Instead, she presses her lips to mine and slides her tongue in my mouth, hungrily kissing me.
When I pull back, her eyes are fiery, and I know what she wants. "Later, ma belle."
She nods and traces my lips with her fingers then slides her hand back to my chest, resuming her swirling.
"Let's get through this mess with the President and enjoy our evening," Louis says.
Before dinner is served, the Prime Minister and Louis agree it's best to assassinate the President when procedures to take over the drug cartels are put in place. Louis already discussed this plan with Gustave and me, but instead of me doing it, he convinces the Prime Minister to order the hit when he gives the green light. When they hold up their drinks to toast to his death, I happily say, "Salud."
But his death won't come soon enough for me or ma belle.
"Why isn't she drinking?" the Prime Minister asks, once again fixated on Emilia.
"I don't let my property drink. She only gets water."
"Most women can serve you better with some alcohol in them. Or maybe a bit of coke?" He holds out a container full of powder.
"No. My property stays sober. Her only pleasure is me."
The server sets our meals down.
The Prime Minister moves his chair an inch closer to hers, thinking she's going to sit.
"Cut up our food," I order her.
She obeys and puts a forkful of filet near my mouth.
I eat it, watching her approval as I chew. She picks up another forkful and feeds me more. A little smile twitches on her lips every forkful she puts in my mouth.
When I eat half the plate, I take the fork and feed her until nothing is left.
The entire time, the Prime Minister's eyes are on us. I ignore him but feel it. Emilia puts her hand over her choker from time to time, tracing the letters of my name.
How did she know it was the perfect thing to wear tonight?
As much as I despise the collar and what I'm trying to fight, I suddenly appreciate it. And I love ma belle more because through all this, she has been stronger than me.
But it's time I went back to being her strength instead of her being mine.
27
Emilia
When dinner is over, the lights dim. The flickering of the candles on the table creates a soft glow. Full tables of people begin to move around.
Malin and I move to a couch area. He chooses the armchair and pulls me back on his lap. A performer comes on the stage and begins singing. Her voice is sexy and seductive. She sings in Spanish, but I've never heard her songs before.
The Prime Minister wouldn't take his eyes off me the entire meal. I did my best not to squirm, or think about the night before when he whipped me. I didn't know it was the Prime Minister. I don't follow politics. I wasn't so naive I didn't know who the U.S. President was, but I had never seen a picture of the Prime Minister to know it was him.
But he isn't the only one staring at Malin and me. Throughout the dinner, I could feel other eyes on us. Many of the men in the room were with us the night before.
I should feel self-conscious, knowing they saw me naked and having sex, but I feel powerful next to Malin. I'm his property, which is another reason it's crazy.
I hid my entire life. Naomi was always the one with attention on her. I preferred it that way. Now I have the most dangerous men in the world wanting to hurt me. If I weren't with Malin, I would be petrified. But something about belonging to him gives me confidence. It makes me want to please him more.
I don't want to submit.
I need to submit.
Malin is involved in a conversation with Louis and William and Gustave. The Prime Minister sits in the armchair next to us, continuing to fixate on me. All the men have women on their laps.
I don't attempt to talk to any of them, including Bernadette. I concentrate on Malin, dragging my fingers along his chest.
Malin caresses my thigh, tracing the edge of my hose, sending heat to my core.
Men and women consume more drinks and drugs. The room is dark, but sexual acts are visibly taking place. Many of the women have shed their clothes and are in only their lingerie or less. Moans and cries compete with the singer.