Contract Taken (Contracted Book 1)

by Aya DeAniege

  “When it's the right temperature, get in,” Nathaniel said over his shoulder to me.

  I played with the taps a little more, then stripped off my underwear, and stepped into the shower. Turning my back to the stream of warm water, I dipped my head back and into the stream. Nathaniel stepped into the shower as I straightened and wiped at my face.

  He frowned at me, then the water hitting the back of my head. Nathaniel reached up, placing his hand in the stream of water. Very carefully, he set a hand on my left arm as he leaned around me and fiddled with the knobs.

  The water heated up against my back. Nathaniel looked at me, setting his other hand on my right arm as he pushed me back ever so slightly. The water hit the back of my neck. With a frown, Nathaniel leaned around me and played with the tap once more.

  This happened another three times, the water heating up just a little more each time until the water caused an inexplicable reaction. The heat of the shower made me shudder as it hit the back of my neck and caressed down my body. Nathaniel held me a moment more, then released me and turned to the back of the shower.

  I risked a look down the man.

  Oh, I had seen men with bodies like his before, but they had all been relatives. They had earned those bodies working hard in labour jobs for years. Nathaniel's muscles had a different sort of quality to them. They had been earned a different way. The muscles across his shoulders rippled as he reached for a bottle at the back of the shower. His legs?

  His legs made me bite my bottom lip. The way he turned hid most of his front, hid his manhood. When he began to turn back, I very carefully met his eyes.

  As if I hadn't been gawking. Perhaps he hadn't noticed me gawking because Nathaniel continued and poured a bit of shampoo into his hand. Then he reached out and worked it into my hair. As his fingers worked the shampoo into my scalp, I groaned.

  The citrus scent of the shampoo seemed to make everything brighter. I recognized it as citrus but didn't know what kind of citrus it was. Oranges were popular in slums. They could travel easily and kept with little trouble. Other kinds were too expensive to do more than trade it off.

  That and the pressure of strong fingers moving over my head caused all thoughts of protesting to end before I could voice them.

  No one touched one another in the slums. Sure, there were the grazing and accidental bumps in small quarters, but no one laid their hands on another person and put pressure behind the touch. Even with my family members, we didn't touch or hug. Another person reaching out to me was so foreign, so different.

  I liked it.

  “Head back in the water,” Nathaniel murmured, pulling his hands away.

  Even rich people didn't scrub their scalps that much. I was embarrassingly aware of that fact as I leaned my head back into the water and rinsed the shampoo out. Nathaniel had scrubbed my hair a great deal longer the necessary.

  Having rinsed my hair out, I changed places with Nathaniel so that he could rinse his hair. The man faced the shower, denying me a chance to sum him up. Once he was rinsed, we changed places again. He placed me firmly under the water and watched me as I inevitably melted under that glorious heat.

  Nathaniel plucked up a bar of soap and a loofah. He lathered up the soap and began rubbing at my skin gently. Then with a little more pressure, and a little more. When I shuddered with pleasure—I couldn't help it—he maintained the pressure and continued washing the rest of me.

  The loofah slipped between my legs, I squeaked and grabbed Nathaniel's shoulders. I would have much rather washed those parts of me by myself. Nathaniel's hand didn't pause. He was thorough, but not in a way that I felt crossed a line.

  He was simply thorough.

  But then, as I rinsed everything off and Nathaniel washed, he was just as thorough with his own privates.

  The one glance I got made me almost whimper. I almost managed to keep the sound in my throat, but a little something escaped.

  There's no way that is going to fit me.

  Nathaniel hesitated when he went to move around me. Ever so slowly the man pulled back and looked me over, then down at his groin. Which only drew my eyes to his flaccid member.

  “I'm a grower,” Nathaniel said, still looking downward.

  “That thing grows?” I demanded.

  “Ah, it was that sort of reaction,” Nathaniel chuckled, slipping around me and into the water as I made way for him.

  The man rinsed himself off and then turned his back to the water, motioning over his shoulder and then to me. I frowned, not understanding.

  “Are you done?”

  “I'm clean. That's the point of a shower?" I asked.

  Mr. Wrightworth had told me to never pose an answer as a question, but the attempted statement still ended up with a question despite my best attempt. I realized that rich folk probably showered for a different reason than poor people. Rich folk didn't arrive home covered in soot or dust. Their lifestyles didn't bring them close to dirty things.

  “Good, I'm done as well,” Nathaniel said, turning to shut the taps off quickly.

  He stepped out of the shower. I followed a moment later, shivering at the temperature difference between the bathroom and the shower. Steam floated out behind me, the remnants of the shower dissipating as Nathaniel approached me with a towel opened wide. He wrapped it around me, allowing me to take the towel to tuck it around myself. He moved off and grabbed another towel, which he began to dry himself immediately with.

  “We'll shower when I say as much, but at least once a day,” Nathaniel said, wrapping the towel around his waist at last. “Or if I get dirty, obviously.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “To get you used to the idea of being naked in front of, and with, me,” Nathaniel responded. “Sex will not follow right away, but I prefer not to have fabric between me and my goal.” The man approached me and slid his fingers down my arm, causing me to shiver as he did so. “It's so much harder for you to hide the shivers and trembles when there's nothing between us but skin.”

  “I don't think you're going to fit,” I blurted out suddenly.

  Nathaniel laughed, his hand settling on my shoulder.

  “I will, trust me. When it comes time, I will. But that's neither here, nor there. We aren't discussing any more on that until your days off are over. In the mean time, you will shower with me. Which we probably won't do for your other days off. This is an exception.

  “During your days off you will have no private expectations. If an event has been planned for outside of the estate, you will have to attend, but we will give you a day off in lieu of the event.”

  “In lieu?”

  “You'll get another day off,” Nathaniel said.

  “Oh, all right," I said, rubbing at myself with the towel to dry myself.

  Nathaniel walked across the bathroom to a cupboard and returned with a robe. He held it out to me, and I exchanged the wet towel for the robe. It was thick and white and oh, so warm. I pulled it tight around me as Nathaniel reached for his pants and pulled them on. The man set the coat, shirt, and vest over his arm and walked out of the bathroom.

  I followed behind him, back into the bedroom.

  “If you have a problem with any of the furniture, let me know. It can be exchanged. I chose floral patterns to make it feminine. The neutral colours were chosen after I was told you were a tomboy. Women from the slums tend to like pinks and reds, one thing the file cannot tell you is a person's favourite colour."

  The only answer I managed was, “Oh.”

  “These will be your rooms," Nathaniel said. "You will find some clothing in the wardrobe for you. We will add to it over time. During your days off you can, of course, wear whatever you please. When you are on my time, you will wear one of the items I provide. Underwear is a must, do you normally go without a bra?"

  “No, normally I bind them back.”

  “Binding them is a waste,” Nathaniel said with a shake of his head. “Why didn't you request something at the Program build
ing?”

  “Because they seemed to be providing what I wore into the building. I didn't wear a bra in, so they didn't provide me with one.”

  “Why not?”

  “No point in wearing undergarments if you're going to your death.”

  “On that,” Nathaniel approached me and took my left hand in his, pushing up the robe. His finger traced the skin just outside of the scar, all the way around. “This is not to happen again. If I need to remove every breakable object, every item you might tie yourself with, this will not happen again. Do you understand me?”

  “I saw no other option,” I said defensively.

  He took my chin in his hand and drew my face upward. The ice had returned to his eyes. Nathaniel seemed unphased by my protest.

  “Never again,” he said. “Your life and body are mine. You are not allowed to break or damage what is mine. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said quietly.

  “Yes, Sir,” he countered.

  I stared at him.

  Was he joking?

  Nathaniel's fingers tightened on my chin.

  “Yes, Sir,” I growled.

  “Mm," Nathaniel's eyes slid closed for a moment. The man almost smiled, then those eyes opened again and sliced me to my core. "You and I are going to have fun."

  “Beating on someone isn't fun for me,” I said.

  “No, but I think you'd appreciate some impact play,” Nathaniel said. “Beatings are meant for discipline for you and a stress reliever for me. Those will be difficult for me.”

  “Hurts you more than it hurts me?” I demanded, pulling away from Nathaniel. “I've heard that before.”

  “No, it'll be difficult because I'll want to have you after, but that would be inappropriate.”

  I choked on air.

  Coughing, I turned to Nathaniel as he watched me with a bland expression on his face. The man arched an eyebrow at me.

  “We can discuss that more at a later date, however," Nathaniel said, moving across the room. "You can read and write, yes? Well, here is the writing desk. I want you to practice your writing. You don't have to start for a few days, of course. Here, though, this is a journal."

  He held up the bound book, then set it back on the desk as I approached but kept careful distance between the two of us.

  “It's bound, in a book. No one is to read this journal. It is a place for you to write whatever you please, but I strongly encourage you to use it. Some days may blur, especially during some training days. Discipline may fog out certain memories. I want you to write down daily what happens. That way if you're asked about it, later on, you can show them, in your own words, how you felt and what was done."

  It sounded like a trap. Nathaniel obviously had the key to the door. He would have access to the room. He took the book, placed it in the drawer and turned the key there. He then brought the key to me and placed it in my hand.

  “There's only the one key to the drawer. I had thought about giving you a computer in here, so you could research things—like fisting—without having to feel embarrassed about asking me. But then you might be tempted to use the computer to store your journal, and that can be hacked. I would also have access to it from any computer in the estate and don't want you thinking that your thoughts aren't safe from prying eyes."

  “What if I fill it?” I asked.

  “Ask for another and it will be provided,” Nathaniel said.

  “Will things happen in this room?” I asked after a moment of silence.

  “Goodness no, this is your sanctuary,” Nathaniel responded, moving away from me. “I can enter the room, but I cannot make you do anything in here. I will likely avoid the room as much as possible. It is, after all, for you. I can understand the need to have someplace where you can be free to be you. There's a garden just down the hallway, technically a greenhouse built into the estate, but that as well can be made open to you.”

  “What do I do for the next three days?” I asked. “There’s … there’s nothing here, and I’m not used to doing nothing.”

  “You can explore the estate. If you ever get lost, the servants will show you the way back to your rooms. Each night we will have dinner together, of course, breakfast for these days you will eat in here. In a month, perhaps more, I will have a television installed in your room depending on your behaviour.”

  “A television just for me?” I asked. “That’s expensive.”

  Before that moment I had only ever seen a television in the public halls in the slums. Sometimes schools would rent a television to show a documentary. All of those machines were pre-collapse though, they weren’t exactly the most reliable and had usually been cobbled together from several broken units.

  Sure there was usually colour and you could get a clear picture most of the time, but there was a slanted quality to it, or it would become unfocused without warning. I had witnessed several times where the television just up and lit on fire instead of playing the video we tried to watch.

  “Worth it though, the television will have pornography on it. You may watch at your leisure and look up the terms you don’t know. They will even be able to show in some manner what those terms mean. However, you aren’t allowed to come without my permission.”

  I have to ask permission to masturbate? What kind of crazy man is he?

  “Oh, okay,” I said.

  Nathaniel’s hand twitched against his leg. The man’s eyes narrowed to pinpricks as I tried to think of something else to say.

  “I will know,” he said. “If you do.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” I responded.

  There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that there were cameras in my room. I didn't believe a person who beat another for pleasure was just going to give them the privacy of a room.

  Although, in reality, it was rich folk who didn't believe in privacy. They were a paranoid lot. The more money they had, the more they believed that someone was trying to take that money.

  “If you do, the punishment will fit the crime,” Nathaniel said. “I will make certain you can’t come for a week. And then I will have you for my own pleasure.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “Oh no, I only brought it up because orgasms can help ease the pain of menstruation," Nathaniel said as he approached me slowly. "If you want to find out what I'd do to you, you need to break the rule. And if you want to ease the pain, I have pain medication I can provide for you and will expect nothing for it.

  “Oh, yes, on that topic. Basic items, food, water, bathroom, those are never traded for unless we discuss a drink or special food item beforehand. I will never deny you food or water. Maybe clothing, but that’s something else we can discuss in a few days.”

  “Food and water are free,” I said.

  “As well as all use of the bathroom, or electricity in your rooms. I will never cut the power because you’ve upset me. Or the heat.”

  “So I can shower for as long as I want?” I asked.

  “There is a cupboard in there filled with supplies for baths as well. I strongly suggest you take one. I've yet to meet a woman who didn't appreciate a good, hot bubble bath and a book."

  “But there aren’t any books,” I said, motioning around the room.

  “I'll have some delivered," Nathaniel said quickly. "A servant will come find you for dinners. I will find you if I want to shower. Until such a time, why don't you take a nap? You're probably tired from this morning's events."

  “Nap,” I said slowly.

  The concept was foreign to me. I knew sick people napped, and children. Oldsters sometimes napped, but a grown, healthy woman? Napping? Taking hot baths when she was already clean?

  What kind of world did rich people live in? Did they ever work?

  “Yes, nap. I have a board meeting I need to conference in on anyhow. That will take me until dinner. Someone will be by to take those clothes away and provide you with something to wear for the next few days. Wear the green dress to dinner tonight. Don't worry about your ta
ble manners being off. I will instruct you on how to behave properly. I hardly expect a poor person to know which fork to use."

  “You make me sound like a dog that hasn’t been housebroken yet,” I muttered.

  His hand twitched against his leg again.

  “That was a condition that had to be met for the contract to work," Nathaniel said quietly. "Though I trust you to know not to piss in the house plants or on the legs of my guests. I do suspect that you will do something out of line, something that allows me to discipline you for your misbehaviour. And yes, I will enjoy it. And no, you won't."

  Chapter Five

  Three days later Nathaniel walked into my room, knocking on the door as an afterthought.

  He hadn't stepped into my room since the shower. Over the previous days, he would knock and wait for me to answer, then take me to the room beside mine to shower. That first day we showered once, the second day twice. The third, four times. Each time Nathaniel came to me in a loose tank top and a pair of tight shorts, soaked with sweat.

  In between the showers, I stayed mainly in my room. Touching all the things, sitting in every seat I had. Basically, I pretended to be a fancy lady. Growing up in the slums didn't mean I was dead inside. Our best toys were imagination. As I had no idea how long I would be with Nathaniel, I thought I'd at least have a little fun while there.

  When I finally got bored of that—because my imaginary husband left me for the chef and I got upset that even imaginary men wanted nothing to do with me—I explored the greenhouse just down the hallway. Over my time with Nathaniel I would change the layout of the garden and start growing vegetables instead of whatever was there in the first place. I couldn't keep the other plants alive. At least vegetables I could keep alive.

  That day, the third after my coming to his estate, he looked me over and slid his hands into his pockets as he waited. I stared back at him, uncertain what he wanted.

  He was dressed in dark blue trousers with a light grey vest over a linen shirt. On his feet were dress shoes, black and shiny as if they were brand new. After days of seeing Nathaniel in what looked like some old things had he tossed on, I was shocked by the change. The vest drew my eyes down, to his waist, where I tried not to hesitate as I thought about what would happen over the following days.