Another naked beauty, one of The Compound’s staff slaves, glided silently into the room, carrying a bottle of the very fine Cognac she’d served them earlier in the evening. The second bidder held up his brandy snifter and the girl poured. George shook his head at the offer to replenish his glass—he was working and needed his mind clear.
Mistress Miriam sat in a chair across from George and the other bidder and crossed one long, perfect leg over the other. “As you can see,” she said, “slave Hailey can take a very solid whipping with grace and courage. She is also highly sexually responsive, and extremely capable of serving a man’s every sensual need and desire. Hailey craves intensity of experience. She needs a Master who will challenge her and take her to the edge of her limits and perhaps a bit beyond.”
The girl remained still as a statue, a small, secret smile playing over her pretty lips. She was so young and beautiful—why would she sell herself like this to some old man she’d never met?
Money, of course. It made the world go round.
Which wasn’t to say he wasn’t quite impressed with what he’d seen. The tour of the facility supported the stellar reputation The Compound had garnered over the past years in the international BDSM community. Though they’d been around less than a decade, The Compound was known for producing highly trained sex slaves and placing them with carefully screened Masters around the world, and unlike some groups he’d been involved with, the slaves actually received a significant portion of the proceeds.
Maybe Mistress Miriam really did give a shit what happened to the girls she placed, but even if her motives were primarily altruistic, she was running a business. She could spout all the lofty sentiments she wanted about the art of erotic submission, and the grace and courage of their highly trained slave girls, but in the end the girl would go to the highest bidder.
“Would either of you care to examine slave Hailey before we begin the bidding?”
The other bidder rose to his feet, his eyes fixed hungrily on the naked, kneeling girl. “Yes.”
Mistress Miriam turned to Hailey and lifted one eyebrow, which was apparently enough of a command to cause the girl to rise to her feet in a fluid, sensual motion that made George’s bones ache with desire.
The guy strode to the front of the room. He moved with the kind of confident determination of someone used to being in charge. He stood in front of the slave girl, but George was enough off to the side that he could see what the other bidder was doing. He lifted his hand, and for a second, George thought he was going to slap the girl, but instead he gently cupped her cheek and murmured something George couldn’t quite catch.
His hand slid down her cheek to her throat, his fingers gripping her just below the jawline. Hailey’s pupils dilated and her lips parted. It was clear the guy was pushing some submissive buttons with his sensual chokehold.
He let her go and stepped back a little. Gripping one of her lovely nipples between forefinger and thumb, he gave it a sudden, savage twist. The girl rounded her lips into a pretty O, but otherwise made no protest. The guy slapped at her thigh and she widened her stance, bare feet flat on the stone hearth.
Again he murmured something George couldn’t quite catch. The girl tilted her pelvis forward, her face outwardly serene, though George couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in that pretty head of hers.
The man gripped her vulva like he was grabbing a piece of fruit. He must have been doing something with his fingers, judging by the pretty pink blush that moved over Hailey’s throat and cheeks and the way her head fell slightly back. “Oh,” she breathed, the word like fingers stroking George’s cock. This one would be a prize, no question about it.
The second bidder withdrew his hand and nudged the girl’s shoulder. She pirouetted so her back was to them, and George fondled that perfect ass with his eyes, even as the man used his hands to do the same thing. Finally the man returned to his seat.
Mistress Miriam turned to George. “And you, Sir?”
George shook his head. He’d seen all he needed to know. The girl was perfect. He cleared his throat. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Slave Hailey,” Mistress Miriam said, “you may wait in my office.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the girl said softly. Her voice was low and throaty, and George wondered how she’d sound in the throes of orgasm.
Once the girl was gone, Mistress Miriam faced the two men. “As we’ve previously discussed the contract has a six-month tenure, with a renewal clause at the end of the term. The initial bid is two hundred thousand dollars, half to be paid up front to The Compound, the other half to be maintained in an account for the slave until the end of her term of service. As you know, we don’t generally have bidding for our contracts, instead usually matching a particular Master with a particular slave for an agreed upon price. But since you both seem intent on procuring this particular slave, I’ve decided this is the most equitable solution to the issue.”
And the most profitable for you, George thought, though of course he didn’t say this aloud.
“Two fifty,” the other bidder promptly said.
“Two sixty,” George rejoined.
“Two seventy.”
“Two eighty.”
The other bidder was silent for several beats, and George imagined he was calculating how much of a bonus his bank would give him that year, and if Hailey was worth the price. The guy brought his hand to his face, the hand that had been buried in the beauty’s cunt a moment before and closed his eyes, as if inhaling her sensual perfume. Apparently it was enough to push him to the next step.
“Three hundred,” he said, casting a triumphant look in George’s direction, as if to say, top that, old man.
You bet your ass I will, George silently responded. The guy had no clue who he was up against. Time to end this thing.
“Three fifty,” George said softly, his eyes fixed on Mistress Miriam.
Silence for several beats. George kept his eyes on Mistress Miriam, each passing second a small triumph. Going once, going twice…
“If that’s the final bid…” Mistress Miriam said, letting the sentence trail away.
George finally permitted himself to glance at his competition. The guy pressed his lips into a thin line and George could see the struggle on his face. He wanted the girl, but the price was too steep. Finally he gave a small, sharp shake of his head.
Victory!
Mistress Miriam stood and extended her hand to George, who stood as well, trying to keep the goofy grin from his face. “Slave Hailey is one of the most highly trained and deeply submissive slaves The Compound has ever produced,” she said as she gripped his hand with her long, cool fingers. “I think you will be very happy.”
Yeah. I’d be delirious with joy, George thought wryly, if only she were for me.
~*~
Hailey cast a sideways glance at the man sitting beside her as they winged their way across the country in the first private jet Hailey had ever been in. He was a good-looking guy for his age, which she guessed was somewhere in the mid fifties. He had a thick head of silver hair, clear blue eyes, a still firm jaw and craggy features. But if she were honest, she had to admit she’d been rooting for the younger Master.
No point in wasting time on what might have been, so she put the thought out of her head. She would focus instead on doing the best she could for the man who had chosen her. Age not withstanding, Master George seemed honest, kind, and serious about the lifestyle, all of which were excellent points in his favor.
After two months of intensive training at The Compound, and a lifetime of searching for, and as yet never finding, a true Master who would make her his own, Hailey had given herself over to the process. Though she recognized the artificiality inherent in placing herself under contract to a virtual stranger, at the same time she trusted Mistress Miriam to place her with someone of integrity and quality.
She needed a Master who would intuitively understand and respect her deep-seated longing to submit�
��body and soul—to another person. She needed someone as dedicated and committed to the lifestyle as she was. In hindsight, it was evident in the past she’d made a mistake in seeking a lover who was dominant, rather than a Dominant who might in time become a lover. True that wasn’t likely to happen with this man who was old enough to be her father, but that was okay. She would learn and grow from the experience, and hopefully make him happy and proud to own her for the duration of the contract. After that—who knew?
Energized by her internal pep talk, Hailey decided to begin their new relationship by telling Master George she was honored to have this opportunity to serve him, and would make every effort to give him the best of her submission.
“Permission to speak, Sir?” Hailey ventured.
The man turned to her, as if surprised by the question. “You don’t need permission. Not with me.”
Had she heard him correctly? “I’m sorry, I don’t understand, Sir.”
He smiled. “Listen. Now that everything’s wrapped up and we’re on our way to your new life for the next six months, I need to level with you, Hailey.”
A sliver of unease sliced its way through Hailey’s gut. Surely the time to level, whatever that meant, had come before they were headed across the country, where she’d promised to serve as his personal sex slave for the next six months? Hailey willed herself to remain calm. Slaves were patient. Slaves didn’t anticipate—they accepted. She waited, her eyes fixed on Master George’s face.
He blew out a breath, as if steeling himself for what he had to say. “I’m afraid I’ve procured you under false pretenses.”
“False pretenses?” Hailey echoed, thoroughly confused and unsettled by this admission.
“Mistress Miriam was aware of the arrangements,” George continued, “but I didn’t mention them to you until now because discretion is of the utmost importance to my client. I did buy your contract, or rather, I negotiated its purchase, but I’m not the one who will own you for the next six months.”
Hailey realized she was clutching the armrests of her seat with a white-knuckled grip. Willing herself to relax, she moved her hands into her lap and folded them together while her mind struggled to process what the man was saying.
“The person who bought you doesn’t like to make himself a target for the public. He’s a very private man in his personal life. That’s why he couldn’t come himself, much as he would have liked to. I’m his personal representative in certain transactions. He’s—well, you’ll see when you meet him.”
Even while Hailey’s mind was trying to let go of the idea that this kind, older man would not be her Master for the next six months, she was deeply intrigued by what he was saying. Who was this mystery man she was being delivered to?
Someone famous. It had to be. But why not just tell her? And even if the guy was some kind of celebrity or big shot, why go to such lengths? It wasn’t like anyone at The Compound would care who the guy was, surely? They were part of a BDSM community that understood the need for discretion. Folks seriously committed to the lifestyle were well aware of the discrimination, intolerance and basic misunderstanding that existed out there.
Unless—oh shit—what if the man she signed her life away to for the next half year was one of those fanatical, pseudo-religious types? Someone who couldn’t risk showing his face in a so-called den of iniquity? One of those smarmy creeps who amassed a fortune by preaching against sinners like homosexuals and other deviants, and then were caught with their pants around their ankles, their cocks down another guy’s throat? Someone who would spend the next six months forcing Hailey to atone for her “sins”?
What the hell have I done?
The sliver of unease bloomed into a fist of panic that clutched at Hailey’s gut. She closed her eyes and drew in and then released a deep, cleansing breath. She called on all her grace and submission training, bringing it around her like a warm, comforting cloak. Stay calm. Don’t jump to conclusions. Mistress Miriam would never place you with someone like that. Whatever happens, submit with grace and courage. Accept what is offered, and serve with passion.
“Hey,” Master George, or was he just George, said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You okay? You’re looking a little pale. Are you motion sick?”
Hailey opened her eyes and forced a smile. “No, thank you. I’m okay. Just still not really clear on what you’re telling me. I’m trying to adjust to this change in plans. I thought you were the one who bought me.”
A spasm of pain seemed to move over the man’s face. “Don’t I wish,” he said in an undertone so that she barely caught the words.
She had to know what was going on, and so she pressed, “Do I know this person you’re taking me to? Can you tell me his name?”
George seemed to ponder the question. “Okay, you’re right,” he finally said. “You deserve to know, and anyway, you’ll know soon enough. It’s Ronan Wolfe. That’s who bought you.”
Hailey struggled to place the name. An actor. That was it. He was in the movies. Which explained why they were headed out to California. Yes, he must be an actor, though for the life of her, she couldn’t conjure a face to go with the name.
At twenty-eight, Hailey knew she was definitely in the minority in her generation. A yoga teacher by profession, she didn’t own a computer or a television. Her cell phone wasn’t smart at all. She rarely went to the movies, and in fact couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to one. She vastly preferred to lose herself in a good book, or in peaceful meditation beside the creek at the back of her cottage in her small Vermont town.
George was regarding her expectantly, and so she said, “He’s an actor, right?”
His expression went from confusion to incredulity to amusement within the space of a few seconds. He burst out laughing, a big guffaw that made her smile back in spite of herself. “Good one. You had me going for a second there.”
Hailey was confused. “You mean he’s not an actor?”
George tilted his head, his eyebrows lifted in disbelief. “You mean you honestly don’t know who Ronan Wolfe is? The biggest heartthrob of the decade? The man who’s been described as Gregory Peck, Paul Newman and George Clooney all rolled into one incredible package of artistic talent and devastating good looks?”
“I’m sorry,” Hailey replied lamely. “I don’t go to the movies much.”
“I guess not. Or watch TV. Or live in the modern world.” His tone dripped with sarcasm and Hailey felt herself coloring. She looked away so he wouldn’t see her blush.
“I’m sorry.” George’s tone had changed to one of contrition. She felt his hand again on her arm. “That was uncalled for.” George gave a small laugh. “I should be impressed to be with the one straight woman in America who doesn’t fall into a dead faint at the prospect of meeting Ronan Wolfe in the flesh.”
Hailey offered an apologetic shrug, not sure what to say. If this guy was as famous as all that, she would surely recognize him when she saw him, she supposed. The prospect of serving a man who probably had an ego the size of Montana wasn’t exactly thrilling, but he was clearly serious about owning a trained submissive, given all the trouble he’d gone to in order to procure her.
Unless… Unless he just had more money than he knew what to do with, and had jumped on the BDSM bandwagon as something kinky and fun to try out? Was she being consigned to spend six months with a dabbler in the scene? A vapid, clueless celebrity looking to explore a casual kink?
True, the money was great—she would pocket more from this six-month contract than she earned in five years as a yoga instructor—but money hadn’t been her primary motivator when she signed on for training at The Compound. She was seeking a true connection with a bona fide BDSM Master. The idea of being a casual play toy for some wannabe Dom was not appealing, even if he was god’s gift to women.
“Is he serious about the lifestyle?” she ventured. “I mean,” she added hastily, “I don’t mean any disrespect, but is Mr. Wolfe just, um, you know, just
doing this for fun? Has he done anything like this before?”
“You can rest easy on that score, Hailey. I’ve known Ronan for a long time, and he’s no lightweight looking for a bit of slap and tickle. He’s heavily into the scene, and though I’m not sure he’s looking for love”—George offered a wry smile as he said this—”he’s as serious as you are about BDSM.”
Hailey let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “The thing is,” George continued, “because of who he is, and the work he does, he can’t really afford to have it out there that he’s into the lifestyle. The press would have a field day if they found out the guy was into whips and chains, which is how they would characterize it. Ronan’s a very private guy, and he doesn’t want his private business to become fodder for the gossip mills. I’m sure you heard about his big breakup with Jennifer St. Claire and that whole mess a few years back.”
Hailey opened her mouth to say yes, of course, as she desperately tried to summon up who Jennifer St. Claire might be, and George laughed again. “Oh, right,” he said, still chuckling. “I forgot. I’m dealing with the one woman in the country who doesn’t give a shit about Hollywood royalty.” He patted her knee. “Anyway, the press had a real field day with that one, and most of what they reported had zero basis in fact, but they didn’t let that bother them, of course. Can you imagine what they’d do if they found out Ronan had a live-in, trained slave girl?”
Hailey could only imagine. She didn’t particularly relish the idea of being splashed across the tabloids either. Though she wasn’t ashamed of her submissive leanings or lifestyle, she did live in the real world, too, and had no desire to be embroiled in any kind of scandal.
They were quiet for a while, and Hailey was glad for the silence as she tried to collect her thoughts and feelings. Master George was just George—a procurer for this famous but reclusive celebrity who was seeking a sub girl, but not love.
Okay, fine. It was better to be prepared in advance for what she was getting into, and though she would have appreciated knowing these facts before she’d signed on the dotted line, would her decision have been any different if she’d known the truth?
The Compound: The Compound Trilogy - Book 1 Page 17