“It’ll only take a second,” Forest urged.
The eagerness in his eyes pulled at her heart, but with company coming over, she couldn’t afford to make a mistake.
“I promise, I’ll check it out tomorrow.”
Forest understood even if he didn’t like the answer. The oddity of his mind would allow him to switch on and off with much greater ease than she’d ever accomplished. For that small gift, she envied him. She would need all of the remaining time to get in the right headspace to make it through the night.
“Okay,” he said.
“And you need to make sure you’re prepared, too.”
His mind might be strong, but of the two of them, his body would break before hers.
“Ugh, okay,” he said with a dejected slump of his shoulders. “I’ll get ready.”
“Good.” Elsbeth headed to her room.
With over six thousand feet of living space, conversations would echo and tumble through the house, bouncing off cathedral ceilings, amplifying whispers. The house was composed of three levels. The main floor held the usual suspects—a marble entry foyer, wood-paneled library, formal dining room, and a modern kitchen that opened up to the great room. There was the basement of course, a place where she and Forest spent far too much time. And of course, there was the second floor.
Her room occupied the left wing—a spacious second master living suite with a sitting room adjoining her bedroom, including a walk-in closet and a bathroom with a jetted tub and steam shower.
Forest’s rooms were on the opposite side of the house. He’d been allowed to take over two bedrooms joined by a Jack and Jill bathroom. He would sleep in one bedroom while the other glowed with light from multiple computer monitors.
Neither of them ventured upstairs. In five years, she’d never set foot on the bottom step of the staircase leading up to Clark Preston’s bedroom.
Quickly, she set about the task of removing unwanted leg, pubic, and underarm hair, using a brand-new razor to ensure the smoothest finish. With plenty of time to spare, she made a pass of her room, straightening up. Then, she returned to the foyer and knelt on the first prayer rug.
Forest joined her a few minutes later, taking position behind and to the right of her. “Hey, Elz, you forgot your collar.”
She grabbed at her neck, a moment of panic overtaking her. A quick glance at the clock had her heart thumping.
“I’ll get it,” he said.
She rose and took off down the hall. “No, I’ll get it.”
Was that the throaty roar of the Porsche?
She sprinted back to her room. And where was the collar? It wasn’t in the tray beside her bed or attached to the chain hanging from the headboard. Shit, where had he left it last night? Her search turned frantic as the seconds ticked by, and that was most definitely the garage door rising on its tracks. The rumbly sound transmitted through her wall. Shit!
Elsbeth gave up the search and raced back down the hall. Her bare foot twisted on the corner of the rug, flipping the woven wool over. Crashing to her knees, she assumed the position of greeting moments before the door leading from the garage opened. Forest widened his stance, clasping his hands behind his back and lowering his head, as required. She pressed her palms to the ground and bowed, touching her forehead to her knuckles.
Clark Preston’s dark force rolled across the gap separating her from him and settled with a heavy presence on her shoulders. A dark gray Armani suit brushed the tops of his Salvatore Ferragamo dress shoes, and the firmness of his steps echoed in the expanse of the foyer.
Eleven steps—that was how many it took. Not ten, not twelve, but eleven. The number was precise and had been ingrained in her mind since she the age of twelve.
One…two…three…
Each thunderous sound snapped with the beating of her heart.
“Congratulations,” he said.
Four…five…six…
Her heart beat against the cage of her chest, pumping adrenaline through her veins.
Elsbeth squeezed her eyes shut, packaging up the fragile pieces of her mind and locking them away. She eased her breathing, not daring to show any signs of fear. He would seize upon her weakness and exploit it, and she didn’t need to give him an advantage, not when he held all the cards. This was a war she could not win. A battle of attrition, however, that she would endure.
Eleven came much too quickly, and the polished leather of his shoe brushed her forehead. “Give your daddy a kiss, little one.”
Lifting her head, she brushed the top of his shoe with her lips. The ritual disgusted her, but as Forest had said, this was nothing but a channel of time. She would have to get from this moment to the next and through the one following that. That was the path they would take until morning came.
Survive. That was the goal.
Eventually, Clark Preston would tire and take to his rooms upstairs, and as he retired for the night, she would unlock those parts of herself she’d jealously guarded. All would be right.
If only she could find a way to make Clark Preston disappear forever and not merely for the span of a day…
Revulsion rippled through Elsbeth’s body with the press of her lips against the fine Italian leather of Clark Preston’s shoes. Everything about the man screamed power, control, domination, and terror, especially when he aimed his sick desires upon her and Forest. A rich man, he was deemed a perfect foster father, and the social workers loved that he preferred fostering older children. They saw his firmness as a strength to help troubled teens find their way through the system and into independent living.
In many ways, Forest’s arrival had been both a blessing and a curse. He took pressure off the demands that had been placed upon her, but Clark Preston’s carefully crafted threats would turn her hesitation to eagerness. Whatever it took to draw attention away from the scrawny little boy with perpetual tears in his eyes, she would manage.
And, with those memories swirling to the forefront of her mind, Clark Preston lowered himself into a crouch. As she suppressed a shiver, Elsbeth’s breathing hitched. This wasn’t the usual sequence of events. His slender but unforgiving index finger dug into the soft tissue beneath her jaw, forcing her head up. She lifted her eyes to meet the steel shimmering in his gaze while willing her body not to tremble at his touch.
“Little one,” he said, “you forgot your collar. Tsk, tsk.” The angle of his gaze cut over her shoulder, latching on to Forest standing at rigid attention. “Did you tell Elsbeth that we were having company?”
“Yes, sir.” There was no hesitation in Forest’s voice.
He couldn’t protect her from the mistake. They both knew this, and to lie to Clark Preston was to invite punishment. Enough pain would come without either of them asking for more.
Clark Preston swept the hair off her nape. The flowing long strands brushed the expensive wool of the carpet. His fingers scraped against her skin, pebbling her flesh. “I am not pleased, little one.”
She gritted her teeth. He was never pleased. Perfection was impossible. And forgetting her collar was a nearly unforgivable sin. Begging forgiveness would excite him, and for that reason, she said nothing, not that he’d granted her the right to speak. Her mouth had only one purpose, as far as he was concerned, and it wasn’t to waste time with unnecessary words.
“It’s a shame,” he said with a sigh.
With her vision glittering behind a veil of unshed tears, the crystal of his watch flashed in her periphery.
“Our guests will be here at any moment. Now, my pets, where do you think we should entertain them?”
“I prepared the basement for you and your guests, sir,” Forest said.
They had assigned tasks. Hers was to turn her body into a flawless tableau for Clark Preston’s amusement. Forest’s preparations weren’t as extensive, but he was charged with setting up the basement each night. They would clean up afterward while Clark Preston stumbled upstairs to retire in his rooms.
The one saving grace in both their l
ives lay within the sanctuary of their rooms. For some reason, that space was inviolate. Not that Clark Preston couldn’t call her out on a whim, but he never violated that space. When she was in her room, Elsbeth could relax.
He stood, towering over her, the gravity of his gaze suffocating. She couldn’t look away, not until he gave permission.
His fingers tugged at his belt, loosening the buckle. “Well, my dear, I think ten strikes shall suffice, and then you will find your collar. In fact, just so you don’t lose it again, you won’t remove it for the rest of summer.”
A whimper escaped her, and she nearly did beg. Wearing the collar wasn’t an issue. It was a piece of leather, expensive as hell, and despite what it was used for, the collar was comfortable. It had been the words following his pronouncement that were the most damaging. For the rest of summer—those words sealed her fate. If he intended her to never take it off, there was no way she would be allowed outside.
The things that happened inside these walls never left them, and now, she’d be trapped without escape until the school year began again.
She’d tried once to reach out for help. The first week, when her caseworker had come for the obligatory checkup appointment for the newly placed child, Elsbeth had confided in the woman.
But the woman hadn’t believed.
Instead of removing Elsbeth from the house, the social worker had expressed concerns to Clark Preston. The man was a lawyer with a silky tongue that could charm a snake. He’d convinced the woman that Elsbeth had fabricated the story because the new house intimidated her, and he’d asked if he could have another day to help Elsbeth work through her fears. That was the first time Elsbeth had spent a day immobilized in bed. Needless to say, when the social worker had returned, Elsbeth had retracted her wild story. Her voice had been contrite as she sealed her future.
Ten strikes?
He was letting her off easy, which served to heighten her fear.
What was he saving her for? Who was he saving her for?
Chapter Three
WHILE A LIGHT punishment, ten strikes of his belt hobbled Elsbeth. She limped back to her rooms to search for the collar she would wear for the next three months. School was the one saving grace in life. He couldn’t refuse her attendance. A few tears threatened to fall, but she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Tears were a waste of time, and with each breath, more time would pass.
After a thorough search, the collar was once again wrapped around her neck. It had fallen to the floor during her hasty cleaning spree, hidden between the nightstand and bed. Taking in a deep breath, she once again tucked the more fragile pieces of herself back into the darkest recesses of her mind. A brain vault was what she needed, a place where she could shove all the important pieces of herself and lock them away where they would be safe.
She’d left Forest alone with their foster father for far too long.
It wasn’t hard to locate them. Music played, the soulful deep melody of Hans Zimmer’s “The End” filled the air, setting the mood and lifting the fine hairs at her nape. Clark Preston’s music would change with his sexual appetites. This choice proved worrisome because it placed Forest at the forefront of whatever was to come.
Her bare feet slapped on the travertine tiles of the kitchen. As she moved into the flowing open space of the kitchen and great room combination, the sight of Forest on his knees, harness already attached, confirmed her fears. Clark Preston had begun before his guests arrived. Her anxiety level tripled. He wasn’t a man with great stamina, a blessing she counted many times. That he’d already engaged with Forest meant Clark Preston intended to be more of a spectator later tonight.
She approached the edge of the carpet, feeling the heat of Clark Preston’s gaze settle upon her bare flesh. Lowering to her knees, she assumed the waiting pose, toes tucked under her legs. She sat straight, her attention locked on Clark Preston, so she wouldn’t miss an unspoken command.
Forest faced her, his eyes full with pain. The harness pinched his flesh, and the collar constricted his breathing.
Elsbeth hated her helplessness to stop the abuse. Her palms slickened with sweat, and her gut twisted at the sight of the purplish hue overtaking Forest’s face.
Someday, Clark Preston would go too far. The only thing saving them right now were the mandatory monthly check-ins by the caseworkers, not that he wouldn’t be able to fabricate a story about how an awkward and troubled teen might have taken his life via strangulation.
A shudder rippled through Elsbeth as she counted out the seconds while Clark Preston sodomized her best friend. Forest bore the torment, eyes closed and jaw clenched, while she thought of something, anything, but what Clark Preston was forcing her to watch.
The moment stretched out, time slipping away, time standing still, time flowing with a mind of its own.
But time did pass until, finally, Clark Preston pulled out. With a yank of his trousers, he dressed himself and then sauntered into the kitchen. He’d yet to make eye contact with her, ignoring her as she knelt by the edge of the carpet.
He pulled out his cell phone and swiped at the screen. “Ah, perfect.” His chuckle had her squirming. “Our guests will be here momentarily.” Opening the fridge, he pulled out a beer and popped off the top. “Elsbeth, the judge will be joining us tonight. He was quite pleased last time and asked for you again.”
The mention of the judge had her stomach heaving. Fortunately, Clark Preston had his back to her and didn’t see her gagging, but her voice trembled, betraying her state of mind. “Yes, sir.” The words barely made it past her lips.
Clark Preston came to stand beside her and grabbed her hair. Wrenching her head up, he forced her to face him. “He said you were a little distracted last time.” His eyes cut to Forest, who was still kneeling in the middle of the great room, catching his breath. “Give the judge your undivided attention tonight.”
That was the thing with Clark Preston. With a simple glance, he conveyed intent. Behave. Be endearing. Please the fat-assed judge. Failure would lead to consequence, and Clark Preston knew exactly how far she would go to protect Forest from the whip.
“Yes, sir.” Her voice was remarkably steady now.
“That is good, little one.” He turned his attention to Forest. “Clean up. I have a special surprise in store for you.”
Forest opened his eyes. For the briefest moment, he held her gaze, but then his countenance splintered with the knowledge that he, too, would be participating in Clark Preston’s games.
“Yes, sir.” And, like her, Forest’s voice held steady.
The doorbell’s shrill call had her stiffening while Forest jumped. Clark Preston released his grip on her hair.
“Our guests have arrived.” With a snap of his fingers, he commanded their attention. “Come.”
The moment Clark Preston headed to the door, Elsbeth and Forest exchanged looks, taking strength in each other for what they would have to suffer through, but they didn’t dare linger. Forest peeled off the harness, clambered to his feet and preceded her down the hall. She followed without hesitation.
Together, they knelt and waited while Clark Preston answered the door.
Chapter Four
THE MEET-AND-greet between the three men continued for an interminable length of time. Elsbeth’s knees ached with only the thin wool of the rug to cushion her from the harsh marble floor.
Judge Henry Johnson kept glancing to where she knelt. Like Clark Preston, he, too, wore a suit. Plaid suspenders held his pants up, and atrocious argyle socks peeked out from beneath his trousers. He had flowing blond hair combed over the patch of baldness on top of his head. His beady brown eyes simmered with brewing lust, and his cock tented the expensive wool of his trousers.
She was going to get sick if she thought too hard about what would come next. The other man was a mystery, but Clark Preston greeted him like an old friend. That bothered her even more than the judge—or rather, the looks the newcomer gave Forest. The bottom drop out of her
world. This new man was dangerous.
A polished individual, he wore cuff links that sparkled in the light cast from the chandelier overhead. Clark Preston shook the man’s hand and exchanged pleasantries. A roll of cash passed between them.
Judge Johnson pulled out a stack of bills as well. Clark Preston lay the money down on the inlaid tile table, not bothering to count it. The cash would be locked in the safe behind the painting hanging over the massive mahogany desk in the library.
Fire burned in her cheeks and settled in her gut. That money stole her innocence one evening at a time.
“So, John, how was your flight?” Clark Preston asked.
Elsbeth breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to ease her anxiety with the slow breaths.
The newcomer ran long fingers through his mop of black hair, combing the waves into submission. “The flight was uneventful but long. You know how international travel can be.”
“It wears you out, but I have the solution to that.” He gestured to Elsbeth and Forest. “What do you think?”
The swell of pride in his tone soured her stomach. She and Forest were nothing more than objects to be used, and she hated that she allowed it. She despised how easily her will had been broken.
The strange man approached Forest. “Delectable, as you mentioned.” He reached out and then withdrew, turning back to Clark Preston. “May I?”
Clark Preston nodded. “Of course. Forest, meet John Snowden. You’re his for the evening. Elsbeth, once Judge Johnson is finished, you will serve Mr. Snowden as well.”
“And I can do whatever I wish?” Snowden asked.
A shudder rippled down her spine.
“Within reason. You can’t do anything that will permanently harm them, but that’s stated in the contract.”
“Of course.” John Snowden traced the angle of Forest’s jaw, tilting his head up. “I wouldn’t dream of harming your property, but you did mention harder play.”
Forest gave no reaction to the man’s words, holding himself perfectly still.
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