by Naomi West
“Um, yeah. That,” I said, figuring I might as well be honest.
“Just because I like riding on my hog doesn’t mean I can’t have an appreciation for the finer things, you know.”
Just who is this guy? I asked myself.
He led me into a spacious lounge that looked out over the backyard where a long, well-lit pool stretched out into the distance, a bright, full moon hanging over it. Tank walked over to an ornate bar, fetching a bottle of champagne and two glasses from behind it. Walking back over, he popped the cork and filled the two glasses. He held out one of them to me and raised his glass for a toast.
“To your new living arrangements,” he said.
I wasn’t yet sure this was something to celebrate, but I figured that I didn’t have much say in what was going on. I toasted him and took a sip of my drink. It was crisp, fruity, and delicious.
“Sit down,” he said.
I backed up to the couch behind me and took a seat.
“Please,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on. What are you going to do with me?”
“Glad you asked,” said Tank. “Because here’s the deal: first of all, you’re my property. Don’t ever forget that. You do what I say, when I say it. No backtalk—you won’t like what happens if you try any of that shit. Second, you stay here at the house unless I give you permission otherwise. Help yourself to whatever you want in the kitchen —I don’t give a shit—but stay out of my room. I’m giving you partial freedom on a trial basis. You can have free rein to go around the property, but if you try and make a break for it I will find you—make no mistake. And when I do, you’re not gonna like what happens.”
I gulped hard. Something told me that a man like him had the resources to track me down if I did try to make an escape. Not like I’d get far—there was a tall fence all around the property and then there were woods beyond that.
“You may think I’m being a real hard-ass, but you’ll be thanking your lucky fuckin’ stars when you start to hear about what goes on with the other girls who got bought. That motherfucker Dakin? He keeps his girls in a goddamn cage.”
I shuddered at the thought; I knew there was a reason I’d gotten a bad vibe from him. Even before I knew he was the type to break into a girl’s home when she was sleeping.
“Oh,” said Tank. “And you owe me.”
“What?” I asked, wondering just what the hell he could possibly mean.
“Your little dine-and-dash stunt. I was nice enough to cover your bill.”
“Um, thank you,” I said, not really sure of how to respond to that.
“So, let’s start out our little arrangement by asking you this: what are you gonna do to pay me back?”
“What?”
“You heard me. How I see it is that right now, you’re about twenty-five bucks in the hole. And you’re flat broke. So what’re you going to do to make things square?”
I nervously sipped my champagne, as if trying to buy time.
“Umm … what would you like me to do?”
A smirk crossed Tank’s lips.
“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
He started off towards the hallway but turned as he was leaving.
“Stand up and wait right there for me. I don’t want you to move a muscle.”
I gulped hard, and he was gone. I felt totally helpless, which I think was his intention. Tank had complete control of the situation, and he knew it. There wasn’t a trace of doubt or hesitation in his voice. He knew what he wanted, and he seemed certain that he was going to get it. So I stayed stone-still as he was gone. Soon, he returned, a small black box tucked under his beefy arm. He set the box down on a nearby table and clicked it open. I couldn’t quite see what was in it since that would’ve required me to turn my head.
“Good girl,” he said. “Just where I left you. Then again, I was looking forward to punishing you if you disobeyed.”
He rummaged through his case for a moment and withdrew something that looked like a big black ring. With slow, easy steps, Tank moved in front of me and held the thing up.
It was a leather bondage collar. I gasped as he showed it to me.
“What is this?” he asked.
“It’s … a collar.”
“Smart girl. Tell me what kind wears a collar.”
“An animal; a pet.”
“A pet—that’s right on the fuckin’ money.”
He extended the collar to me.
“You have my permission to move. Take this and put it on.”
I reached up and took the collar, which was surprisingly heavy. I stared at it for a moment, still unable to believe what I was holding.
“I didn’t say ‘look at it’; I said ‘put it on’.”
I nodded, unfastening the collar’s latch and placed it around my neck.
“Nice,” he said. “Very nice.”
He finished the rest of his champagne with a single swig.
“Now, if a collar is what a pet wears, and you’re wearing one right now, what does that make you?”
“A … pet.”
“Very good. And that’s what you are as long as you’re here: you’re my pet. Here to please me.”
He set his empty glass down and plopped onto the couch.
“Never really liked that champagne shit; I like the hard stuff better. So, pet—why don’t you make me a drink.”
I looked up at him, my eyes wide. Part of me still felt like he was joking.
“Um, what would you like?” I asked, deciding to play along for now.
“Whiskey. Neat,” he said, sitting back in his seat, his eyes scanning over every inch of my body.
I made my way to the bar and took down the necessary items. As I assembled the drink, Tank picked up a nearby remote and pressed a button, causing a series of lights to illuminate on a nearby speaker system and raunchy rock music to start playing. The drink made, I walked back over to Tank. But before I could cover the distance, he held up his hand.
“Don’t walk like that,” he said, his low voice carrying over the music.
“Umm, like what?” I asked.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“You’ve got a great ass and killer fuckin’ legs. I want to see you use them.”
A strange little sound escapes my lips. What did he want me to do? I’d been living with my grandma for the majority of my life; I had no idea what “be sexy” meant.
“Um, how?” I asked.
He let out a dry chuckle.
“Don’t walk like a damn linebacker. Walk like a woman. Walk with your hips.”
I moved back to the bar, as though we were rehearsing and I had been given a second chance.
“Put the drink on that tray. When I ask for something, you use that. Don’t ‘hand’ me anything.”
I gulped, feeling tense under the commands. But strangely, I didn’t feel tense because I was mad at him for telling me what to do; I felt tense because I wanted to get it right. I set the drink on the nearby silver tray and held the thing with two hands. Then, taking a deep breath, I walked over to him again. I tried what he said, focusing on my hips and ass while I walked.
“Nope,” he said. “Do it again.”
Back to the bar, and then another deep breath. I focused harder this time, even going so far as to picture my legs in my mind as I began to walk. Then, I started.
“Nope. Nope.”
I opened my mouth to finally protest, but a harsh glare and a raised palm made it clear that he didn’t want to hear a peep. I worried that tears might start forming in my eyes at any second; I just didn’t know what I was doing wrong. But strangely, even more than frustration, the need to do what he said, to please Tank, burned in me. As much as I knew that I should’ve thrown the tray on the ground and told him to screw off, even greater was the urge to walk the way he wanted, to make him happy.
Closing my eyes and picturing my ass in my mind as best I could, I started over towards him again. I tried to be as
conscious of my body as I could, letting the muscles of my rear and legs do all the work. And as I did, I felt a strange sway develop in my step. My ass moved from side to side as I walked, and I felt a sexuality exude from me that I never knew I had. Opening my eyes, I saw Tank’s gaze focused on my hips as I made my way across the long lounge. A little smirk formed on his lips, and I took that as a sign that he was pleased with me.
And when I realized he was, I was pleased too. When I reached Tank, I bent over at the waist, letting my ass stick into the air. He took the glass off the tray, his eyes locked onto my rear as he sipped his whiskey.
What the hell is wrong with me? I thought. Why is turning this guy on making me feel so … hot?
I thought about my grandma’s lessons, how she’d told me how “good girls” were supposed to act. I knew she’d just wanted to protect me, but damn … did being bad always feel this good?
“Set the tray down,” said Tank.
I complied and stood before him, my hands on my hips.
“Now strip.”
I gulped hard. Walking sexy was one thing, but stripping? I couldn’t even imagine where to begin with something like that.
“Um, what do I do?” I asked.
Tank laughed again.
“You take off your clothes,” he said. “I got a little taste back at the auction. But now I want to see what I paid for.”
My face turned a deep red, and Tank chuckled once again.
“Trust me, you’ll get used to it. This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what I’ve got in mind for you.”
I wanted to freeze in place again, like a little rabbit under the gaze of a sharp-toothed predator. But these feelings of fear faded slightly, and I began to psych myself up.
“Just do what you did before,” he said. “Use your hips.”
He then turned the music up louder, and I realized that this was going to be the only hint I was going to get from him. I listened to the music for a few seconds, picking up on the beat. And I felt ready. I began to sway my hips from side to side, like I’d done when I walked over. I closed my eyes, letting the beat of the music dictate my motions. As the song went on, I felt the beat move into my body, taking it over. The singer screamed out nasty lyrics that were thinly-veiled references to sex, and rather than feel disgusted, I tried to let myself get into the mood of sleazy fun that the song advertised.
I turned, bending over and pointing my ass at Tank, allowing him a full view. Turning back towards him, I ran my hands down the slopes of my curves as I rocked my hips from side to side. Against my control, I felt a wicked little smirk form on my face. Tank’s eyes were locked on me, and God help me, I loved the attention.
Oh, right, I thought, I gotta actually strip!
I slipped my fingers underneath the straps of my dress, working them over my shoulders. Slowly, I pulled it down. Unfortunately, my grace and skill wasn’t quite where I’d have liked them to be, and I wobbled a bit as I brought down the dress over my breasts. I saw Tank smirk as he took a sip of his whiskey. Despite my enthusiasm being higher than it had been when I started, I still felt self-conscious and awkward, and I’m sure it showed in my performance. Still, I kept at it.
The top of the dress was now below my breasts, my bra exposed. I moved the dress down more and more, swaying my hips as I did. I had a hard time keeping up to the beat of the music, so I decided to just pull the dress of in a quick motion, nearly falling over when I brought it down to my feet. My shoes were caught on the dress as I kicked it off; I still wasn’t quite used to heels.
Regardless, Tank seemed to be enjoying my performance. I hoped so, since I was now in nothing but my underwear and heels. Well, and the collar. The song continued on, and I moved my hands up along my back to my bra, my fingers slowly working open the hooks. With a quick motion, I undid the bra and removed it, the air of the room cool against my now bare breasts. I moved my hands along my hips once again, bringing them up to my breasts and squeezing my cleavage together, a sly smile on my face as I did.
I guess now’s the time for the rest, I thought.
But just as I slid my fingers underneath the waistband of my panties, Tank held up a hand.
“Stop.”
I froze in place. Was I doing that badly? Was he bored with me already?
He turned the music down and rose from his seat.
Is he going to … sleep with me now? I thought.
I was feeling better about … all that, but I didn’t think I was ready for things moving that quickly. After all, I was a virgin.
He walked over to me slowly, his eyes moving up and down my body. Then, like before at the auction house, he grabbed onto my breasts, squeezing them firmly. But this time, he leaned in close, taking my nipple into his mouth. I shivered as he lashed my now-hard nipple with his tongue, the feeling coursing through my body like hot electricity. I took in a sharp breath as he moved from one nipple to the other, his hands kneading my breasts all the while. I felt a tight tension form … down below. Something like an insistent heat. An animalistic part of me was beginning to take over, urging me to surrender to him.
But instead, he moved his head away from my breasts and stepped back. He took one last look at me and finished his drink.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he said, setting his drink down on a nearby table. “I want to savor my newest possession.”
He started off towards the hallway, but stopped in his tracks when he realized that he’d left me standing there half naked.
“Take one of the extra bedrooms on the third floor. Up the stairs, third door on the right.”
And just like that, he was gone.
I stood there for a few minutes, the strangeness of the situation covering me like a heavy blanket. Once I realized that Tank was gone, I made my upstairs to the bedroom he’d told me to go to. It was a huge room, the bed a four-point, comfy-looking thing, the window looking out over the long stretch of the front yard. And right as I stepped over the threshold, the events of the day caught up with me and I found myself with barely the energy to stumble over to the bed before collapsing down on top of it and falling into a deep sleep.
Chapter Seven
Tank
The next morning, I got up early, the sun barely up when my eyes opened. I had a busy fucking day ahead of me and needed to get on it. I took a quick shower and threw on some clothes. On my way down from the third floor, I peeked into the bedroom of my newest purchase to see how she was getting used to things. She was sprawled out on top of the bed, still wearing her dress. I took a quick look over her and saw that she was out like a goddamn light.
She’d had a wild day yesterday, probably the wildest of her life, so I decided to let her sleep. But as I looked her over, my eyes moving along the curves of her hips and ass, part of me wanted to jostle her awake and give it to her right then and there. But I used some restraint, keeping in mind I could only fuck her for the first time once.
I made a cup of coffee, not feeling like a real breakfast. Looking over my fancy-ass kitchen, I couldn’t get over the fact that this place was all mine. It was a little ritzy; I could tell that Star was pretty surprised to see that a rough motherfucker like me would have such fancy digs. But I liked it. Maybe a little of the museum-type shit could go, but I liked the rest. It sent a clear message that I was loaded as fuck, and anyone who walked through those doors would know right away that I wasn’t a guy to take lightly.
Draining the last dregs of my coffee, I headed out the door. An hour on my bike later and I was with the rest of the boys at Razor’s, the dive near Gainesville where the boys and I met up every now and then. Cruiser and the rest of the boys were already there, girls from last night on their arms. The guys looked loaded as shit, most of them probably keeping the partying from last night going. Normally, I would’ve joined them. But I had another deal with Dakin to work out today, and I needed to have a clear head for that. Dakin wasn’t a dude to mess with, and part of me was regretting swiping Star out from
under him.
“There’s the fuckin’ man!” shouted Cruiser, giving the girl he was with a hard squeeze on the ass before coming over to greet me with a slap on the shoulder.
“You boys have fun last night?” I asked.
“Sure did, boss,” said Cruiser. “Got these girls good and broken in.”
“That’s what I like to fuckin’ hear,” I said.
Cruiser shoved a drink in my hands and I set it down before taking a sip.
“Come on, man,” said Cruiser. “Let’s keep this party goin’!”