by Lissa Kasey
“We just went to Artie’s. I told you where I was going.”
“Not that you were going with the detective.”
“Wasn’t planning on him being there. Ran into him on the way.”
“Not the point, Aki.”
There was a knock on their door. Manny opened it a second later. “Bart needs you downstairs, Candy. If you’re ready, Aki, I’ve got Jerry and Claudius ready to drive you.”
“I don’t want Paris to be mad if I’m early.”
“Better early than late,” Candy pointed out as he made his way out the door. “Behave. Tell Paris you’re sorry. Get fucked. Come back more calm. I need my bestie back.”
Aki sucked in a deep breath. Calm, sure. If he could erase all the surging memories Jackson Taylor had unearthed. They kept racing through his mind every time he had a spare minute to think. He followed Manny down to the foyer where he waved to Jerry and Claudius. Aki’s gut really began to hurt. He wanted to throw up. Good thing he hadn’t had time for breakfast. Since it was an hour drive to Paris’s place, he’d have time to calm himself. Maybe. Hopefully.
Jerry opened the door for him, then slid in after him, letting Claudius take the wheel. The ride would take them through winding roads and into the wilderness that had retaken the world outside of the city. Twenty-six cities across the North arched their way across a map in sprawling metropolises. Most were hundreds of miles apart. And there was no such thing as small towns. Resources were produced inside the city. Very few ventured outside of it. Too much danger from weather, bandits, or even wild animals kept them all close to the concrete jungles. But Paris lived an hour outside the city on a huge piece of land surrounded by endless woods on all four sides. He had a loft in the city too, but Aki had never been called there. All the companions were trained at the Hansworth Estate.
Aki remembered the day Paris had first taken him in. Shortly after Bart had left, Paris had gripped Aki’s arm, flipping it over to stare at the scarred wrist and mangled remnants of a barcode that had been tattooed to identify him. The biohazard symbol seemed to mock him no matter how many treatments he tried to fade it.
“Made a right mess of this. Show no one this hand. I have a surgeon friend who does wonders with bad tattoos, but you’ll likely always have a scar. And that symbol will never go away. Some sort of chemical in the ink that bleeds through no matter what. No one wants a Southern slave servicing them. Too much like sleeping with the enemy. They’d abuse you in a heartbeat.”
Aki shrugged. He’d already had the worst done to him. He pulled his wrist away, wary but unafraid.
“I have a feeling you won’t be hard to train. Your eyes say you’ve been broken. You must learn not to show anyone but your Master that pain. To the world outside you are flawless. All those cracks that are leaking, bleeding, crying are nonexistent.”
“Give me shelter and food, and I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Those are limits you should only give to someone you trust. Do you trust me?” Paris asked.
Aki shrugged. Did he dare trust anyone? Not likely.
Paris nodded. “Well then, we have six weeks to teach you how to trust. I like a challenge.”
Trust. Such a little word with so large a meaning. Aki trusted Paris but still feared him. Why? Paris knew his limits. Paris would never do anything to hurt him. Most of what they did was just grandstanding until Aki cracked and admitted he was wrong. He didn’t want to be wrong this time. Why was it bad to like McNaughton? It’s not like they did anything. Well, frottage wasn’t really a big deal, right? The companions were discouraged from having personal relationships with the clients. It just wasn’t logical. People paid them for sex. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t allowed.
The car stopped, and when the driver opened the door, Aki slid out. He stared at the mansion as the breeze rustled his hair and chilled his skin through the thin sweater. Security was tight there. People dressed in black with earpieces and glasses with schematical scanning devices embedded in them stood at every corner. Someday Aki hoped to have a home so grand. Maybe not as big and a little closer to the city would be nice—since he’d need to buy shoes—but the house itself was wonderful. Endless windows looking out to the star-filled sky, guards at every entrance, and the quiet elegance of stone walls, burbling fountains, and wind blowing through the trees made the place seem like a palace.
Aki had probably serviced men richer than Paris, but none who stood with as much refinement as he did. And none who could command a room just by walking into it as he did.
The guards led him inside and up the stairs to Paris’s immaculate suite. They left him standing in the doorway and disappeared back down the stairs. No reason for them to stay. Aki wouldn’t be in this room long. Not if Paris truly meant to punish him. The dungeon was down two floors and tucked away where no one would stumble across it by accident.
Paris sat on the white leather couch, feet up, facing away from the door. The lights cast a reflection of Aki in the window as the sun was beginning to set. He glanced over his outfit again. Would Paris approve? He probably should have worn something easy to strip out of instead of dressing to impress.
“You’re early.”
Aki frowned and lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry. I can wait downstairs until you’re ready.”
“I’m not the one who needs to be ready, Misaki. I’ve been hearing a lot of not-good things about your exploits of late. Care to give me your version?” Paris rose from his seat and crossed the room to stand in front of Aki.
“I stayed out one night. I got lost. Didn’t have my phone—”
“Sounds a lot like excuses to me,” Paris interrupted. He reached out and traced Aki’s face with his fingertips. Aki closed his eyes as the feeling of a gentle rain caressed his mind. “You dressed nice.”
Aki didn’t reply.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you, Master.”
“You haven’t earned the right to call me that.”
“Sir, sorry, Sir.”
“What are your safewords?” Paris asked, probably more to remind Aki he had the option than because he didn’t know them.
“Red and yellow, Sir.”
“Hard stop and pause. I know your limits, Misaki. Do you?” Paris ran his hands across the shoulder of the sweater. “I see this couture has become your armor. That is well and fine for work, but not here. Strip and present.”
Aki moved without even contemplating the order, removing his shoes, his top, his skirt, and finally the delicate underwear he’d chosen. He folded everything in a neat pile and left them on the floor beside his feet, his phone on top of the stack. He stood shoulders straight, head down, hands gripping his elbows behind his back. The numerous windows open to the world had a flush heating his skin. Anyone could see him. Sure, they were on the second floor, but Paris had guards everywhere. Anyone could be watching him. Even the South. The nasty thought whispered through his mind as he remembered the chip that was supposedly embedded in his back.
“You’re shivering. Are you cold?” Paris asked.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, Sir.”
“Hmm.” Paris walked around him, examining him as he had that first day. Aki had been so scrawny then and covered in scars they thought they could never get rid of. His skin had been stretched tight across his bones from starvation, making him little more than a skeleton masquerading as a person. “You’re afraid? You are afraid. Yet unapologetic.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Aki said quickly. His heart hammered in his chest. He’d been through this a hundred times, knew the drill, the rules. Paris couldn’t really hurt him unless Aki let him. Why was he so afraid? Memories of the camp and the torture kept filling his mind, but that was all before….
“What are you sorry for?”
“For staying out.”
“Try again.”
“I’m not sorry for seeing McNaughton.”
“Hmm.” Paris disappeared for a mom
ent only to return with a blindfold. Aki didn’t try to stop him from tying it in place. No light filtered through the cloth at all, and for a moment Aki was disoriented. “Bart thinks you need to be beaten.”
Aki stiffened.
“He’s a horrible dominant. He can be a very violent and passionate man, but cares little for the needs of others. I believe that’s a necessary trait for a soldier. He is a wonderful businessman, which is odd since people are his business. Keeps the companions safe by being just scary enough to keep the creeps away. Why are you sorry, Misaki?”
“For staying out. I should have had one of the guards walk me home.”
“That is the guards’ failing. They should have followed you whether or not you requested them to. That is their job. What is your job, Misaki?”
“To service the clients, make them feel wanted and come back for more.”
Paris’s sigh was heavy. “Your job is to obey. It really has been too long since you’ve been disciplined.” Paris gripped Aki’s arm, turning him toward the door and leading him out of the room. They’d have to walk through the main part of the house to get to the dungeon. Aki’s heart sped up. He didn’t want anyone to see him. Could they somehow tell he’d once been a slave? Maybe see the chip in his back? He’d never been proud of his small body and often still felt like he was that emaciated kid begging for a chance to live. Were they all staring? Judging?
“Yellow… yellow.”
Paris paused, forcing Aki to stop. “Breathe.”
“I can’t,” Aki whispered. “Don’t want anyone to see….” Where were they? Near the stairs? Was the room losing air? Why was it so hot? Usually Paris kept his house a little cooler just for occasions like this.
“Fredrick,” Paris said.
“Sir?” The reply came back instantly from a phone.
“Clear everyone out of the main part of the house for the next ten minutes.”
“Sir.”
Paris tapped his foot, and Aki did everything he could to concentrate on the sound, the rhythm, and match his breath to it. “Clear,” the man said.
“All right, then. No one will see you,” Paris said to Aki and began leading him again. “Concentrate on your steps and my voice. Clear your mind. No one can or will hurt you while you’re in my home. Let me take care of you.” They moved through the house until Aki recognized the familiar whine of the heavy dungeon door opening.
The panic that seized him nearly had him doubling up and crawling across the threshold. He fought to keep his back straight and legs from giving out beneath him, but he longed to sit at Paris’s feet and beg for forgiveness so all the anxiety would just fade away.
“Please don’t beat me,” Aki begged as he was led into the room and the door closed.
“Have I ever beaten you, Misaki?”
“No.” Aki could barely get the word out. The memories that rushed through him of all the violence he’d experienced in his life made him tremble, but none of it was from Paris.
“On your knees.”
Aki dropped to the hard floor immediately. The concrete floor was cold, but solid. He heard Paris move around him; a chair shifted and then was set close enough to brush air across Aki’s skin.
“Let’s talk a bit about your contract.” Paris’s voice came from just inches away. “Back straight, head bowed, hands on your thighs, no slouching. You’ve done this before. Good.” He paused, then asked again, “What is your job, Misaki?”
“To obey, Sir,” Aki answered instantly.
“And how was staying out the night of the bonfire disobeying?”
Aki frowned. The night of the bonfire, everyone went home late. Everyone was expected to be out all night. His contract said nothing about late nights. It wasn’t really a matter of staying out, it was not going home. It was not calling for a ride or telling anyone where he was. “I didn’t tell anyone where I was. Bart has to know where I am at all times. It’s in the contract.”
“Why is that so important?”
“To keep us safe, Sir.”
Paris got up. The sound of the chair scraping the floor echoed across the walls, and then his footsteps paced around the room. “You need to be punished, Misaki. What are you being punished for?”
“Not calling, Sir. Not telling anyone where I was. For leaving my phone behind.”
“You still don’t sound sorry. How would you feel if Candy was out all night and didn’t call to tell you or anyone where he was?”
“Worried.”
“Yet you made everyone worry. Is that okay?”
“No, Sir.” It had been very selfish. Aki really had gotten a big head from all the attention. Candy had been trying to tell him that he’d been worried sick. “Take your phone,” he’d told Aki. “Call if there was a change.” And of course Bart worried. Bart’s job was to take care of all the companions. They were bound by written contract, which meant if the government entered the brothel and demanded to know where any of them were, Bart had to answer for them. Any not accounted for could mean heavy fines or even jail time for the holder of the contract. He felt tears sting his eyes, and his gut clenched with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Sir.”
“And what is your job, Misaki?”
“To obey.” Aki sucked in a deep breath and let the words filter through him. He knew the weight of Paris’s step well, the sound of the heels of his hard-soled shoes on the concrete, the soothing tone of his voice, and the minor echo of the dungeon’s bare walls. These were all comforting sounds. “Please punish me, Sir. I forgot myself.”
The chair returned. Metal legs were set down beside Aki, and Paris’s weight added to it made it groan. “When I first took you in, we worked out these rules together. You told me you’d do anything for food and shelter. You have both. Still you disobeyed a very simple order.”
“I’ve gotten greedy, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“You have. But I think it’s part of what you have to do to be a whore. Either learn to control yourself or find someone to control you. Which do you prefer?”
Aki didn’t answer. He didn’t know.
“You still have trouble trusting anyone. But you trust Candy.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Candy is a dominant at heart, but years away from being strong enough to be what you need. A strong sub needs a powerful dominant to take care of them. I think that is what you desire. Why you give in so easily to me. You trust Bart to protect you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“But you’re making it hard for him to do so. Do you trust this detective?”
Aki hesitated.
“Your hesitation says no.”
“I want to trust him.”
“Has he earned that?”
Had he? Aki swallowed hard. Yes and no. “I can’t touch him. There’s a lot of anger and pain in his head.”
“And there is not in mine? I forget you can’t see inside my head for some reason. I’ll have to think on that.”
“Sir?”
“Hands behind your back, grip your elbows, I know you’re flexible enough. I wonder how many times I will have to punish you this weekend to readjust your behavior. You know I dislike having to do this. I think for the next few days we will have very set discipline. And why do you need that, Misaki?”
“Discipline prevents punishment, Sir.”
“We shall see.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“We’ll start with ten swats. Stand up.” Paris gripped Aki’s forearm and helped him stand before leading him to a chair where he then sat and pulled Aki down over his lap, his bare bottom in the air. “You’ll count with me, Misaki. If you lose count, we’ll start over. Now tell me again why you’re being punished?” His hand came down in a hard slap against Aki’s butt. The sting was immediate, and no soft caress or teasing touch softened the blow.
“One,” Aki whispered. “I didn’t call, Sir. Didn’t tell anyone where I was. I made everyone worry. I was selfish. I didn’t obey the contract. I’m so sorry.” Another smack. “Two.
Thank you, Sir.”
“Tell me about the detective, Misaki.” Another smack resounded with the question, bringing tears to Aki’s eyes as it added fire to the growing sting.
“Three, Sir. I like him.” Another swat landed hard. Aki bit his lip to keep from crying out. “Four. Thank you, Sir. He makes me want other things. Makes me forget I’m a whore.”
“That is not necessarily a bad thing, Misaki.”
“Five. Thank you, Sir.”
“Being a companion does not mean giving up emotions. It doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love with someone or worry about someone. Imagine yourself sitting in your room at the Gem, it’s near dawn. Candy hasn’t returned yet. Everyone is moving around, no one sleeping, everyone worried because no one knows where he is. He hasn’t called. You’ve heard horror stories of companions gang-raped, murdered, tortured, or held captive for years, suffering from all those things. How does that make you feel, Misaki?” Another smack.
“Six. Terrified, Sir. Heartsick. I’m so sorry.” Paris didn’t ask more questions as Aki counted through the rest of the spanking. Aki’s ass burned, and tears poured from his eyes like a dam had burst. He fought to keep from squirming or moving his hands to cover his stinging flesh. If he moved, he’d be tied and they’d start over. The final slap came, and Aki tasted blood in a coppery sweet rush as he accidentally bit his cheek too hard to keep from crying out. “Ten,” he whispered almost inaudibly. Paris helped him up and led him to a bed, letting him lie on his stomach. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Close your eyes, Aki. I’m going to change your blindfold.” He removed the wet cloth and replaced it with a new one. “I’ve made a few changes to the room in the past few months that would trigger bad memories for you, so we’ll keep the blindfold for now, but you may loosen your arms.”
Aki let his arms fall by his sides, relaxing. The ache in his shoulders told him he’d have more than just a sore ass tomorrow. Paris put a small pillow under Aki’s head, and Aki turned to the side so he could lie comfortably. His butt still felt like it was on fire, but Paris sat close, his touch gentle, nonerotic, but caring. The punishment was over, but Aki still felt guilty. He wanted to call Bart, Candy, and all the guards to apologize. He wanted to hear their voices and ensure they were okay, home safe, protected.