The Mistress ✓

12

There are only three colors in the whole room. Black, white, and gold.

A shiny black door leads off to the right and I rush toward it, hoping like an idiot that it could possibly be an exit, but knowing it won't be at the same time.

It's a bedroom.

Not the overblown bordello of a room I expected before, but one that's sophisticated and feminine. Again, there are only three colors in the decor---black, white, and gold.

The black four-poster bed dominates the room, taking up an entire third, white sheer white fabric leading from post to post. The spread matches the black-and-white brocade from the sitting room walls, and the black satin sheets are already pulled back as if nightly turn down service has already been performed.

She never planned to let me leave. Ever.

The whole production at the library was exactly what Megan warned me about---Robyn's ability to fuck with my head.

I push the fear away. It's a useless waste of energy.

Another door leads off the bedroom to a luxurious bathroom nicer than in any hotel room I've seen, again done in black, white, and gold.

What is it with these colors?

The bathroom has another door that leads to a walk-in closer that could serve as a decent-sized bedroom itself, but the bars are completely empty. I check the drawers in the center island, and they're empty too.

Does she expect to keep me here naked? At least I have my trusty trench coat.

I think about the dress I was supposed to wear tonight, and for the first time, I wish I'd worn it. I leave the closet behind to inspect the contents of the bathroom drawers. Instead of being bare, they're filled with expensive toiletries of every kind.

I make my way back through the series of rooms to the sitting area and stare at the locked door. Two dead bolts, but instead of knobs to turn on the inside, there are key holes without the accompanying keys.

Even though I know it's pointless because I heard the bolts slide home, I walk over to it and test the handle.

It pissed me off all over again, though.

"You asshole! You can't keep me like a fucking pet!" I kick at the door with the delicate stilettos and succeed in leaving a tiny mark and stabbing my toe.

After limping to the center of the room, I spin in a circle with my arms outstretched. I can feel, down to the very marrow of my bones, that she is watching me from somewhere.

"Is this what you wanted? A pet? If I don't show up for work tomorrow, everyone will notice. They'll call the police. I don't care how many cops you have on your payroll, there has to be someone you don't own. They'll find me and you'll pay! You wanted me willing? Well, fuck you, Fenty! This wasn't part of the deal!"

My next instinct is to return to the door and beat on it until my fists are bruised and bloodied and my voice is raw from screaming for someone to let me out.

But I don't. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of seeing me break down. I'm strong than this. Robyn will not win. I harness the anger instead.

In a loud, clear voice, I tell the empty room, "You might get my body willingly, but that's all you'll ever get from me. I swear I will hate you through every single moment of this."

After my speech, my brain slows, exhausted from the events of the last week, and all I want to do is slide between the decadent sheets and take my ass to bed. But something about that feels like I'm letting her win, and that's one thing I won't do without putting up a fight.

I faced the devil in her lair and came out unscathed.  That's something, right? A small victory.

Or mostly unscathed. My still-hard nipples and the heat between my legs remind me all to vividly of the fire she stoked within me.

"Lie to yourself all you want, Onika. But tell me the truth about one thing. When was the last time you were truly fucked? By someone who knows what you need. Someone who'll take control from you and give what you've been dying for. How many times did you have to fuck yourself with your fingers after your limp dick husband rolled over, just so you would get to come too?"

She's fucking with my head. That's all. She can't know how right she is.

My eyes to the bed as her final warning replays in my mind.

"Your orgasms belong to me. If you ever touch yourself without my permission, I will spank that pussy until you're begging me to come."

With the same defiance that carried me into the henna shop, and then on these extravagantly expensive stilettos into the presence of the most feared woman in this city tonight, I make a decision. I may be almost out of ammunition, but I can still fire a parting shot. I stroll into the bedroom and untie my trench coat, dropping it on the bedroom floor.

I rip back the spread and study the black sheets. Black like the soul of the woman who out me here. I sit and remove each of the exquisite heels and drop them carelessly on the floor before sliding to the center of the bed and spreading my legs.

"This pussy doesn't belong to you yet, Fenty."

I reach between my legs hating that I'm already wet, but grateful at the same time because this won't take long at all.

Am I daring the devil to come bolting through the door to make good on her threat?

No. I'm calling her bluff.

When I come tonight, it'll be a fuck you to the woman who thinks she owns me. I'll even make sure to use my middle finger.

__________

A/n: My parents are literally SENDING for me. I think they want me to die..Now I have to get on a flight.

Anyway.. Thoughts?

Keep or delete?

Nicki?

How she reacted when she got there?

Rihanna was never going to let her go home. Thoughts about that?

What Nicki did at the end?