Pretty Lies

by Kitty Thomas

  “Liar. Take the lingerie off, shoes too, and lie down on your stomach on the table.”

  “I-if I do this, you’ll let her go?”

  “If I’m pleased with you, I will keep you instead. Unlike you, I’m not a liar.”

  She flinched at that.

  He crossed to the far end of the room and put on some calming spa music. He dimmed the lights and lit vanilla-scented candles. They smelled like her. She smelled so good. He just wanted to fuck the sweet vanilla scent right out of her. But what he needed in this moment was compliance and some sign that this arrangement wouldn’t be utter torment for her because he was still trying to hold onto the belief that he wasn’t a monster.

  Anton wanted what she offered—probably too much—but he’d never seen himself as the type of person who would take it from an unwilling captive, no matter how many times he’d had that fantasy.

  He laid out massage oils as well as a few things he’d bought special that he didn’t have at Dome. Lubricants, arousal creams. A few toys.

  He didn’t watch her undress. He couldn’t bring himself to; he could hardly believe this was happening. Even as the guys had made plans and bought the house and made all sorts of rules to convince themselves what they were doing wasn’t evil, he hadn’t been sure it was really going to happen. Even with the purchase of the estate, it had still all been just talk.

  And now, with Phyllis locked in one room, Janette in another, and Annette offering herself as his slave… things had gotten real very quickly. It didn’t matter what lies he told himself, he’d crossed the line. He was a felon now.

  Anton had always thought of Brian as the felon. Brian was the one who liked to hurt people. And yet, Anton was the one with two hostages and a third about to become his slave.

  He’d promised himself he wouldn’t take anyone who didn’t ultimately want this. There were so many kinky people out there who wanted something that felt more real. Plenty of men with a lot of money to burn, and women who longed for someone to serve and to have all their worldly needs met in exchange. Why not make some money out of that situation and get his own urges fed training them?

  And yet, it didn’t matter if all involved parties agreed to it, selling people was a crime, and no judge in the country would see it otherwise. Besides, none of his prisoners thus far were very happy about the arrangement. What made him think he could do this better when the business was up and running?

  “Anton?”

  She was lying on her stomach on the table like he’d asked.

  “Master,” he heard himself say.

  “M-master. What if you aren’t pleased? What are you going to do with me? I know you can’t let me go. Are you going to kill me?”

  He didn’t want to kill any of them. He wasn’t a killer. All he wanted was to somehow time travel and not kidnap her sister. Of all the idiotic...

  “I don’t know.” With three hostages it looked more and more like he’d have to become a killer or go to prison. This was too many loose ends, and they hadn’t even gotten started yet. Maybe Brian could do the killing. He’d like that.

  Annette had started crying. She was quiet, but not so quiet he couldn’t hear—or see the tremors move through her.

  Anton carefully wiped the tears off her face. “Shhh, kiska. Don’t cry. You liked me last night.” At the club he’d wanted to take her to his apartment. He’d planned to get into the taxi with her, but she’d drunkenly slammed the door before he could get inside. And then she’d been gone.

  “I wasn’t afraid then. What if you don’t like me enough to let her go?”

  He stroked the side of her face, and she leaned into him, probably unconsciously. It was so twisted that that was her fear, that he wouldn’t enjoy degrading her enough to release her sister.

  “So you aren’t upset about what’s about to happen here? Between the two of us?” He would take any small window to make him feel less evil for claiming this thing he so desperately wanted.

  “If you don’t hurt me, no. I’m just afraid for Janette.”

  The tough thing with liars was that you couldn’t ever be sure when they were telling the truth.

  “You might be a liar, but you can’t fake the bravery it took to come here. I admire that.” He turned the music up a couple of notches. “Close your eyes, and just relax.”

  She closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. When she let it out, he put his hands gently but firmly on her back. He started just as he did any normal massage. The only difference was that she wasn’t covered. Every inch of her was exposed to his hungry gaze, and still, all she cared about was her sister.

  He didn’t speak as he slowly kneaded the muscles in her shoulders. It was easy to fall into the rhythm of things. If he didn’t do this for a living, he might be tempted to talk, but Anton had worked to cultivate a quiet calm energy that generally put his clients at ease.

  As he touched her—innocently at first—it seemed his little cat was falling under the spell as so many had before her. Her skin was so perfect—so soft he would never grow tired of touching it. She had tan lines from an impressive golden tan, but underneath he could see that outside the reach of the sun’s kiss she was much fairer.

  Her muscles were knotted so tight. But then, he imagined driving into the middle of nowhere to find your kidnapped sister wasn’t the most restful activity. He went through the entire massage sequence: shoulders, back, arms and hands, legs and feet. He wanted her to get used to his hands on her in a way that wasn’t too threatening. If he could acclimate her to his touch, it would be better.

  After a while, he felt something clenched inside her let go. Surely she couldn’t think he was only going to give her a massage, and yet she gave herself over to his hands anyway.

  “Are you asleep, kiska?” Her breath had evened out in the way of sleep, yet he couldn’t be sure. She probably hadn’t expected to get a professional massage tonight. And he didn’t get away with charging the rates he did at Dome by being anything less than the best.

  “No,” she murmured.

  “Good girl.” He was about to go off script, and he didn’t want her to be asleep for it. He stroked and rubbed over the pert globes of her ass. She was firm, yet also soft and yielding.

  “Do you work out?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I will expect you to continue doing that for me.” No one got an ass like this just by sitting on it. And they didn’t keep it that way, either.

  There was a sharp intake of breath as his hand moved lower, between her legs. “Roll over onto your back.”

  At this point Anton usually held the blanket up and looked away to protect the client’s privacy, but this time there was no barrier between him and the woman he touched. This time he drank his fill of her. As she rolled over, their eyes briefly met. He couldn’t read her expression. There was a bit of fear in there, but it didn’t feel like the type of fear of only moments before.

  “What are you thinking about, pet? What are you afraid of?” The answers to these questions seemed obvious, but Anton was sure there was something else in there.

  “What if I start to like you too much? What if I like the things you do to me?” she whispered.

  He could see where that would be a problem for her. It was one thing for her to sacrifice herself to him to protect someone she loved. Noble, in fact. It was another for her to want him. Giving someone your body wasn’t the same as risking your heart, especially to someone who’d threatened your family.

  He’d seen this fear and vulnerability in a lot of subs before. In the end, consent didn’t make a difference when it came to risk and pain. A woman could happily agree to everything you did to her, and in the end, you could still break her beyond repair. Sometimes it was worse to happily choose your own demise.

  The few subs he’d had for longer than short-term play had considered their heart a much bigger risk than their body. Trusting someone not to hurt you was almost never about the risk of physical scars.
It was always easier to get the body to submit. But the mind? The heart? The soul? Those were precious things one couldn’t always reach, even if she said all the right things and obeyed perfectly.

  There was a deeper thing inside a woman. And he wasn’t sure he would ever touch it with Annette—not just because of how they met, but because he was sure she was the type of woman who would always lie to him.

  Anton wasn’t even sure if he wanted anything of Annette beyond her body. The simple novelty of the arrangement was probably enough. Besides, he would be very busy once things got up and running at the house.

  She’d closed her eyes again almost as soon as she’d rolled over, erecting a different kind of barrier between them. But he’d told her to close them.

  Again, he performed the normal massage protocol. Arms, hands, legs, feet. Then shoulders and neck and head. A small moan escaped her when he reached the side of her neck, and she leaned into him like a cat might—and like his little cat should.

  But then, once again, he left the script and stroked her belly—and those perfect better-than-porn breasts. Even when he’d moved to such vulnerable areas her breath continued to move in and out of her in a slow almost Zen-like state.

  “Are you going to fuck me?” she asked. She was looking at him now, less fear and more assessment. She was a brave one. Especially under the circumstances. If Anton was a psychopath, he was an accidental one. But she had no way to know that.

  “Would you open your legs for me like a good girl if I did choose to fuck you?”

  A breath. A sigh. “Yes.”

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “If we do this, you will always address me that way, even around others, do you understand?”

  A little fear, but then she said, “Yes, Master.”

  Anton went to the sink to wash the oils off his hands. “Don’t move. I’m not finished with you yet.” He picked up the arousal cream. This was something he’d never used before—not just on massage clients, but ever. Michael had told him about it. His friend had used it a few times back when he’d had his own sub—before he’d met the straight-laced vanilla woman he’d married.

  Michael had recommended a brand that he said was more potent than most, that it drove women absolutely wild, and it lasted a good full hour before the effects wore off. Anton was pretty sure this was all exaggeration. Maybe it was a placebo effect or old memory had heightened the perception of the cream. After all, he was sure Michael hadn’t used it on Vivian. Anton had never met her formally, but he’d seen her once from a distance across the way at a Japanese steakhouse they all liked. Stick up her ass didn’t even begin to describe it. There was no way she would submit to any of the things his friend liked. Not in a million years.

  Anton picked up the cream and moved back to the massage table where Annette quietly waited. How could this woman even be real? In everything but looks, she was so different from her sister. Annette hadn’t fought and clawed at him like a wildcat. She didn’t try to run. And her few tears were for her sister.

  “You might not have started kinky, but you will be when I’m finished with you. Spread your legs.”

  Annette was a gift. A training test subject, someone all of them could train and teach and turn into the perfect slave. She could be a template for the others who would come after her—the ones who would later be sold.

  She opened her legs until they fell over the edges of the table.

  “Good girl. I very much like this view. And I love that you’re waxed.” The behavior had begun to become so common among women in their twenties that he was beginning to be shocked if he found hair when he took a woman to bed. Even so, seeing that bare, smooth skin always sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

  Anton began to rub the cream between her legs. Her breathing deepened, and she arched her hips toward him the smallest amount. He was careful to cover every area that could become sexually excited. Her clit. Her labia. Her opening, which had already started to lubricate for him. He went back to the sink and washed his hands, then turned to watch the show Michael had promised would come.

  It took a few minutes—during which he felt a bit foolish for believing his friend’s breathless review of the product. But then she began to writhe and squirm on the table.

  “W-what did you do to me?”

  “It’s just an arousal cream. The effects last about an hour. How do you feel?”

  “Like I need to be touched right now!”

  He chuckled. “And what will you do to be touched?”

  She hesitated, but then the cream seemed to start working more intensely. She put her hand between her legs. Anton rushed over and smacked her on the leg.

  “No! Don’t touch yourself ever unless I say you can. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes, Master. Please. Please...”

  “Again, I ask… what will you do to be touched?”

  “A-anything. Please. Anything.”

  He got an evil idea then. It was probably pushing her too hard too fast, but he wanted to see the limits of this magic cream. He’d need to know for the others they trained anyway.

  “Get off the table and come with me.”

  “W-where are we going?”

  “No questions. Follow me.” He started to leave the spa. She followed as far as the door that led back into the main house then stopped and hovered around the door frame.

  “N-naked?”

  “Yes.”

  “But...”

  “They will all see you, so you may as well get used to it now. Too much for you, kiska? Reconsidering your offer?”

  She paused and bit her bottom lip. Then she raised her chin as her jaw set in a firm, determined line. “No. I’m not reconsidering.”

  “Good.” If she saw it as a challenge and was doing it just to prove she could… he didn’t care her motivation. He just wanted to see how far he could push while she was so turned on.

  Unbelievably, she followed him out the door and down the hallway. He took her back to the game room and led her inside.

  Brian looked up from his video game, his eyes seeming to darken to solid black. Lindsay and Gabe stopped playing pool, their jaws looking as though they had completely unhinged from their heads.

  “Holy shit,” Gabe said.

  Anton sat on the sofa next to Brian. Annette stood in the doorway, still several yards away, shy but obviously needing… someone… anyone to touch her. If Brian had walked over and started to finger her, she probably would have let him do it.

  Anton motioned for her. “Crawl to me.”

  She only hesitated a split second. Then got on her knees and crawled until she reached him. She stopped between his spread legs, her gaze down. This wasn’t a meaningful submissive gesture. More likely it was shyness or embarrassment. But the cream was still working its evil magic, and she still needed to be touched. She started to rub against his leg.

  “Master… please. Please.”

  “Jesus fuck,” Gabe said. “Did you drug her?”

  “Of course not. It’s just the arousal cream.”

  “You should buy that stuff by the case,” Brian said. He’d paused his game to watch this unfold.

  “How many men have you fucked, kiska?” Anton wasn’t sure there was a point in asking. She’d probably just lie.

  “T-two,” she said, whimpering.

  Definitely a lie.

  “Bullshit,” Brian said.

  “I wish the playrooms were set up,” Anton said.

  “I’ve already got a few things down in the dungeon. Not much, but a few restraints and a spanking horse,” Brian said.

  Anton shook his head. “No. We have an hour before this stuff wears off. Let’s use the pool table.”

  Lindsay shoved all the balls into the pockets.

  “Hey!” Gabe said. “I was winning!”

  “And you will likely win again,” Lindsay said. “Hardship builds character.”

  Gabe flipped him off. Brian laughed.

/>   Anton looked down at Annette still kneeling at his feet. Tension knotted her shoulders. Whatever he was going to do, he was going to have to do it soon before her fear overtook her arousal.

  “Brian, go get me some rope.”

  “Happily.”

  Anton stroked the side of her throat, and again she leaned into him. “Come, kiska,” he helped her up off the ground and over to the pool table. “Lie down on your back and spread your legs.”

  Now she looked scared, like her sister had downstairs. He slipped his hand between her legs. She was so wet, her clit engorged and unbelievably swollen. That was heavy fear to overcome such a response.

  But as he stroked her, the fear melted off her face. She closed her eyes. Her head fell back, and a small moan left her throat. That was more like it.

  “Remember what you asked me for. We’re all going to touch you. We’re going to make you feel very good. Isn’t that what you want, pet?”

  “Y-yes.”

  She still couldn’t seem to bring herself to call him Master in front of Gabe and Lindsay. He let it slide this one time. It was an interview after all, and he was willing to grade on a curve.

  It took Brian way too long to return with the rope.

  “It was packed away in a box at the back. I had to dig it out.”

  Anton had rope, but he hardly thought Annette wanted to see her sister’s blood right now.

  She didn’t fight them when they tied her down spread-eagled to the table, but something wasn’t right. Well, none of this was right, but something really wasn’t right. Once again she reminded him of her sister down in the dungeon. That look in her eyes. It was haunted. It wasn’t the look he wanted. Dammit.

  “Leave,” Anton said to the others, still studying her face.

  “Why?” Brian said.

  “Because she’s mine, and I said so.” Not the most suave reply, but they left the room with only moderate grumbling from Brian.

  Anton carefully untied the ropes around Annette’s wrists and ankles and helped her off the table. He led her to the couch and held her close while she cried.

  “Bring them back. I’m sorry. I’ll do better. Please, Master,” she said.