Black Wings: A Dark Romance

by Winter Fox

  It wasn’t as though I’d never given a blow-job before. I knew that I was pretty damn good at them. I’d certainly never heard any complaints from my exes. But I’d never been forced into it before.

  Just switch your mind off, Daisy. He can have your body. He can do whatever he wants to your flesh. But protect your mind, above all else. He’ll never have that.

  I closed my eyes, and opened my mouth. As I took him inside me, I forced my mind to be clear of any thoughts of him; instead I sought out memories of summer days drinking beer out front of the bar. Or of my father kissing my forehead, and calling me “little bird.”

  I was doing so well, until his groan of pleasure brought me crashing back into the reality of the room. My eyes flew open, and I couldn’t stop myself from looking up at him.

  He was staring down at me, and for the first time I saw emotion in his eyes. They sparkled with pure lust, and every single particle in my body responded to it in kind. I suddenly wanted him in a way that I had never wanted anyone in my life before.

  I gagged, and tried to pull my head back so I could release myself. He had other ideas, however. His eyes darkened, and both hands wrapped around the back of my head, pulling me against him. I had no choice but to take every inch of his length inside my mouth and down my throat.

  When my nose touched his stomach I gagged and choked, but still he held me tight; until without warning he came. A hot jet of salty liquid found its way down the back of my throat. It was either swallow or choke. I chose to swallow quickly, before my gag reflex could take control.

  He let go of me then, staggering back, and quickly putting himself back together. He looked afraid.

  I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, wishing I could obliterate the taste of him completely.

  But he tasted so sweet, my mind whispered treacherously.

  My eyes were watering, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of how he’d abused my throat? Or whether they were tears of humiliation, and rage.

  “How did you do that?” He demanded.

  “Do what?” I hissed.

  “I never lose control.” He spoke more to himself than to me this time.

  “Well you definitely lost control just now,” I snapped.

  He suddenly seemed to really see me again, for the first time since he had forced himself on me. “I told you not to speak until you were given permission, slave.”

  I wanted no part in drawing this bastard’s attention any further, so I kept my mouth closed.

  He stared at me for what felt like days. He seemed to be trying to understand something. Finally, he spoke.

  “What are you?”

  I had no idea how to answer the question, so I stayed silent.

  He didn’t seem particularly upset by my refusal to speak; instead he took a cell phone from his pocket, and after hitting a button he lifted it to his ear.

  “Emma. Come to the main bathroom. It’s time for you to meet your new charge.”

  He hung up the phone without elaborating on the reason behind his call, then he crossed his arms and stood in silence. I remained on my knees, trying to seem as small as possible.

  He continued to study me as though I were a bug in a glass case, until a knock sounded on the door.

  Emma was here.

  “He” called out, “Come in.”

  The door opened, and a girl stepped timidly into the room. She was probably somewhere close to my age, perhaps a few years younger. She was around five two—several inches shorter than my five seven height—and had platinum blonde hair styled in a pixie-cut. Dark brown eyes stared out from her pretty face, and I noticed she was dressed in jeans and a sweater.

  “Shall I take Daisy to her room, sir?” She spoke respectfully, but not in the subservient way he seemed to expect from me, which ruffled my feathers.

  “Yes. Keep an eye on her until I’m back.” He spoke dismissively, and turned his back on us both. Emma signaled to me that we should leave.

  Not wanting to spend a second longer with my abuser, I followed the girl into the plush hallway. She didn’t speak to me as she led me through a maze of corridors, and past several doors until she reached one which was standing ajar.

  She stood aside, and gestured at the doorway. “This is your room, Daisy.”

  I paused, and glared at her as I considered running. It wasn’t as though this waif could stop me.

  She seemed to sense my thoughts. “You can outrun me, but you can’t outrun him. He is well-equipped to hunt you down, no matter how far you get.”

  I hesitated a moment longer. “What do you care? You work for a man who kidnaps, and abuses women. You’re almost worse than he is.”

  She shook her head sadly. “No. I’m a prisoner here, just like you. But, I’m here for different reasons.”

  I was pretty sure she was telling me the truth. But I wasn’t in the mood for making friends right now. I stalked into the room without offering her another word.

  Emma started to follow me inside, but using my heel, I kicked the door shut in her face. Despite having been desperate for company only a few hours ago, I suddenly craved solitude more than ever.

  Chapter Six

  Him

  He ran up the stone stairs which led to the gleaming revolving doors at the entrance to his father’s city center office building. His head was all over the place. What the fuck had this girl done to him?

  “I’m supposed to be the one in control,” he growled to himself as he passed the reception area in the main foyer of the building.

  The dark-haired receptionist—who wore a gold badge with the name “Lacey” printed on it in looping, black cursive—started to stand up from behind the desk. But when he fired her a dark, cautionary look, she sat abruptly back down. He wasn’t somebody who needed permission to enter these offices. They would belong to him one day, after all.

  He smashed his fist against the buttons to call the elevator. Never, in all of his life had he lost control with a woman—and there had been many women over the years.

  He was born to be in control, it was in his very blood. This slave should have been no different. But for some fucked-up reason eighty-eight had gotten under his skin. She’d fucking started to seduce him?

  The elevator arrived, and he stepped inside; before hitting the button that would take him to the top floor offices.

  As he waited for the sixty-three floors before his father’s to pass by the tiny window, he studied himself in the mirror. He was tall, and broad. He worked out often. Training slaves took a lot of strength and stamina, after all.

  His dark hair contrasted well with his creamy skin, and showed off his blue eyes perfectly. He was handsome, rugged, and charming. It was all part of who, and what he was.

  He was a difficult man to age. Realistically he could have been anywhere from twenty-four to forty-five. The truth, however, was nowhere in-between.

  The bell dinged—signifying his arrival at his destination—and the elevator doors opened to reveal his father’s opulent office space. He stepped into the open plan area, and crossed the marbled floor toward his father’s large, ebony desk.

  The man who was seated behind the desk looked exactly like him, only a little older. The other obvious difference between them, was that his father was missing his left eye.

  The older man stood up, and scowled. “What are you doing here? The new acquisition only arrived this week.”

  Coming to a stop in front of the black, wooden desk. He laid his palms flat against the polished surface, and glowered.

  “The acquisition is the exact reason I’m here. Something’s wrong with her.”

  His father didn’t react to his words in the way he had expected. Instead of looking concerned, the older man actually smiled.

  “What do you mean, wrong? Have you had her yet?”

  “No. I went straight in for third base today, but she messed with my fucking head. I couldn’t stop myself. She’s…”

  “A seductress?” His father
suggested helpfully, unable to keep the delight from his tone.

  He narrowed his eyes, and leaned over the table as his fury threatened to overwhelm him.

  “What the fuck is she, Charles? And if you know, why didn’t you warn me?”

  His father sat back in his tall leather chair. He steepled his fingers together, as he appeared to contemplate how much information he was prepared to part with.

  Finally he spoke again. “Right now I don’t need you to know any more about her. I want you to train her in the exact same way that you would train any acquisition.”

  “But she isn’t just any acquisition, is she?”

  “No. She most certainly is not.”

  “Where will she go once I’m finished with her?”

  The older man shrugged noncommittally. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “Dammit Charles. I need to be able to protect myself from her. I need more information, and I know you have it.” He smashed his fist against the desk as he spoke.

  The older man stood up with a speed that verged on supernatural. “Enough, Adonis. Treat her exactly as you would any other slave. She is important, yes. But, ultimately she will end up following the same fate as all of the others.”

  “What if I can’t control her?” Or myself.

  “Then you are not the man that I raised you to be.” His father’s words held a finality which Adonis recognized. There would be no further discussion on the topic.

  Both men stared at each other intently for several minutes. Adonis considered trying once more, but he knew it was pointless. Charles Olympus was not a man to be pushed.

  “Okay. I’ll continue with her training. But if she becomes uncontrollable, I will kill her.” Adonis turned to leave.

  “No. You won’t.” His father spoke in a dangerously, low tone. It reminded Adonis of a childhood filled with beatings, and humiliation. It also reminded him of who was the boss here.

  For as long as his father willed it, Daisy Harper was going to be a part of his life.

  Chapter Seven

  Daisy

  Admittedly, my new room was beautiful. It was sumptuously decorated in cream and gold. The curtains were made of a thick cream fabric, which was edged in detailed gold stitching. Half of the walls were paneled in pale wood, and the other half was painted in cream. The carpet was so thick you almost lost your feet up to the ankle in the pile.

  I shuddered as my eyes fell on the four-post bed. I could guess what would be expected of me when I was using that particular piece of furniture.

  I had access to an en-suite bathroom, which was a smaller version of the bathroom I had gotten cleaned up in earlier. There was also a vast walk in closet, which was stocked to bursting. Although after twenty minutes of searching, I finally accepted that the only items I was going to find would be underwear.

  None of this was important to me. A prison was a prison, no matter how tastefully decorated. I checked the window, and while the view over the extensive wooded gardens surrounding the building was beautiful, it made my heart sink to realize just how far from civilization I seemed to be. I also established that my room was on the third floor, and I would almost certainly die if I climbed out of the window.

  I sat down on a golden chair which matched an elaborate vanity that resembled furniture from Snow White’s palace. For now, it seemed that my only option was to wait for an opportunity to escape.

  A knock at the door made my head snap up, and my eyes narrow.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  The door swung inward, and Emma walked into the room carrying a tray of food. I considered pushing past her, and into the hallway. But I knew I wasn’t going to get very far. Now wasn’t the time. I needed to know more about my surroundings.

  Dropping the tray onto the vanity, Emma tilted her head to one side, and studied me with wide, worried eyes.

  “How are you doing, Daisy?”

  “Seriously? How am I doing? I’ve just woken up in a dungeon, naked, with a chain around my throat. I was starved, and left alone in the dark for hours by a psychopathic rapist who made me trade a blow-job for a bath. I’m just fucking dandy, Emma. How are you?” I shrieked.

  I had expected her to shrink back from my venom; instead she gave me a concerned look. “Rapist? Did you have sex with him already?”

  That was the part that she focused on? Out of everything I just said.

  “No, I didn’t have sex with him. But I’m not stupid, Emma. I know he won’t stop at me going down on him. Why else am I here?”

  She gave me a relieved nod. “Okay, good. Can I check you over, Daisy? Make sure you’re all right after…earlier.”

  I thought about telling her to leave. But she seemed genuinely concerned about me, and the loneliness was creeping back in. I nodded stiffly.

  I don’t know what I had expected her to do, but it wasn’t what she did. Emma came to stand behind me. Placing one hand on each of my shoulders, she gently pressed down on my skin.

  Beneath her hands my skin warmed up quickly. It was an unnatural warmth, not the warmth generated by another body simply touching you.

  “What are you doing?” I asked. Trying to pull away from her hands.

  Her grip was surprisingly strong, and she easily managed to keep me seated. I was just considering sending one of my elbows backwards into her stomach when she suddenly released me, stepping back.

  I turned in my chair to face her. “What the hell was that?”

  She ignored my question; instead asking one of her own. “Are you sure you went down on him?”

  I stared at her in disbelief. “Emma, I’m twenty-three years old. I know what I did.”

  “How strange,” she muttered to herself.

  I was getting impatient. Grabbing the smaller girl by the shoulders, I yelled at her. “What did you just do?”

  Emma seemed to regain her composure then. She slipped out of my hold, and stepped out of reach.

  “I’m an aura reader,” she spoke cautiously.

  Oh, great. I’m locked up with a psycho, and a hippy.

  Seeing my doubt, she continued. “I’m supposed to check that your ‘encounters’ with Adonis are not too draining for you.”

  Adonis?

  “Is that his name? Adonis?”

  Emma’s face drained of all its color. “Daisy, I shouldn’t have told you that. You aren’t supposed to know his name. You can’t tell him that I told you.”

  I gave the trembling girl a wily smile. “Then tell me what you just did to me?”

  She only hesitated for a moment, before she started to speak. “I’m here to check that you remain healthy during your time here. The training you will endure with him, may take a lot from you. It’s my job to make sure you aren’t damaged before you get to your final owner.”

  I frowned. “What about after I get to my final owner?”

  She bit her lip, refusing to say any more.

  I softened my approach. “Emma, am I being prepared to die?”

  “If I tell you anything about what happens after, he’ll kill me. I’m sorry, Daisy, I can’t.”

  My head was spinning. All of a sudden, I wanted to stay here. I didn’t want to be sent on to what came next, because I was pretty sure that what came next was going to be a million times worse. My familiar panic, began rising inside me.

  Without knowing it, Emma saved me from my oncoming panic attack. “Daisy, what did you do to him?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked in frustration.

  “Your aura should have been marked by what he made you do; instead your aura is glowing even brighter than it should.”

  Taking a deep breath, I spoke quietly, in the same way an exhausted parent might tell a toddler that this was the last time they were going to ask their child to go to bed.

  “Emma, auras are not real. I know you might believe that you’re a new-age witch, or whatever. But, crystals, and Zen can’t help me. Please can you let me eat the food you kindly brought for me, and let me rest?”


  She nodded sadly, and crossed the room to the door. I ignored her; choosing to make a start on my grilled cheese instead.

  “Daisy?”

  I looked toward her, but didn’t speak.

  “Don’t tell him what I said about your aura. Not to protect me, but to protect you. Okay?”

  I didn’t see any reason I’d need to share the ramblings of a hippy with my captor. I nodded, okay.

  Without another word Emma closed the door behind her, and left me to my food.

  The food made me sleepy, and despite my better judgement I made my way to the huge bed. I curled up in a ball on the very bottom corner of the thick, blankets, and I was asleep in moments.

  I was quickly plunged into the familiar dream sequence, which relayed the events leading up to my father’s murder on that Christmas Eve, all those years ago. I re-watched every single moment as it unfolded before me, and although I had some sense of being caught inside a dream, I couldn’t ever find my way out.

  I was forced to relive the horror once again, until the final sickening moment when my father collapsed and died in front of me.

  I woke screaming. It had been months since I’d had this dream. The trauma of my current circumstances was obviously putting my mind under pressure.

  The room was darker than when I had fallen asleep, and it took me a few moments to adjust to the gloom. As my eyes scanned the unfamiliar room, I gave a startled yelp when they landed on the silhouette of a figure leaning against one of the bed posts.

  “Calm yourself,” he murmured.

  It was “him.” It was Adonis.

  I sat up warily, wondering what was going to happen next. And why he had been watching me sleep.

  “I’m going to ask you again, slave. What are you?”

  Remembering back to Emma’s warning, my throat tightened in fear. Did he know?

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” I whispered hoarsely.

  He moved quickly, sliding a collar around my throat, and clicking it closed. He hooked a chain onto the collar, and I was a dog once again.