Chapter One
Olivia Stone bit her lip as vigorous jets of hot water from the showerhead taunted the red stripes on her backside. She closed her eyes and relived the moments from the night before seeing, in her mind's eye, the man who held the flogger in his hand and yielded it with such perfection.
He was the man who had taught her to need this.
His firm hand on her body, owning her right down to her last breath as he demonstrated his power over her. He had taught her to crave so desperately this kind of dependence on him it became a part of who she was.
A pleasure swirled in pain, a submission empowered by her own sheer strength. He had taught her the secrets of her young virgin body, then proceeded to unwrap her right down to her soul as he led her onto a path that was lit with dark, deviant pleasure. An addiction she had grown to love.
He was her husband. The formidable, though ever generous, Liam Stone.
From the first moment she had met him, a year ago, when she was an inexperienced and unworldly twenty-one-year-old, she had been as petrified as she had been enthralled, by him.
He had seemed so much larger than her whole universe. So much more sophisticated and informed than the life she had known. But then again, she had been nothing but the daughter of a frightened man who worked in the vineyards of a mafia crime lord, too afraid to breathe the wrong way in case it resulted with his head on a spike.
That was until Liam Stone had strode into their lives and removed them from the maniacal clutches of the madman. He gave her the world and demanded only her unwavering loyalty.
She owed Liam everything. Her life. Her body. But she had given him her heart too and fallen unconditionally in love with him.
He was her everything. From the way he touched her dripping wet pussy—whether it was a slight but knowledgeable touch of her body that a violent orgasm escaped her. Or whether he had strapped her down on a bench, her ankles bound, her legs spread as he tortured her pussy with a wand to her clit and a knotted thong flogger to her labia. No matter what he did, she experienced a dark, sublime pleasure that dislodged her from an earthly domain to something out of this world. And when he brought the world to her feet, encased her in his protection, she felt as if she were a priceless treasure.
She stepped out of the shower, towel-dried herself, then applied a rich, sweet lotion to her skin, a contented smile playing along her lips. She really did have the perfect life.
After slipping into a pair of panties, she did her hair, deciding to put it all into a tight bun, then applied her makeup and kept it to a minimum. She then stepped into the dress Liam had chosen for her.
The gown was beautiful. Floor-length black leather with a deep slit down the center of the dress, exposing her thighs as she walked, right up to the glimpse of red panties she wore underneath. The strapless bodice, made of bits of satin and sheer lace held together with ribbons crisscrossing over her chest, silhouetted the fullness of her voluptuous breasts and just enough of the dusky pink of her nipples. The dress molded every curve she was worth and showcased her legs, which Liam loved so much.
She checked her hair once more and smoothed her palms down her hips. She hoped her husband, who still gave her butterflies whenever she even thought of him—never mind being in his company—would like the way she looked. He always did. But she never wanted to stop pleasing him.
She glided into a pair of black stilettos, retrieved her coat, then descended the staircase toward Liam's study, to let him know she was ready for their evening out.
They were going to a private screening of yet another erotic film, at the mansion of one of Liam’s close friends who had directed and produced the film himself. Only a select few had been invited just like the last time, and the guest list comprised of only doms and their subs. All billionaires. Princes. Heirs. Heiresses. The dress code on the invitation had been “black” and “leather.”
The door to Liam’s study was open so she stepped inside, and then it seemed as if she had stumbled over her own two feet. It wasn't so much