Ophelia’s fingers tightened around the edges of the contract, her eyes locked on the damning clause.
Secret mistress.
The words blurred as fresh humiliation crashed over her.
She stood completely naked in the shadowed VIP suite, one arm crossed tightly over her boobs, the other still clutching the papers.
The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, her nipples already pebbled, her thighs pressed together instinctively.
Every second made her feel smaller, more degraded.
This was not the powerful Dr. Ophelia Cater who commanded research labs.
This was a desperate woman who had just sold her dignity to save her father.
Tristan watched her in silence, his pale grey eyes dark with quiet satisfaction.
“So which one are you interested in?” He asked as he rose from the chair and stepped around the desk, closing the distance with slow, measured strides.
He stopped inches away, towering over her.
“The compensation… Or being my mistress?” Ophelia swallowed hard looking up to him.
“I…I…” she was speechless, how could she become the mistress of Nicholas’s best friend not after pleading with Nicholas to make her I stress in Tristan’s presence.
“This isn’t fair Tristan..” she cried out and he smirked.
“Fair… we never have any connection and you want me to help like that when even the love of your life for seven years couldn’t.”
“Tri..” Without a word, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a pair of sleek metal handcuffs.
The click as he opened them sounded deafening in the quiet room.
“I have no time for more words hands behind your back,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.
Ophelia’s breath hitched.
“Tristan… please. This is humiliating enough.” Her cheeks burned, but the look on Tristan gave her that look of anger that she weirdly couldn’t contain, and she swallowed hard as she accepted her fate.
She slowly obeyed, turning and placing her wrists behind her as he walked toward her back.
The cold metal snapped shut around them with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.
Now fully restrained and naked, she felt even more exposed, her boobs pushed forward, her body completely at his mercy.
Tristan’s hands began their slow exploration.
He started at her shoulders, palms sliding down her arms, then around to cup her boobs fully.
He rested his head on her shoulder and his hands roamed around her boobs.
She could hear the relieved sigh from him as he kneaded them deliberately, thumbs circling her sensitive nipples until they hardened into tight peaks.
Ophelia bit her lip, fighting back a whimper.
His touch was unhurried, teasing her without mercy.
“Tri… Tristan..”
“Being a mistress means… You are doing what I want and how I want.. Refuse me one more time and trust me your father will rot in jail forever.” She swallowed hard at this.
She could only close her eyes in humiliation as she let him proceed.
One hand drifted lower, tracing the curve of her waist, over her hips, and between her thighs.
He stroked her slick folds lightly, barely grazing her clit, pulling away every time her hips twitched forward.
“Tri..”
“You’re already wet,” he murmured, almost clinical.
“Desperate little doctor.”
Ophelia’s face flamed hotter.
Tears of embarrassment pricked her eyes.
“Don’t… don’t say it like that. I signed for my father, not for this.”
Tristan ignored her protest.
He guided her down to her knees on the thick carpet, her cuffed hands forcing her back to arch.
From this angle, she was eye-level with the bulge straining against his trousers.
“You don’t have to say a word.. Do what I want or pissed me off and you will make you regret it..” She could only nod her head.
There he used the tie from his suit to cover her eyes, as he slowly tied it.
Then he unzipped slowly, freeing his thick, hard cock.
It stood plump and intimidating before her face.
“Pleasure me,” he commanded flatly.
“Use that pretty mouth.”
Ophelia stared up at him through the blindfold, humiliation twisting in her chest.
Her father was being released because of this man, but the price felt heavier with every second.
Still, she leaned forward, as she traced his trousers up until she grabbed the… slowly her tongue tentatively licking along his length.
Tristan’s hand fisted gently in her hair, guiding but not forcing.
She took him into her mouth slowly, sucking and swirling her tongue as best she could with her hands bound.
The position made her feel utterly submissive naked, cuffed, on her knees servicing the cold man who had watched her earlier breakdown.
Tristan remained mostly silent, only letting out occasional low breaths.
His hips rocked subtly, pushing deeper into her warm mouth.
Ophelia’s jaw ached, saliva dripping down her chin, but she continued licking, sucking, hollowing her cheeks.
Her own body betrayed her as heat pooled between her thighs, her clit throbbing from the earlier teasing.
She was mortified by how aroused she felt despite everything.
After several long minutes, she pulled back slightly, lips glistening.
“Tristan… please,” she whispered, voice hoarse and pleading.
“I did what you wanted. Will you… Tell me it’s enough for now?”
He looked down at her with those detached grey eyes.
His hand stroked her cheek almost gently, then he pulled her back onto his cock, fucking her mouth with slow, controlled thrusts.
Ophelia moaned around him, the vibration drawing a rare grunt from him.
Her knees burned against the carpet, her shoulders strained from the cuffs, but she kept going desperate to fulfill the contract, desperate for any sign of approval.
Tristan’s breathing grew slightly heavier.
His grip tightened in her hair as he pushed deeper, hitting the back of her throat.
Ophelia’s eyes watered, a mix of embarrassment and reluctant pleasure making her head spin.
She was dripping wet now, aching for relief, her body trembling with need.
Just as his thrusts became more insistent and she thought he might finish, Tristan suddenly pulled out of her mouth.
He tucked himself back into his trousers with calm efficiency, leaving her kneeling there lips swollen, chin wet, chest heaving.
“Enough,” he said coldly, stepping back.
Ophelia blinked up at him in disbelief, frustration surging through her.
“What? You can’t just… stop.” Her voice cracked with humiliated need.
The denial left her body throbbing painfully, nerves alight with both her disorder and raw arousal.
Tristan reached behind her and unlocked the handcuffs.
He tossed them onto the desk and pulled out her blindfold”Get dressed and leave.
Your father will be released as promised.”
Ophelia rose on shaky legs, her entire body flushed with embarrassment and unfulfilled desire.
She quickly gathered her clothes, hands trembling as she dressed under his watchful, indifferent gaze.
The fabric felt rough against her oversensitive skin.
She felt used, toyed with, and utterly defeated.
As she reached the door, she glanced back once.
Tristan was already lighting another cigarette, back turned to her as if she no longer existed.
Ophelia slipped out into the hallway, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.
The walk to the elevator felt endless, every step a reminder of what she had just done and what she had become.