Pure Paradise (9 page)

Naked and bruised, Maxwell lay shackled to a padded table with a gag ball inside his mouth. At the sight of Milan, his eyes widened in surprise.

Milan smiled at her slave. Her curving lips, beautifully wicked, promised to deliver a thrashing that he wouldn’t soon forget.

Enthralled by the unspoken pledge, Maxwell trembled with
delight, informing Milan that he was eager to endure harsh and relenting punishment for his rebellious behavior.

Veronique cleared her throat and shifted her feet uncomfortably. The haggard dominatrix wasn’t looking quite as smug, Milan noted with amusement.

Milan smoothed Maxwell’s tousled hair and chuckled, “You’ve been a very naughty boy.” She frowned up at Veronique. “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. My slave has been playing a prank on you and me.” She leaned down to her naked and helpless slave. “Your discipline will be severe and unrelenting.”

Veronique parted her lips in protest.

“Don’t worry,” Milan cut in before the woman could utter a word. “You’ll be compensated for your time.”

“Let’s get something straight—” Veronique’s voice shook. She looked upward anxiously as if she were witnessing billions of dollars sprouting wings and swirling out of her reach.

Rubbing her victory in Veronique’s face, Milan beamed down at Maxwell. “For the record…to whom do you belong?”

Maxwell’s eyes fixed on Milan’s face. Unable to speak, he groaned deeply, conveying his devotion. Milan plucked the ball gag from his mouth. “Tell her.” She nodded toward Veronique.

Veronique’s upper lip curled in disgust as she and BodySlam stared down at Maxwell curiously.

“I belong to you, Mistress Milan. I’ll do anything to get back in your good graces,” he said, his voice raspy with regret.

“You piece of crap. You dirty scumbag!” Veronique spoke through clenched teeth. She raised her hand menacingly. Maxwell flinched, but BodySlam grabbed Veronique’s arm before she could strike the billionaire.

“My, my. You’re such a sore loser and it’s quite unattractive.”

“Fuck you!” Veronique bellowed.

Milan pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You really ought to work on developing some dignity and grace in the face of defeat.” Smirking, she glanced at her watch and then glared at Veronique. “Look, I don’t have all day. Unbind my slave!” She sucked her teeth and began tapping her foot impatiently.

Veronique hovered over Maxwell. She brought her angry face close to his. “You ingrate. You wasted my time. I worked all day whipping you into shape—”

“Let him go, Veronique. We’ll get another…” BodySlam stopped, leaving out the words
rich man
.

BodySlam wedged himself in front of Veronique and undid the leather straps that bound Maxwell’s upper and lower limbs. The billionaire sat up and rubbed his tender wrists.

Furious and unable to witness her great loss, Veronique stomped out of the room, leaving BodySlam behind.

Milan pressed her lips close to BodySlam’s ear. The heavily muscled bald man folded his massive arms and then nodded a reply.

“Good evening, Hilton,” Maxwell said sheepishly as he followed Milan into the backseat of the car.

Milan shot Maxwell an admonishing look. “Did I give you permission to speak?”

Contrite, he lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Save your apology. You can’t begin to imagine how sorry you’re going to be for your impudence. Your utter gall,” she added, shaking her head in disbelief.

“I know I don’t deserve you, Mistress. I beg you to please accept my humble apology. Please! I promise to be your obedient and faithful servant for the rest of my life.”

Hilton turned the key in the ignition. “Should I drive Mr. Torrance home?”

Milan could tell by his voice that her chauffeur was uncomfortable. It embarrassed him to hear his former boss beg and grovel. Putting on a show for Hilton, she thrust her hand between Maxwell’s legs and squeezed his balls. Maxwell grunted in genuine pain.

“That’s just the beginning,” she warned.

“I understand, Mistress,” he whimpered, rubbing his aching balls.

“Actually, you don’t understand. But I’m sure we’ll see eye-to-eye after you’ve been properly trained.” She gave his scrotum another squeeze and a sharp twist.

“Ahh!” he gasped in shock and then uttered incoherent, pain-filled sounds.

Hilton grimaced, unsure of what Milan was doing to Mr. Torrance, but his instincts, as well as the volume of his ex-boss’s screams, gave him a fairly good indication.

Looking at the driver in the rearview mirror, Milan gave him a wink. “Don’t pay Maxwell any attention. He’s full of theatrics.”

Maxwell’s breathing came in short gasps, but he finally stopped whimpering. Milan kept her eyes on Hilton’s face. She noticed that a hint of amusement, a trace of a smile, had appeared on Hilton’s lips after Maxwell quieted down.

And there was something else. She continued to peer at her driver in the rearview mirror. He gazed at her, raw desire in his eyes. She felt her breath catch, and her mouth watered. She wanted to do Hilton right there in the car. White passion oozed between her legs.

She was on fire and would have gladly opened her legs and welcomed him inside her hot hole, but business before pleasure, she reminded herself. Exercising control, she closed her legs tightly. Only a thrill seeker or a hopelessly addicted gambler would put a fabulously wealthy lifestyle on the line for another night of lust.

For the sake of her financial future, she focused her undivided attention on her slave. There were marks on his face, his neck, and his arms. Scars left by Veronique, and reminders of his flagrant disobedience.

Infuriated, Milan whispered tauntingly, “I heard you’re a
sissy.” Milan placed her lips near Maxwell’s ears. “How come you never mentioned that you liked taking it up the ass?”

“I don’t. Those people are animals. They violated me.”

“Is your little butt-hole burning?” She giggled.

Humiliated, Maxwell dropped his head, covering his face with his hands and murmured, “Yes, Mistress, I’m in a great deal of pain.”

“So you were sodomized and kidnapped, is that what you’re saying?”

“Exactly.”

She patted his hand. “Don’t worry. They’re not going to get away with what they did to you.” She tapped Hilton on the shoulder. “Take us to the closest police station.”

“Yes, Ms. Walden. Right away,” Hilton responded. He slowed down and made a right turn.

“Why…why did you tell him to do that?” Maxwell asked, his eyes suddenly filled with terror.

“Are you questioning my judgment?”

“No.” He wiped droplets of sweat from his forehead.

“We’re going to press charges, Maxwell. Those criminals should be held accountable for what they did to you. I don’t take kindly to having my property kidnapped and defiled.” Scrunching up her lips, she scrutinized him and winced. “Look at all the marks they left on you. I’m personally offended. I want justice. Don’t you?”

“No!” Maxwell begged. “I can’t allow that type of information to leak to the press. It’ll ruin me.” He began shaking his head adamantly.

“Let me get this straight.” Milan gripped his chin, and turned his face toward hers, forcing him to look her in the eye. “You
were held captive and you were brutally assaulted by sadists who had no justification for putting their hands on you and you’re saying that you don’t want to see your tormentors punished?”

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Mistress, but I can’t afford that kind of publicity.” His blue eyes welled. “My image would be tarnished. I’d be a laughingstock. I’d have to move to some remote corner of the world.”

“I see,” she said bitterly and then shoved his head against the back of the leather seat. “Forget the police station, Hilton. Drive me and this sissy to my home.”

“Okay.” Once again, Hilton changed the direction of the car.

Milan set rage-filled eyes on Maxwell. “You can crush corporations but you can’t shut down a home-based dungeon? You’re pathetic,” she spat.

“I’ll shut them down. I promise you.”

“Your promises aren’t worth shit.”

“I made a mistake, Mistress. I should have never personally delivered the news that the dungeon had to be shut down.”

“You were supposed to have your people handle Veronique. I didn’t tell you to make a personal visit.”

“I wanted to inform her that she had two days to tie up her affairs.”

“That’s ridiculous. Since when do you give a heads up to a company you intend to squash?”

“You didn’t say you wanted to take over the dungeon. You told me to shut it down.”

“You’re mincing words and I’m losing my patience,” she hissed. “Be honest.”

Resolute, Maxwell sighed. “I let my curiosity get the best of me. I wanted to see the inner workings of an S&M establishment.”

“You’re disgusting and unworthy of my attention. In fact, you’re beyond unworthy; you’re total scum.”

“Yes, I agree. I’m scum.”

“You disobeyed me and look where it got you.”

“You’re right. I disobeyed you and I suffered greatly.”

“By the way…?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Why did you allow yourself to be strapped to Veronique’s table?”

“She invited me to take a tour. I…I…,” he stammered. “I found myself excited by all the dungeon equipment and the idea of bondage. Veronique noticed my…uh…erection and offered to cuff me. Just for fun. Then she took advantage of me.”

“Your dick got hard for another woman?” Milan slapped him across the face. “You’re a dirty whore, Maxwell. You belong to me; you’re my property and yet you permitted that hideous hunchback to strap you down, beat you, fuck you, and worst of all, you allowed her to remove your collar.”

Maxwell rubbed the handprint left on his face. “I’m so sorry, Mistress. I told her that I belonged to you, but she wouldn’t listen. After I’d allowed her to strap me to the table, she told me that after she introduced me to the pleasure of pain, I would have to relinquish myself to her.”

“And you believed that crap? Jeez, how did I get saddled with such a dumb, disgusting sub?”

“I was shackled. There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t stop that big brute from cutting off my collar. Do you realize that I was violated in the most depraved way?”

“Are you blaming Veronique and BodySlam?”

“Yes!” His face reddened with rage. “I was victimized. I’m innocent.”

“You’re a liar.”

Maxwell reached for Milan’s hand and showered it with sloppy kisses. “I love you and only you. I’m completely devoted. Sowing my wild oats came with a great cost. I’ll never stray again. I promise you.”

“Shut up. You were disloyal and disobedient. You thought you could get away with cheating on me. But you got caught.” Milan pointed her finger in Maxwell’s face. “You’re going to pay.”

“Good night, Ms. Walden,” Hilton said, holding open the back door of the Rolls.

Milan gave Maxwell a hard shove after he exited the car. The tycoon took a few stumbling steps before steadying himself.

“Why are you so friggin’ clumsy?” Milan poked him in the back.

“I apologize, Mistress,” Maxwell mumbled in embarrassment.

She looked over her shoulder at Hilton and sighed at the injustice of being laden with such a klutz. Hilton wore a stoic expression.

Knocking Maxwell around in full view of her chauffeur was making her pussy twitch. She wondered if her mistreatment of her slave was giving Hilton an uncomfortable hard-on.

“Get in there,” she hissed at Maxwell and gave him a swift kick in the shin after pointing a remote to unlock the front door. Obeying her, Maxwell quickly limped inside.

Milan studied Hilton’s face, looking for a sign that he wanted some na-na before he hit the road. All he had to do was say the word and she’d strip naked and splay her lean body on the backseat of the Rolls. Hell, she’d get down and dirty and let
him hump her in back of the house on the lawn, against the oak tree, or they could stay where they were and do the nasty on the friggin’ hood of the car.

Other than the almost imperceptible tension in Hilton’s face, his expression remained unchanged. And what did that look indicate? Was he fighting back passion? Struggling against the fervor of coursing blood that rushed to his loins? Milan leaned against the door, studying Hilton’s face.

“Have a pleasant evening, Ms. Walden,” he said, dashing her hopes as he got inside the Rolls.

With hunger in her eyes, Milan stared as Hilton parked the Rolls, willing his straining dick to lead him back to her.

Business before pleasure? What a laugh. She was in heat and nothing else mattered. Maxwell had a small pecker, not nearly enough dick to satisfy her needs. She wanted Hilton. She wanted his big hammer, dammit!

But apparently Hilton didn’t want her. He climbed inside his SUV and pulled off. Milan’s heart sank at the sight of the taillights. That she had to watch good dick drive away, leaving her with a tingling vagina that didn’t bode well for Maxwell Torrance.

She waited a few moments longer, giving Hilton some time to come to his senses. She envisioned him speeding up the driveway with his pants unzipped to release the strain from his aching loins. Stroking his dick, he’d rush toward her, prepared to pummel her na-na until it caved in.

But Hilton didn’t return. She yanked the front door open. Maxwell assumed a submissive position down on the floor, placing fervent kisses upon her shoes. There’d been times when such ardent worship could induce intense arousal, making her juices flow like water, but tonight Maxwell’s wishy-washy adulation provoked intense loathing.

Had she read her dominatrix training book or taken lessons from a pro, she would have known how to handle Maxwell. She’d be attaching a leash to a collar around his neck and walking his sorry rich ass down the basement stairs to torture and terrorize him. But under the circumstances, she’d have to curb her curiosity and venture down to the dungeon at another time to inspect the torture mechanisms that Sumi had hired a crew to install.

Milan often admired the ominous devices at Pure Paradise but didn’t have any idea how any of them worked. She’d never bothered to find out. In fact, no one used the menacing furniture. They were mere props set up to enhance the mood for freaky couples.

She kicked Maxwell out of her way and sauntered across the room. Waiting for her instruction, Maxwell remained in homage position.

Milan sat down on a high-backed chair. “Crawl to me,” she said sternly. He crawled and when he reached her feet, she ordered him to stand. “What’s the name of that fragrance you brought me back from Japan?”

Maxwell looked puzzled.

“Do I have to beat the information out of you?”

“No, no. I was trying to think.”

“Well, hurry up.”

Maxwell frowned in concentration. Impatiently, Milan groped inside her purse and pulled out the attractive bottle of perfume.

“Oh! It’s called Kimochi. It’s a Japanese word that’s used to conveys inner feelings such as gratitude, joy, friendship, love, and apology.”

“I guess now would be a good time for you to express your
kimochi
—apologize!”

“I’m so sorry, Mistress.”

Milan sucked her teeth. “That’s not the kind of apology I was thinking of.”

“How can I show you my deep regret and my sincere remorse for running out on you?”

She stood and took a couple steps forward. “You can have the manufacturers of Kimochi deliver tons of the stuff to my salon. I’m not paying one nickel, so you better figure out how you’re going to make that happen. I want the perfume, the Eau de parfum, the Eau de toilette, the cologne, the body splash, body lotion, bath gel, and any other accoutrements. Got it?” She pushed her face so close to his, she could see her lovely reflection in his anxious eyes.

“Yes, yes,” he agreed hastily. “Consider it done. I’ll have a large shipment delivered the day after tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” Milan insisted, unreasonably, considering the business day in the States was over. She didn’t know or give a damn what time it was in Japan. All she knew was that she wanted truckloads of Kimochi, immediately.

“Certainly. You’ll have the shipment tomorrow, Mistress.”

“Good, now show me some real
kimochi
and take down your pants!”

From her open purse, she withdrew the metal-studded leather glove and pulled it over her hand. Maxwell swallowed hard and did as he was commanded. With a combination of dread and excitement in his eyes, he lowered his pants.

“Over my lap, you cheating slut.” Her voice was razor sharp; she sounded like a true dom. Good thing she’d been practicing spankings on Royce because she’d need to read a few more chapters of
Dominatrix for Dullards
before she was qualified to inflict a more severe and complicated punishment on Maxwell.