Hyland's Property

by Felicity Brandon

  “I’m tired.” I wanted to lift my hand and rub my temples, but that wasn’t an option. “Sir.”

  He still insisted I use the overinflated title for him, and somehow, I was heady each time I did—even though it was bullshit. Hilary Mantle didn’t take orders from any man. She was no one’s slave, yet my reality begged to differ. I had been torn from the life I’d known, forced into virtual nudity, save for the collar he insisted I wear around my neck like some sort of animal and the cuffs he often demanded at my wrists and ankles. Nothing about me was vaguely reminiscent of the woman I had been, and still, he talked about marriage as though it was the obvious choice for a woman kidnapped and chained in this dark place.

  “Things will be different soon.” His voice floated past me, surreal to a point, I wondered if I’d been drugged again. Maybe he was slipping something into the water he offered, something to calm and placate me. Something that kept the defiance at bay every time he humiliated me further. “Better.”

  “Better how?” In some ways, I didn’t know why I asked. Things had to get better than this, didn’t they? There had to be a life beyond these four black walls. If I truly didn’t believe that I’d have gone insane by now, wouldn’t I?

  Sanity.

  That was an interesting question, all things considered.

  Perhaps I had lost my mind already, and that was why I was so placid? Maybe he wasn’t sedating me at all. Insanity was always portrayed as violent lunacy, but who was to say it had to be? I always had to do things differently. I wore bright pinks when goths were in fashion, and I refused to listen to the tripe they called modern music. I was my own woman... at least, I used to be. If I was losing my marbles, it would stand to reason this was how I’d behave.

  “Better when we’re man and wife.”

  Not this again. My hands balled into fists, my fingernails cutting into my skin. Why was he always banging the marriage drum? Marriage was not going to save us. For God’s sake, years of intensive therapy might not even be enough.

  “Will I have to stay here then, Sir?” I’d already learned there was little point in countering him. My fiery outbursts only led to more punishments concocted by his dark and devious mind. There seemed no limit to what he could conjure, no end to the depravity he would pour over me. “Once we’re married.”

  Sean moved into my line of sight, his blue eyes alight with emotion, though it was impossible to say which. His moods seemed to swing between anger, resentment, and unbridled lust.

  “No.” He pressed his hands down either side of the chair I was chained to, the sinews in his forearms visible from the shadows. “No, once you’re legally mine, things will change. We’ll get a place together.”

  I gazed up at his pensive stare. A place together? Was he fucking serious? It didn’t matter how good the sex was—I wasn’t staying around to be his little wife! No man in the world was worth all this shit. I had a life out there somewhere. Friends I missed, a job I liked, and a boss I’d been happy fucking, then one day, Sean Hyland came along and made it all disappear. Poof—just like that.

  “Oh.” In the end, there was nothing else to say, nothing that would make a difference—nothing that would take away the pain of the stark reality. Sean had held me for God knew how long, treated me in the basest ways, and for some fucked-up reason, I’d responded. Hell, I’d even been stupid enough to tell him how being on my hands and knees made me feel—what on earth was wrong with me?

  “When, Sir? When will we marry?”

  His grin widened, revealing that pearl-white line of teeth, like someone on a dental hygiene advert.

  “I’m glad you asked.” He tilted his head at me. “It’s nice to see you a little keener about the idea.”

  I blinked at him, uncertain how to respond. I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to laugh at his arrogant response—at the assumption, I suddenly chose him, that I sought this ridiculous union. What I craved was his electrifying caress, the knot of energy that twisted whenever he commanded me to debase myself for him again. I hated to admit it, but the approval in his tone and the satisfaction in his eyes were my drivers. I had no desire to become his wife, or anyone else’s, but if it was what I had to do to get the hell out of this debilitating limbo, I had reconciled myself to the idea. I would be his wife. To get out of this hellhole, to get away from his clutches, I would do whatever I had to do.

  “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought,” I whispered into his chin. “Maybe it will be for the best.”

  “Oh, it will be.” He grinned at the answer he wanted to hear. “You will make such a beautiful bride. Just wait until you see the dress I have chosen for you.”

  Anxiety churned in my belly at what that might mean, but there was little time to dwell on it. He was already undoing the leather at my left wrist, releasing me from the chair I’d been strapped to in the gloom. My breathing accelerated as he liberated my second wrist, relief at my freedom mingling with apprehension about what was to come. Sean only ever set me free for one reason, and that was erotic torment. At first, I’d been worried he’d go back on his word and take what he wanted from me by force, but time had proven those fears to be ill-founded.

  Sean, it seemed, had no intention of violating me. His endeavor was all about my anguish. He degraded me, knowing I would revel in the acts he compelled, yet since that first night in the basement at Hyland’s headquarters, he’d never let me come again. He whipped up my desire to within an inch of lucidity and left me hanging, taking me to the edge over and over and never satisfying. It was captivating in all the wrong ways.

  “Down on your knees.” He rose to his full height, gesturing toward the floor, and like the well-trained animal I’d become, I complied, lifting myself from the seat, which had become my captor for so long, and sinking to my knees. “Good. It’s time to continue your training.”

  I glanced down at his shoes, every muscle in my body tensing at his warning. We’d started this so-called training a while ago, and now kissing his feet seemed like the best of an undeniably hot yet unbelievably awful selection. I’d lowered myself to feed his desires, and the worst of it was I fucking loved it. My clit throbbed at the haunting memories, just as it pulsed at the nefarious glint in his eyes.

  “Now...” His voice boomed around me, like the thunderous roar of God. “Where did we get to?”

  I exhaled, loathing this part the most. Acting out the insane and debauched things he asked was one thing, but having to talk about them—vocalize them—was debilitating.

  “Y-You were teaching me how to be a good wife.” My face flamed, hating how pathetic I sounded, yet already aware of the pang of longing between my legs. “Preparing me.”

  “Oh, yes.” Sean chuckled. “So, we have covered daily devotion. You know I expect you to kiss and lick my feet.”

  I gulped at the way he made that sound, recalling how much I despised and adored the act he referred to. I hated feet, always would, but humbling myself for his enjoyment was something I relished.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “What next, I wonder?” He lowered to his haunches, capturing my chin between his thumb and index finger. “How else should a wife serve her husband?”

  There it was—the query he always asked, already knowing how I was instructed to respond. “However you tell her, Sir.”

  “Very good.” He stroked my chin idly. “You have been paying attention.” Rising to his feet, he strode to a table at the far wall. In the darkness, it was impossible to see what was on there, but the thing was always laden with implements designed to make me suffer. I held my breath, knowing whatever he chose would signal my imminent fate.

  “Here we are.” He held a black item aloft, and it took a second for my eyes to determine what it was, my stomach clenching when the gag finally came into view. It was black, just like the ball gag he’d shoved in my mouth all those times, but this one was different. The front was flat aside from a few black ridges, but as he spun it around, I could see the other side was a black
dildo, about three inches in length, smooth, black plastic.

  “A good wife is silent.” He winked at me. “She knows her place, and where is that, Hilary?”

  “At her husband’s feet, Sir.” I didn’t believe a word, but boy, did it turn me on to feign it. This was what he wanted, but I got off on it as well.

  “That’s right.” He smiled, waving the gag in front of my eyes, but his approving tone was enough to quell the unease, to make it all worthwhile. “Quiet, subservient, and on her knees.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sean

  SHE WAS FUCKING FLAWLESS. I had sensed it right from that first coffee stain, but kneeling there, labored breaths, great tits, and wide eyes, Hilary proved it all over again. I had spent the best part of the last four days bringing her to heel. Taking only essential meetings and delegating most other tasks, I probably wasn’t doing the Hyland name justice, but at the moment, my focus was blinkered. It didn’t matter what I was doing, who I was talking to, or what shit I was trying to sort. In my mind’s eye, all I could see was the reverence in her gaze when I had her right on the edge, all I could taste was the flavor of her skin, the palate of her perfect pussy juices on my tongue, and all I could hear were her muffled cries and the scintillating way she begged for release I would never allow.

  Keeping Hilary so close to hedonism was proving a potent technique. I kept her bound for the most part, to a degree, because I simply adored the bondage but also because it was the only way I could guarantee she wasn’t playing with her pretty cunt, satiating those flames in my absence. I licked my lips at just how tightly wound my bride-to-be was. I’d noticed over the last couple of days, she’d become all the more willing to play my devilish games, desperate as she was for release. For some foolish reason, she seemed to be under the impression I might take pity on her, when in truth, all I planned to do was play and tease her, ensuring I emptied my cum all over her eager tongue, tits, or arse.

  “There will be plenty of times in our married life when I have work responsibilities.” I ruffled her hair playfully. “I’m sure you understand.” She ought to, based on her previous work experience.

  Her gaze rose momentarily. “Yes, Sir.”

  “At those times, you will be expected to serve me but will need to remain silent and passive.”

  She inhaled with a slight nod. Being quiet and submissive were traits Hilary had practiced a lot lately.

  “For example, I might have an important business meeting, but obviously, as a devoted husband, I would not want to leave you, so...” I arched my eyebrow at her. “I might gag you and have you perform the role of my personal footrest for the duration of the conference.”

  Her lips parted at my suggestion, her face blanching.

  “A footrest, Sir?” Her voice quivered, demonstrating her evident trepidation.

  “To begin with,” I agreed. “We would graduate to a table, but not straight off the bat. We wouldn’t want you spilling all those drinks, would we?” Wide, blue eyes stared in my direction as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “I asked you a question, Hilary,” I prompted.

  “No, Sir,” she answered at once. “But how could I possibly be a table? I wouldn’t be able to move at all?”

  “Pretty much,” I concurred with a grin. “The secret is a nice flat, tabletop. That’s what you need to master, what the footrest exercise is good for, and that’s why we begin the learning today. I wouldn’t want you showing me up in front of all my associates.” I winked at her, relishing the burning hue that colored her face as if I’d commanded it. Even in the shadows, her embarrassment resonated. Hilary blushed with such blissful ease. It was wonderful. “You will drink before we begin.”

  Turning from her, I wandered the short distance to the small refrigerator in the corner and took out her bowl and a bottle of water. I flicked on a small corner spotlight, enough illumination to enjoy the look of Hilary, but not enough to indulge her. This was a temporary place for us, a stylish enough penthouse I could rent while we waited for the wedding and before we found somewhere more permanent. I’d had this room decorated with sensory deprivation in mind and had moved her in straight away. Constantly warm, it was decked out with security cameras at every angle, so I could keep a close eye on her, even when I had to leave, but more than that, it was safe. Most of my own men didn’t know she was here, let alone anyone else, which meant I didn’t have to worry about Morrison turning up for an unexpected rescue attempt.

  “Here you go.” I paced back to the place she knelt, her knees parted, just the way I’d taught her, revealing a gleaming pussy, and bit back the smile that rose at the sight. Even now, under all the erotic duress I could muster, she was fabulously turned on, and I knew if I swept a finger over her pussy, I’d find out for myself. Placing the metallic bowl on the ground in front of her, I opened the bottle and emptied half of the contents into it before taking a step back and draining the remainder. I’d never been an avid fan of pet play, but I did so enjoy degrading her, and the expression on her face made the whole thing worthwhile.

  “Drink up.”

  She sighed. “But I’m no good at this, Sir. Remember what a mess I made before?”

  “Yes, I do recall.” I sniggered at the recollection. “That’s why you earned yourself a good, hard spanking and also why I have decent hard flooring in here.”

  Hilary met my gaze, her countenance forlorn.

  “But you still want me to do it again, Sir?”

  Why was she even asking? Wasn’t it abundantly clear what I expected?

  “Of course,” I replied with glee. “We do not improve unless we practice, do we?”

  “No, Sir.” Her expression crumbled further as the realization of what awaited came crashing down.

  “Come on, then,” I goaded. “Get to it. Lap with your tongue like a good little animal, and maybe I won’t make you finish the whole bowl before I gag you.”

  A glimmer of emotion sparkled in her gaze, but the old pride and defiance weren’t among them. It seemed a few days in my care had done almost enough to stifle them completely. Now Hilary was almost as desperate to please as she was to come. She lowered her head to the bowl and lapped admirably at the contents, but inevitably, little of the liquid made it past her lips. Naturally, it wasn’t her fault, human tongues were hardly designed for the purpose, but it was enormously delectable to witness, my cock straining to be free of the attire that confined it. I crouched beside her, pulling back the length of her tresses which gravity had taken into the water.

  “Very pretty, Hilary. You make a delightful pet.”

  Her face flamed at the compliment, but she didn’t stop, her tongue continuing its humiliating hunt into the bowl as she tried, largely futilely, to consume as much as she could.

  “Enough.” The one word brought events to a halt. “Crawl to my comfy chair. It’s time you were useful once more.”

  Her focus flitted to the corner, which housed the large comfortable chair, and the only portion of the room that was carpeted, and slowly, she began to move, sliding one hand in front of one knee as her tortuous crawl went on. I strode ahead of her, clutching the gag, and ensured I was seated by the time she arrived.

  “No lesson in silence is complete without a gag.” I lifted the black plastic into the air above her head. “Present your mouth for the purpose.”

  There was reticence at first, an obvious reluctance to open her mouth and submit to the gag, and I could understand why. Hilary had just about come to terms with the ball gag, but this thing was something else. The dildo part would ensure there was no chance of mumbling around the plastic. Its plastic shaft would fit snugly down her throat for the entirety of the lesson.

  “If you keep me waiting, I might consider leaving the gag in place when I leave...” My brow rose with threat, and quick as a flash, her lips parted enough for me to slide the end of the plastic past them. “Better,” I snapped. “Now, relax, and let it in. Fighting will only make things w
orse.”

  Panic pinballed in her eyes as I pulled the straps into place on either side of her head, and by the time I fastened it in place, her breathing was ragged.

  “Calm,” I reminded her, leaning back to take in the view. Her lips were stretched wide around the rim of the gag, the front part fitted with special features, which meant other adaptions could be locked into place. My arousal soared as I imagined the cup holder or various other functions she could serve while being gagged this way. “Making yourself choke around the thing won’t do you any favors. As you can tell, it’s not long enough to do you any harm, only to keep that mouth full and silent.” I waited a moment for her to settle and a sweet look of resignation to fall over her face.

  “Good,” I praised. “Now, onto all fours in front of me.” I spread my legs wide, offering her the space she needed to crawl into place, and with one terrified glance in my direction, she complied. “All you need to do now is stay exactly where you are.” I grinned, lifting one, then the other leg into place on her back. I was careful to ensure I moved gently, and it was my calves rather than my heels that grazed her delicate flesh. I was exactly where I needed to be—sitting comfortably after a long day of work, using my gagged and naked woman as a footrest. Smiling, I tilted my head back in the high-backed chair.

  Everything was going to plan. The wedding was booked for next Thursday, a small affair where Zander’s personal friend, Olly, a qualified registrar, would perform the legal ceremony. My lawyer had been in touch to confirm the appropriate paperwork would all be ready by then, and of course, the gracious Miss Mantle would be signing away her rights to my money at the same time she signed the marriage certificate. That’s all she’d be doing with her hands, though. They’d be shackled most of the day in the beautiful ivory chains I’d ordered. They matched the rest of her skimpy outfit perfectly, where every inch of the woman I now owned would be on display, and naturally, I purchased a wonderful white ballgag, collar, and veil for the purpose.