by Linnea May
At least then I wouldn’t have to worry about money. He must be loaded if he can afford all of this, this house, the lavish interior, his tailored suits, all the expensive lingerie he makes me wear, or just the plain fact that he can buy women to serve as sex slaves for days and weeks. I have no idea how long he intends to keep me here.
I could ask him to let me go, and only promise to keep my mouth shut if he paid me an enormous sum of money. Something that would last me for a few months, maybe even a year, until I get my feet back under me.
Because what kind of life will I be returning to? I’ve lost everything, my arguably idiotic boyfriend, my job, my safe haven. There’s nothing waiting for me except an empty apartment, an uncertain future, and a funeral I don’t really want to go to. It pains me not to be able to bid goodbye to Professor Miller, but I know that the funeral would be a terribly crowded affair. I may have been his right-hand for more than a year, but no one really knows me there, especially when it comes to his family. Maybe I would even be in the way.
It doesn’t matter anyway because I’m not going. I can’t go. I cannot even leave this room without his permission.
But what troubles me most is that I don’t want to leave.
Figuring this all out is not the only thing that has changed since that fateful day we fucked for the first time. Everything has changed. The way I see him has changed. He’s no longer a handsome but terrifying kidnapper who scares the hell out of me, but so much more. I feel weirdly close to him, attached even. I know that they have a word for this phenomenon, but I can’t help experiencing it nonetheless. Now that I know who he thinks I am, I cannot help but feel differently toward him and what he has been doing to me. He’s not a criminal, just a wealthy man with a dark and twisted need.
And he’s so good at expressing his need. There have been many days where I felt like I was the one drawing more pleasure from this than he was. I practically had to beg him and show him with every fiber of my being how much I needed him to fuck me, until he finally did. He gives more than he takes, but insists that my orgasms all belong to him.
In a way, I can’t believe how lucky I am to be on the receiving end of his dark desires.
It’s still early morning, and I’m waiting for him to come unleash me from the bed, the first ritual of the day. I don’t know if he has a set time when he shows up in my room because I still don’t have access to a clock. But I’ve grown so used to all of this that I usually find myself awake a few minutes before I can hear his steps approaching. It’s always enough time to fix my hair and take my position to greet him. The leash is long enough for me to leave the bed, but I usually stay on the sheets. He doesn’t seem to care whether I kneel for him on the floor or on the bed.
Even our morning ritual has changed. He no longer greets me by stroking along my cheek after he first sets foot in the room. He’s doing something else now.
Every day and every moment with him starts with a kiss.
Kisses were never part of the routine during our first week together, but they are so integral now that it would feel like a punishment if he took them away from me.
I love his kisses. Unlike his rough hand, they are soft and gentle, stirring something inside me every time our lips meet, a tingling that reaches all the way to my throbbing core. I always want more, and my body gets ready in anticipation, knowing that there will be more. Every day.
The days with him have become less frightening, but not less exciting. They are predictable as much as they are rich in variety. He’s asking more things of me, expecting my obedience with all kinds of tasks and commands. I’ve become better at obeying him, and I’ve grown to like complying with this obedience. Hearing him praise me as a good girl and seeing him smile in that proud and complacent way, pleases me more than I ever thought possible.
But I’ve also become better at playing his game. I always knew that I have a suppressed desire to receive all these things, the punishments and pain, as well as the simple bliss of intense release. Agony can be more than a flavor enhancer. It’s closer to a drug.
I resist and defy some of his commands by choice, just to see what he will do if I don’t go along right away. I never let it go as far as getting locked up in the attic, because that’s not the kind of punishment I seek.
I want to feel leather and rope on my skin. I want the breathtaking sensation of a whip cutting into my flesh. I yearn for the vertigo of throbbing after pain.
And now I’m here, in a place where I can try all of these things, with a gorgeous and troubled man. A man who no longer scares and confuses me.
I will keep my mouth shut. Only for a while longer. The last few days have been closer to a dream than a nightmare. It would feel wrong to run away now.
I jump up when I hear his steps approaching the room. He’s here. It’s time to get ready for another day with my Master.
Chapter 30
Joseph
She’s kneeling on the bed, her hands placed on her thighs, her chin lifted, but her eyes lowered. A faint smile flickers across her face when I come closer.
No flinching, no shying away from my touch. Instead, she leans in for the kiss she knows is coming, yearning for me just as I yearn for her. Our lips meet and I close my eyes for the first few seconds we will spend together today. It will be a short day, at least in regard to the time that will be spent with her. I have to drive up to the city, even though I hate doing so when I have a girl here. But there’s no way around it. I’m needed. Even my grandfather called to make sure that I would be present at this board meeting. It would only raise suspicion if I didn’t show up, so I have to steal these hours away from her.
But I will make the time we have together count.
She has shown that she’s different from all the others since the very beginning. She broke rules left and right, she pissed me off with her confusion and her dumb questions, her all too real terror, and her way too serious defiance. Lately, all of that has changed. She’s going through the same process I see all of them go through, but her transformation is stronger, the contrast so stark that it almost scares me. She’s adapting to the rules, no longer breaking them, but testing them, to tease out a reaction from me. It’s exactly what she’s supposed to be doing.
Now I’m the one who’s breaking the rules.
No kissing. It’s stated in the contract, and I’ve repeatedly told myself that this is off limits. Kissing is for lovers, not for a Master and his paid pet.
Of course, this one is easy to overstep. I’ve done it before, in the heat of the moment. But I’ve never enjoyed it as much as I am with her, and I’ve never made it part of a ritual.
I can’t lose myself. I can’t lose control. This is a slippery slope, and I know I’m only getting started. Today, I’m willing to go even further than I did before. I’m jumping in with my eyes open, risking more than just our contract.
Yet, I will do it. The thought of following through excites me too much to neglect this wish. I have to see what it’s like. I want to see how far I can push things without losing myself too much.
Her eyes find mine when I stop our kiss, their gray-blue depths piercing through me with understanding. Despite her helpless behavior in the beginning, I cannot help but see the intelligence that radiates behind her eyes. She’s smart. She gets me.
That’s why she’s so dangerous.
“Good morning, my pet,” I whisper.
She’s never allowed to be the first one to speak, and her first words are always the same.
“Good morning, Master,” she says, her voice so soft that it kills me.
“Did you sleep well?” I ask her.
“Well enough,” is her reply. She always says something along those lines, and I never follow up with a question.
“Let’s have a shower,” I tell her, unhooking the leash from her collar. She can remove it on her own because she’s still wearing a training collar, but she never has. I told her she wasn’t supp
osed to do it on her own. It was the first command she obeyed without having to be reminded several times.
“Together?” she asks as I lead her to the bathroom, pulling her by the ring at the front of her collar.
“Yes,” I say as we walk through the door. “Together.”
She watches as I take off my clothes, her eyes wandering along the lines of my tattoos. I know she has questions about them that she doesn’t dare ask. Too often I have ordered her to be quiet when she started poking at things I wasn’t comfortable talking about. The tattoos are part of that, and she seems to sense it. They are reminders of a past that I would like to forget, a past that I’ve put behind me. They remind me of the pain I caused and the lives I destroyed when I lost control over myself. The black ink adorns my skin like a curse.
She’s shy every time we do something new, and today is no different.
“Turn on the water,” I command her, mainly to stop her from gawking at me. It’s flattering, but unsettling at the same time.
She turns around, deliberately hollowing her back and stretching her legs to give me the best view of her round ass. It works like a charm. When I lose the last item of clothing to follow her under the hot shower, I’m hard and ready, my cock yearning for the body that’s mine for twenty-eight more days.
She squeals and smiles at me when my length pokes her in the small of her back as I join her under the welcoming water. My hands are on her wet body in an instant, following the outline of her narrow shoulders, traveling down her arms, grabbing her wrists to keep her eager hands in place. She has turned into a cock-hungry slut, hardly able to keep her hands to herself every time she sees my hardness. For the past four days, she has been getting fucked every single day, at least once, but her hunger for me only grows, just like mine for her.
“No hands,” I tell her, leaning in closer so she can hear me over the running water. “Just your lips, my pet.”
Even in the hot steam of the shower, I can see her cheeks blushing, while she lowers herself down to her knees. Her eyes never leave mine, even when she bends forward, placing her hands on her thighs so tightly as if they were glued to her skin so she isn’t tempted to use them. I groan when she takes me between her pouty lips, her tongue gliding along the lower side of my shaft as she swallows me down. The pouring water is playing havoc with her breathing, making it hard for her to take my length without catching her own breath. She’s trying so hard to take in all of me, but fails at it every time. When she withdraws to gather her breath, she casts me an apologetic smile. I pet her head.
“You’re doing excellent, my pet,” I praise her, and she rewards me with the cutest smile I’ve ever seen on a woman’s face.
Her lips are wrapped around my cock again within moments, her head moving back and forth as she drives me closer to insanity. She stops for a moment, sucking on my length so strongly that it almost hurts, creating a vacuum with her mouth that allows her to play along my shaft with her tongue. The feeling is sublime.
“Fuck, who taught you that?” I ask her, out of breath with pleasure.
She sucks and then retreats, kissing and licking the tip of my hard cock while she bats her eyelashes up at me.
“My Master,” she says, smiling at me seductively.
“Get up,” I tell her. “Now!”
Her eyes rest on my length for one more moment, painted with a hint of disappointment as she slowly rises to her feet.
I pull her closer, my hands cupping her full ass, while I press her core dangerously close against my erection. Shit, I’m going to lose it if I can’t fuck her now, bare, just like this.
Never fuck a whore bare. Never.
But she’s more than a whore. She’s not like the others. And I know the girls of my agency are safe and clean because they have to get tested before entering my home.
“Are you on birth control?” I reassure myself, my eyes locking on the gray-blue depth of hers.
She’s breathing erratically, suffering in heated need just as I am.
“Yes,” she replies, her eyes so dazed with lust that I pray to God I can trust her. “The depo shot, I just got one about a month ago.”
“Good,” I say, claiming another kiss from her while pushing my pelvis against her cunt. “Because I need to feel you. All of you. I need to fuck you bare.”
She doesn’t say anything in reply, but wraps one of her legs around me, shifting her hip so that my glistening tip is teasing her entrance.
I don’t hesitate another moment and buckle my hips forward, stretching her with my rock-hard girth while lifting her up, pressing her slim back against the wall. She wraps both of her legs around my waist, supporting herself as good as she can while I fuck her like a wild beast, consuming her bare for the very first time.
She moans and yelps, her cries partly drowning in the steaming water that’s running down on us. Her muscles tense around me, as if she was trying to hold on to me. The pressure almost sends me over the edge way too soon.
“I’m going to come inside you,” I tell her.
A smile scurries across her face and her muscles tighten anew, forcing a release out of me that I wasn’t yet ready for. I explode inside of her, filling her with my cum, as violent waves of pleasure grip my body. But even in the midst of my rapture, I never lose our stance, I never let go of her, holding her safe and as closely as possible during the highest moments of pleasure.
Chapter 31
Liana
He tenses up, his hands clawing into me with such ferocity that it hurts, his cock throbbing incessantly inside me. I’m trying to hold on to him, relishing the warm sensation of his release as it coats me inside. This is the first time he didn’t make me come first, but I’m confident that he won’t leave me unsatisfied.
He doesn’t let go of me. Instead he buries his sweating face against my shoulder and wraps his arms protectively around me, squeezing me so hard it takes my breath away.
“Master,” I utter, suffocated by the sheer intensity of his embrace. “I can’t breathe.”
His grip loosens instantly, and he supports my body as my legs slowly find their way back to the tiles. He’s breathing heavily, his dark hazel eyes shimmering with a spark I haven’t seen before. The water is still running, surrounding us in a hot and comforting cloud of steam.
“Are you okay?” I ask. “You look-”
“Yes, fine,” he interrupts.
It’s as if my question brought him crashing back to reality, reminding him of who he is and what he’s to do next. There was a moment during which he wasn’t the same man who brought me here, the man with the stone-cold exterior. I could feel the shift in his embrace.
“Finish getting ready,” he tells me. “I’ll be back.”
He puts some distance between us by taking a step back, rinsing himself one last time before leaving me alone in the shower. He snatches a towel on his way out of the shower, quickly wrapping it around his buff waist before shutting the bathroom door behind him after he leaves.
My eyes stay locked on the door for a few more moments before I can pull my attention away. I finish showering and then do as he asked, getting myself ready for him, as I do every single day. By the time he returns, I’m sitting on the floor of my room, entrenched in a fresh and flowery smell, my body silky smooth and slathered in lotion, my hair put up in a simple up-do, and my face masked in a subtle layer of make-up. I felt a little chilly, so I covered up the white set of lingerie I’m wearing for him with the red fur coat. I must look like a naughty version of a female Santa, but I don’t care. He has never gotten mad about me wearing the coat for some reason, even though it hides my body from him, which is something he appears to hate more than anything.
He’s dressed to the nines when he returns, wearing a navy blue suit with a matching slim tie and a crisply ironed white shirt. His hair is slicked and combed to the side, looking particularly handsome today, but he hasn‘t shaved. The stubble around his angular jaw is dar
ker than it has been on other occasions, giving him a more mature look.
I realize too late that I’m staring at him, instead of lowering my eyes in that coy manner he wants. But he doesn’t get mad.
“Look at you, drooling all over your Master,” he says, smirking at me as he approaches. “Aren’t you a good little pet?”
I blush and lower my eyes, at once noticing that he’s carrying something with him. In his right hand, he’s carrying a canvas tote bag, which he places right in front of me.
“Why so dapper today?” I ask him, shyly reconnecting my gaze with his. “Any special occasion?”
He winks at me. “Who says I’m not wearing this to impress my pet?”
The heat in my cheeks intensifies. “Are you?”
“Maybe,” he says. “I have something for you.”
He points to the canvas bag that he placed in front of me. “Look inside.”
I nod and follow his command, curious to see what he has brought me. He has brought me things before, usually little packages that were wrapped up so beautifully that I felt bad for ripping them open. But those packages have always been smaller than this bag, and they usually contained lingerie or jewelry he wanted me to wear for him. Is this a special new outfit he ordered for me?
I begin rummaging through the bag, not sure if I can trust my eyes when I realize what it is.
“Beautiful clothes,” I say, my voice filled with wonder as I look back up at him. “For me?”
He chuckles. “Of course.”
I’m so startled, I don’t know what to say. For almost two weeks now, he has been insisting that I remain naked, or almost naked, for him at all times. He has repeatedly told me that I won’t be wearing any clothes for a while, and that I should never ask for anything, but instead comply with his wish to see as much of my naked body on display as possible every time he walks in.
Does this mean he’s letting me go?
The bag contains two outfits, a casual option with a light beige shirt with a deep waterfall neckline, a matching cardigan, and dark blue skinny jeans, and the other is a slinky cocktail dress in a very similar color to the red fur coat.