Follow
Page 2
“You can keep your job here at the resort. In fact, I’ll still pop in for yoga every now and then, if that’s OK.”
“Just tell me what I did. I’ll fix it.”
“I’ll include a bonus in your next check if it dulls the sting.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about you, Master.”
“I know. You did everything right.” They never just take the money and leave. Ever. They never make it easy for me.
“Then why? Can’t I ask why? Don’t I deserve an explanation?” She’s on her feet now, walking towards me.
I put up a hand and she stops. “I don’t like you. It’s that simple.” I stand up and walk towards her so she can’t take control. Her doe eyes look up at me, pleading. But my decision has been made. I’m done. I cup her face and stare down at her. “You’re simply not perfect. And that’s all there is to it. Your imperfections are glaring. It was nice f**king you. Good luck and goodbye.”
Chapter Three
NotPrinceCharming
I SCAN the guests as they pull up to the resort valet. Most are family. We have a huge family. I have seven aunts and uncles on my father’s side alone. And my mother is a twin and has two older sisters. Every one of them has at least three children.
Sending that girl away this morning is still a flicker of irritation in the back of my mind. She has no room to complain. They never have any room to complain when I dismiss them. But they always do.
Some of them want the fame, I suppose. As if I’d ever take one of my submissive playthings out in public as my girlfriend. I laugh at that as I watch my family pour out of the limos down below. These silly girls and their fantasies. I’ve had so many of them over the years and not one ever made it to an event on my arm. You’d think they’d pick up on that, but they don’t. They always assume they are the first for some reason. The Prince Charming complex, maybe. I’m their savior. They all think money is the answer, but money is the devil. Money is the problem. Money is never enough.
It takes them a while to realize this, but they all realize it eventually. This last one I’m not so sure about. One night was all it was ever meant to be. She must’ve been craving it. That slave-master relationship. Either that or she’s been in one before, because she was ready and willing to do everything I commanded.
I feel sorry for her, but when I’m done, I’m done. And she was never my type anyway, she was just here. She was a shrug. An afterthought. A side dish. She never came close to girlfriend material.
No. The subs are never girlfriend material. They are toys. And maybe all the women I date are toys, to some extent. But none of the women I date publicly get their asses spanked red or their hair pulled as I f**k them from behind.
I crave the dirty, but only in private.
My thumb rubs circles over my brow as I desperately try to ease the tension from having to spell it out for her. Why can’t they just stick to the agreement? Why do they always have to stick around afterward, forcing me to humiliate them further in the stark glare of morning daylight?
A van pulls up and I stop the introspection to observe. A van? Who in my family is arriving in an airport shuttle?
The side door slides open and two girls are inside. They are smiling and giggling. One is dark—in fact, she reminds me of that dismissed sub. But the other… I stop and catch my breath as she places one sandaled foot outside the vehicle and steps into the tropical sun. The driver doesn’t even get out to help them with their luggage, just accepts the payment and drives off as soon as the door closes.
The girls stare up at the resort and I duck a little, making sure they don’t spot me spying. “Vaughn,” I chastise myself. “Get a grip.”
They disappear inside and I’m left thinking about the girl with the blonde hair. She was pretty. Is she a guest for the party? I get out my cell and call the front desk. Javel picks up on the first ring.
“Who are those two women checking in?”
“Excuse me, ladies, I have to take this call,” he says. A few seconds later a door closes and he’s back. “I’m sorry, sir, they were on the approved list. They are…” He hesitates and I get a little annoyed at him making me wait.
“They’re who?” I prod.
“Honeymooners. I was told not to cancel the honeymooners.”
“OK, thank you.” I end the call.
Hmmm. I keep my eye on them.
I PASS the evening drinking alone in what I call the Crow’s Nest. It’s a small alcove separate from the upstairs bar that looks down onto the front of the resort. It’s almost midnight before I make it back to my house. I strip out of my clothes and dive into the pool. The crash of waves filters up from the beach that’s less than a hundred yards down a pebble-covered path.
I want to f**k someone so bad. I need to bend the will of a new submissive and I need to do that soon.
Chapter Four
SurpriseMe
JUST so you understand, my hashtag brilliance doesn’t come quick and easy. It takes me some time to come up with just the right tweet. I completely understand that Mr. Asher’s time is valuable and that’s why I take such care in my composition.
@VaughnAsher My fantasy: The soft tropical breeze caressing my bare pu**y right now is really your invisible tongue on my clit.
He played the Invisible Man in that last superhero movie, get it? I chuckle softly to myself as I sit at the resort bar. Bebe and I are on our fake honeymoon. It’s a long story, but she won this trip for two to Saint Thomas in a contest and since neither of us plan on getting married anytime soon, we came together.
Her new boyfriend Steve showed up last night as a surprise and since I’m not a bitch, I told her to go have fun with him. He should’ve been the one here with her anyway, but I’ve never been to the Caribbean, so Bebe took me instead.
Anyway, back to my tweet. I still have a few characters left and it kills me not to use them all, so I ponder it a little more as I swing my foot to the bar music. Saint Thomas is a fantastic place. The beaches are lined with spectacular white sand and the water is a color of blue that I just can’t describe. Our hotel is fabulous—way, way, way out of my price range—but since the contest was a honeymoon package, we have to share a bed. And now that her boyfriend Steve decided to join us, well, I’ll probably be sleeping on the beach tonight because the rattan couch on the bungalow patio has my back all in a crick.
“Just tell me what I did. I’ll fix it.”
“I’ll include a bonus in your next check if it dulls the sting.”
“I didn’t tell anyone about you, Master.”
“I know. You did everything right.” They never just take the money and leave. Ever. They never make it easy for me.
“Then why? Can’t I ask why? Don’t I deserve an explanation?” She’s on her feet now, walking towards me.
I put up a hand and she stops. “I don’t like you. It’s that simple.” I stand up and walk towards her so she can’t take control. Her doe eyes look up at me, pleading. But my decision has been made. I’m done. I cup her face and stare down at her. “You’re simply not perfect. And that’s all there is to it. Your imperfections are glaring. It was nice f**king you. Good luck and goodbye.”
Chapter Three
NotPrinceCharming
I SCAN the guests as they pull up to the resort valet. Most are family. We have a huge family. I have seven aunts and uncles on my father’s side alone. And my mother is a twin and has two older sisters. Every one of them has at least three children.
Sending that girl away this morning is still a flicker of irritation in the back of my mind. She has no room to complain. They never have any room to complain when I dismiss them. But they always do.
Some of them want the fame, I suppose. As if I’d ever take one of my submissive playthings out in public as my girlfriend. I laugh at that as I watch my family pour out of the limos down below. These silly girls and their fantasies. I’ve had so many of them over the years and not one ever made it to an event on my arm. You’d think they’d pick up on that, but they don’t. They always assume they are the first for some reason. The Prince Charming complex, maybe. I’m their savior. They all think money is the answer, but money is the devil. Money is the problem. Money is never enough.
It takes them a while to realize this, but they all realize it eventually. This last one I’m not so sure about. One night was all it was ever meant to be. She must’ve been craving it. That slave-master relationship. Either that or she’s been in one before, because she was ready and willing to do everything I commanded.
I feel sorry for her, but when I’m done, I’m done. And she was never my type anyway, she was just here. She was a shrug. An afterthought. A side dish. She never came close to girlfriend material.
No. The subs are never girlfriend material. They are toys. And maybe all the women I date are toys, to some extent. But none of the women I date publicly get their asses spanked red or their hair pulled as I f**k them from behind.
I crave the dirty, but only in private.
My thumb rubs circles over my brow as I desperately try to ease the tension from having to spell it out for her. Why can’t they just stick to the agreement? Why do they always have to stick around afterward, forcing me to humiliate them further in the stark glare of morning daylight?
A van pulls up and I stop the introspection to observe. A van? Who in my family is arriving in an airport shuttle?
The side door slides open and two girls are inside. They are smiling and giggling. One is dark—in fact, she reminds me of that dismissed sub. But the other… I stop and catch my breath as she places one sandaled foot outside the vehicle and steps into the tropical sun. The driver doesn’t even get out to help them with their luggage, just accepts the payment and drives off as soon as the door closes.
The girls stare up at the resort and I duck a little, making sure they don’t spot me spying. “Vaughn,” I chastise myself. “Get a grip.”
They disappear inside and I’m left thinking about the girl with the blonde hair. She was pretty. Is she a guest for the party? I get out my cell and call the front desk. Javel picks up on the first ring.
“Who are those two women checking in?”
“Excuse me, ladies, I have to take this call,” he says. A few seconds later a door closes and he’s back. “I’m sorry, sir, they were on the approved list. They are…” He hesitates and I get a little annoyed at him making me wait.
“They’re who?” I prod.
“Honeymooners. I was told not to cancel the honeymooners.”
“OK, thank you.” I end the call.
Hmmm. I keep my eye on them.
I PASS the evening drinking alone in what I call the Crow’s Nest. It’s a small alcove separate from the upstairs bar that looks down onto the front of the resort. It’s almost midnight before I make it back to my house. I strip out of my clothes and dive into the pool. The crash of waves filters up from the beach that’s less than a hundred yards down a pebble-covered path.
I want to f**k someone so bad. I need to bend the will of a new submissive and I need to do that soon.
Chapter Four
SurpriseMe
JUST so you understand, my hashtag brilliance doesn’t come quick and easy. It takes me some time to come up with just the right tweet. I completely understand that Mr. Asher’s time is valuable and that’s why I take such care in my composition.
@VaughnAsher My fantasy: The soft tropical breeze caressing my bare pu**y right now is really your invisible tongue on my clit.
He played the Invisible Man in that last superhero movie, get it? I chuckle softly to myself as I sit at the resort bar. Bebe and I are on our fake honeymoon. It’s a long story, but she won this trip for two to Saint Thomas in a contest and since neither of us plan on getting married anytime soon, we came together.
Her new boyfriend Steve showed up last night as a surprise and since I’m not a bitch, I told her to go have fun with him. He should’ve been the one here with her anyway, but I’ve never been to the Caribbean, so Bebe took me instead.
Anyway, back to my tweet. I still have a few characters left and it kills me not to use them all, so I ponder it a little more as I swing my foot to the bar music. Saint Thomas is a fantastic place. The beaches are lined with spectacular white sand and the water is a color of blue that I just can’t describe. Our hotel is fabulous—way, way, way out of my price range—but since the contest was a honeymoon package, we have to share a bed. And now that her boyfriend Steve decided to join us, well, I’ll probably be sleeping on the beach tonight because the rattan couch on the bungalow patio has my back all in a crick.
