Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Master of Desire, Slave to Lust ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ.
 
Master of Desire, Slave to Lust
Chapter Seven
 
Bulma stared out into the sea of people who surrounded her. She felt alone, separated from the crowd, distant. Past the familiar faces of her peers she could see the paparazzi circling the edges of the party like hungry sharks looking for their next meal. They clutched their cameras to their chests, longing for the one photo that would make them famous. She grimaced and turned away, reaching for another glass of champagne to help quell the migraine that she felt nagging at the back of her brain.
 
She adjusted the strap to her black cocktail dress, carefully making sure that everything was in place. The last thing she needed was to end up the newest headline scandal because her clothes were in disarray. She didn't want to add her face to the list of celebrities that had fallen out and earned themselves some quality news time. She found it distasteful that they felt they had to prance around in nearly nothing to get the attention they craved. She wanted to be noticed for her hard work and her genius, not because she had a killer body. She already knew she was gorgeous. She smiled smugly to herself as she patted her hair into place. She just didn't need it splashed on the front page of some rag for everyone to see.
 
Besides, as the CEO of a major, world-wide corporation, she was expected to maintain a certain veneer of imposing sophistication, something she had failed horribly at as a teenager. Several appearances of her naked body on the front pages of magazines because she was bathing naked in a stream while romping around the wilderness with Goku had taught her that. She was under constant surveillance, the hazard of her life. No matter how secluded she thought she was, there was always a predator lurking nearby.
 
She set her crystal flute down on the table, sighing deeply. She hated going to the numerous public fund raisers and elbow rubbing parties that she was required to attend. They were always draining, both on her pocket book and her patience. As she got older she could barely stand the superficial formalities that she was forced to contend with. Just once she wished she could go up to that bitch Betsy Wiese and tell her that the dress she was wearing was hideous. Instead she smiled until her face was painfully frozen and made small talk.
 
Bulma felt an odd tingle at the back of her neck that she couldn't rub away. She glanced around the crowded room, her pulse racing and her skin heating when she caught sight of the disturbance. Vegeta weaved through the crowd, his dark eyes centered only on her as he stalked closer. He moved gracefully, circling around the people as easily as a panther slipped through the jungle. He wore dark dress pants and a wine silk shirt that was open at the collar to display his bronze throat. Bulma licked her suddenly dry lips, and she saw more than one woman stop talking in mid-sentence to look his way. He ignored them all and watched only her.
 
Fear skittered up her spine, and she instantly knew what it felt like to be a rabbit that had been spotted by a wolf. Her eyes skimmed over the crowd as panic surged in her stomach. She couldn't allow a confrontation in front of all these people with Vegeta. The media would eat her alive.
 
Unnoticed, she slipped away to the back of the party, and through the double doors into the atrium. The humidity of the room hit her like a wave, and small trails of sweat dripped down between her shoulder blades. Thick jungle plants crawled up the walls, and lacy ferns reached out into the tiled pathways. Bulma darted into the foliage, inhaling the sweet smell of orchids in the heavy air.
 
Before she could find the exit, strong arms encircled her, pulling her back into a solid male chest. She stiffened, not out of fear, but out of dread.
 
“Please don't do this here,” she pleaded.
 
“Why?” Vegeta husky voice rippled through her, and her body instantly heated with expectation.
 
“Because if I leave here looking ravished, the media will crucify me.”
 
Vegeta chuckled in her ear. The raspy sound cocooned her in dark velvet, tantalizing her flesh and puckering her nipples under her gown. With a tug he led backwards to an unknown destination.
 
“Ravished. That's a woman's word. I preferred utterly fucked.”
 
She swallowed hard, refusing to look behind her. Vegeta stopped, pulling her hips into his. She could feel the thickness of his arousal through the thin nylon of her dress, and her already rapidly beating heart began to race faster. He dipped his head to nuzzle the back of her neck, and his warm breath danced over her sensitive skin.
 
He slid his hands down her thighs, his fingers playing with the hem of her short skirt. His hands curled above her knees, dimpling her flesh beneath his fingers. Her dress was so sheer that it felt as though she wore nothing as she stood before him. Slowly, he sat down behind her, his breath tracing the curve of her spine. He pressed a hot kiss in the dip of her lower back as his fingers rode up her thighs, gliding over her smooth flesh.
 
Only Bulma's harsh panting could be heard in the room, along with the tinkling of a nearby fountain. She threw a panicked look at the French doors she had come through, visions of flashing cameras and microphones echoing in her mind.
 
“The doors,” she gasped.
 
“Are locked.”
 
Vegeta pulled her black silk thong down her slender thighs and she stepped out of them automatically. With strong hands at her hips he turned her to face him, tugging her down to straddle his lap. He sat on a wide marble bench, reclining against huge Grecian urn that was as wide as three men.
 
She braced her hands on his wide shoulders, her fingers curling into the folds of his silk shirt. She glanced over at the door once more, before looking down at him for reassurance. The steamy look in his black eyes, instantly heated her blood to the boiling point, and she forgot how to think.
 
He wrapped his arms around her slender body, slowly unzipping her dress from behind. The straps slid off her softly rounded shoulders and down her unbound breasts. He licked his lips, his mouth watering at the thought of tasting her creamy flesh. Even in the sultry climate of the hothouse her nipples hardened wantonly. A testament to how much she wanted him, no matter how much she denied it. He flattened the palms of his hands on her bare back, sliding them sensually towards the nape of her neck.
 
She reared back, her eyes wide with panic.
 
“No! Not the hair.”
 
He pulled back, glaring up at her darkly. His roving hands paused at her shoulders, his fingers pressing deeply into her flesh.
 
“Please don't ruin my hair or makeup.” She looked so alarmed that Vegeta slid his hands away from her neck, and down her back towards the bottom of her spine. She released a pent up breath, relaxing against him.
 
He nuzzled the underside of her chin, swiping her throbbing pulse with his tongue. He wanted to wrench her towards him, and kiss her red lips until she couldn't breathe, but her deep concern for her appearance stopped him.
 
“What is the matter with you, woman?” he growled against her neck, sending fits of shuddering pleasure through her.
 
“You don't understand. As the head of Capsule Corporation, I am expected to maintain a certain amount of decorum at all times. If I walk out of this room with my lipstick smeared and my hair mussed I'll end up on the front page of every news magazine and third class rag in the world. I can practically read the headlines. `Bulma Briefs indulges in brief tryst while a few hundred of her richest peers stand nearby.'
 
As if on queue a loud burst of laughter was heard from the ballroom and Bulma stiffened in his arms. Vegeta huffed discontentedly, his big hand cupping her breast as he did so. He knew what it meant to cultivate appearances. While on Frieza's ship, one wrong rumor could have killed him. Her situation wasn't nearly as dire, but he understood what she was trying to tell him.
 
“You worry too much, woman. No one will find out.” He flicked his thumb over her nipple, smiling when she shuddered in response.
 
“Find out what? That I'm a pervert? That I like playing slave girl with an egotistical alien?”
 
Vegeta smiled against her skin at her absentminded confession that she liked what he did to her. He lifted her up, pressing his mouth against her breasts, lathering them with kisses. She moaned and arched her back while she dug her fingers into his thick hair. Whenever he touched her it felt like sparks of fire dancing down her nerve endings, and when he kissed her it was like fireworks going off in her mind. She didn't know how much longer she could go on fooling herself. She couldn't imagine a life without his burning touch, a life without him.
 
Vegeta followed the curve of her naked spine, reveling in the feel of her satiny skin. She felt finer than any of the expensive fabrics he had been swaddled in as a child, finer than anything he had ever touched in his life. He reached her gown that was bunched around her waist, and he pulled it out of the way so he could cup her bare cheek. He could feel the press of her thighs on either side of his, and he couldn't stop the surge of need that thickened his already pulsing shaft.
 
He lifted her up effortlessly to free his hard cock from the confines of his human clothes, while still wallowing in the bounty of her breasts. Bulma moaned and rubbed herself against him like a kitten demanding to be petted until she purred. He slowly lowered her down onto him, barely containing his groan of satisfaction behind tightly clenched teeth. She was still tense, expecting someone to walk in on them at any moment, but a few well placed kisses on her sensitive breasts, and the brush of his fingers on her clit warmed her body to him.
 
Bulma wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, resting her head under his chin trustingly. He couldn't stop himself from returning her embrace, and held her tightly against his hard chest. Her harsh breathing rang loudly in his ears, brushing his sensitive lobes and making his spine tingle. They clung to each other so completely that he could barely slide her up his shaft so he could thrust into her again.
 
“I won't be your slave Vegeta. I can't risk the scandal,” she breathed shakily, her eyes rolling back from the sensation of pleasure he was building inside of her. She was struggling to contain herself, unwilling to be disappointed yet again.
 
Vegeta fought to string his thoughts together. He was hard pressed to remember that he was there to punish her, to teach her a lesson in obedience. All he wanted was to close his eyes and forget everything. To block out every bad memory he ever had, and only feel the wet, silken glide of her body over his.
 
“Why do you worry so much about other people? In the bedroom there is only you and I. What you are outside that room doesn't matter to me. You can still go on being a bitch in the boardroom and a tyrant in the lab. That doesn't have to change, but when I fuck you, you will belong to only me.”
 
He lifted his hips accentuating his ownership with every thrust of his thick, demanding flesh inside of her body. He wanted to brand her---to mark his as his inside and out.
 
“I can't lose myself.” The riot of pleasure was building inside of her washing her thoughts away in a tidal wave of bliss. She spoke to not only Vegeta, but to herself. She couldn't allow herself to be swept away by him once again.
 
“Would you be losing yourself or finding yourself?” Vegeta buried his face between her breasts, licking the soft skin that he found there. He wanted her to realize that when she was with him, she was truest to herself. He brought out the real woman inside of her, not the genius, the CEO or the beauty queen. When she was with him, her animal nature came to the forefront---a creature that reveled in her sexuality, and recognized him as her alpha male.
 
His hands tightened her bottom, lightly bruising the soft flesh. She responded by clenching her thighs around him, riding him as though she owned him. The animal inside of him stirred, and he ached to claim dominance over her. He almost didn't know if he had the will to stop this time before she came. He realized now that he craved the feeling of her body rippling around him in the throes of ecstasy.
 
“How can I risk everything for a small bit of pleasure?” Her head fell back in abandon, and a soft sob rose up in her throat.
 
“The pleasure that I could give you would fulfill you like no other. Everything that I have shown you so far is but a fraction of my power. Come back with me, and let me show you what heaven looks like to mortal eyes,” Vegeta tempted seductively, praying for the first time in his meager life that she would acquiesce to him.
 
His promise to her was not an idle one. If she gave herself to him, then she would know ultimate pleasure at his hands. And for the first time, he would be able to lose himself. Her scent alone, the aroma of life, was enough to drown out the screams of the dead that echoed in the back of his mind.
 
“Why are you doing this to me, Vegeta?”
 
“Doing what?” His strong hands slid up her pale back that was slick from her sweat. The moisture in the air coated her, and her excitement oozed from her pores. His fingers teased the fine fringe of hair that had fallen lose from her twist and clung to the back of her neck. He was tempted to lay her back and ravage her like she said. He wanted to rip the pins from her hair and run his fingers through it as it fell down around her pale shoulders.
 
“Destroying me,” she sobbed desperately, the pleasure of his touch and the pain of his manipulations tearing at her heart and soul.
 
Vegeta stilled against her, feeling the vibrations of her sorrow at his very core. Her entire body clenched with searing need and cried with agonizing sadness.
 
He was devastated by her words. He sought to free her from the bonds of her own making, to show her the freedom of pleasure. True, he wanted sear his touch onto her flesh and carve his name on her soul. He wanted to possess her as no other had before him, but he did not seek to destroy her. Her vitality was what he found so exciting about her.
 
“If that's how you see it, then I really am wasting my time with you.” Slowly Vegeta untangled himself from her body, setting her gently away from him on the stone bench. She crumpled on the cool rock, unable to look up at the man who tore her apart from the inside out. He stood over her for a few moments, the darkness of his thoughts reflecting on his handsome face. Without a word he turned on his heel and strode away, leaving her desolate and alone.
 
Bulma struggled to keep her tears trapped behind her lids as she stared into the foliage around her. Slowly she pulled her gown back up her body, twisting her arms behind her to zip up the back. She hunted around for her missing panties, sighing heavily when she couldn't find them. For all she knew they could be dangling from a tree limb twenty feet in the air.
 
She smoothed her dress down around her hips and squared her shoulders. She ached between her thighs and she felt empty both there and in her heart. She wished that she could be someone else. For the first time in her life she wished that she wasn't Bulma Briefs, the richest, smartest girl in the world. She wanted to be the girl on the bottom, the one who could go out with her girlfriends, and make love to whomever she wanted. She wanted to be normal.
 
She paused in front of a sweet smelling orchid, its rich violet color drawing her eye. She stared deeply at its center as her thoughts swirled in her head. She was who she was. There was no changing that, but she also had only one life to live. She had to stop living that life for the people around her and start living it for herself. When she was a teenager she had selfishly romped around the world, ignoring her responsibilities to her family, but she had never been as happy as she had been then.
 
As a grown woman, she couldn't ignore those responsibilities, but there was no reason why she couldn't balance them with her own needs. Yes, if people found out that she enjoyed a wild sex life there would be talk, but it would hardly ruin her. After all, she was Bulma Briefs, the richest, smartest girl in the world, and she always landed on top.
 
A large Cheshire cat grin spread on her beautiful face as she strode confidently from the room. Her hips swung seductively as she entered the crowd of her peers. Without a word she weaved her way through them, ignoring numerous hails as she made her way to the coat check. She had someplace to be, and she knew that would be well worth the wait.