I wanted Constantine blood and little else.
It was late into the evening when I finally gave in to the inevitable temptation and called up Elaine’s calendar for the week ahead. She’d refreshed it, with a listing of Harriet in front of almost every activity that week. There was another ridiculously glossy charity gig on Wednesday for some low paid workers education fundraiser, and some Roosevelt social dinner on Thursday. Friday had a stylist’s appointment with some overpriced Hemmings designer dress shop and a girly afternoon in the aftermath.
Then Saturday was simple. Simple but vague.
Tristan.
A touch base on dick status, no doubt.
I had plenty of social events of my own to be attending. We had a Morellis casino night scheduled for Thursday. Me, Leo, Elliot, and Kit. I had a bullshit meal arranged with Hunter and his university friends, showing my face with fake handshakes as though I gave two shits for his social circle, and I had an evening with my parents on Saturday, touching base about Morelli Holdings and what a success I was making of it, as usual.
I didn’t want to do any of them.
Hunter sent me a text as I finally left the office that night. A simple news? and nothing more.
I knew exactly what he was referring to.
My response was a one-worder. None.
His reply instant. Thank fuck for that.
I opted for some sensibility at least, and went straight from Morelli Holdings to another of my business places. One I should’ve been attending more often, in an attempt to quell some of my spiking base level urges.
Clark wasn’t around when I stepped into the bar at Violent Delights, but I didn’t head through to the back office to track him down. I went straight to a table overlooking the main stage and clicked my fingers for service. The slut on serving duties didn’t need to ask what I was drinking. She presented my mineral water on a tray, bending down low enough that I caught sight of her cleavage in her lacy little bra.
I didn’t bother holding back, just grabbed a fistful of her blonde hair and tugged her over my lap, sending the tray tumbling along with my drink. The bar was quiet apart from the smash of glass on the tiled floor, only a few submissive sluts hovering around on the dancefloor, and some dirty couples playing their games in the booths. They turned to stare, every pair of eyes in the place seeking out a sight to behold, but I hardly even noticed, just kept my attention fixed on the whore over my knees.
Her position was for me, not for the onlookers.
“Take it,” I growled, and she whimpered. She knew.
My palms were hard and heavy, landing over her miniskirt in a few painful blows before I tugged up the fabric and ripped down her panties. Her ass cheeks were already pink and asking for more, and I gave it. I gave her slaps laced with rage, focusing on the blonde of her hair and little else. Elaine. Her thighs were pale, asking for torment. I delivered it. Her pussy was wet, and begging for my fingers. I delivered them.
I stretched her until she was tense and hissing out curses, then slammed my fist in up to the knuckles. I made her gasp and writhe, her belly squirming on the solid bulge in my pants.
Elaine.
I wanted Elaine. I imagined my little blonde Constantine toy, trussed up in chains as she took my fury. I imagined her self-hurt thighs being nothing compared to the unleashing of my torment as I drew pretty lace patterns on her flesh with my whip and crop.
I kept on stretching and slapping the girl on my lap, soaking in the view of her pale blonde hair around my fingers. Yes, she was hurting, but yes, she was liking it. My pretty toy Elaine would like it, too – masochistic little fuck doll with beautiful, scared eyes.
I flicked the serving girl’s clit as she squirmed, panting, driving her wild until she was moaning. Then I stopped. I was done with her pleasure.
I forced her to her knees, my hand still twisted in her hair as I unbuckled my belt, craving the release before hurting her a damn sight more.
But no.
The eyes staring up at me didn’t belong to Elaine Constantine.
The tremble of her lip wasn’t Constantine fear.
My cock was straining but didn’t want the woman at my feet. My mouth was watering, but it wasn’t for the girl ready to give me hers.
I pushed her away from me, leaving her as a gasping heap on the floor without giving a fuck for any shards of glass lying down there. She winced with just the one piece slicing her finger. Lucky for her.
“More mineral water,” I barked, and she squirmed for a few seconds, gathering her breath.
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Sorry for dropping your drink, Mr. Morelli, sir.”
She didn’t challenge me. Nobody here ever would.
The smashed glass around my feet reminded me of the crash of mugs on the floor in that shithole of an apartment when Elaine lost her grip. I could smell it. Smell her. Taste her.
Fuck, it was her, her, her. Always her, her, her, slamming through my filthy skull.
I downed the mineral water when it arrived, struggling to focus on the bodies in the room around me. Surely, they’d have to do. I tried to concentrate on the cracks of whips and the wails of pain around them. I tried to stare at the submissives bound up in chains and feel even a shiver of desire to see them writhing in agony in my hands.
But no. No, no, fucking no.
There was only one blonde sub I wanted in chains in front of me. There was only one woman’s wails I wanted to hear.
I was a man who always took what I wanted from life, whenever I wanted it. I knew nothing but my own success, no matter what the cost. I climbed any
