Tortured Soul

by Kirsty Dallas

  Her pale blue eyes seemed to be searching mine, trying to see beyond the inky black depths. She went to speak but seemed to think better of it. It was just one of the many things we needed to work on. Emily needed to know she could speak freely again, and that there would be no retribution for her words regardless of what they were or how they were delivered.

  “No secrets, Em. You will not be punished for speaking your mind with me. I would actually like it if you did.” I didn’t think she was going to say anything, but finally her shoulders moved back slightly and her chin rose. There was strength beneath the damage, and that was good. She would need strength to defeat the invisible constraints that Jonas’s abuse had left her with.

  “Your collared women?”

  My nod was hesitant. “Woman, only one. It was mutual, something she wanted and the collar was in the form of wrist cuffs. They were feminine and delicate, much like the woman who wore them.” Emily’s hand rose to her neck, and her fingers traced an invisible line in an automatic and detached manner. “Jonas made you wear a collar?”

  She nodded, and her hand fell back into her lap. “It was tight, I didn’t like it,” she confessed. Emily’s eyes rose cautiously back to mine, and I saw a question in them. I tilted my head and waited patiently for her to speak.

  “Did you keep slaves?”

  I almost blanched at her question. I shook my head. “I never owned a slave, Em,” my voice was slightly rougher than I intended, “I dated women, who, like me, enjoyed this lifestyle. I never sought out to buy an unwilling woman. I find the entire idea of such a practice sickening.”

  Regardless of the undisguised revulsion and venom in my tone, Em didn’t seem to withdraw with fear. I took a deep breath to control my anger. I wasn’t angry with Em, I was angry with the piece of shit that had delivered her into the world of slavery. Her ideas of dominant/submissive relationships had been skewered and impaired by her previous master.

  “I admit I have interests in relationships with submissive women, but my relationships have always been consensual, and I never enjoyed the lifestyle to the extent Jonas Levier and his friends do. In the bedroom, yes, I enjoy being in charge, and I have interests that might be considered adventurous to some. Outside the bedroom, I prefer my women to be independent; I like them to be able to make their own decisions. I do not enjoy seeing a woman on her knees outside the bedroom; I find it a little degrading.” She glanced away, and her cheeks flushed. Was she embarrassed by the things she was forced to do? “You don’t need to be ashamed, Em, that life was forced on you,” I gently explained.

  “What about the things that weren’t forced, Shakhta?” Her words were barely audible.

  “All your choices were removed the moment Jonas took you from the streets and forced himself on you.”

  Her solemn gaze looked so dejected and forlorn that in that moment I just wanted to bring her into my arms and hold her tight. But I wouldn’t. I made her a promise that I would not touch her without permission, and I would keep that promise. Her life had been dictated, her choices removed and as much as I wanted to give her back the tenderness she had been denied, I wouldn’t do so without her permission. She was a stunning woman, and I was asshole enough to admit I would enjoy sinking by cock into her beautiful willing body—willing being the operative word. Emily didn’t need a conceited shit like me screwing with her head any more than I needed a broken sub on my hands.

  “So, you don’t like the water? How far does this distaste towards the wet stuff go?” I deftly changed the subject.

  “I can’t swim, Shakhta,” she said, glancing out the big wide windows that overlooked the tropical crystal water beyond.

  “Hmmm,” I wondered, thinking we needed to fix that. Not now though, but tomorrow perhaps. It would help build her trust in me, and I wanted to give her back all the things that had been taken from her over the years. This was just one of those things. “We are going to be on the water for a few days, I hope that won’t be too much of a problem for you.” She shook her head but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. “Jonas is going to assume we put you on the first plane out of here, so we thought we might mix things up a little and spend a few days here. Then I will take you home.” Her shoulders tensed. “To Claymont,” I added.

  Emily’s shiver of apprehension was nothing more than a muted emotion, barely recognizable, unless you spent your life watching people, watching for the smallest signs: dilated pupils, goose bumps on the skin, the slight quiver in the shoulders. The smallest nuance in body language could speak a thousand words, and it was easy to read for someone like myself who spent their life observing others.

  “What about that bothers you?” Emily’s head dipped low, her eyes avoiding mine. I clutched her chin in my fingertips hard enough to let her know I meant business, but gentle enough that it wouldn’t mark her delicate skin. “Lies can be told with words and silence, Malen’kaya. I forbid both: truths only between us.” Her eyes were full of fear, but just like before, she pressed her shoulders back and raised her chin. Defiance lived in that heart somewhere, and I’ll be damned if it didn’t turn me on.

  “It may not be safe for B to have me so close, Shakhta, Master Jonas wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her as a way to hurt me.”

  It didn’t surprise me that her own safety took a back seat to her sister’s. “Rebecca is safe, as you will be. I have people in Claymont who can keep you both safe.” She was watching me like a wary rabbit might a fox. “And, Em? Jonas is no longer your master. I would prefer it if you didn’t acknowledge him as one. I know after such a long time it will be difficult to think of him as anything else, but I want you to try. Can you do that for me?” Her nod was uncertain. “You won’t be punished for slipping, but I would appreciate it very much if you would try.”

  She nodded again, and this time it was filled with a little more determination. I knew she wanted to try and do this for me, to make me happy. The feelings coiling through my body were confusing. I didn’t want to be her master; I wanted Emily to be her own person and make her own decisions, yet I was silently thrilled that she wanted to please me, obey me.

  Again I noticed the look in her eye; she wanted to speak but was anxious about being punished. “What’s on your mind?” I encouraged her.

  “She’s really safe, Shakhta?”

  “She is. My men won’t take their eyes off her. And she has Charlie. I’m pretty sure that man would turn green and demolish everything in sight if someone threatened his woman again.”

  “He’s good to her?” she asked after a small silence.

  “Charlie loves Rebecca, as she does him. He’s very protective of her.” She nodded and I didn’t miss the look of longing behind those eyes that she tried to keep casual and impassive. “I need to speak to Larz. We’ll have to move soon. I don’t want to stay in one place too long. We aren’t exactly behaving like regular wealthy tourists should. We haven’t been swimming or sunbathing. We’ve only made one quick trip to shore. I don’t want to attract attention, so it’s best if we keep moving as if we are simply cruising the islands looking for somewhere comfortable to anchor.”

  Emily nodded, her eyes glancing nervously out the windows to the ocean beyond. “Shakhta?”

  “Yes, Em.”

  “Where are we?”

  My heart ached over her uncertainty. “We are in the Bahamas.”

  Her eyebrows rose a little. “I’ve never seen the Bahamas,” she whispered.

  “This bay is relatively secluded if you wanted to go out on deck and have a look around.” The fear in her eyes as she glanced at the window was palpable. “How about you start cleaning this up while I go speak to the others? When I get back, I’ll take you out to have a look if you wish.”

  “Others?” Again, the apprehension in her voice was thick.

  “You’ve already met Larz. Daniel and Gabriella are on the top deck with him keeping watch. They didn’t want to overwhelm you, so they are giving us some space.” As I stood Emily slid ea
sily from the chair, her moves always smooth and graceful. “I’ll be right back, okay.”

  “Yes, Shakhta.”

  With great reluctance, I left her and headed for the upper deck where my team had a perfect view around the entire yacht. I didn’t want to leave her alone for a moment, worried that if I let her out of my sight she would disappear. Although I didn’t like the idea of her being frightened of the water, it was somewhat comforting to know she couldn’t exactly escape me and make her way back to Jonas. I recalled my earlier conversation with Mercy’s partner, Dave. I had checked in with Dillon via satellite phone and thankfully Mercy and Dave were visiting with Annie and Eli. It hadn’t occurred to me to speak to Dave. I knew Emily would need a psychiatrist at some point in time, and it had slipped my mind that Dave was the resident psychiatrist for Mercy’s Shelter for Abused Women. He operated in stealth mode at the shelter. None of the women who stayed there realized he had a doctorate in psychology. He just came across as a really good listener. Dave had suggested it was possible Emily might harbor some form of Stockholm syndrome. To become attached to a man who had dominated her life so completely for so long would be normal. Emily hadn’t really shown that attachment yet, but she was likely still in shock at having been pulled abruptly out of the strict life she had been trapped within. Dave also mentioned she would more than likely suffer from PTSD and possibly a borderline personality disorder, her emotions might fluctuate drastically from one moment to the next. Anger and confusion would likely sit at the forefront of those shifting emotions. Trauma focused cognitive therapy would be the best course of action in addressing Emily’s emotional trauma. I had no idea what that involved, just that Dave would be able to recommend a suitable psychiatrist to help. Dave also suggested Emily might continue to need a dominant hand in her life while she came to terms with her freedom. Someone who could be trusted not to take advantage of such dominance, someone who would carefully present options to Emily in a way that would allow her to begin making her own choices. Even though I had only been in one full time Dom/sub relationship in my lifetime, it was enough to have the necessary skills to take care of Em, for now. I didn’t enjoy a heavily dominant relationship, which is why the one I had been in didn’t work. Louisa had wanted a collar, which I had to admit excited the fuck out of me. I had purchased delicate cuffs which she wore around her small wrists and seeing her in them had always made me instantly hard. But that hadn’t been enough for Louisa. She wanted a man to make all her decisions, to plan her day to day routines and be almost completely dependent on. That didn’t work for me. I loved nothing more than a strong willed woman who could let me know when I was being an arrogant prick, who would challenge me, stand tall and proud beside me. The thrill of seeing a strong woman relinquish such power in the bedroom was heaven. Being a full time master outside of the bedroom was just too much work. I was plenty prepared to carefully dominate Emily though and gently nudge her toward the independent life she had lost, where she could make her own choices once more. Imagining her cuffed to my bed, her slim legs opened and bound while I pounded into her wet pussy gave me an instant erection. I wanted to beat the shit out of myself for thinking of her that way. What could I say? I was a damaged, sick fuck.

  “How’s she doin’?” came Larz’s rough voice from a chair by the helm of the yacht. Bomber sat lazily to his side, his feet propped up in an open window. A quick glance towards the helm had me locate Gabbie who sat stoically on the bow keeping watch.

  “You’re doing the whole Fifty Shades deal aren’t you?” asked Bomber with far too much enthusiasm. All three team members knew in varying degrees about my lifestyle choices. Larz and Gabbie had heard the rumor and never questioned it, and Bomber only knew because he was a close friend of Louisa’s.

  I raised a brow at Bomber’s smart ass remark. “First Cole, now you. What is it with you men reading women’s erotic fiction?” I grumbled.

  Bomber smirked. “If I want to keep all the ladies impressed in the bedroom then I need to keep abreast of all the latest kinks. You know how I aim to please.”

  I collapsed into a chair opposite Bomber and Larz. “Yeah, she lost it when I told her she didn’t have a master anymore, so I told her I would temporarily fill the gap.”

  Larz grunted. “What is it with you kids and that shit anyway? What ever happened to a good ol’ fashioned fuck? Y’all had to go and tinker with it. Haven’t ya heard the expression, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it?”

  Bomber and I grinned shaking our heads in unison.

  “You’re talking like an old man, Larz. Anyone would think you’re getting ready to be put out to pasture,” I thought out loud. Larz stretched out in the chair he was sitting in and crossed his legs at the ankles. He was one of the fittest men of his age I knew; his body still radiated power, and his mind was sharp as a tack.

  “Well, now that you mention it...” he went on.

  “You’re only forty-five, hardly retirement age,” I scoffed. “Anyway, Jonas is fifty-two, remember? He’s much older than you or I, and he’s one fucked up kinky bastard, so maybe it’s you old geezers that started mixing things up.”

  “It’s been confirmed that dildos dated as far back as fifth century BC, so I think it’s safe to say us kids have merely taken what you ol’ perverts had already thought of and simply perfected it.” Bomber grinned.

  Larz had far too much patience to counter or argue back. He simply turned around and took in the quiet water around us before turning his attention back to me. I ran a hand down my face. I hadn’t got much sleep once I had returned Emily to the yacht. Three hours at most, certainly not enough to stay sharp.

  “All quiet up here?”

  “Uh-huh. Not a peep,” confirmed Bomber.

  “We need to move.”

  “Already on it. There’s another quiet inlet a little further north, thought I might pull in there for the night,” said Larz.

  “Sounds good. Maybe you and Gabbie can take first shift tonight? I need a couple of hours shut eye, and I want Gabbie close on hand if Em needs anything while I’m on watch. I think she would feel more comfortable with another female around rather than two hairy-ass intimating men.”

  Bomber snorted. “I assume by hairy-ass, you’re referring to Larz.”

  Larz gave me a heavy slap to the back as he stood. “Not a problem, kiddo, I know how it is with you young fellas—all huff and no puff.” He glanced Bomber’s way before taking a sip of his coffee. “And if I so much as catch you looking at my ass, kid, I will neuter you.”

  Bomber grinned. “It is one fine ass for a man of your age,” he countered.

  I left the men bickering and took the stairs back down to the lower deck. I found Emily quietly seated on the large sofa, her hands resting in her lap her gaze downcast. The kitchen had been carefully cleaned; she was quick. When she saw me, panic flooded her features and she fell elegantly to her knees, straight into her submissive resting pose. I sighed at the sight, and I felt rather than saw Emily’s confusion. She knew I didn’t want this, but her mind reacted on sheer instinct. Her body tensed as if preparing for punishment, perhaps a berating or beating.

  “Em?” I said softly. “Bring those pretty blue eyes back to mine, Malen’kaya.” It had been a long time since Russian words had spilled from my lips so freely. But the term for ‘little one’ seemed fitting for her. She didn’t hesitate when she looked at me, and that filled me with a sense of pride. I knew I was confusing obedience with trust but I couldn’t help but hope. “Things like this are going to happen from time to time. Old habits die hard, but they will die. We’re going to create new habits, okay.”

  She nodded, and her eyes filled with unshed tears. Not a single one fell though, she kept her face as neutral as possible as she cautiously watched me.

  “If you feel you need to respond to me when I enter a room, how about you simply stand, or if you’re already standing simply look my way, give me those pretty blue eyes, or we could work on doing nothing at all. Which
would you prefer?” I was trying to give her a choice while still maintaining the roll as her master.

  “I can stand, Shakhta,” she offered.

  “Good girl. Let’s go with that for now then.” I held my hand out to her, and with only the slightest hesitation, she took it. I pulled her carefully to her feet, and she looked right into my eyes, just as I had asked her to. I gave her a warm smile, or at least my interpretation of one. My life hadn’t really been full of smiles and laughter, but I got the feeling that Emily’s was even less frequent. I hadn’t seen her smile yet, not once. I imagined she had a beautiful smile and the fact that Jonas had made it disappear made me want to kill him even more. The son of a bitch was going to feel pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. Jonas Levier thought he knew what the term cruel and unusual punishment meant. The fucker really didn’t have a clue.

  CHAPTER 5

  EMILY

  Shakhta sat at my side, his head rested back his eyes closed. He had put a movie on, a romance by the look of it. My Best Friend’s Wedding he had said, but I had paid little attention. In the short time that he had left me alone, I had become incredibly anxious, second guessing myself, doubting my ability to be the perfect submissive for my new Master. His wants were so different from anything I had been taught. He wanted to adopt a less stringent relationship, and though my heart yearned for such things, my mind fought like a feral beast to remain perfectly submissive, to adhere to the strict rules and regimen I had learned from Master Jonas. I winced at my internal mistake. Just Jonas, not Master Jonas. Jonas, I repeated in my mind, testing the empty name, letting it echo through my thoughts. It felt wrong and liberating all at the same time. Part of me mourned the loss of my former Master. The monster had destroyed me, stolen so much from me, and here I was missing his heavy hand and ruthless dominance. I hated that feeling of loss; it made me feel even more soiled and defiled. How could I regret the loss of someone so heartless? I began to do something I hadn’t done in a long time—I fidgeted. The perfect submissive sits quiet and still, hands at rest, body relaxed and ready. My body was so tense I was sure I might crack if I moved. My fingers rubbed at the newly acquired scar on the underside of my forearm. I had rubbed at it so hard the freshly puckered skin had reddened and began to sting. I don’t know if Shakhta had noticed or simply sensed my disquiet, but his head rose as he observed me. That just made me even more anxious.