The Stranger

Chapter 4 - Alex

It had been a couple of days since I made Cassandra orgasm for me during that meeting. I hadn't contacted her since. Smiling as I asked her if she was coming—that part hadn't been intentional. She'd been such a good girl, and her obedience pleased me, but that smile was a slip. I almost gave myself away. So, I'd pulled back, letting the distance play with her mind. I wanted her to wonder if it was me, to question if what happened was real, or if she'd just imagined it.

Luckily, it was a busy week. Work kept her occupied, though I could tell her focus slipped. She checked her phone often, waiting, and the frustration in her eyes told me exactly how much she needed release. Watching her from my office, I could feel her tension even from afar, a heat building that was begging to be broken.

But I held back. She hadn't sent me any texts since Monday, but I knew she'd thought about it. I could almost see her weighing whether she should reach out, start the conversation herself. She didn't, of course, and I wouldn't have answered if she had.

There were moments I thought I saw her slipping the vibrator back in, hoping that doing so would tempt me to message her, to make her body react again. But she was out of luck—I wasn't going to make it that easy.

By Friday, I needed a drink, and I knew Cassandra would want one too. She went to the same bar every Friday after work with Lisa, so I sent Lisa to Madrid for an in-person meeting. It could have easily been done over Zoom, but tonight, I wanted Cassandra to myself—no distractions, no excuses.

I left the office fifteen minutes early and reached the bar before her. I ordered a scotch on the rocks and found a table that offered a clear view of the bar. I spoke to the bartender, instructing him to charge her drink to my room, whatever she ordered.

A few minutes later, she arrived, slipping gracefully onto a barstool and ordering an espresso martini. The bartender charged it to my room and walked away without a word. I watched her glance around, a small crease of curiosity on her brow. She looked around, her phone in her hand, not sure who her benefactor was. Perfect.

She looked stunning, completely unaware of how many eyes were drawn to her. Her white blouse and dark skirt stopped just above her knees, and her black suede pumps gave her an elegance that was impossible to ignore. She wasn't dressed to impress, yet everyone was impressed. That quiet allure—powerful, smart, and beautifully understated—was all hers.

I texted her. You look amazing.

I watched as she read it, her lips parting slightly. She stared at the screen, her fingers still as if weighing whether to respond. Her phone lit up.

Who are you? she replied, her gaze fixed on the message.

Shhh. No talking. I replied.

The message lingered on her screen as she stared, deciding, I assumed, if she should respond or obey.

I stood and walked over to her.

She turned as I approached, and our eyes met. She didn't look shocked or uncertain. She looked at me, lips parting to speak, but I shot her a stern look. She understood. She'd been told not to talk, and she obeyed. Such a good girl.

"Come." I turned and started towards the lift. She followed without a word, walking just behind me as we moved through the bar, her presence the only thing I was aware of. I pressed the lift button and kept my eyes forward, not looking at her until the elevator arrived.

"After you," I said, glancing down to her lips before I stepped in beside her. We were finally alone. Her breathing had already quickened, her excitement tangible. I leaned slightly closer, not enough to touch her, but enough to feel her body respond, trembling with the anticipation of what was to come.

I pressed the button. Floor 9.

The lift climbed, her breaths becoming softer, heavier. I could feel her anticipation building, each moment thick with tension. As the doors slid open, I stepped out and held the door for her. I led her down the hallway to my room, opened the door, and gestured her inside.

"Please, come in."

She stepped in, hesitating just a moment before moving past the threshold. I closed the door, and she turned, a flicker of awareness crossing her face as if she suddenly realised where she was and what she'd agreed to.

I circled her slowly, taking in every detail. She stood perfectly still, her eyes never leaving mine, silently pleading for me to continue. To take her.

"Tonight, you belong to me. You will please me. I will use you, and in return, I will be yours," I said, holding her gaze. "You will address me as 'Sir.' You are free to leave whenever you want, and if you're uncomfortable, use the word 'red.' Understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

I smiled. "Good girl."

I ran the back of my hand along her face, moving a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She trembled beneath my touch, but her eyes stayed locked on mine. As my hand reached her shoulder, I gently pressed her down, guiding her to her knees. She followed, sinking gracefully to the floor, her hands at her sides, eyes upturned.

"Show me your wrists," I commanded.

Without hesitation, she held her wrists together, extending them before her. I removed my belt and wrapped it around her wrists, binding her but leaving her freedom intact. She didn't flinch, didn't use her safe word. Her whole body was relaxed, ready to surrender.

I lifted her to her feet, brushing my hand along her cheek as I did. Her pulse quickened under my touch, her breath shallow, her eyes heavy-lidded with need. I wanted to taste her, to press her against me and feel her submit, but I forced myself to hold back.

I removed my tie and gently wrapped it around her eyes, blocking out the room, forcing her to rely on me. Her breaths grew heavier, but she remained silent. I traced my fingers over her hair, letting them drift down her back, a touch so light it was barely there, yet enough to make her shiver.

I reached her hips and brushed a hand along her curves, resisting the urge to grab her and pull her against me. Slowly, I trailed my fingers along the back of her legs, feeling her shift as her breathing quickened. She parted her legs instinctively, her body bending ever so slightly, her mind already surrendering, knowing I was close.

I moved my hand up the inside of her thigh, my fingers brushing the dampness of her panties. She gasped softly, her body pressing toward my touch, but I withdrew, my fingers lingering just far enough away to make her wait.

Then I stepped back, sitting on the bed, watching her, savouring her form, the way her breath came fast, her body alive with need.

And I made her wait.