Contract Of Surrender

The Gala

Elena woke up the next morning with a heavy feeling in her chest. The memory of last night’s dinner still burned, the way Damien had slammed the table, the whip in his hand, the way he had laughed at her while her body betrayed her again and again. She hated how easily he could make her feel small and wet at the same time.

A team of people arrived early. A quiet woman she didn’t recognize did her makeup soft smoky eyes, long lashes, and bold red lips that made her look expensive. Elena sat silently, staring at herself in the mirror, wondering who this dressed up version of her was.

When the woman left, Elena started trying on the dresses that had been delivered. She slipped into several gowns, one after the other. Some were too tight, some too revealing.

Then she put on the last one a rich, flowing red gown. It was backless, with a long slit running high up one thigh. The fabric hugged her body perfectly and moved like liquid when she walked. She stood in front of the full length mirror, turning slowly, she looked beautiful. And she looked like she belonged to someone.

The door opened without a knock, Damien stepped inside. Elena’s back was to him. She froze when she saw his reflection in the mirror. He stopped completely for once, the powerful man looked speechless. His eyes darkened with raw hunger as they moved slowly down her bare back and over the curve of her ass.

He walked up behind her without saying a word and she turned around to face him. Her heart was already racing.

Damien reached out and traced his fingers down her spine. His touch was slow, deliberate. Shivers exploded across her skin, she felt every inch of his finger like electricity. Her breath hitched but he didn’t stop. He slid his hand lower, following the long slit of the dress. He opened it wider, exposing her smooth thigh. His warm palm moved up, higher and higher, until his fingers reached her p***y.

Elena’s legs trembled. She was already soaking wet, Damien shifted her panties to the side and dipped one thick finger inside her letting a soft gasp escape her lips. He moved it in and out slowly, teasing her. Her legs shook harder, threatening to give way so she grabbed onto his shoulders to steady herself.

He added a second finger. Elena moaned, low and needy. The sound filled the room. Pleasure rushed through her body as he stroked her slowly, curling his fingers just right. She was dripping down his hand, her n*****s hard and pressing against the thin fabric of the gown.

Then just like that he pulled his fingers out completely, Elena whimpered in protest, breathing hard, her body aching for more. Damien looked her in the eyes and slowly licked his fingers clean, savoring her taste. The sight made her n*****s tighten even more. Heat flooding her face and between her legs.

He turned around and began walking toward the door.

“Let’s go,” he said calmly, as if he hadn’t just left her shaking and desperate.

Elena stood there for a few seconds, her legs were weak, her chest was rising and falling fast. She tried to calm her breathing. Her p***y still throbbed. Shame and desire twisted inside her. She hated how much she wanted him to finish what he started. She sighed, quickly fixed her dress and followed him out.

The drive to the gala was filled with silence. Damien sat beside her looking perfectly composed in his black suit, while Elena’s body still hummed from his touch. She kept her thighs pressed tightly together, trying to ignore the wetness between them.

When they arrived, Damien stepped out first. He buttoned his suit jacket, then walked around and opened the door for her. He stretched out his hand and she took it. His grip was firm and possessive as he helped her out of the car.

They made their way into the big, glittering hall. Soft lights, beautiful people, and soft music filled the air. As they entered, Damien leaned close to her ear.

“Smile and don’t say anything,” he ordered.

Elena nodded and plastered a small, polite smile on her face even though her heart was pounding.

Damien moved through the crowd with confidence, shaking hands and talking business. Elena stayed right beside him like a silent trophy. Sometimes he introduced her as “my companion.” Other times he didn’t bother.

But his hand never left her body. It rested on her waist, his fingers drawing slow, invisible circles on the bare skin of her lower back, right where the dress ended. Every circle sent fresh shivers through her.

Later, they sat at their assigned table. Damien’s hand stayed on her thigh the entire time, hidden under the long tablecloth. His fingers occasionally squeezed, reminding her who she belonged to. Elena smiled when people looked at them, but inside she felt exposed, turned on, and deeply ashamed.

At some point, an important looking man with white beards and bald head came over and stole Damien away for a private conversation.

“I’ll be back soon,” he told her before walking away and disappearing inside the crowd

Elena was left alone, the boredom from earlier returning. She took out her phone and texted Hannah, she thought of playing a game on her phone but changed her mind.

The champagne was flowing so she stood up and wandered toward the elegant bar, needing something, anything to distract her from the ache Damien had left between her legs and the confusing storm of emotions in her chest.