The black dress arrived at exactly 8:00 AM.
Ophelia stared at the elegant box for nearly twenty minutes before opening it.
The fabric was luxurious, midnight blue, with a high slit and a back so low it would expose almost everything.
She spent the rest of the day in quiet dread, visiting her father briefly at the private facility.
He was grateful but still shadowed by worry that the company remained locked down, assets frozen, and the core charges against him were far from resolved.
Tristan had only bought them temporary air.
By 8:45 PM, Ophelia stood in front of the mirror, completely bare beneath the dress.
The silk brushed teasingly against her nipples and the sensitive skin between her thighs with every step.
She felt naked even while dressed.
A black luxury car was already parked in front of her apartment as the car took her to Tristan’s penthouse.
The elevator ride to the top floor made her stomach twist with anxiety and unwanted anticipation.
The doors opened into the sprawling, minimalist space.
Tristan stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, whiskey in hand, his pale grey eyes immediately locking onto her.
“Turn around,” he commanded quietly, not even giving her the moment to speak.
Ophelia obeyed, cheeks already burning.
She felt his gaze like a physical touch as she slowly rotated, showing him the plunging back of the dress and the way the slit revealed the smooth skin of her thigh.
Tristan set his glass down and approached from behind.
His fingers traced her exposed spine, slo, sending shivers racing across her skin.
“No underwear,” he murmured, satisfied.
“Good girl.”
His hand slipped through the high slit of the dress, cupping her bare pussy possessively.
Ophelia gasped, her knees nearly buckling.
Two of his fingers stroked her folds lazily, spreading the wetness that had already gathered despite her humiliation.
“You are soaked,” he observed, voice low and detached.
“After everything Nicholas did to you, you still get this wet for me.”
Before she could respond, he guided her toward a wide leather chaise near the windows.
He pushed her down onto it on her back, the dress falling open at the slit.
From a hidden drawer in the side table, he retrieved a sleek black vibrator and a small bottle of lube.
Ophelia’s eyes widened.
“You are my mistress and you do what I want,” he grumbled as he ignored her, spreading her legs wider and pressing the vibrator against her clit.
The toy buzzed to life on a low setting, sending immediate sparks of pleasure through her body.
She bit her lip hard, fighting back a moan as he held it there, circling slowly.
Her phone suddenly rang on the chaise beside her.
The screen lit up with Nicholas.
Tristan’s eyes flicked to the screen, a faint smirk touching his lips.
He didn’t stop the vibrator.
Instead, he increased the intensity.
“Answer it,” he ordered.
Ophelia stared at him in shock, her body already trembling from the relentless buzzing against her swollen clit.
“I can’t… not like this…”
“Answer it,” he repeated, colder this time, pressing the toy harder against her.
“Or I stop everything and your father goes back to prison tomorrow.”
With shaking fingers, Ophelia picked up the phone, trying desperately to steady her voice as waves of unwanted pleasure rolled through her.
“Hello?” she answered, breathy and strained.
“Ophelia,” Nicholas’s familiar voice came through, smooth and mocking.
“I heard your old man got out on some miracle bail. Interesting timing. You must have sold your soul to someone.”
Tristan chose that moment to slide the vibrator lower and push it inside her, just an inch, then out again, teasing her entrance mercilessly.
Ophelia’s free hand flew to her mouth, stifling a whimper.
“I… I don’t know what you are talking about,” she managed, voice tight.
The toy buzzed deeper now as Tristan slowly fucked her with it, his grey eyes watching her face intently.
Nicholas laughed softly.
“Liora and I were just talking about you. How does it feel knowing I chose her over your broken, scandal-stained ass?”
The words cut deep, but the vibrator buzzing against her G-spot made it impossible to focus.
Ophelia’s hips twitched involuntarily, chasing the pleasure even as tears of humiliation filled her eyes.
Tristan’s other hand moved to her breast, pinching her nipple through the thin fabric of the dress, rolling it between his fingers.
“I have to go,” Ophelia choked out.
“Well… I am going to do you a bit of a favor now… I accept you being my mistress..”
“Wh… what?” she forced out in shock, she can’t believe that the one she loves in seven years could just say that to her without thinking twice.
Tristan suddenly turned the vibrator to its highest setting and pressed it firmly against her clit while thrusting it in and out of her.
Ophelia’s back arched, a broken moan escaping before she could stop it.
“Hello..” he called out.
“What is going on with you?” he asked but she quickly ended the call, throwing the phone aside as tears spilled down her cheeks.
The combination of Nicholas’s cruel words and Tristan’s relentless teasing pushed her right to the edge.
“Please…” she begged, voice shaking with embarrassment and need.
“Tristan, I am so close… Please let me come this time.”
Tristan watched her with that same cold, assessing gaze.
He kept the toy moving inside her, perfectly stroking the spot that made her thighs tremble.
Her dress was bunched around her waist now, her body fully exposed to him as she writhed on the chaise.
Just as her climax began to crest, her walls clenching desperately around the vibrator, Tristan pulled it away completely.
Ophelia cried out in frustration, her body throbbing painfully with denied release.
She lay there panting, legs spread, tears streaming down her face, the black dress ruined and twisted around her.
Tristan calmly switched off the toy and placed it back in the drawer.
“Get dressed properly,” he said, already turning away.
“And go home. I will summon you when I want you again.”
Ophelia sat up slowly, body shaking with unfulfilled arousal and deep humiliation.
The ache between her legs was almost unbearable.
Nicholas’s mocking voice still echoed in her ears, mixing with the fresh degradation of what Tristan had just done to her.
“What? This isn’t..”
“You are not to question my authority, woman! Get out!” His words broke her into pieces, as she bit her lip in tears.
“Alright..”
She adjusted the dress with trembling hands, the silk now damp against her skin, and headed toward the elevator without another word.
Tristan didn’t even look at her as she left.