The Seller, Buyer, Girl and Her Master

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The Seller, Buyer, Girl and Her Master Page 15

by Lizbeth Dusseau


  ***

  “And how did you finally decide when to come for me?” she asked as they were in the truck, taking a back road out of Gable wilderness.

  “Oh, I was lying on my cot at the ranch… the one, just after I fucked you in old man’s library. I decided what I wanted. I just needed to find a place to take you. And then it all opened up like that great big sky above us,” he looked toward the stars and the full round lover’s moon. “Hope you’re pleased because I sure am.”

  They rode for a time inside a comfortable silence. Evie had no idea where she was going, but then that was not unusual for her. And this time the change was something she could almost anticipate with some excitement.

  “I suppose I never told you my last name?” Jacob eventually broke through the quiet of her thoughts.

  “No,” she agreed.

  “Garrett.”

  “Garrett,” she repeated.

  “Yep. Sort of goes with your body marks, huh?” He smiled.

  Evie laughed. “Suppose so, or maybe it could just stand for ‘girl.’”

  “That works, too,” he agreed, as he headed out of , West to , North to .

  The Girl

  I don’t know who I am, and what I want to be. I live with Gable’s piercings because I may want to keep them. The tattoo and the brand, I can’t get rid of, so I guess I’ve a piece of his world as a part of me for the rest of my life. A guy named Garrett to match the ‘G’ on my ass? I guess that works as well as ‘Gable’.

  I’m ‘foot-loose’ they say, with Jacob, big wide open roads before me… mountains to the left and right, the sun my amulet in the paradise blue sky. I’ve got to admit, I ended up just fine. Jacob was the only one I wanted. Of all the men who made me theirs, I was never his to have. He never was the seller, the buyer or my master. But he was the one who bothered to care. That counts for something, I think. And the way his body warms me at night, that counts for something, too. And his eyes, the sexy swagger, the red hot steely buns. My pussy gets all sloshy just saying all that. I’m not sure I can live without the extremes, even the pain. I miss it after a few days of plain sex. Thank goodness Jacob has no problem beating me, or telling me off, or putting me in bondage for being a brat. He is as sadistic as ever and will use me at will to satisfy that urge. I don’t complain.

  I will let this one ride for awhile, perhaps until I get used to being free. He says I have my freedom. But maybe I don’t want to be free. That would be okay, too. After all, there is a ‘G’ perfectly formed on my ass—in fact two, the brand and the tattoo. They mean I’m a slave, I have to belong to someone. I got used to all the others, I’m sure I’ll get used to this one, too.

  The past seems like a fuzzy dream to me now, and my future is even more cloudy. But the present? That is obvious, transparent as a fresh-washed pane of glass, clear as rain-cleansed air. It’s Jacob and me, anonymous me.

  More Erotic Fiction by Lizbeth Dusseau

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