Page 83 of Pandora's Pleasure
Oh, Damien.
You’re such a loveable bastard.
Lifting the box, I gave it a rattle and tried to guess what was inside. “Suppose I should get ready.”
I headed out of the dining room, thinking I didn’t want to go to a garden party, or a press mixer. Especially when half the staff there would know who I was and what my father represented, which was an extreme version of all their backward policies. No doubt the other guests would give me crap for it.
Part of me wanted toforget Damien Godman existed because the thought of having to face him and his intimidating wrath…not too keen on that, to be honest.
Halfway up the staircase, I unraveled the ribbon on the box. Maybe this was a peace offering and his way of apologizing. Maybe he’d chosen this gift himself and inside was a beautiful snow globe or some other pretty ornament.
I entered my bedroom and removed the box’s lid.
Oh, my God.
Thank goodness I’d not opened this in front of my parents! Damien was the devil incarnate.
Easing back the tissue paper, I peered in at the sapphire-beaded butt plug. One size up from the other bejeweled item I’d removed last night. His plan to prepare me for butt sex was still underway, apparently. Last night, I’d removed the other one and had hidden it in a Louis Vuitton pouch that was currently shoved into a corner of my underwear drawer.
Also in the box was a handwritten note from Damien:
Don’t be late, Ms. Bardot.
Well, he was going to be disappointed.
Insert your gift. Wear it during the event. You’ll also find a complimentary object d’art. Make sure you are wearing this, too. There will be consequences if you fail to follow these simple instructions.
See you soon, my love.
—DG
I rummaged around and found a velvet pouch inside.
Hmmm…
The pouch weighed less than the plug. Clearly, he still needed me to uphold the illusion that all was well within the kingdom of the Godmans.
Tipping the velvet pouch, I blinked in confusion at the two ornate blue spheres that fell into my palm, both connected by a fine strand of silk. They were beautiful. Then it dawned on me where he wanted me to place them.
I was already half an hour late. My palm closed around his gift and I tried not to imagine how this would feel inside my pussy.
I wanted to hate this man.
I wanted to hate the way he made my body ache for more of his dark fantasies, his dirty, erotic schemes that were so addictive. I rubbed my thumb over the sapphire plug, craving its insertion.
I hated myself for craving his games.
All I had to do was stay out of everyone’s way.
It was a skill I’d cultivated when having to make an appearance at prestigious events like this, smart enough not to become the center of attention—simply playing the role of a pretty wallflower.
If this was war then I was ready for it. I’d worn my bright red Giambattista Valli long-sleeved midi-dress with accented lace—the one my mother insisted was too mature for me. My scarlet lipstick complemented the radical color.
Music from a string quartet rose above the chatter inside the Vice President’s historic residence. Many of the excitable visitors had thrown down a handsome sum to schmooze with the movers and shakers of Capitol Hill.
I was fulfilling my end of the bargain by attending. It didn’t mean I had to talk with any of the senators, or their partners, who were cutting through the crowd looking for their next victim to intimidate and persuade.
Besides, I was all hot and bothered from the sensitized tissue of my sphincter, caused by the sapphire gift that kept on giving, enhancing the heady stimulation I felt from the two spheres inside my vagina.
