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Master

Page 38

by Catherine Taylor


  “Because he helped me,” Amiri smiled. “He kind of showed me that I wasn’t so weak and I’ve never felt so loved. I would have done anything for him, but all he wanted was for me to get on with my life.”

  Mairead cringed. “I’m still trying to get past the fact he kept you in a cage.”

  “It was sweet!” Amiri grinned. “All us slaves had one in this basement with a bathroom which we had to keep immaculately clean. There was a camera so he could keep an eye on us and it was warm and we had a fridge and water and we could even make tea and coffee. Not exactly five star accommodation but it wasn’t prison either.

  He didn’t lock us up; it was more like having the atmosphere of being locked up. We were drilled on health and safety issues. Even when he had just beaten the shit out of us or fucked us senseless, he would take charge personally of looking after us, which just made us love him more. Those one on one times with him... I’ve never had anything like it.”

  His story intrigued her imagination evoking pictures of some dark dungeon with its evil lord and his slaves. It bothered her that, the more she thought of how dangerous his adventure had been, the more excited she got about it. Knowing what it was like to be at the mercy of a dominant man, she could only speculate the emotions experienced by what Amiri had been through.

  “So after all this time,” She needed to know. “Would you ever go back if you could?”

  He smiled but shook his head. “I’ve thought about it. You don’t get that out of your head easily. I don’t regret what I did. It helped me, he helped me. A lot of my fantasies involve him and it makes it fucking difficult to find someone who measures up to him which is why I’m probably still single, but no, that’s not what I want.”

  “So are you going to tell me his name?”

  “I would if I could,” Amiri shrugged. “But I have no idea. He didn’t share any of his personal life with us. We just called him Master or Sir.”

  The romantic in her prompted her to ask, “Was he handsome?”

  “Not like me,” Amiri scoffed and grinned. “I would say rugged. It was hard to judge how old he was because he looked kind of weathered, lots of lines. I reckon at least forty. His eyes were incredible, icy blue and they seemed to look right through you and his voice, really low, raspy. He always spoke quietly. I never heard him yell but he didn’t need to. If he gave you his pissed off look, you just about wet your pants on the spot, not that we had pants on, which made it worse.”

  Mairead knew that they had already talked for a long time and her girls would be arriving soon.

  “I still want to know more and I want to see the websites where you met him.”

  “You won’t find him Mairead,” Amiri said. “It’s like I said, he finds you.”

  * * * *

  She startled to see the man looming over her. He was well over six feet with a powerful stature, a muscled body obvious under a business shirt. His thick jet black hair hung about a face that looked like it had been carved in ancient rock. His narrow eyes were fixed on her with pupils nearly as black as his hair.

  Mairead assumed him to be a security guard and met his stare with a shrug. “If they wanted to keep people out, then maybe they should invest in locked doors.”

  His thin lips widened slightly. “I’ll be sure to extend your advice to the owners.”

  “I didn’t mean to trespass,” Mairead found a more polite voice, having no desire for any further trouble. “I just needed to be alone for a moment.”

  He stared at her and drew a folded handkerchief from his pocket, holding it out to her. “Wipe your face. You look like shit.”

  Mairead took it and grinned at his rudeness. “I went to a lot of trouble to look this bad.”

  “Then maybe you should stay away from trouble.” He answered dryly.

  His words seemed a little prescient and Mairead frowned. “Trouble seems to track me down but I’m hoping a minor trespass isn’t going to add to my problems.”

  Again his mouth widened slightly. “Do I look like a cop?”

  “No,” she grinned. “You look like someone who could go ten rounds in a boxing ring with Mike Tyson.”

  For the first time there was an obvious grin and his eyes seemed to study her more intimately, making Mairead a little uncomfortable.

  “The exhibition is due to close soon,” he informed her. “Go back to your friends.”

  With that he walked away and left the room. Mairead sat for a moment longer looking at the handkerchief still in her hands, thinking about the strange encounter. It had certainly taken her out of her misery but now she had to go back to the others.

  * * * *

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  “

 

 

 


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