“I’m yours, Master.”
It flowed off my tongue. I’d call him anything he wanted if he could make me keep feeling like this.
“Good girl.” He stood with me and someone tucked the blanket so it stayed. We must’ve walked forever before we reached a kitchen, and he sat me on a barstool with a back and sides. I leaned into him, and he kept his arm around me.
“This is Fluffy, my main chef. Tell him what you want and he’ll fix it as long as it isn’t on my list of forbidden foods.” Fluffy looked just like Chef from South Park.
“What’s forbidden?” I asked Fluffy instead of Bran so I wouldn’t have to call him Master. It’d come way too easy earlier and now it scared me a little.
“Cilantro, bell peppers, and a few species of hot peppers,” Bran answered. “They make your blood taste dreadful. Also, artificial sweeteners and most highly processed foods, but Fluffy cooks from scratch so those aren’t a problem. Garlic is okay in small quantities, as are raw onions. Cooked onions are rarely a problem — Fluffy will know if you’re getting too many. As I said, he’ll tell you if you ask for something you can’t have while you’re one of my food sources. While you’re a slave, you won’t need to learn everything. If you decide to stay and wish to eat out with friends, you’ll have to either verify your choices ahead of time or learn the list.”
I snuggled into him. “I think I’d like a steak, some big fat fries, and a chocolate shake, Master.” I shook my head. They’d said anything I wanted. I looked to Fluffy with a smile. “No. Country fried potatoes. In bacon grease.”
“Girl after my own heart. Comin’ right up.” Fluffy turned and began gathering ingredients, and Bran pulled away from me in increments, making sure I could sit up.
I didn’t remember anyone putting orange juice in front of me, but he held the glass to my lips and I smelled it.
“Drink.”
I downed the whole glass and the room came into better focus.
I sighed. “Didn’t want to lose the buzz. When can you do that again, Master?”
“I didn’t take much, so I can do it again soon without putting you at risk.” He leaned down and connected the ring around my ankle to the bar stool, and collected the blanket. “I have a few things to handle. Sit and talk to Fluffy. If you need to use the restroom, he’ll call for a guard to release you and escort you.”
“Why?”
He touched my cheek, brushed some hair out of my face. “Trust is earned, and I doubt you’ll get there in six weeks. When you’re here of your own free will, things will be different. Now, ask your question again the right way so I don’t have to punish you.”
“Why, Master.”
“Good girl. I appreciate the change in tone so I’ll give you some leeway, but not much. You need to remember, Holly dear.”
He left, and Fluffy asked about my favorite foods while he cooked. He also asked where my grandmothers and my mother were raised, and who else in my life had cooked for me on a regular basis. Apparently, just knowing where they’d lived when they learned to cook told him a lot about the foods I’d like.
More people came in to cook, chop, wash food, and mix ingredients. Fluffy supervised everything while carrying on a conversation with me — and apparently cooking food for other people who weren’t in the kitchen with us. I had no idea how he kept up with it all. Fluffy wore black dress pants, a pale blue dress shirt, and a fancy white chef’s thingie over the top. Everyone else wore white pants, a white shirt, and a white apron.
Bran returned as I was finishing my meal, and he brought the man who’d been with him at Abbott’s. Had he told me his name? I couldn’t remember. I took a better look at the mystery man. He was tall and beautiful. Dark black hair, crystal clear blue eyes, and layers of muscles without being all bulked up. He was dressed in a suit and tie, as was Bran.
“Marco, I saw something when Holly fought her restraints earlier. An extra spark. She’s a scrapper. Please change clothes and begin teaching her the basics of how to fight. For now, you’ll have her two hours a day, broken up into one-hour sessions. I’d like to see an exhibition fight at the end of seven days. I’d prefer an actual fight, but if you feel she’s only ready for a sparring session, I’ll trust your judgement.”
“As you wish. Will she have clothing?”
Bran turned to walk out the door as he said, “She hasn’t earned them yet. You’ll have several hours for this first session so you can get a feel for how best to teach her. Bring her to my office at midnight, please.”
“Marco’s good people,” Fluffy said from behind me when Bran was gone, and I jumped a little. He chuckled. “What do you want to eat later? Fried chicken? Chicken and dumplings? Some kind of fish? Or maybe pork chops?”
“Fried pork chops with mashed potatoes and gravy, and some macaroni and cheese on the side would be divine.”
“I’ll try to have it finished when they return you to me.” His voice changed a little as he addressed Marco. His already super-deep voice went even lower and he sounded more than a little bossy. “She needs to stay hydrated. Let her have all the juice and water she wants. Don’t push for more than she wants, but watch the signs. She’s too skinny, but we need to add muscle and not much fat. I’ll handle the nutrition, you handle your part.”
“I know how to do this, Fluffy. I’ve been around your vampire long enough to know how to help care for his food.”
“He isn’t your vampire?” I asked Marco. “You seem to work for him and do as he tells you.”
Also, this probably meant Marco wasn’t a vampire, but somehow I didn’t think he was like me, either. And was I really only food to Bran?
“If you’ve finished eating, come with me. We’ll stop off in my suite so I can change before we go to the gym.”
This house seemed bigger than some hotels I’ve been in, so I wasn’t surprised to hear it had a gym. Marco’s suite was bigger than most apartments. He had a living room, bedroom, and large bathroom — all extravagantly decorated. He also had an incredible view off the side of the mountain. My aunt lives on Signal Mountain and her view is a lot different. Downtown Chattanooga is kind of centered in her view, and here it was far to the right. I tried to orient myself, but couldn’t. I thought we were probably over Soddy Daisy, though.
“You can’t escape,” he said, almost casually but I caught the warning in his voice that also said, “and you shouldn’t try.”
“I figured that out. I was just trying to place where we are. Is that Soddy below us?”
“Have you ever had formal fight training?”
I turned to answer, and forgot what I was going to say at the view of him in boxer briefs and a dress shirt, hanging his suit jacket on a hanger with his pants already attached.
He removed the tie next, then began unbuttoning the shirt.
“Holly. Have you had formal fight training?”
“No.”
“You’ve seen men in nothing but their underpants before. Yes?”
“Underpants?”
He sighed. “Boxers, yes? Is that the right word?”
“Boxer briefs, because they’re tight. Boxers are loose.” He had a little bit of an accent, but he didn’t speak like English was hard for him. Why did he not know boxer briefs? And why were his shoulders so wide and his waist so narrow? It hadn’t been so obvious in the suit. His muscles hadn’t been so pronounced. The dude looked like Superman without the tights. Not the actors, but the drawings with the ripped abs and the big shoulders, and the layers of muscles in his legs. But he wasn’t all bulky about it like a weightlifter. He was just ripped.
He sighed. “Bran’s people purchase most of my clothing. It’s convenient and I appreciate it, but it means I don’t know the modern terminology for some of it.”
Modern terminology. So, he knew English from a long time ago? “If you aren’t a vampire, what are you?”
He chuckled. “What I am is of no consequence to you. I won’t drink your blood, so you have nothing to worry about.�
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Did the man not understand how his beauty affected people? He was like a statue come to life. Or an underwear model. Not as skinny as I prefer, but still thin enough to work for me — but he had muscles in places I didn’t even know men could have them. And he had this ridge running around his hips and forming a vee in the front. My fingers itched to run along all those ridges and valleys. He stepped into worn, loose jeans that hung on his hips, and pulled a tight black t-shirt over his head.
“I’m seeing you nude, it’s only fair I returned the favor at least a little. I see the lash marks and we’ll work around them where possible. Do you have any old injuries I should know about?”
I shook my head and he strolled to the door, opened it, and motioned me through.
4
Ten minutes into my fight instruction, and I was bored to tears. I felt like the kid in the karate movie who had to wax the car and sand the floor, except I wasn’t even doing that. I was just doing the same motions over and over and over as I turned in different directions.
Marco hit me with a wooden stick when I turned the wrong way. He called it a cane, and it hurt like the dickens so I did my best not to get confused on my steps. It felt like I did it for hours, though it probably wasn’t that long. Still, my bottom smarted and my arms were exhausted when he finally told me I could quit.
I turned to him, his fist came at my face, and I did the little flippy-cross-swipe thing he’d had me do with my arms. Without even thinking about it, I knocked his fist away.
“You understand now?”
I nodded, still looking at his hand, now by his side. My arm had done it. I hadn’t. I shook my head and met his gaze. “Why would Bran want to teach me how to fight back? Won’t I be easier to control if I don’t know how?”
“Bran finds what people are good at. It’s one of his talents. We won’t know how you stack up until we build more muscle memory, but I have to say that was promising. I know your arms are tired, so let’s work on the easiest kick. I’ve already taught you the steps leading up to it.”
Marco took me to a small bathroom with a shower, and stood just inside the door. He’d seen me naked for hours, so there was no use demanding privacy.
I was frustrated with the unscented soap — I felt cleaner, but didn’t think I smelled clean. Abbott had provided nearly everything in an unscented form, too. I couldn’t wait until I had my freedom and could wear all my favorite scents again.
The shower helped, but I was exhausted when I was finally taken to Bran’s office. Not a surprise, but the room was huge, and the vampire sat at a large, imposing desk. A fancy seating area of sofas and chairs was off to one side, and a modern conference table with about twenty chairs around it was on the other side of the space. Marco merely knocked once and entered, and Bran was on a video call with someone when I followed him in.
Marco moved us so we’d stay out of sight, and we stood silently to wait for Bran to finish. He was speaking in another language and I had no idea what was being said.
When they disconnected, Marco asked Bran a question in what sounded like the same language, Bran answered in the other language, and then looked to me. “How did your first training session go?”
I shrugged. “I hated it at first, but then it started making sense. Marco’s a good teacher. I’m exhausted, but I learned a lot from him.”
“Excellent.” He looked to Marco a second and back to me. “We cut your exam short, but I need to finish it. Let’s try it without restraints this time and we’ll make it quick. Lie on the conference table and grab your ankles. If you fail, you’ll return to your original cell. If you follow instructions, you’ll earn one with a bed, sheets, and a toilet.”
Our family’s dogs have always just been dogs — dumb animals we feed and pet. They stayed outside most of the time so they didn’t mess with anything inside. However, my aunt trains hers and they’re brilliant. She tells them to go to the kitchen, and they go. She tells them to lay down and be quiet, and they’re happy to do it for her. She gives them chicken or tuna or cheese when they do good while she’s training them, and either fusses at them or shakes this can with coins in it when they’re bad. She calls them a bad dog when she shakes the can, and after a while she only has to say the words bad dog and they lay down and look like someone’s beat them. My mom hits our dogs when they’re bad, and it doesn’t seem to bother them as much as my aunt calling her dogs bad. I felt like Bran was training me the way my aunt trains her dogs, but I couldn’t help but let him. The thoughts of a mattress over the stone floor to sleep, and a toilet so I didn’t have to squat over a drain in the floor. How could I turn those things down? I was so tired. I wanted a mattress instead of a cold stone floor.
I’ve had sex with multiple men in exchange for enough meth to keep me going a few days. This wasn’t even sex — he only wanted to finger me. Right?
I walked to the conference room table and was grateful when Marco helped me sit on it. I scooted away from the edge, went to my back, and slowly lifted my legs until I held my ankles. Dang, but the spots where he’d whipped me hurt in this position.
This was so much easier when I was tweaking, but I closed my eyes and resolved to stay put.
“Good girl,” Bran said as he approached. He stuck two fingers inside me as soon as he reached the table. They were slick so it didn’t hurt, but a wave of shock traveled through me. My eyes flew open and I nearly let go of my feet, but I managed to hold on.
“Depth check and g-spot location.” It felt like he was telling me, though he was looking at my pussy and not my face. His fingers manipulated my cervix and an involuntary grunt escaped my throat. I resolved not to make any more noises, but several minutes later he zeroed in on my g-spot and a long, low groan escaped before I knew it was coming.
“I believe you’ve found it, Sir.”
I noted the fact Marco had called Bran Sir in the back of my head, but Bran’s magical fingers had catapulted me right to the edge of an orgasm. I wasn’t used to doing this sober, and the sensations were totally different — sharper and more in focus, but without the fuzzy fast-forward high of the drugs I wasn’t sure how to get the rest of the way there.
“So close. Please help!” I couldn’t help but beg. I hadn’t had sex the entire time I was at Abbott’s and I needed this release.
“Let me fuck you and I’ll bring you to release while I bite you.”
“Yes.” It didn’t matter there was no romance, no promise of things to come in Bran’s voice. In fact, I respected him more for making it a transaction and not trying to turn it into something else. The high of the bite in exchange for sex — I’d do just about anything for that high again. “Yes,” I repeated, my eyes completely open as I met his steely gaze.
His face softened and I got a smile. “Good girl.”
I have no idea how he disrobed so fast, but the next thing I knew, he was inside me, pumping fast, and I shouted, “Condom!” I’d hated being pregnant.
He slowed but didn’t stop. “Vampires can’t catch diseases and can’t get humans pregnant. We don’t need one.”
I let that sink in, nodded, and he braced his hands on my hips before he started pumping again. His dick hit just the right spot inside me and I came almost immediately, but he didn’t stop or slow — kept hitting it at faster-than-human speed until I thought I’d die from pleasure. My heart raced, my head reeled, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, he leaned down and bit.
I felt more pain this time when he entered, but I later learned it was because he focused on the feel-good drugs instead of the numbing ones. Oddly, the pain was a balancing point — like salty caramel, or citrus chocolate. The pain and pleasure together sent me soaring higher, but my heart slowed and it felt as if time did as well. I floated. Warm. Happy. Euphoric bliss. His dick was motionless but my pussy kept contracting and spasming around it, though in slow-motion, like the rest of the world around us.
His mouth sucked. Pulled. I felt my blood leaving and
wanted him to take it all. I never wanted it to end.
I didn’t pass out, but I don’t remember when he stopped drinking. It’s hazy, like a dream I can almost remember. I awoke on a mattress with sheets and an electric blanket over me. A small cooler was beside the mattress, and I opened it to find orange juice, apple juice, and a sports drink. A sticky note on the cooler said, “You’ve earned a better room. A guard will come get you and take you to Fluffy once you’ve done your business and drank at least one of the bottles in the cooler.”
I looked around and saw a stainless-steel toilet and sink at the back of the cell. Who knew I’d someday be so happy with a mattress on the floor and a place to use the bathroom?
5
I ate with Marco. He was clothed, I was nude. Thankfully, he was a perfect gentleman, and his letting me see him partially dressed earlier actually did help a little with my self-consciousness.
When we finished, he took me to a room filled with fabric and sewing machines, and a woman there took a zillion measurements of me, and pictures from every angle. I protested when she wanted to take close-ups of my pussy, but Marco reached for the whip curled at his hip, and I quickly complied. He’d been friendly at dinner, but the whip reminded me he was my trainer and not my friend. Still, he’d earned my trust and respect during the class earlier. I’d hated the cane, but he’d taught me to defend myself in a short time. I was willing to give him a chance.
Next, I was taken to a room where a woman put me in sky-high heels. I had to walk up and down a mirrored hallway, and she used a whip faster and harder than Bran. She’d strike my bottom and say, “Don’t tuck your ass.” She’d flay my upper back and say, “Shoulders back.” Once she struck my breasts and said, “Tits out.”
Within an hour, I was walking in the ridiculously high heels without feeling awkward. My body hurt all over from the whip, and my feet were killing me, but I looked good walking in them. I wasn’t off balance, each step felt natural, and I was confident on them — like I knew I could strut my stuff without falling or stumbling. It felt kick-ass. Who knew I’d been doing it wrong all these years?
An Elegant Weapon Page 3