Decadence by Monique Miller Read Free Book Online Page B

us what you’re feeling.” I stepped closer to her,
ran my fingers through her hair, looked into her eyes. “This is
about pleasure. Yours and ours. But we’re in charge. You do as we
say,” I stepped closer to her, got in her face, put my hand under
her chin, made her look into my eyes. I kissed her sensually, then
took my mouth and tongue away from hers. Spoke my words forcefully
when I asked, “Will you serve Christopher? Will you do whatever he
says without question? Are you willing to please him? Please
me?”
    She nodded.
    “Good,” I said with a smile on my face just
as Chris fastened the handcuffs on her wrists.
    ***
    Stripped of her clothes and underwear,
everything except her shoes, Candice stands with her wrists cuffed,
her hands behind her back looking docile and scared. Just a little.
Just enough.
    I get in her face again, put her chin in my
palm, tilt her eyes to meet mine and ask her, “You want us to fuck
you?”
    She nods.
    I put my hand between her thighs that she
parted the way Chris told her to and I find her slit, part her
lips, rub that area nice and gentle before I ease my palm back and
slap her sweet spot, feel her wetness, hear her give a little yelp.
I rub her again, smack her opening twice and get close to her ear
to give her a warning, “Speak when you are spoken to. Answer my
questions with words. Do you understand me?”
    “Yes,” she says, averting her eyes.
    I grab her face, turn it towards me.
    “You will look at me. Directly. Do you
understand me?”
    “Yes,” she answers and nods.
    “Both of you,” Chris’s voice rings out. “Go
to the room. Now.”
    Authoritative. Masculine. He was the boss,
both our dominant. We did what we were told. We were playing our
parts. We were characters in a game, only this game was real. In
our game Chris was the dominant; I was the villainess. People who
didn’t know any better would be easily confused by our different
titles, more than likely believing we were the same characters, but
hey couldn’t have been more wrong.
    A dominant wasn’t automatically a villain; a
dominant could be if they wanted to be, but to assume they were
would be a mistake. A dominant controls the situation. The
situation is never meant to get out of the dominant’s hands. A
dominant’s subject or subjects obeyed him at all times, whatever he
wants, a subject is meant to do. If a dominant can’t control his
submissive he is no longer the dominant; if the submissive resist
the dominant’s control, they are not his submissive, the game is
over, there is a flaw in the plan, and you need to figure out what
went wrong before you attempt it again.
    Chris and I, however, had a one hundred
percent success rate. He was in control and I was his partner and
we always had willing participants.
    I played the role of the Villainess, the evil
vixen, and since I was the evil mastermind who both suggested and
orchestrated these things in the first place he said it seemed only
right that I exact justice on his behalf. He gave orders, I
followed them, and I made sure they were followed.
    Candice and I entered the den of decadence,
the master bedroom, at the end of the hallway. Candice looked
around the room admiringly. I must say, it is beautiful. I’d
ditched those neutral tones I’d used in the front rooms and went
with mainly black and red when it came to the master bedroom. The
walls were painted in black, red, and white. There were curving
rivulets of black that looked like ribbon alongside interwoven
bursts of red that looked like rose petals bursting form knotted
curvatures of the black ribbon. The bed was custom built, the
mattress specially made, and it took up most of the space in the
room. It was huge and all feathers and satin, silk and Egyptian
cotton, big fluffy pillows and beauty, all sex and sexy.
    Music was already playing over the sound
system. The music was a soundtrack of songs we’d put together
ourselves for situations especially such as these. There