by Vonna Harper
“Who’s he?” he asked, pointing. “Those clothes are a joke.”
“He calls himself Rafer. He’s rebelling against his old man, Mr. Conservative. This is the third time he’s been here. Now that his old man had a stroke and he took over the company, I’m guessing he finally has the money to spend on his idea of a toy.”
The longer Tray watched Rafer the more the bastard disgusted him. The man stopped pulling Marina in a circle and switched to pulling up and down on the chain so she had to repeatedly kneel and scramble to her feet. Even from this distance he knew she was frightened. As a result of the intense sexual conditioning he’d put her though, she might also be excited, but maybe not.
Years ago he’d been afraid of his old man. During those times when fear had loosened his bowels, he hadn’t been able to begin to put his mind to how to get into the bastard’s good graces. He’d stammered and begged to be forgiven. It hadn’t mattered whether he’d messed up or not, he’d apologized.
Tray guzzled his second drink and signaled for a third but didn’t drink it. If he wasn’t careful he’d shatter the glass because he was holding it so tightly.
“This part’s hard,” Robert said. “Every trainer gets to the point where he believes he’s found the right balance with his slave. He’s onto her wavelength. He knows her strengths and weaknesses. Having to watch someone without a clue about what goes on between her ears or in her pussy sucks.”
“He’s a bastard.”
Robert jerked his head, indicating the other room. “Most of the men in there are bastards. If you’re going to stay in this business you have to get used to it. Put her behind you. Move on. Take what you learned from your first time and build on it. First time’s the hardest. After a while you’ll get into a rhythm. My suggestion, let it happen.”
Countless coaches had told him to learn from every game, quarter, and play so he figured he knew what Robert was talking about. Truth was, spending so much time with his slave had drained him in ways he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just how his body responded to her naked body and not always being able to satisfy those needs. The emotional component was equally, if not more draining.
Yin and yang. Positive and negative.
He wouldn’t immediately sign up for another trainee. Instead he’d take a few weeks off, maybe go to regional horse races, maybe look into buying some acreage and getting a few horses. A lot of people wound up with buyers’ remorse when they realized how much owning a hay burner cost. He might offer to take a few nags off their owners’ hands and get them for free or next to free. Show the bastard of a sperm donor that he hadn’t bought the argument that horses weren’t worth the powder to blow them up.
That was it, he’d turn the spread he had yet to buy into an unwanted horse sanctuary, do something good for something else for a change. Invite his old man over to see it.
As another trainer behind him cursed, he shut down the crazy thought, but not before admitting that his slave was at least partly responsible for his thinking. He’d never tell anyone, of course, but maybe offering a home for a horse no one wanted would turn out to be his way of atoning for robbing her of the life she’d planned.
“You bored?” Robert asked. “Maybe you’re thinking about riding her one more time before turning the reins over to someone else.”
On the brink of telling Robert to shut up, he realized the other man was deliberately forcing him to face what tomorrow entailed. Robert was right. Along with his slave’s physical body, he’d be surrendering the notes he’d taken throughout her training. Her new owner would know where she’d come from, what had happened to her parents, and that she’d been a damn good jockey. He’d also know she loved the smell of the ocean—and might use that information to make her life pure hell.
He downed his drink, barely noticing the burn in his throat before looking for her. Rafer had brought her close to the one-way glass. Her attention was locked on Rafer, yet he wondered if she suspected she and the others were under surveillance. He wouldn’t be surprised if she couldn’t concentrate on anything except what was happening to her.
He was the last person on her mind.
Too bad it didn’t work both ways. Tonight, tomorrow, and the foreseeable future would be a hell of a lot easier if she hadn’t crawled so far into him—and if training her hadn’t satisfied him in so many ways.
“She’s going to go for a shitload of money,” Robert observed. “Some of these slaves are pretty far gone. They’re little more than pussies, mouths, and asses. For whatever reason, she still has spark.”
He hadn’t spent much time with the other trainees so couldn’t compare her to them. In some regards he felt sorry for her, because that spark might make her future even less bearable, and yet he was glad she was still alive in the ways that counted. Their so-called sexual relationship hadn’t been uninhibited. How could it be when no matter how turned on she might be, she could never forget the essential difference between them? Much as he’d liked having an always-available sex partner, and he sure as hell did, the reality was she wasn’t willingly in this. Come tomorrow, it might become even less so for her.
In an attempt to shut down his damnable mind, he focused on the just out of reach action. Rafer was removing her gag.
“That’s allowed?” he asked Robert.
“We don’t put many restrictions on men with money. There’s limits, of course, which is why we’re watching.”
There wouldn’t be any limits left once she belonged to someone else. Watching Rafer force her to her knees and use his nipple-hold to drag her against his cock, he resigned himself to the fact that just about anything and everything was allowed today. Eyes nearly closed, she opened her mouth. Instead of immediately plunging into her, however, Rafer draped the chain over his cock. Her fingers opened and closed spasmodically, proof that having her breasts pulled up like that hurt.
He had to hand it to her. Despite her obvious discomfort, she remained in place as the bastard filled her mouth. She tried to keep her movements slow and measured but Rafer was having none of that, evidenced by how he repeatedly slapped her cheeks.
Damn it, for most of the month he’d been training the slave, he’d shut down the pain once they’d started fucking. Even when he’d forced her into sexual frenzy, he’d stopped the punishment part so she could focus on what her body was capable of experiencing. That approach, he’d concluded, was how the dominant member of a master–slave relationship kept the submissive one under control.
Rafer with his stupid-ass outfit was going at it all wrong. No way would she get any pleasure out of this—but maybe that’s what Rafer intended.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Robert said. “There’s no tradeoff for her. Why would she want to please a bastard who can’t be bothered to let her get off? Unfortunately, all we can do is try to explain to buyers how things work best. Once they’re out of here, they can do whatever damn thing they want to.”
Fortunately for the slave, Rafer had a hair trigger. White slime started dribbling out of her mouth. As soon as the bastard finished doing his thing, he rammed his shoe into her chest and sent her sprawling. Tray started to stand.
“Don’t,” Robert warned. “He has every right.”
Another man positioned himself over her and, using her hair for leverage, hauled her to her feet. Rafer said something, only to have the newcomer wave him off.
“She’s fair game,” Robert explained. “These events remind me of dogs fighting over bones. Usually these bastards are too civilized to resort to fighting, but, when it happens, it can get crazy funny.”
Several other trainers agreed. As the conversation turned to an incident last year that had resulted in two potential buyers being shown the door, he forced himself to watch. The slaves were overwhelmed, but that wasn’t all. This preview was designed to give the men the opportunity to determine what the slaves were capable of. As a result, equal amounts of pain and sexual stimulation became the order of the day. The slaves stood
their ground as fingers were rammed inside them. One after another they started responding, accompanied by laughter and catcalls from their male audience.
He wasn’t sure how he felt when his slave spread her legs and repeatedly flexed her knees in an attempt to get off on the fingers lodged in her. Knowing her as he did, he knew the instant she started climaxing. If not for the lessons he’d taught her, she probably wouldn’t have lost control. On the other hand, the fifty-something man was handling her like a pro. Pulling on her hair had hurt, but since then he’d been gentle—all except for keeping the nipple clamps in place and the strap around her elbows.
His slave might transfer her affection from him to this new owner. No longer would she study him with hunger in her eyes. Another man might get her to open up about her past. Another man would talk to her about the impact her father’s death had had on her.
Disgusted with what he told himself were his booze-fuzzed thoughts, he stood and walked out. Instead of going to his room or the in-house bar, he headed outside. The moment the salty air reached his lungs the alcohol in his system started to dissipate.
Robert had told him not to be surprised if tonight’s action didn’t turn him on, but it hadn’t. There hadn’t been a single minute when he’d wanted to join in.
Maybe he wouldn’t spend some of the money he’d saved during his playing years of acreage after all. Land would tie him down, to say nothing of how much work having horses took. Becoming a horse rescuer was crazy thinking. He didn’t need the responsibility.
What he needed was time to himself, maybe deep sea fishing. He hadn’t been to a football game since last year’s playoffs. He could call some friends and see if they wanted to go with him. A lot of his former teammates were married with families, but a few like him were still single.
Yes, that’s what he’d do. Get away. Reassess.
As soon as he did one more thing.
Chapter Twenty-Four
No matter that she’d stood in the shower until it ran out of hot water, Marina still felt dirty. She wasn’t sure how many men had manhandled her, but then she wasn’t interested in reliving the experience. Her shoulders and nipples and pussy ached. Brushing her teeth twice hadn’t completely cleansed her mouth of a taste she wanted no part of.
At least she was alone and no one had seen the tears she’d shed in the shower, she reminded herself as she toweled off. It was dark outside, which was just as well because otherwise the need to be anywhere other than here would have driven her crazy.
After hanging the towel back up, she returned to her room and studied what she might never see again while fingering the collar Master had placed on her. She’d hated being locked in here, and yet thanks to Master, she’d learned a great deal about herself. Most of her education had been of a sexual nature and tonight she likened herself to a well-trained horse. At the sound of a starting gun she’d leap from the gate and gallop full out.
She sat on the side of her bed, spread her legs, and studied what she could see of her sex. It was still puffy from use and baby-soft because she’d shaved herself this morning at Master’s direction.
Where was he? Someone else had returned her to her room, removed her restraints, and told her to clean up—as if she’d needed the reminder. She hadn’t seen Master since early afternoon, which was just as well because he’d been short-tempered and had acted as if he could hardly wait to get away from her. Back then she hadn’t understood why he’d ordered her to shave her sex and shampoo her hair with lavender scented shampoo. Now she did.
One of the men who’d pawed her tonight might own her tomorrow.
Shuddering, she stood and walked over to the window. Even though she couldn’t jump high enough to see out, she again tried. Her weary legs barely got her off the floor. Fighting a sob, she returned to the bed.
Don’t think. Just exist.
However, that was as impossible as falling asleep. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore and that bothered her more than anything else. Being in a constant state of sexual arousal shouldn’t be everything. She once been—been what?
Looking around did no good, because everything about the room reminded her of her transformation. The TV had been removed while she was being inspected. She’d stopped reading the newspaper Master had supplied because she felt disconnected from what was going on in the world. She’d sometimes tried to escape her new reality by revisiting her past or imagining what she’d do with her life if she were rich, but that had proved too painful.
She didn’t always want to escape. In fact, much of the time she’d happily accepted the experience she’d been thrust into. Countless hours of everything revolving around sensual sensation had taken her down a road she hadn’t known existed. Master had become her everything. He’d orchestrated the tempo of her days and nights, what she did, tasted, smelled, saw, felt, even thought.
All that would change tomorrow. It might turn out to be a nightmare, but until she knew for sure, she’d hold onto a thread of hope that whoever bought her was kind.
Life without Master? She couldn’t fathom it.
She’d draped a blanket over her shoulders and was debating sitting in Master’s recliner when the door opened. Her heart raced, her skin became sensitive and her nipples hardened at the sight of the big man who’d anchored her world for weeks. She couldn’t take her gaze off his sober expression long enough to do more than note what he carried. He barely acknowledged her before handing her the bag.
“Open it.”
Wondering if he cared that her hands shook, she unzipped it and pulled out a red and silver football jersey with the number thirty-eight on it and white cotton shorts with an elastic waist.
“Put them on.”
What’s going to happen? Why are you doing this?
Still shaking, she placed the blanket on the floor and stepped into the shorts. Wearing something felt strange, wrong even. The garments were part of his world and not anything a sex slave would be required to wear, but she wouldn’t ask for an explanation. When she pulled the jersey over her head, she realized it was so long it covered the shorts and the neckline threatened to slide off her shoulder. Had it been Master’s? Looking down at herself, she saw nothing of the sexual creature she’d become.
“We’re going outside,” he told her. “It’s cool.”
Outside? Had he really said that?
Yes, he had, she acknowledged, as a few minutes later he descended the stairs that led to the beach with her behind him. She was still shivering, now as much from the impossible thing she was doing as being in his presence. His minimal explanation didn’t help, but it didn’t matter as much as damp, salty air on her cheeks did. She was barefoot. When they reached the beach, sand warmed by the day seeped between her toes. It took everything she had not to drop to her knees and pick up a handful of what represented freedom to her tonight.
“Let’s walk,” he said.
Thankfully, he slowed his stride so she could keep up. She guessed he hadn’t given her shoes so she wouldn’t be inclined to run. Maybe she should tell him that was the last thing she wanted to do, at least until she understood more. The moon was just coming up, but thanks to the solar lights around the stairs and in the sand beyond the tide’s reach, she wasn’t concerned she’d step on something sharp. The beach stretching out ahead and behind looked as if it had been swept clean. Between the surreal setting and the heat of the man now walking beside her she could barely think.
“This is the only way I can talk to you in private,” he said. “You know what’s going to happen tomorrow, that you’ll be sold.”
Sold.
“Yes,” she managed around the sudden knot in her throat. “Yes, Master.”
“There’s something I feel I need to tell you.” He stopped and glanced at her, then started walking again. “Your new master will know everything about you.”
That’s impossible. No one knows everything about another person. “Because he’ll see the training videos?”
; “In part. How do you feel about that?”
Master had never asked her such a question. Maybe, like many other things, she should keep her opinion to herself, but something about the breezy evening and full moon was opening her up. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Those videos will demonstrate your strengths and weaknesses, your sexual responsiveness and how you handle pain. Your new master will know which buttons to push.”
“I don’t want him to. It scares me.”
“What does?”
Could they go on walking until the Carnal facility was far behind them and only the moon and stars lit their way? “Being so vulnerable and exposed.”
He wrapped his hand around her arm closest to him and turned her so they were face to face. A familiar hot charge lanced through her and the body she believed was sexually spent came to life. “Your owner will know more than how you react to being restrained.”
Acutely aware of Master’s collar against her flesh, she acknowledged him. Her fingers burned with the need to touch this man.
“I’ll give your file to whoever buys you. I don’t have a choice. Record keeping is required of every trainer.”
He didn’t have a choice. Did that mean he didn’t want to pass certain things on to whoever bought her? “What’s in it?” He wouldn’t have told her what he had if he didn’t intend to be honest, would he?
Instead of responding, he let her go and started walking again. She took a couple of steps then stopped. No matter that her heart pounded painfully, she couldn’t remain silent.
“Master, what are we doing out here?”
He turned and faced her. The sound of the surf gliding over sand eased her a little. Every time she saw him she was struck anew by his hard masculinity. Tonight the moon seemed to be bringing out another side to him. He was still all physical power, but that had been muted a little by the soft light. This man had become her world, not just her captor and trainer but the essence of everything she now was.