Fabreau

Nothing has ever turned me on more than power. If that’s a kink, then I have it. There is nothing in this world more sexy than the feeling of a man having complete and utter control over you in every way of life.

Today is the day Opulence Magazine, my place of work for over 5 years was to be taken over by the prominent Fabreau Publishing Corporation. One of many business ventures of the mysterious billionaire behind it all. Fabreau is a household name, manufacturing everything from computers to coffee cups, and now they’ve decided to expand into lifestyle magazines. It was a sudden yet non-hostile takeover, and so far there have been no firings. I hold out hope that my job will be spared, but in the week since the company was purchased nothing significant has happened.

Opulence Magazine is the city’s most popular home and lifestyle magazine, despite being relatively new. Opulence was founded a mere six years ago, and since then has gained over 250,000 monthly subscribers. I work as a photographer and columnist and am one of the most well-known writers of the magazine, due to my recurring and popular section titled ‘What’s Hot And What’s Not: A Glimpse Into The Homes Of The Elite’ in which I simply detail whatever overpriced garbage is trending that month. By far my favourite section is the ‘Self-Help Corner’, in which I adopt a fake name and answer people’s problems, be they personal, financial, decor or otherwise. It would be safe to say my job is no more than a pastime, while I work my way up to something more…substantial. I have no fondness for the vapid lifestyle these people live, and even less taste for traipsing about their homes listening to them ramble about their pink marble bench-tops. Unfortunately, this is what my life has come to. I wear a pencil skirt each day for a decent wage and a part of my soul to be ripped out.

I reflect on my next article on the short walk from the taxi to the front of Opulence’s main office. It’s an intimidating red brick building, reaching 5 floors and casting an angry shadow across the sidewalk. I open the heavy, frosted glass main door and…walk face-first into a business suit. Inside the business suit is a man who would make Brad Pitt feel bad about himself. His chiseled jaw was dusted with the perfect amount of facial hair, and his eyes were the most entrancing deep brown I’d ever seen. I could’ve gotten lost in them for hours without even knowing time had passed. After a moment I realise I’ve fallen to the floor, and the godly figure above me is reaching out a large hand, complete with long, beautiful fingers. “Are you alright?” I take his hand and he lifts me up. “Wow,” he continues, voice like melted chocolate. “What a way to make an entrance.” I giggle, unable to resist his charm. He flashes me a grin with perfect, white teeth. “And who am I speaking to?” He asks, as I melt.

“My name is Delilah. Delilah Salace. And who might you be?” The man chuckles, a cheeky glint in his eye.

“I’m Dominic Fabreau, owner and CEO of Fabreau Publishing. I guess that makes me your new boss.” I feel the blood leave my face. Of course, how could I have not realised that the man in front of me was the man, full stop. Dominic Fabreau. Business mastermind. Mysterious philanthropist. Bachelor of the year five years running. I muster up a smile and turn our grasp into a handshake.

“Pleased to meet you sir, I hope I have the honour of seeing you again.” His expression changes at the word sir, but I choose to believe it’s because he feels too young for the title. After all, he’s all but 29 years old.

“Yes. I think you will be seeing more of me.” With that, he’s gone. behind him hurries a short, middle aged woman with a clipboard and an important air about her, His assistant. I continue on to the elevator and make my way to my cubicle.

“Delilah. Delilah!” I’m broken from my trance by Kathy, former intern, now she writes the houseplant section, and shares a small two-bedroom apartment with me.

“Sorry…what were you saying?” I was distracted for god knows how long, thinking about that man…that wonderful man. More than anything, I wanted to see Dominic Fabreau again.

“I was saying we should go out for drinks tonight. It’s Friday, the company is part of Fabreau Publishing of all things, and I think we deserve a celebration!” She throws up her hands, grinning.

“I’m not sure, Kath.” Her face falls. “You know I don’t really like to drink.” Kathy pouts, poking my arm.

“Come on, Dee. I bet we can get into the Insub, now that we’re Fabreau girls!” The Insub is a really high end nightclub notorious for it’s underground level, devoted to the sexual arts. No one gets in unless they’re on the list, or very, very important.

“There’s absolutely no way, but if it’ll get you to leave me to my work, then I’ll go,” I say with a grin. Kathy blows me a kiss and hurries away, back to whatever column she was completing before. I didn’t really want to go out, but after meeting Dominic, I needed a distraction. My quality of work was suffering.

__________

The line for Insub was shorter than I expected, although Kathy still made us skip it. I stood a few steps back as she argued with the bouncer. “You have to let us in, we work for Dominic Fabreau!” Namedropping seemed to be her tactic.

“Listen, lady, we can’t just let people in here. You call Mr. Fabreau, get him to come down here and tell me directly that you’re his girls and then maybe I’ll consider letting you in.” He was a beefy man, six foot seven inches of muscle in a bulletproof black jacket. There’d be no fighting our way in, that’s for sure.

“They are most certainly my girls, and we’re all going to be entering the club now.” An arm made its way around my waist and with a jump I realised it was Mr. Fabreau.

“Mr. Fabreau. I…yes, of course.” The bouncer stepped aside as Kathy and I stood frozen in shock. Dominic simply took our arms and pulled us gently yet firmly into the club, sitting us down in a booth.

“Now, ladies. Don’t try to take advantage of my status, he said over the music. “Luckily for you, I’m a kind man, and I’d be honoured to buy your drinks for the night.” He said this while making intense eye contact with me, and I felt my mouth dry. A drink would be fantastic.

Six drinks later, Kathy was on the dance floor with a handsome Hispanic man, who was probably also very rich. Dominic had moved us to a private booth, away from all the noise. I sat awkwardly sipping my tequila sunrise, Dominic watching me intently. “Mr. Fabreau,” I began, but he pressed a finger to my mouth.

“You are to call me Dominic.” The tone of his voice…he wasn’t asking, he was commanding.

“Dominic…I was wondering, why did you buy Opulence?” Dominic’s mouth morphed into a grin, and I felt my panties moisten. He was, with a doubt, the sexiest man I’d ever seen.

“I often find myself unsure what to do with my money, and so I often invest in smaller businesses. Yours had potential.” Mine. It wasn’t mine. Far from it, actually. But I didn’t dare to point that out.

“Thank you for buying my drinks,” I said, realising I’d not said so. Dominic continued to stare into my soul with those fantastic eyes.

“What can I say, you’ve made quite the impression on me.” He stands up, placing three one hundred dollar bills on the table. “I have to leave. Use this for anything else you’d like. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Delilah.” The way he said my name made me shiver. He said it almost as if it was a threat, and yet I couldn’t help but feel insanely turned on.

I’m lying on a silk sheet, on my stomach. I’m blindfolded. My wrists are shackled to the bed. The leather cuffs have a soft, cushioned inside. The bed is in the middle of the room and a man paces around it, occasionally brushing his hand along my naked body. Where his fingers touch, I erupt into goosebumps. The feeling of his skin on mine sends shudders up my spine. “Delilah,” he says, almost like a threat. “You haven’t been a good girl, and we must correct bad behaviour.” There’s a light slap as a cat of nine tails hits my upper thigh. I shiver as the tingles rush up my body. I can feel my nipples erect and my toes curl. “Delilah.” Again, he threatens. Fingers brush up the small of my back, followed by another burst of tingles. I moan into the mattress. A hand lightly slaps my buttock. “Don’t make a sound, Delilah. You mustn’t interrupt.” Another burst of tingles on my other buttock. It takes all my willpower not to explode into a satisfied moan. Dominic runs his hand down my leg before spanking me again, this time a little harder. “You must be a good girl, Delilah.” Another spank. “If you misbehave again I’ll have to think up a new punishment.” Three more consecutive spanks, each one harder than the last. He runs his hands up my body before bringing down the cat of nine tails once more, hitting both my thighs and following it with a forceful spank. I can’t help it. I moan.

Just before noon the next day, Kathy, hungover as all hell bursts into my room. “Dee, you’ve got a package. I don’t know where it’s from and it wasn’t mailed, but here.” She slams a large box onto my bed, grinning through her hangover. I rip the packing tape off and open the box. It contains what looks like a designer dress, and on top is a note. On the note, in beautiful cursive handwriting, I read ‘Delilah. You are to wear this tonight at the Fabreau Charity Gala. You’re representing your company, so play nice.” Underneath is Dominic’s neatly scrawled signature. I think back to the dream I had about him last night. Hopefully I can look him in the eyes. “This is fantastic!” Exclaims Kathy, clapping her hands together. “Maybe he’ll make you the new Admin Officer. Gregory was fired five days ago because the Fabreau PI’s found out he was lying on his resume.” I knew Gregory had been fired, but I hadn’t known why.

“I doubt it. He just…took a liking to me, when I ran into him.” I told Kathy about the incident, but she’d just laughed it off. Apparently though, that was the wrong move, because Dominic really had taken a liking to me. If it progressed the way that dream had gone, I can’t say I’d be disappointed, but at the same time I knew I had to be wary. “What time does the Gala start?”

The Fabreau Charity Gala was started in 2009, when Dominic had made his first million dollars. After gaining a rapport with the local aristocracy, he decided to put his connections to good use. He provides them with an upscale networking opportunity with guaranteed press coverage, and in turn they donate to whatever charity Dominic likes best that year through the auctioning of frivolous goods. Ironically, Dominic himself had never been seen at one of these events, something that added to his mysterious reputation. This year, money raised was to go towards providing vaccinations, medications and sexual education to people in remote African villages in an attempt to stop the spread of preventable diseases such as malaria and HIV. It was a cause I have a small amount of passion for, yet one I didn’t have the funds to help. At 9pm sharp, a limousine arrives at my building, and I hesitantly get in. I find myself alone aside from a bottle of ridiculously expensive champagne, and a crisp white envelope. First, I pour myself a glass of champagne to help cope with the night, and then I open the envelope.

Delilah.

Welcome to your new position as Administrative Officer of Opulence. Inside you will find an AmEx Black Card. This is for both business and personal use, and is personally funded by me. There is no spending limit, and my only condition is that you bid generously on tonight’s auction.

Dominic.

Again, his signature. I tip the envelope upside down, and the elusive AmEx Black Card falls into my lap. I pick it up and quickly place it into my purse before feeling the limousine come to a stop. I exit the car after the chauffeur opens my door, and I’m met with the blinding flashes of the paparazzi. I put on my most winning smile, strut up the red carpet laid out, and enter the building. In the foyer stands a large mirror, in which I see myself. The dress I wear is tailored perfectly, despite Dominic never measuring me. It’s a deep shade of red, coming down almost to the floor. The top is a fitted, beaded bodice and the bottom flares out in beautiful waves. My auburn hair is in a classy updo, and my makeup was expertly done by Kathy, an ex-MUA. She’s given me a soft brown smokey eye to highlight my green eyes, and lipstick to match my dress. my shoes are strappy heels, expensive enough to look like they belong, but black to stand out. I walk along the tall hallway into an even taller ballroom. I’m not sure where I am, but it’s beautiful. Everywhere, rich celebrities and entrepreneurs flit about, holding flutes of champagne and laughing together. A waiter hands me some champagne and I force myself to walk into the crowd, desperate for a friendly face. Within seconds, a young woman in a stunning black v-neck dress taps over to me. “Darling, you look absolutely wonderful! I can’t say I’ve ever seen you around. My name is Grace White, I’m the owner of Insub, as well as a few other clubs here and there.” I shake her outstretched hand and smile.

“Hi, I’m Delilah Salace, I’m Admin Officer at Opulence.” Grace sharply gasps.

“Oh, my dear, you’re from Dominic’s new company! Oh, I should’ve known. He’s such an inconsistent man, buying all of these businesses for fun. Well, I hope you have a lovely night. You’re a little late, but I’d venture to guess you’re Dominic’s representative. That man loves to make us wait. Come come, the auction is about to start!” She drags me into the middle of the room with everyone else, and an auctioneer walks out, followed by a podium and a cart full of fancy-looking items. The bidding is tough, and I see nothing I’d want in my home until the final item.

“Here we have our final item, number 47, a beautiful painting by Dominic Fabreau himself, entitled ‘Lilacs’. Mr. Fabreau painted this only yesterday, and measuring in at five square inches, we’ll start the bidding at $700,000.” The painting is the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. So small and delicate, yet it manages to fit an ornate vase of lilac, painted to the smallest detail. I come out of my trance after someone bids a million.

“Three million!” I shout before I can stop myself.

“Four million!” I look over, and the source of my opponent is a middle aged lady who looks like she could buy my entire street without a second thought. I thank the heavens that I’m armed with Dominic’s limitless card.

“Eleven million!” I shout. The woman frowns.

“Thirty million dollars.” Gasps spread through the room. I’m not sure what her end game is, as from her expression I can see she doesn’t believe the painting is worth that much. It’s on, lady.

“One hundred million dollars.” People start to shout, and the woman gives me a look that would melt butter. The gable slams on the podium.

“Sold,” shouts the auctioneer, “for one hundred million dollars. Ladies and gentlemen that amount alone is more than we’ve made this entire auction. Thank you for coming.” Everybody spreads out, and I can feel their eyes on me as they whisper. Who is this girl? How is she so rich? They’ll never know. I make my way out to the back of the ballroom to pay for my item, and when I look up at the ceiling I see a moving camera, and it’s following me.

At midnight, I get back into the limo, expecting the driver to take me home. Instead, he drives through a large, ornate gate and up the most exquisite driveway I’ve ever seen. I know even before I see the magnificent modern mansion that this is the home of Dominic Fabreau. I step out of the car, and before I can reach the large wooden door, it opens. Standing behind it is Dominic himself. “Delilah. Please, come in.”

The inside of Dominic’s house is a classy mixture of antique and modern. Everything is pristine perfect, with little to no sign of anybody living there. The foyer was an art display, with countless beautiful works display for viewing. I wonder to myself how many of them were painted by Dominic himself. After seeing the beautiful works he’s capable of I find myself wondering what other secrets this man holds. He takes me by the hand and leads me down the corridor, in which I see more and more expensive items. We take a left into a beautiful cosy room with fluffy royal blue carpet, a large fireplace and three beautiful couches surrounding a coffee table that looks like it costs more than my yearly rent. “You bid a lot of money on that painting, Delilah.” I shiver when he says my name. We sit, and I quietly clear my throat.

“I, uh, really enjoyed the artwork, and I’m not sure, something just came over me. I’m sorry…” I trail off, expecting for him to take away the AmEx card and fire me on the spot, but instead I’m met with that smile. Dominic laughs lightly, putting his hand on my knee.

“No, don’t fret. I’m not mad, I’m impressed. Typically my representatives are too afraid of me to spend my money, but you went above and beyond my expectations. Good girl.” I hold in a gasp. Those words, those two little words send shudders down my spine, reminding me of the dream I had the previous night. I swallow a lump in my throat and manage a small smile. “I’ll pour you a drink, Delilah,” he says, getting up and striding over to the bar in the corner. He wasn’t asking me, but commanding. Always commanding. Here was a man who was not unfamiliar to authority and how to use it. He pours me a complicated looking cocktail, and himself a glass of whiskey. He sits back down and stares at me as I sip. I’m reminded of the night at the club, and I think to the three hundred dollar bills in my purse. I’d not spent it at the club, and wasn’t sure what to do with it. While I’m uncomfortable with taking money from people, a mere few hundred dollars can’t mean much to a man who makes billions of dollars every year. Dominic Fabreau would be the richest man in the world if it weren’t for his numerous charity projects and excessive donations, and as it stands he sits at 6th in the world.

“Dominic…I was wondering. Why did you promote me?” I am the least deserving in my office of a promotion purely because of my hatred for the job.

“I see potential in you, Delilah. You’re a hard worker and even I can see your distaste for your work.” I blush. “I want you to take Opulence and make it into something great. The only thing keeping it from true success is the shallow, salon-gossip undertones and I believe in your ability to fix it.” I nod my head, not knowing what to say. We sit in silence for a while more. “Delilah, I’d like to take you for lunch tomorrow. That restaurant on the pier. We can discuss your new role in the company and whether or not you feel you can…listen to instructions. I plan to work very closely with your company, and if you do well there could be another promotion in your future.” As far as I’m concerned, Opulence is a stepping stone to greater things, and either I’m really stepping on that stone, or Dominic has ulterior motives.

“Yes, I’d love to.”

“Excellent. I’ll be there at noon. Do not make me wait.” With that, he whisks me back out to the waiting limousine, and I’m driven home, drink still in my hand, wondering why Dominic has chosen me to be his personal project.

Lieu de Prospér is a high end restaurant on the pier run by a French man and his British wife. It is the restaurant equivalent of Insub and every dish has frivolous amounts of either gold leaf or black truffles. It is neither a place I could realistically afford – aside from a few months of saving – nor one I desire to dine at, and yet I found myself excited to spend the day with Dominic. He has some kind of psychological control over me, and I somehow associate him with an intense feeling of butterflies and joy, sort of like a rush of heroin, or the closest thing I’d ever tried. We walk in with the aura of a business power couple. Not in the celebrity, romantic way magazines make it out to be but the kind of power couple who have nothing together but business. It was nice. Dominic had given me another dress before he’d come to pick me up, a classy lace number, navy blue like his foyer. He sent it over before him, like last time. It’s a nice feeling, rich people stealing glances at me.

We sit at a beautifully decorated table with a small candle set burning in the middle. It’s classy, and somewhat romantic, dare I say it. A waitress comes around with gold-plated menus, but Dominic waves her away. “We will both be having the lobster, with a salad to start. Bring me your best Chardonnay to pair.” I wriggle in my seat a little as shivers race up my spine. Dominic’s subtle control over me makes my panties wet and my body shake. I lick my lips a little as Dominic stares me down. After a long pause, he speaks. “You look lovely today. I know lobster is quite the heavy lunch, but I must confess I have neglected to tell you about some…commitments I have for you later today. As the new face of Opulence I need you out and about at many prestigious events, especially with the rebrand coming up. At around 3pm you are to attend a press conference about the direction in which you wish to be taking Opulence, and how it will affect business, preferably positively, as I’m not one to advertise the failing of my child companies. This will take place at the office, and afterwards you and I will be having dinner. No business, just…pleasure.” More chills. All I can do it nod. The waitress from before sets a salad down and I can barely force myself to pick at it. Me? Attending prestigious events as the face of Opulence? It all seems so ridiculous. I’m a businesswoman at best, a shitty columnist at worst. I’ve never once pictured myself mingling with the aristocracy of the country, or even the world, as many international figures frequent Dominic’s ventures. I sip my water in anticipation of the wine I’m going to need.

“Dominic,” I begin. Those eyes flit up to meet mine, and I find all the confidence in my body sucked out into them. I clear my throat and start again. “Dominic. I was wondering why I seem to have…become your representative. Surely there are more qualified…more experienced people working for some of your other companies who are better choices than myself.” I’m rambling, and I’m aware, but his stare makes me feel like I’m completely naked.

“Delilah. Your magazine is a huge hit as both a business and an extension of culture, and I’ve found it is as opulent as its name suggests. I acquired your magazine because I wanted something as tasteful and elegant as the things I wish to surround myself with. Of course, Opulence is trash. You know it, I know it, but the public does not. They see it as an insight into how people like myself live, and as such it becomes an appropriate representation of my lifestyle. I do not have the time to attend every event I’m invited to, so I elected to choose a representative to attend these events for me and make sure my brand is properly maintained. I chose you because you are a beautiful and savvy young woman who clearly knows how to follow orders. While I admire your inquisitive nature, you are not to question me again, or you will be punished as I see fit.” I swallow the lump in my throat and muster up a weak smile.

“Of course, Dominic. I apologise.” I stare down into my salad, trying my best to hide how aroused I am.

Despite being a member of the press, technically, I’d never attended a press conference. I had no idea what to wear to one, nor did I know what I’d be doing. The first thing I did when I got home was open a new tab in my browser and look up stock photos of press conferences. Eventually I decided on a thrilling and unique combination of a slate grey pencil skirt and white silk blouse. It was an outfit I’d bought after I’d finished university in order to impress at job interviews. As I’d obtained my job at Opulence almost straight after graduation, I’d only pulled it off the hanger once. Luckily, I also had the pantyhose to go with it. I look in the mirror and find myself quite alluring. I’d managed to pull off the perfect sexy librarian look. Hopefully it was appropriate for a press conference. I slide myself into my plainest pair of black heels and then slide myself into my car. A quick search of the address Dominic had texted to me burdened me with a 25 minute drive. A looming mid-1800s building leered down at me, daring me to speak to the press about Fabreau Publishing’s takeover. Inside, at the far end of a huge hall was a sturdy table with a red floor length cloth over the top. The press was yet to arrive, but Dominic’s middle-aged assistant waited for me just inside the door. “You’re late,” she barks at me. I smile back bashfully and tap down to the awaiting chair behind the table. The woman places a page in front of me. “This page contains the relevant information to Fabreau Publishing’s takeover of Opulence. Mr. Fabreau expects you to use it, as well as to fabricate your own answers and opinions to the more subjective questions. I will be joining you, although I am here as a representative of Fabreau Publishing, not of Opulence itself.” i nod my head.

“What do I do if someone asks me a question regarding something not on the paper?” The woman glares at me through her half-moon glasses.

“That won’t happen.” She takes a seat as press start to meander in through the door and take their seats. I feel my palms start to moisten as they gather. Soon, the cameras start to flash, and the questions begin.

“What was the net financial gain of Opulence last financial year?”

“Does Fabreau Publishing plan to acquire more publications such as this one?”

“How does the magazine plan to proceed now that it has new ownership?”

“Ms. Salace, before the takeover you were merely a columnist. Did you get such a substantial promotion because you’re sleeping with Mr. Fabreau?”

I stop in my tracks. So far I’d answered every question directed at me flawlessly, but this is exactly what Dominic had banked on not happening. I swallow the ever-growing lump in my throat and smile through the pain. “I-”

“Mr. Fabreau has been a businessman his entire life, and has not once done something as morally reprehensible as giving a woman a job in exchange for her body. Ms. Salace was awarded the promotion as she projects the image Fabreau Corp. looks for, as well as demonstrating outstanding skills in the areas of negotiation and public relations. There will be no further questions on the matter of Ms. Salace’s employment.” Dominic’s assistant, whose name I learnt is Mona Walter interrupts, displaying more authority and finality than I’d ever seen in someone other than Dominic himself. I find myself wondering who had learnt it from whom. Mona allows the questions to continue, although there is a noticeable tension in the air from that point onwards. As a whole, I am unsure as to why Dominic chose me. Mona’s answer was entirely bullshit, since I have absolutely no experience in ‘negotiation and public relations’. Shit, I barely have experience in journalism. I’m distant for the rest of the conference, dwelling on that one, stupid question.

That same evening, I attempt to finish my advice column. It’s the one piece I’d managed to keep despite my fancy new promotion. For everything I hated about my old job, Self-Help Corner was my favourite part, and the only thing about my meaningless career I found entertaining. I had a separate work email specifically for these submissions, and aside from the usual spam about how much these people wanted to impregnate me, and the genuine submissions, there was one email that stood out to me. It was titled Insub, like the club. I opened it warily, as I’ve almost fallen for many a virus ploy before. The body of the email was non-existent except for a jpeg attachment. I ran it through a malware scanner before opening it up.

YOU’RE INVITED

Insub is holding an exclusive downstairs event on Saturday night.

As a valued patron of our establishment, you are invited to attend.

Requirements include a masquerade mask to obscure identity,

and a $5 bill with your access code written on it

In fine print below the body of the invitation there was a nine digit number. I close the attachment and take a deep breath. Dominic Fabreau buying my place of work had turned my mundane life into something out of a Lifetime movie.

__________

Drinking had never been my thing, but here I was. 18 years old at my first ever party. Sammy had decked out her parents house with more fairy lights than I ever thought possible for one family to own, and it provided perfect mood lighting. The well-placed sound system blasted some shitty EDM and the entire living room was filled with people grinding on each other and slowly losing clothes and integrity. I sipped my stereotypical red solo cup of vodka lemonade as Kathy pranced around me, already off her face, shrieking about how sexy Kyle who plays trombone is, and how she’s totally going to fuck him tonight. I ignored her, preferring to spend my time spying on people. Although, can you really call it spying when they’re yelling everything they say, and rubbing up against one another in such a public place?

Hours pass, and I held the same cup, yet to be empty. the lemonade had long gone flat, as had the party, but the stragglers remained. As I walk through the house – a mansion, really – I stepped over not one, but two couples blatantly fucking on the floor. Disgusting. This is not a scene I regret not being a part of. I searched for Sammy, not having seen her since the start of the night when she welcomed everybody inside. Her parents were super rich, and were constantly pissing off to foreign countries for both business and pleasure, not even batting an eye at the parties Sammy managed to hold at least three times a month. I crossed the kitchen and stepped out onto the patio. Everything was still perfectly manicured, despite the beating it had taken as 300 of Sammy’s closest friends fucked their way through her 9 bedroom home. I took a seat at the ornate wrought iron bench tastefully placed between some shrubs that had undoubtedly been pissed on by various boys as the night progressed and stared out into the sunrise. I wasn’t sure how long it has been before I noticed him, standing in the doorway and staring at me. I turned my head. “What are you doing?” I asked, placing my cup next to me. He shot me a grin and wandered out over to my seat.

“I was just…taking in the view.” He eyed me up and down with a pair of incomprehensibly deep brown eyes. I rolled my own eyes and went back to taking in the scenery, “What’s a girl like you doing at a party this wild?” He sat down next to me, separating us only by the solo cup I had abandoned.

“It’s my friends house. I wanted to go to at least one high school shindig before I’m thrust into the world of tertiary education.” The boy…man laughed. A short, attractive sound. I took in his figure. He was clearly an athlete, with chiseled arms, a chiseled jaw, chiseled abs…chiseled everything. I shook myself out of my trance, accepting that this Adonis was the peak of male beauty.

“Well, I happen to know that parties like this always end up with the hottest girls getting laid, so who did you get it on with?” I snort unattractively.

“Please. I’ve never hooked up with anyone in my life.” I picked up the solo cup and took a swig of the sickly-sweet syrup. He looked me up and down before grinning a grin that dissolved my panties.

“I guess we’d better fix that then.” He grabbed my hand, and led me through the house, up the stairs and into a vacant bedroom. I was paralysed by his beauty, unable to say no to such a magnificent creature. He closed the door and turned to me, brushing his hands on my waist. He leaned in, kissing me gently at first, and then with all the force of a hurricane of lust. I didn’t remember how he got my clothes off, but I certainly remembered the way he picked me up as if I weighed nothing and practically threw me onto the bed. He kissed my neck, my collarbone, my shoulder, and then back up to my lips. His shirtless form felt so natural under my hands, and as he unbuttoned his jeans I could see his bulge outlined by his Calvin Klein boxers. They soon followed his jeans, and again, there he was. Each kiss on my skin sent tingles up and down my spine, culminating in my core. The first entrance was the hardest, but after that it was like he belonged inside of me. He pulled out to bring my ankles up to his shoulders, and in that moment I felt too empty, but as fast as he left he returned, and he was back, pumping his hips as he ran his thumbs across my nipples. I was unable to hold in my moans of pleasure as he hit all the right spots. I managed to force out a breathy ‘harder’, and he obliged all too willingly before withdrawing in an instant. “Get on your hands and knees,” he commanded. I obliged all too willingly, hungry for him to connect with me once more. The sound of our skin slapping together was the only sound in the room aside from my sighs and moans. He was a man who knew what he was doing, and he didn’t stop until I could barely hold myself up. He leaned over, lips brushing against my ear. “Are you ready?” Somehow I knew exactly what he was talking about, and I nodded.

“Y-yes.” He thrusted harder and faster than I thought possible before coming to a halt. with a sigh, he exited me and immediately started pulling on his clothes.

“There you go, now all the hot girls got some.” I tried my hardest to catch my breath as he pulled on his shirt.

“W-what’s your name?” I asked. He hesitated before shooting me that grin.

“Call me Lucas…”

__________

“You need to get it done by four, Eli.” I order Eli, in charge of the rumour section of Opulence to actually get something done on time for once. Eli had been hired at the same time I was, and was probably the saltiest man I’d ever met. He was a whole 20 months older than I, and seemed to think that gave him the right to boss me around. He had been the most unhappy with my sudden promotion, sending me spiteful glances ever since the announcement was made. He had been gunning for any kind of promotion ever since we finished our trial period. He was ruthless, and if he weren’t so stupid I had no doubt he’d have gotten the promotion he was after. Alas, he was a few crayons short of a box, and I came out on top. One of the highlights of my new position is most certainly getting to order around everyone in the office who had ever so much as looked at me funny. Sure, call me petty. I do.

I sit in my office, pretending to do work, as I often do, when there’s a knock at my door. “Come in.” Kathy enters, and as soon as the (soundproof, for some reason) door shuts, she squeals and trots over to me in her extraordinarily high heels.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” Unfortunately I know exactly to what she’s referring to. My first Insub basement party.

“I’m not sure. I don’t even know what goes on down there, it could just be a strip club but it could also be some kind of…sex dungeon.” I shudder at the thought. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of men, but none of them in a crowded room surrounded by people in masks. Kathy plops a bag in front of me that I didn’t notice her carrying.

“This is your mask. I picked it up at lunch, credit card’s in the bag.” I give her a hug before opening up the bag, peeling back a few too many layers of tissue paper. Inside is a beautiful lace eye mask. Being made exclusively of fabric, it will comfortably contour to my face and minimise weird patterns imprinted onto my skin.

“Holy shit, Kathy. This is amazing! Thank you so much. I’m sorry I made you go, but you know how useless I am at shopping.” She nods dramatically.

“You don’t have to tell me hun, I remember the school disco…” Oh god, let’s not relive the school disco. I place the mask back into the bag and shove the bag into one of my desk drawers.

“I have a meeting with Dominic’s assistant in like, ten minutes. You’d better fuck off before she bites your head off and sucks out your entrails.” Kathy laughs.

“Fuck you. Have fun.” I slunk back into my chair and sigh, scrolling through whatever bland celebrity’s social media I had open for ‘research’ before the door swung open once more. I rolled my eyes, expecting Mona’s tight ass, complete with large stick, but instead when I looked up my eyes met Dominic’s.

“You will not roll your eyes at me, Delilah. I expect you to show me the respect I deserve.” I nod my head and sit up straight, biting my lip. “Now. I am here in place of Mona for three reasons. The first is because I do not trust Mona with the contents of today’s meeting. The second is because I felt like paying you a visit, and the third is to see the mask you’ve picked out for tomorrow night’s event.” My heart leaps up into my throat. How does he know? I pull out the mask and show him without saying a word. “Good girl. This will do perfectly. I’ll send an outfit to your house tomorrow afternoon. Now, if it isn’t already obvious, I will be accompanying you to the event at Insub tomorrow night. He moves over to one of the sets of shutters facing out into the office that I leave a fraction open for spying, and closes it fully. He turns back to me. “Stand up.” I oblige. “Come here,” he says, pointing to the carpet in front of him.

“Yes,” I say, obediently standing where I’m instructed.

“Now, I want you to turn around and bend over onto the desk.” I feel my face turn bright red.

“Uh, why?” Dominic stares me down.

“I made it clear how I feel about you questioning me.” I swallow that familiar lump and bend over the desk. Dominic lifts up the bottom of my dress and inspects the wet patch of my lace panties. “Good girl. I knew I’d chosen correctly.” He pulls the panties up in between my round cheeks and sharply slaps my left cheek. I can’t contain the squeal that escapes my lips. “Good girl.” He lets my dress go and turns around, leaving my office as quickly as he came, and leaving me bent over my desk, panting. I stand up and arrange myself. In most situations, that would be considered sexual harassment, but right now the last thing I feel is harassed. I think it must be pretty obvious at this point that I am of the opinion that Dominic Fabreau is a mighty fine piece of ass, and I would be pretty damn thrilled if he decided to make me his concubine for a short period, and this recent exhibition is pretty indicative of reciprocated feelings. Or, I hope it is. I take my seat at my desk and swallow that ever-present lump in my throat before returning to my analysis of the popularity of Opulence this quarter, or as I like to call it; staring blankly at an Excel document and drinking hot chocolate.

______________

Chapter 1 of Fabreau. Sorry it’s so long, but please tell me what you think (if you’ve read it all), and if you’d like a link to keep up with it, let me know! <3

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/8ao813/fabreau

One comment on “Fabreau

Comments are closed.