Filed to story: The LORDS Series Free PDF by Shantel Tessier
He bends down and has me step into it, pulling it up carefully so as not to tangle the black nylon strings. Once he gets it in place, he starts tightening it. So much that it makes me whimper. “I won’t be able to breathe,” I say, flattening my hand across my stomach while he jerks my body back and forth as he laces it up.
Again, he ignores me.
Once done, he goes to another box and pulls out a pair of black Dior heels. They’re gorgeous. Platform style with at least a six-inch skinny heel. Bending down, he lifts one foot at a time, sliding them on.
“Tyson.” I grip his shoulders once they’re in place. “I can’t work in these all night.” Is he punishing me for last night? For ignoring him? God, I’d gladly bend over, remove my clothes, and let him spank my ass instead of having to serve in these tonight. But that’s the point of a punishment.
Standing, he goes over to the dresser and grabs what looks like black leather cuffs.
“What are those?” I ask him, confused.
He kneels once again, and I look down to watch him wrap the black cuff around my ankle, fastening the buckle in place. Then takes the skinny black leather strap underneath my shoes where the top of the arch meets the heel. He fastens it to the black leather cuff that is attached and wraps around my ankle.
My heart starts to pick up when he pulls a silver lock out of his pocket and slides through both straps where they meet on the outside of either ankle, securing the heels to my feet. “Tyson, I can’t-“
He stands, baby-blue eyes staring down at me and cutting my words off. “Tonight, you will willingly crawl to me, little darling.” I whimper, understanding what he means. “How long until you do, depends on you.”
He removes his cell and then undoes the choker from around my neck. Opening up the last box, he steps behind me where I can’t see what he’s doing. But seconds later, he wraps a thicker black leather choker around my neck. It forces my neck up and comes to a point at the top of my chest between my breasts, covering my entire neck is covered. I feel him fasten it and lock it as well. He lets my hair fall down to cover the back.
Placing his hands on my upper arms, he meets my eyes in the mirror. “I’ll see you soon.” He gently kisses my cheek and then exits the bedroom.
* * *
By the time I make it down to the club, my feet are already killing me. My calves burn, and my neck is sore. It’s hard to turn it from side to side. How the hell does he expect me to work like this?
He doesn’t. That’s the point. He wants me to abandon my shift and crawl to him in his office.
“Someone’s in trouble.” Bethany laughs, looking me up and down.
She’s dressed in a black leather catsuit, but I notice she’s wearing platforms. Looking around, I see Beau dressed in black leather pants, a mesh black top, and cuffs around his wrists. It’s a theme night. BDSM. I knew about it. I overheard Starla talking about it last night, but thought it was for the customers, not the employees.
“You’ve already got two tables, Lake,” Beau informs me. His eyes drop to my tits. This corset has them shoved up to my fucking neck. My chin can practically rest on them. Then add the collar I’m wearing. They definitely can’t be missed. “VIP is going to be crazy tonight,” he tells me.
Bethany was about to walk away with her tray, but she pauses. “I have VIP,” she states.
“No.” He nods to me. “Lake does.” He places a glass of what looks like a mixed drink next to my tray and nods behind me. “Table twenty asked for this. He hasn’t paid for it yet.”
“No, she doesn’t.” Bethany slams her tray down on the edge of the bar. “I do.”
He rolls his eyes and rips the schedule off the back wall, placing it down in front of us. I bite my bottom lip. Sure, as fuck. Tyson must have changed it sometime today and gavin me VIP.
“What the fuck, Lake?” she snaps, turning her angry eyes on me. She looks like she wants to hit me with her tray.
“I didn’t ask for it,” I growl back at her. Pissed at not only Tyson but now her too. She makes it sound like I have to double-cross her. I’m not after anyone in this club, and I sure as fuck didn’t ask to marry her boss that she obviously has a sexual past with.
“No, you just fucked for it.” She reaches out, grabs the glass of mixed drink, and takes a step back from me, dumping the contents onto my legs.
I gasp, jumping back as it runs down my calves, and into my high heels that are cuffed to my ankles. “What the fuck, Bethany!” I shout.
She slams the empty glass on the counter and smiles at me. “Have a good night. We’re going to be slammed.” Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder and storms off with a fucking smile on her face.
I wiggle my toes, feeling the drink at the bottom of my heels. My feet already sliding, shoving my toes to the end. The heels have a high arch, making the alcohol puddle inside. I pick one foot up at a time, kicking the heel to my ass, trying to tip it upside down to let the drink run out. It works but some remains. So I grab some bar napkins and start shoving them into the side of the heels, trying to soak up whatever I can.
“What can I do?” Beau asks me with a sigh.
“Get me a new fucking drink,” I snap, picking up my tray. I turn, heading to VIP, and realize why Tyson gave it to me. It’s elevated up off the main floor. I have to go up and down ten stairs. Each fucking time. In these heels. That are now wet. I already want to cry.
Goddamn him.
Tyson was right. I’ll be crawling to him tonight. And it won’t take me long.
TYSON
I sit at my desk when the door opens. I look up to see Lake enter, wobbling like Bambi, and I sit back in my chair as she shuts the door and leans back against it. I refrain from smiling.
Tears silently run down her pretty face. She’s been crying for a few minutes because her makeup is already ruined. She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she drops to her hands and knees, a cry ripping from her parted lips. I don’t know if it’s from relief or pain. The way the collar is made, she can’t avert her eyes in shame. She has to look up at me while she slowly crawls across my office floor to my desk. I stay where I’m at, enjoying the small victory.
She comes around my desk and looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips.
I lean forward and run my thumb over her lip before pulling it down to show me her perfectly glowing white teeth.
You don’t get more royalty than her in my world. A queen of sorts forced to marry the riff-raff-a man who gave up his high-ranking title to slum it with the peasants.
“Was that so hard?” I ask, and she whimpers. “You’ll learn that your pride will get you in trouble, darling.”
“Pl-ease?” she chokes out.
“Turn around, remove your shorts and put your ass up in the air. Face on the floor.”
Her face falls. “Ty-“
“Go back to work, Lake.” I dismiss her at her refusal to do as I say. Turning to my computer, I start responding to an email I have when I hear her softly crying. Looking out of the corner of my eye, I see her turning her back to me. She pushes her shorts down her legs, places the side of her tear-streaked face on the floor, and spreads her legs, placing her ass and cunt up in the air.
I turn my chair once again to face her while she sits impatiently. She rocks her hips back and forth, trying to get comfortable. Nothing will work. This is a punishment.
Reaching out, I push my fingers through the holes of her fishnets and run two fingers over her cunt. “Do you enjoy pain, Lake?” I ask. I’m met with silence. “Because you’re wet.” To prove my point, I plunge them into her pussy, and she rocks back against them. “You will learn that I will always win, Lake. No matter if I have to cheat.”
I unlock both of the locks and remove the shackles from around her ankles. Then I pull the heel off, and she cries out in relief. I hold up the shoe, turning it upside down, and liquid runs out of it. I frown. “Why is your shoe wet?”
She remains facedown, and I pull the other one off. Same thing.
“Lake?” I bark her name.
“I knocked my water off the bar and spilled it on my heels,” she softly answers.
I lift the shoe to my nose and sniff. It smells like Red Bull. Why is she lying? “Turn around and face me. Stay on your knees.”
Lifting herself off the floor, she does as I say and looks up at me. I reach out and cup her tear-streaked face. “Last time. Why are they wet?”
She blinks her watery lashes, and whispers, “I spilled my water…”
“Get up, put your shorts back on, and sit on the couch,” I command, cutting her off. She’s not telling the truth.
Getting to her feet, she slides on her shorts and manages to walk over to the leather couch and plops down, her arms wrapping around her chest, but her chin is lifted high due to the collar still in place.
I go back to my computer and pull up the security footage.