Pleasure doing Bussiness (Whip 3) ✔️ SAMPLE

Chapter 3

MICHAEL

Dear Master,

Why are you doing this to me? Why are you ignoring my letters?

Is it because of her, that long-nailed, blond bitch I saw you leave the club last night with? Did you play with her?

What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier? Slimmer? Is it her hair?

I can change if that's what you want... I could lose weight, or dye my hair... I'll do anything, anything you want Master.

All I want, all I've ever wanted was to please you... Please...

Please, Master, don't do this... Don't make me do something we'll both regret... All you have to do is reach out and I'll be yours, forever...

Your Slave, Kira

I put down the piece of pink paper, running my hands over my face as Kira's words swim behind my closed eyes.

The all-too-familiar dread is steadily brimming beneath my skin as I curse myself for being so stupid.

I keep thinking about that month I've spent with the girl, and how excited I've been in the beginning. She had been new in the Club; a recently approved member and the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.

All she had to do was bat her eyes once in my direction and I was on her in a second. We spent that night together, and almost every night after it, me letting go for the first time in my life and actually feeling something after the act.

But then, about a month into the relationship, it started; the checking-ins, the jealousy, the hysterical phone calls in the middle of the night.

I tried to assure her that there was nothing to worry about and that I only had eyes for her, but I soon grew tired of her antics and ended the relationship when she caused a scene in the Club so big, that people still laughed behind my back at the memory of it.

So, I broke up with her and thought that that would be the end of it, but I was wrong. The midnight calls persisted, followed by a barrage of text messages, and then finally letters came once I had changed my phone number.

The one I'm currently holding in my hands is the latest of them, full of nonsensical blubbering.

The sound of the knocker falling against the door suddenly echoes through the house pulling me out of my thoughts, and I stand up with a heavy sigh and start to make my way to the front door.

I check my appearance in the mirror hanging on the wall next to the door, frowning at the big purplish marks underneath my eyes, noticing that my hair is in disarray from how much I've been running my hands through it.

I try to fix it as fast as I can, unable to do anything about the bags under my eyes, until the knocker sounds off again.

I give up at that point and grab the handle, schooling my face into a welcoming mask in the process, which is a good thing, since the moment I open the door, my stomach flips at the sight that greets me.

Standing on the other side is a very tall, blond man, with a look of irritation written plainly across his face.

His pronounced jaw is tense, so sharp that it looks like it could cut through steel. His eyes are cold, pale-blue orbs, so intense that they send shivers running down my back.

I internally frown at my strange reaction and shake myself before putting a welcoming smile on my face.

"You must be Niklas. Thank you for coming, my name is Michael." I say as I offer my hand for the man to shake.