want a slave. I do not. I don’t think you get the fire and passion I require with a slave.”

“And yet I got spanked because I didn’t jump to do your bidding.”

“No. You got spanked because you did not prioritize what I asked of you. I didn’t expect you to do it last night, but I would have hoped you would do it by the time the deliveries reached you. Do you think that was an outrageous expectation?”

She thought for a moment. “No; I suppose I don’t. And I apologize for that. I meant to do it, but you’re right, I should have done it first thing this morning. I will correct that tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, dushka.”

“Dushka?”

“Sweetheart. Come along,” he said guiding her towards the back of the club where there was a small scening area and several rows of comfortable seating. “You are in for a treat. Fitzwallace and JJ are here tonight.”

“You do know that one of the reasons I’m interested in the lifestyle is because I admire her a great deal.”

“And here I thought you were just trying to get me to fuck you with my big dick.”