by Holly Carter
Speaking of Hunter; he still hasn’t returned from his ‘meeting’ and thoughts of him sitting around an office table discussing the stock market weren’t the thoughts popping into my head. The picture I got was a little more intimate and a little disturbing. But the question was why the fuck was he even in my thoughts? Maybe it was the fact I could still feel his fingers in me.
I polished the last wine glass and placed it in the holder above me. I threw the towel down and found the Gin bottle I had been sneaking shots out of all afternoon. It was nearly empty and the thought to fill it up with weak tea crossed my mind. Angel was just as guilty as I was with the way she stumbled a little taking boxes down to the cellar.
The cellar was huge.
The stone lined walls remained and wooden racks were built in aisles in the centre of the room. I was informed it could store over ten thousand bottles of wine. In addition, there was a storage room off to the side behind the stone wall that housed all the spirits. I knew were the key was and knew I was going to be a frequent flyer down there.
Angel and I have exchanged stories... well, that woman never shuts up. She has educated me on her sex life and play life. From what I have learnt, this woman is popular with the ladies and men. Something little we have in common. I know her favourite item is a suede flogger. She had gotten one made with flames on it; matching her ten inch heels she told me about. I also figured out she knows Sailor. She told me that Jessie Sailor was the only person she would switch for. A spike of jealousy hit me at that point because even though he is my best friend and nothing more, I’ve always wanted to be his only girl.
Something else I found out was that she was married, but recently divorced. Angel said two wrongs don’t make a right and no matter how hard you try, it just didn’t work out. She and her ex talk on a regular basis, mainly due to her stalking abilities. I mentally note that I need to get her to stalk a few people for me, just to scare them a little. She is one tough bitch.
Pouring the last of the Gin into a shot glass, I picked it up and downed the liquid in a one quick movement. I had placed the glass on the bench when I saw a grey haired man sit at the bar and place a note down. Walking over to him, I gave him a smile and picked up the bill.
“What will it be?”
“Gin.” The grey haired man said, checking my appearance.
“Should have guessed that.”
“Ah, a girl who knows what her customers need?” As he says it, he leans forward. His button up shirt pops open at the top and I try hard not stare at the grey hair falling out the front.
I smile awkwardly as I walk away to get a new bottle of Gin off the shelf. When I open the cap, Angel walks in and straight over to the guy sitting at the bar. I hear his voice, and then hers and they both start laughing. What is with people laughing? I pour the shot and walk back over placing in front of the man.
“Did you pour yourself one?” he asks, indicating to the bottle I hold in my hand.
“If you insist.” I say sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
“Oh beautiful, I insist.”
Eww. He’s totally hitting on me. I decided to pour Angel one, even though she states she doesn’t want one. I push the glass towards her. She shakes her head so I pick up both glasses, hitting one against his shot glass before I down one after the other. When the second glass hits the bar, and my head tips forward again, Hunter is staring back at me from the other side of the bar.
“Having fun?” he asks, smugly.
“A fucking great time.” I slur a little. “What can I get you?”
“An obedient submissive and if that’s not available, a fucking paddle.” He bites, leaning closer.
“What about a map? Everyone needs a map?” I start to giggle as I’ve had a little too much to drink.
“I proved earlier I didn’t need one. Eight times, if I remember correctly.”
“It’s been awhile, what can I say?”
I lean in closer and so does Hunter. It’s playful banter that’s fun. Hunter bites back just the way I like. Hunter’s green eyes are pools of promises and they hold so many stories. They are mesmerizing at times. A girl could get lost in his charm. But not me. I see straight through them.
“You two are so fucking cute, it’s sickening.” Angel states, patting me on the shoulder.
I pull away instantly, that comment making me feel a little sick. Cute? No way. I decide to walk, no stumble, away and pack the washer. I hear the old guy tell Hunter “You’ve got yourself a handful there, pal.” Which makes me laugh, because he has no idea.
For the next two hours, I wipe down tables and chairs that are covered in dust and help the decorator blow up balloons while trying not to hyperventilate. Of course, I get stuck blowing up the pink ones and note that Hunter laughs when he hears me clearly say, “Fucking pink.”
“I’m off, Kat. See you tomorrow night babe.” She grabs me suddenly and wraps me in a hug, which surprises me. Fuck me dead, she’s a hugger. “Bring your dancing shoes, because we are going to dance while we work.”
She lets me go and hold me at arm’s length, smiling. She is such a pretty women and I can see why she’s a popular mistress.
“I have moves you’ve never seen.” I do a little twist and watch her throw her head back and laugh.
“Have I told you how much I like you? You test Hunter’s patience, you are funny as fuck and you sound like you love to party. Defiantly my kind of girl.” Angel drops her hands from my shoulders.
“See you tomorrow night, Angel.”
“See you, Kat.”
I watch her walk away before I turn back towards the bar. Hunter and old guy are deep in conversation and I watch as Hunter nods, speak and then nods again. I look around and see everyone packing up and heading out off so I decide it’s time for me to do the same. I’m fucking starving and I can smell something cooking in the kitchen. I decided not to disturb the guys, so I head up to my room to change my clothes.
My door still hasn’t been returned and I am sure I won’t get it back anytime soon. I strip out of my clothes and throw them in the corner. I go to my suitcase and find a pair of shorts and a tank. Comfort at last. The smell of what’s cooking wanders up the halls and drool pools in my mouth. This morning events have me starved and the alcohol intake didn’t help.
I walk into the kitchen and see Arrow shaking his booty with a wooden spoon in one hand and tongs in the other as the music blares. I walk over to him and peak over his shoulder. He jumps back and almost bowls me over in the process. When he sees me, he laughs which causes me to laugh because I’ve scared the shit out of him, and I haven’t even showed him my flogger yet. He turns the music down and holds the wooden spoon to his chest.
“You scared the fuck out of me, Kat.”
“Sorry.”
“No you’re not; you get off on scaring people.”
“You’re right, I’m not sorry.” I turn around and see the pot of sauce on the stove. Careful not to burn myself, I stick my finger in there real quick, and then bring my finger to my mouth to taste the creation. “Needs more salt.”
I pick up the saltshaker and add a few more shakes. Arrow walks over and hands me the spoon so I can stir it. I stir the contents and watch the meatballs come to the surface before disappearing. Arrow stands beside me and stirs the spaghetti while he sings softly to himself. I take the spoon out and turn to the side bringing the spoon to Arrow’s mouth.
“Open.” I instruct.
He opens then closes his lips around the spoon taking a meatball and sauce with it.
“Yum, fuck I’m good.” He states proudly. “You try.”
He takes the spoon from my hand and dips it into the pot, a meatball covered in sauce sits on the end and I open my mouth allowing him to put the spoon in. I taste the erotic flavours straight away and drool begins to form again. Fucking yummo. When Arrows pulls the spoon away, sauce dribbles down my chin and we both giggle as I wipe it.
“Well, isn’t this fucking cosy?”
Arrow drops the spoon when Hunter enters. I failed to acknowledge him when he stood in the doorway watching our exchange back when I told Arrow to open his mouth. I grab a bowl of the bench and hand it to Arrow to put the pasta in. He hands it back to me and I spoon a few heaping spoonful’s into the bowl and place it on the bench behind me for Hunter. He grunts as he sits, and I take that as a thank you. I do the same two more times, each time placing the bowls on the bench.
“Is anyone else joining us for dinner?” I ask, picking up a bowl and making my way to the table.
“The others will come down when they are ready.” Arrow states, taking a seat across from me.
My body moves as Hunter grips my chair and drags it closer towards his like he did this morning. We sit in silence for the duration of our meal with the only sound being our forks hitting our bowls. I finish my meal in record time before leaning back on my chair and patting my extend stomach. I feel about five months pregnant, and possibly look it too.
“Thanks for dinner, Arrow. I will do the dishes since you cooked.” I stand up and grab my bowl along with Hunter’s clean one. He licked it and all.
“I have cleaners for that.” Hunter states, as he grabs my wrist.
“I’m capable of cleaning a few dishes. You made me work in a bar all day.” I say, trying to pull my hand free. But Hunter just grips it tighter.
“Sit, I want to talk to you.”
“Manners never went astray, Hunter.” Arrow states from across the table.
“Keep out of it, Arrow. It doesn’t concern you.” Hunter bites back.
I watch the exchange between the two brothers. I sit down next to Hunter when he pulls roughly on my arm. Hunter waves his hand towards Arrow and he stands up and exits the table.
“You are so rude, Hunter.” I lean towards him as I speak.
“He’s my brother, and it’s none of your concern about how I speak to him. The only thing you worry about is our relationship.” Hunter turns to the side and pulls my chair to face him.
“Let me clarify, we don’t have a relationship. We...” Hunter holds up his hand to silence me. I push it out of the way and start to speak again, but Hunter places his finger over my lips, which makes me mumble.
“Shut the fuck up, Kat, and listen.” I wanted to protest and I should have, but I shut the fuck up like he asked. “I want to thank you for your help today. Angel said you knew exactly what you were doing and didn’t need direction at all.”
I was kind of surprised by him thanking me, so I nodded before attempting to stand.
“Not finished.” Hunter grips my hand and holds it firmly. “I supply you with a uniform and I expect you to wear it, appropriately. You are my submissive, and I instruct you to cover yourself up when working. If I want you naked or dressed like a slut, I will say so.”
“Fuck you.” I spit, before ripping my hand from his grip. “I’m a grown ass woman and I don’t belong to anyone, least of all you. I dress, and speak how the fuck I like, Hunter. Don’t you dare think you can control me or make me obey you?”
I was never good at following instructions, hence why I switch, but only at my own will, not when fucking instructed. Maybe I was being a little hard on the whole situation but I didn’t want to be here in the first place, and the more I thought about it the more I think maybe Sailor can go fuck himself too. Hunter’s idea of torture was enforcing that I call him Master, as if. I mean, he has no hope in hell to collar me; I belong to no one, least of all him. He is fucking smoking hot though. If all he has to offer me over the next twenty eight days is his fine licking skills, I will be fucking down with that. But I will never, ever submit to that man like he wants.
I stand up and exit the room not looking or answering when Hunter repeatedly calls my name. His voice gets louder and louder and his tone is harsh. But right now, I need to cool off by fucking hurting someone. I turn at the stairs and pass the door that goes down into the depth of secret society and keep walking. I stop at a long hallway and look left then right. Several voices can be heard from the right, so I choose to stay the hell away from any form of temptation.
Chapter Nine
Door after door lines the hall. As I continue to walk I see glass windows. Stopping to look inside, I realise that the asshole has a gym. A tall, built guy stands facing a mirror lifting weights. I watch as his arms flex up and down, his muscles bulging in response. Without thinking, I walk along the mirror until the door comes in view and I push it open, entering. This gym has every piece of equipment you could imagine. Rowing machines, bench presses, treadmills, air walkers, cross trainers, and even a stripper pole. I couldn’t imagine Hunter doing his routine on it, but one would never know.
The thing that catches my eye is a punching bag. The image of Hunter’s head appears on at the same time. I walk over and pick up a set of gloves, tying the laces up as tight as I can before sliding them onto my small hands. They are too big but I don’t give a shit. I need to punch the shit out of this fucking bag while his image is still there. The laces are as tight as I can get them, but they still swim.
Taking a deep breath, I walk two short steps and bring my hands in front of my face before blowing out and punching the shit out of the bag. Each hit sends an echo throughout the room and soon I’m lost in thought. The bag swings left and right briefly with each punch, but the opposing punch sends it back just as fast. I feel the beads of sweat roll down my cleavage, and my back is moist. I add a few hard kicks into the bag after, left, right, left, right, left, kick.
My body aches and it’s a reminder of previous events, which for some fucked up reason makes me angrier. I swing at the bag again and two hands grip the sides, before a head appears to the side of the bag. I briefly meet his eyes before I continue beating the shit of the bag with my hands and feet. I make contact with the bag at least ten more times before the bag is pushed out of the way and a human body is the only thing in my vision.
He holds up his hands and indicates for me to wait. I watch him pull two gloves out of his back pocket before he slides them onto his huge hands. This guy is built like a brick shit house. His muscles bulge through his damp white shirt, while sweat covers his face and neck. I note the tattoo lining his neck that says, RUMBLES in big black letters.
When he’s done putting his gloves on, he brings his glove covered hands up to his face.
“Where’s your guard, put it up.” He instructs his voice rough.
I put my guard up and step to the side when he starts bouncing off each foot. I throw the first punch and it connects with his cheek. A grunt sounds as his head jerks to the side. I throw a quick second but he dodges it. My eyes wander as he throws the next and it connects with my shoulder sending a sharp throb shooting to my neck. I shake it off and swing again.
“Eye contact, you must keep eye contact with your mark. Don’t ever take your eyes of them. That’s when you get beat.”
My eyes stay focused on his, as we continue to exchange punches. I connect with his face a few more times and get him good in the stomach. Mind you, it was like hitting a wall of cement and I swear I broke a finger or two even through the glove.
“Remember to always think one punch ahead.” He says, throwing a punch hard into my face.
I retaliate by giving a few short, hard yet quick punches into his shoulder and the side of his face. Grunts fill the air with each contact made to either him or me. My body will be battered and bruised tomorrow, but it will all be worth it. I think I may have found a new way to release the built up anger within me. If only I did this, years ago when all the bad shit happened in my life, when I became damaged goods, and broken. A new image flashes into my mind and I subconsciously suck in a breath to fight the horror.
I’m aware my hits are becoming harder and faster, and I start to think one step ahead when the brick wall starts to deliver the same. I add a few high and low kicks after a left, right. I think I’m doing well until he grabs my foot and tips me over effectively making me land hard on my b
ack. His face comes into view and the image of my mother and father are gone.
“Settle down, princess.” His brow furrows, while his chest heaves up and down just like mine is. “You’re going to blow a fuse.”
He has no idea...
I refrain from punching this guy in the face for calling me a princess. Obviously I’m not. I’m the fucking queen. I close my eyes and try to catch my breath. My chest moves up and down fast. I can feel the sweat in the gloves and I try to pull them off but they won’t come off. I’m aware of my arms moving and suddenly I can feel the coolness against my hands. I open my eyes as my breath returns and note a huge hand in my face. I grip it, and I’m hauled to my feet.
“You need to warm down, get on the treadmill and walk it off now.” He points to the treadmills, then chucks a towel at me.
I catch it and head over towards the treadmills, but veer off course and jump on the cross trainer. I wipe my face and cleavage with the towel to remove the built up sweat before putting the towel around my neck and climbing on.
Two hours later, my legs and arms feel like jello. I smell fucking horrible and I can hear the shower calling my name. Throughout the two hours, I moved from the cross trainer to the rowing machine, to weights. I even did a little dance on the pole before hanging upside down. I stayed there long enough to feel the blood rush to my head then sat upright again. The guy continued to work out too, and every now and then his grunts would make me giggle.
I walk over to the kitchen area in the gym and open the fridge door. I grab an energy drink and drink the entire contents in no time at all.
“Thanks for the boxing match earlier; I needed that just as much as you did.” The rough voice says from behind me.
I turn around and smile weakly before extending my hand.
“I’m Kat by the way, and yeah I did need it.”
He takes my small hand in his is too large one and squeezes before he shakes. His hands are sweaty and gross and his shirt is sticking to his skin.