In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part One

by Carmen Jenner

  “Your job? Will you . . . will you sell me too? Like the others?” The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. His gaze darts from mine to the wall above my head and he releases an impatient breath. “Is that why you took me? Is that why you brought me here, displayed me in front of those men yesterday?”

  “Are you looking to make a spectacle of yourself? Is that it? You want me to put you over my knee again and spank you in front of everyone here?”

  “No,” I hurry to say.

  “Liar. I felt how wet you were after I beat your ass yesterday. Your little whore cunt craves attention. A part of you loves being on show.”

  I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”

  “Am I?”

  “Why won’t you answer me?”

  He leans forward, his stubble scraping the side of my cheek as he whispers low and erotic in my ear, “When you ask questions worthy of my answers, you’ll get them. For now, I want you on your fucking knees crawling through this house at the end of my very short leash. Are we clear, Pet?”

  I hate him. God, how I hate him.

  I drop to my knees in supplication and stare up at him, his doting slave. One who’s going to murder him in his sleep. I wonder how long it would take to strangle him with his rope.

  “Come. It’s almost time for the races.”

  “Races?” I ask in confusion.

  He grins. “It’s punishment for the other slaves when they behave like animals.”

  I have no idea what that is supposed to mean but I follow behind him with my head bent low, the way he’s taught me.

  My gaze flicks up every so often to absorb my surroundings. Other slaves mill about, dressed in leather lingerie, carrying food and liquor-laden trays outside. Ares leads us through the doors and across an enclosed porch. The yard beyond is enormous. Lush and green and well tended to despite the December snowfall. It overlooks a stable and a large round pen. Inside the painted white fence are people, people dressed in black rubber suits, saddles with leather boots, horse-shaped ears, and ornate bridles that are held by their Masters. I inhale sharply.

  “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”

  I glance up at Ares, frowning at the amusement on his face.

  “W-why?” This is the only word I have.

  “Texas owns this ranch. His tastes have always leaned toward animal play, but the equine kink seems to have . . . flourished in the last few years.”

  “Why would you want humans to dress up like horses?”

  “I don’t know, but we don’t judge others for their proclivities.” He pats my hair, and bends down to chuck me under the chin. “There are many faces of kink, Pet. None of them are wrong if it’s sane, safe, and consensual.”

  “But it’s not consensual, is it?” I search his gaze for answers I know he won’t give. “Not when you’re stealing men and women.”

  He lets out an exasperated sigh and tilts my face up to his. “Let me ask you something. This morning, when you begged me to fuck you, was that consent?”

  “That’s not—”

  “And the first time I undid your cuffs, all those weeks ago, and I brought your body to orgasm, did you fight?”

  My eyes widen. I relive the event in the bathroom. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t stop him. I was free. My hands were unrestricted. I could have tried harder to push him away, but I didn’t.

  “That’s what I thought. You can protest all you want, but this is who you are. It’s who you’ve always been . . . submissive,” he whispers the last word like a caress, a taunt. “It’s why I stole you.”

  My mind reels. What does that mean? That is more than I’ve ever gotten from him and still he’s said nothing at all. He’s left me with riddles.

  I’ve never questioned my behavior, my actions, and my lack thereof. All this time I’d been focused on what Sir does to me, how he takes me, he hurts me, he brings me pleasure, but I’ve never turned that scrutinization inward, not for long.

  Without another word, he turns and snaps his fingers. I follow closely behind him because the alternative is too terrible.

  “Master Muerte, we were wondering if you’d ever emerge from your room,” Texas proclaims, handing Ares a glass of amber liquid that looks like whiskey. “Your little Pet here keeps you rather busy. We’ve hardly seen you all weekend.”

  “Well, you know how it is with fresh meat. It needs an awful lot of tenderizing.” He pinches my bruised ass hard, and I yelp. Ares shoots me a disapproving look that says I should know not to make noise unless I’m told. I cast my eyes downward as the men chuckle.

  “You really should take it easy on her. The poor thing looks worn out. And those stripes on her ass weren’t there yesterday.”

  “You sound as if you’re growing soft in your old age, Texas.”

  The fat man chuckles, his jowls wobbling in time with his huge rotund belly, and I wonder how he even has sex at all, or if he just likes to dress human slaves up as ponies and parade them around a track. Does he mount them in their stables? Oh god, do they sleep out here? I gaze at the stable, and then quickly away, but it’s obvious Texas caught my line of sight. “You know, your Pet would look just divine with a bit in her mouth.”

  Ares chuckles. “My Pet looks exquisite in everything . . . and nothing at all.”

  “Yes, she does.” Texas licks his lips, his eyes roaming every inch of my body. I’m so used to being naked now that kneeling on all fours out here on this man’s porch surrounded by predatory eyes doesn’t upset me the way it would have several months ago. “Are you sure you won’t consider my offer? I’d be willing to double it.”

  “She’s not for sale,” Ares says, rather abruptly.

  Texas holds up his hands in supplication. “I meant no offence Master Muerte. Surely you can see how appetizing a little peach like your Pet is to the rest of us?”

  Ares rolls his eyes, but the hard edge to his expression has softened somewhat. “Dangle fresh meat before the wolves.”

  Texas chuckles. “Exactly. But come, you and I have business to discuss.”

  “Later. I’m not leaving Pet alone.”

  “Surely your brother will tend to her needs in your absence.”

  My heart seizes. No, no, no, no, no. Don’t give me to him. Anyone but him.

  Ares laughs. “The only need my brother cares about is ensuring his bank balance stays fat with money from men like you. He’d sell her to the highest bidder as soon as my back was turned.”

  “Then let Israel take her to the stables. I’m afraid what we must discuss is rather pressing.”

  Ares turns and glances over his shoulder. Israel holds a tray filled with champagne flutes. He dutifully ignores the older man in front of him who’s fondling his penis as he reaches for a glass with the other hand.

  I inhale sharply, surprised Texas is allowing such treatment of his possession. Ares almost killed the colonel yesterday for touching me without permission.

  “Israel.” Texas beckons the younger man closer with a crook of his finger. “Come.”

  “Yes, Master.” He moves with the kind of fluid grace and good posture I wouldn’t have expected any slave to possess. How can one move so freely when they’re shackled to another? Israel is as much a possession as I am. Though he walks without chains, they’re still tethered to every one of his limbs. Not his heart, though; that appears to still belong to my Master.

  “Israel, show Master Muerte’s Pet here through the stables.”

  “Of course, Sir.”

  “No touching,” Ares snaps, glaring at the slave. “If she comes back with a single mark on her body that wasn’t put there by my hand, I will personally hold you responsible.”

  He bows his head and lowers his gaze. “I’ll see that she is not harmed.”

  Ares hooks his fingers in Israel’s collar and draws the man flush against his body. Jealousy worms its way through my gut. “See that she is not touched at all. I know what you slaves get up to in that stable when your Masters are n
ot bearing witness.”

  Israel’s breath is shallow, his pupils dilated. “You have my word, Sir.”

  Ares releases the man and turns his dark, hollow eyes on me. “Pet, on your feet. Stay close to Israel. You are not permitted to touch or be touched. You are not permitted to leave his sight. You may speak though.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Ares pinches the bridge of his nose. “Go before I change my mind.”

  Unease prickles down my spine. I shiver. He’s letting me take a walk around the grounds without him? Why? He’s barely let me out of his sight since the first day I woke in that cell. Texas chuckles, and Israel turns on his heel and walks away with long, graceful strides. I’m a good two feet shorter than him, so I practically have to run to keep up.

  Icy wind cuts me right to the core, when I follow him off the porch, and the frosty path stings my feet. Halfway to the stable, I reach out and grab his arm in an effort to get him to slow down. He yanks out of my grasp so abruptly and violently that I take a step back.

  “You’re not permitted to touch anyone, and I’m not getting my ass beaten because you’re too fucking dense to follow an order.”

  “Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “Anything by it? You know, if you were my slave, I would have beaten your ass bloody by now.”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing I belong to Ares, and not you.”

  Israel’s eyes flare with the use of my Master’s name, but there’s more than just anger I see on the surface. There’s heartache, too.

  “He trained you, right?”

  He scoffs and begins walking again, this time a little slower, and though his strides are still far too long for me to keep up at a relaxed pace, I hurry alongside him, needing the shelter of his body from the cold that sinks deep to the bone. “Yeah, he trained me, but I was never allowed to call him by his real name, so maybe you’re special.”

  “I’m not allowed to either. I don’t always follow the rules.”

  “Then you don’t deserve him.”

  I wait in silence as he opens the stable door. I’m not sure I really want to follow behind a man whose disdain for me is so glaringly obvious, but the threat of staying out here on my own, unprotected, is even greater.

  I enter the darkened building. It’s blissfully warm after the cruel cold of the elements. The smell of hay, and what I assume is human excrement fills my nostrils, and I scrunch up my nose in distaste.

  “We can’t all live in the ivory tower, princess.” Israel chuckles, glancing over his shoulder as he walks on ahead of me.

  “Do you . . . live here? All of you?” I glance around as we walk, finding the stables empty.

  “Yeah, we really live here.” Israel’s tone is sharp, brimming with contempt.

  Suddenly, the room I’ve occupied since Ares released me from my cell doesn’t seem so bad. “But there’s so many of you, and one of him. Why don’t you run?”

  “Why don’t you?” he counters, and I swallow hard. Because I’m in love with him. Because I’m afraid. Because I both love and hate the things Ares does to me. Because I might run and discover it’s the worst mistake of my life.

  I don’t answer.

  Israel nods. “I never would have left him either.” I turn to look at him, but Israel moves forward. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

  He presses his finger to his lips and pads softly forward over the concrete floor. He enters a stable and I just stare at him, wondering if I should follow. Fear pricks up and down my spine as he beckons me forward. From the next stable, I hear the muffled cry of a human and a sound I’d know anywhere: the sharp slap of a riding crop against bare skin. I flinch. My mouth grows dry, and Israel raises a brow in challenge. I move into the stable alongside him.

  Through a grate built into the wooden frame, I see a man wearing hooves, a long black tail, and a rubber horse’s head. He wields a crop, bringing it down on the bare ass before him. The woman lets out a cry of pain mixed with pleasure—another sound I’m all too familiar with.

  Israel leans in and whispers, “Even when we’re not being dominated by our Masters, we crave the pain and pleasure. It’s a part of you now, and it always will be.”

  The man in the horse head pulls the woman’s tail—a butt plug. He wiggles it up and down, and she moans with each movement. I squirm where I stand, my whole body igniting with desire. The whole idea of horse play is both terrifying and creepy to me, and yet this scene is so erotic, so dark, twisted, and so far removed from anything Ares has asked me to do, but it’s the same. The players are different, the game different too, but the rules are clear. It’s a power exchange between Dominant and submissive, and I understand it all too keenly. I’m no better than the woman on all fours with a butt plug in her ass and a bit in her mouth. We’re the same, she and me.

  The man in the horse head whinnies and yanks out the plug, discarding it on the floor, then he shoves his erect cock so far inside her that a shrill scream escapes her throat. As he thrusts in and out they grunt, making animal sounds so base in nature that I’m both disgusted and aroused. I’m vaguely aware of Israel leaving my side, but I don’t follow. I can’t.

  “Enjoying the show, Pet?”

  I gasp as my Sir’s warm breath brushes my ear. He covers my mouth, snaking his other arm around my waist and between my legs. I don’t know if Israel is watching. I no longer care. “So wet. Does it turn you on to watch the other slaves fucking, to smell it on the air, and crave it deep within your core?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I breathe.

  He strokes my clit, rubbing the sensitive flesh in hard fits and bursts. He brings me to the brink in a millisecond, and edges me away again. His gravelly voice whispers in my ear, “Shall I debase you the way he is debasing her? Bend you over, and shove my cock so deep in your ass that every time you sit, stand or kneel you’ll feel me there?”

  I’m panting now, fast, moaning, and unperturbed that the couple can probably hear us. “Yes,” I whimper. “Yes, Sir, please?”

  The horse-man intensifies his speed, thrusting in and out so hard I don’t know how it isn’t tearing her flesh. Ares widens my legs, kicking my ankles apart as he takes my weight, and shoves me up against the wall. “Is that what you want, little one? Shall I give you over to our fine stallion in there so he can fuck you next?”

  “No, please, Sir. Only you. Just you.”

  “Good girl.” Ares shoves his fingers in my mouth, so far back I almost choke, pumping them in and out and coating them thoroughly with my saliva. I’m gasping for breath when he pulls them out, and then again when he grabs my hips and pushes me forward, positioning my ass where he wants it. He shoves his fingers inside my puckered hole. It burns. I cry out, and horse-man turns his head toward me.

  Ares’ movements are rash and unapologetic. He brutalizes me in the best way possible, and I cry out for more. With a stranger watching me watch him, I come against my Sir’s hands, and I love every second of it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Pet

  “Will you . . . will you do that to me?” I ask, staring up at Ares from my position at his feet.

  “Dress you up like a horse and whip you as you gallop around a track? No, Pet. Animal play isn’t my thing. If you like, I can loan you out to Texas. He’s big on horsing around.” He winks, and I stare, unable to take my eyes off him. A joke? Ares makes jokes? I wouldn’t have thought that was even possible. “What?” he says with a frown.

  “N-nothing. And please, please don’t give me to Texas. I’m yours.”

  His mouth tips up in a grin. “I know.”

  “I only meant, Sir . . .”

  He slides his hand around my neck and squeezes. His grasp isn’t crushing or brutal—it’s a tender display of dominance, and my pussy clenches as desire tingles through my body. “I know what you meant, Pet.”

  “Please, please don’t give me to Texas. I don’t even like horses,” I say. My face falls abruptly when realization dawn
s that I don’t even know if that’s true. I can’t know, because I don’t remember.

  Ares’ hand leaves my throat, and he brushes his knuckles over my cheek. The other Masters all watch us. Including Hermes, who stands by the outdoor bar, nursing a drink as if it were a woman he was making love to. I meet his black gaze and glance away, swallowing hard.

  Ares grips my hair, pulling it back from my face and I turn and nuzzle into his knee, looking up at him instead of at Hermes, or at the slaves who’re whipped as they race around the track. He pats the side of my cheek, and leans forward, running his hand down my throat to tug on the nipple clamps, which of course jerks on the little wicked clip at my clit. I bite my lip, and he runs his thumb over it, snagging my flesh from the clutches of my teeth. He plunges his thumb into my mouth. I suck, rolling my tongue around it. He raises a brow, but his eyes are lustful, playful. He unfastens his fly, and shifts, pulling out his thick erection. His cock is long and a dusky rose color. His head is flush against his hard stomach and leaking pre-cum.

  “Suck it.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper, my arousal seeping through my words. I shift so my back is facing the race. I tuck my hair behind my ears. Ares clutches it tightly in his fist.

  “Let me get that for you.” he says with a smile playing on his lips. I move my arm to grab his shaft, but he catches it up in his hand. “Uh, uh, uh. Hands behind your back.”

  I resist the urge to pout and fold my arms behind my back in the box position. This pushes out my breasts, and as I lean over to take him in my mouth, the chains dangling from my nipple clamps brush Ares’ knees. He pulls one. Pleasure arcs between my breasts and my pussy. Ares holds the base of his cock and I open my mouth and lower myself onto it, sucking him hard. He groans, and thrusts his hips up to meet me, choking me in the process.

  I fight my gag reflex, ignore the burning in my throat, and make myself open to him, or as open as my mouth will allow. My facial features are fine, delicate, and certainly not made for a man his size. I’m amazed he fits at all.