by Kitty Thomas
After a while, her breathing evened out into sleep. But Ari couldn't go back to sleep. His mind was too full with everything that had happened.
He could barely believe he had her here. He kept waiting for guilt to rise up, but his conscience remained quiet in the face of everything. The girl in his arms was everything he'd ever wanted, and he'd paid dearly for her. He would have scars on his back for the rest of his life, and she would wear his collar in return. It was a fair trade in his eyes.
He could forgive her, but he could feel no remorse for his own response. She was too broken to ever be free again. She'd always be looking over her shoulder for the man who'd hurt her—a man who was still out there somewhere. Ari couldn't risk that man finding her again to finish what he'd started. And he couldn't stand the thought of her rotting away in some prison cell. He'd seen the guilt in her eyes. It would eat her up inside without the absolution he offered her now.
She would atone. And she would be safe. And if they were both very very lucky, she would eventually be happy in her new situation.
Ari had been so used to the bratty behavior from Holly that he'd barely covered his shock when Claire had obeyed him the first time without the slightest hesitation. Even with as afraid as he knew she was, he'd worried she'd make things difficult.
He'd seen too much of her pain and fear to be unable to forgive her. But that didn't mean he wouldn't demand his own brand of restitution. She would sweetly obey him, and he would reward her with comfort and safety and protection and pleasure.
There were no words to describe how he'd felt when she'd immediately knelt and called him Master. An intoxicating power had coursed through him, and in that moment he knew he wouldn't hold anything she'd done to him in that cell against her because it had made it possible for him to bring them both to this moment.
Absolute ownership. The one thing he'd never been able to take without guilt. Until now. He'd just gotten his first pure hit of the good stuff. And he was addicted.
8
When Claire woke, it took her a few minutes to remember where she was, but when the memory fully reformed in her mind, she sat up in bed, her gaze darting around the room. Ari wasn't in bed with her. He wasn't even in the room. The fire had died, and now everything was quiet. Too quiet. Except the waterfall just beneath her.
She leaned against the wall, staring at the door on the lower level. It was only a matter of time before that door opened. She used this brief reprieve—this small window of solitude—to review everything she knew about this man.
While her situation with him may be new and uncertain, he wasn't new. They had danced the waltz of captor and captive for weeks. Only the roles had been reversed. In that time, he'd mostly seemed calm, stoic. Reasonable.
Except for that first day, most of the time he hadn't acted angry with her. He'd told her over and over he wouldn't hurt her if she let him go.
Claire fought to shut out all the memories of the times she'd beaten him. All the times she'd made him bleed. He could have gotten infected. He could have died in that cell because of her. The memory of the handle of the knife in her hand was still sharp, as if it had left a tactile impression she couldn't rub away.
Behind the fear, she'd felt the hint of relief when he'd gotten the syringe, when the power balance had changed, because no matter what happened she wouldn't have to kill him. She wouldn't have to cut his body into small pieces and get rid of it. No matter what he did to her now, he'd saved her from having to become a killer because she'd found no other path to take but the one that ended in endless blood covering the walls and floor of that cell. It seemed inevitable now that he'd escaped—like the only thing that could have possibly happened.
She remembered the way he'd winced whenever he cleaned the wounds. When he'd wake from the drugs... that wince as the water had touched his skin had been the only evidence he'd shown her that what she'd done was actually hurting him. Even the flow of blood had barely seemed real—like it was just an image without any suffering attached. She'd done her best to detach, to disconnect and impassively watch, to remember what he'd done to her, that he deserved it.
Except now that wasn't true. It had never been true. And she had to live with that reality.
Last night the nightmares had come again, no doubt to punish her for what she'd done. In the dream she'd been in the basement, recaptured. And this time she hadn't gotten away. This time he'd killed her. She'd woken right as he'd been stabbing her, the screams coming out of her half from fear, and half still believing it was really happening in that moment. When Ari had run up the stairs, at first she'd been stuck in the dream, only dimly aware that she was awake and safe... more or less.
At least safer than she'd been in the dream.
He'd been so calm and... non-violent so far in her short time as his captive. So different from the introduction she'd given him when the power had been reversed.
She'd expected more direct retribution. Her gaze fell suddenly on the chains hanging over his bed and the whips lining the wall, and then back down to her own ankle, chained. She swallowed hard.
Pet. His pet had slept up here. But if Ari was telling the truth, that woman was safe and happy in Paris. So then she must have been here willingly. He wouldn't have let her go unless she'd agreed to be here. Ari hadn't been committing a crime with her.
So all of this was... a kink? Claire squeezed her eyes shut trying to block it all out. She hadn't had an orgasm in three years—since before she'd been taken. Before... the things she'd fantasized about hadn't seemed wrong. But after...? She'd thought after something so terrible had happened to her, she wouldn't fantasize about those things again. Because she knew better. She knew it wasn't a fantasy, and it wasn't sexy to be hurt. But she couldn't get off thinking of normal sweet romantic sex. She'd never liked normal sweet romantic sex.
But anything darker... she couldn't let herself think those things anymore and get off to them. So she'd stopped. She'd shoved her sex drive down a dark hole where she never had to take it out and look at it or think about it. She could never have an orgasm that way again. It was wrong. How could she after...?
She'd tried a few times with more normal thoughts, but she couldn't come. She couldn't even get aroused until the fantasy started to go darker, more depraved, more dangerous. Until she was a captive at the absolute mercy of a beautiful powerful male. She'd stopped herself before she could come, and then she'd run to the bathroom and lost her dinner.
Since then, she'd shut down that part of herself, distracted herself from it. People could live without sex. They could live without orgasms. Plenty of people did it every day, and she'd been determined to be one of them because the alternative was too shameful to contemplate. But now, looking at Ari's bedroom and the stark evidence of what he was into...
She was sure he hadn't demanded she call him Master just because he literally owned her in some clinical way. It was sexual. She'd known it the second the words had come out of his mouth. The way his fingers had played gently at the nape of her neck as he'd stroked her hair. He was going to fuck her. She couldn't use that other word.
Except this time she couldn't use that other word because no matter how wrong she knew it was, she wanted him inside her. She needed him inside her. She needed to be fucked so badly she could barely breathe from everything she'd repressed and shoved down and denied herself. There was an aching hollow pit inside her from the vast lonely stretch of life without pleasure. And he was so raw and masculine and beautiful. She couldn't imagine any woman who could resist Ari's charms if he aimed them in her direction.
Claire shouldn't want him. She shouldn't want any man inside her, let alone a man who clearly intended to keep her as his slave. Not after the things she'd been through—and definitely not knowing the way he would want it. But her body, which had remained rigid and dry throughout her entire captivity with the first man, was awake and hungry for this one. Right or wrong be damned.
When he'd held her in the night, both o
f them had been naked under the blankets. She'd felt his thick, hard erection pressed against her low back. The place between her legs had answered that hardness with soft, pliant wetness. Her body had been ready to welcome him inside her. She'd tensed, both afraid he'd penetrate her and hoping he would even though it was sick and wrong. But he did nothing but hold her until she drifted off to sleep.
It didn't matter. There was an animal inside her that recognized the animal inside Ari. And the two of them wanted each other. It was pure raw lust. And it was going to be sated one way or another. Claire had no doubts about this. And that terrified the shit out of her.
Only now in the space of emptiness Ari had allowed her could she admit this truth to herself. When he'd told her to kneel and she'd gone to the ground so quickly at his feet, it hadn't just been about fear. Because even in that moment, though she'd tried not to think about it, she'd felt the beginnings of the throbbing wetness between her legs.
She was sick and wrong. Maybe she should have died in that basement.
Before she could entertain that dark thought any further, the door on the lower level opened, and Ari walked through it. She watched as he moved toward the stairs, his eyes never leaving hers.
It didn't matter what she craved and fantasized about, she'd already experienced the harsh reality of captivity, and this man had scars left by her hand. She couldn't let herself hope he wouldn't hurt her. He would definitely hurt her.
Ari watched her from the main level. She looked like a doe, frozen in fear. But there was something else in her eyes. Desire. He shook the thought away. No. It would be convenient if she easily went along with and wanted all the things he wanted, but he knew that was insane.
She likely didn't even want normal sex after what had happened to her, let alone what he brought to the table. What if he couldn't train her? What if he couldn't make her body respond as he wished?
Of course he wouldn't be able to make her body respond. She was traumatized. Broken. And he just wanted to take more because he was a selfish fucking bastard who felt she owed him or that he was saving her somehow from the world. Or saving the world from her.
He climbed the stairs and stood in the same place he'd stood the night before when she'd first woken to her new circumstances. She didn't speak a word. She dropped her gaze and crawled across the mattress until she was on the ground, kneeling at his feet just like she had the night before.
A sharp breath left him. It startled her and drew her gaze up to his. Ari quickly wiped his face of all expression and stared her down until she looked back at the ground.
What in the fuck?
Now that she'd had something to eat and some non-drugged sleep and time alone to gain a sense of her situation the last thing he'd expected was for her to kneel before him without a word. He'd expected her to cry. Or beg him again to let her go. Maybe even fight or scream or throw something. The only thing she could throw was sheets and pillows. Still. He'd expected her to act out in some way. Maybe it just hadn't bubbled to the surface yet.
He was determined to train her, to demand her unfailing obedience, but he still couldn't believe she'd done this without a single command.
He'd always thought some subs played dumb. Or maybe they were afraid to act on their instincts and submit without being directed at every turn. Maybe they were self-conscious, afraid he would laugh or judge them. Not his Claire.
She flinched when he began to stroke her hair, but it seemed more from surprise at the touch than anything else. Surprise he was still being gentle. She didn't seem actively repulsed by him. Though he could easily change that if he made the wrong move. Everything was so precarious.
He sighed. “Claire, I have to punish you.”
He expected her to beg, to move away and huddle against the wall like she had the previous night, but she didn't. She only cried softly. She didn't ask what her crime was. At least she wouldn't insult him that way.
Ari had spent a good part of his time in the cell fantasizing about keeping her as his slave. He'd had dark fantasies before, but these were different. These weren't just spank fantasies to get him off. They were plans. Now that he had her, he wished he could get inside her head and know what she was thinking. He could ask, but there was no guarantee she'd be honest.
In fact, he was sure right now she'd tell him whatever she thought he wanted to hear. It was such a shift from Holly. If this were Holly she'd be smarting off, pushing his buttons, irritating the shit out of him until he just wanted her to leave.
Ari stood there, waiting for Claire to speak, to beg, to ask questions and demand answers, to scream, to curse, but except for the soft crying, she was quiet. She didn't look up at him. She did nothing but wait. He could feel the words radiating off her, but she never let them escape into the air. What in the hell was she thinking? What was her strategy? Was she quietly planning her own escape? Giving him an artificial surrender to lower his guard?
He wasn't foolish enough to underestimate this woman.
A few months ago, he never would have thought he could be the kind of man who enjoyed and wanted this. He'd always been concerned that everyone had a safeword and wanted to play the game. There were good subs out there. They weren't all brats. Just because his last few had been didn't mean he had to resort to keeping a terrified woman captive.
He should be questioning his own behaviors, not hers. She was just trying to survive. And he'd only offered her minimal reassurance so far.
Maybe she had broken him. She'd definitely broken his conscience. When he'd woken, he'd half expected to feel guilty, to go soft on her and make no demands. But instead he found no emotion inside him except the satisfaction that she now lived at his mercy.
Ari withdrew a piece of black silk from his pocket and tied it around her eyes. She jumped when the silk touched her, but she didn't pull away. She didn't beg. She seemed to have the crying under control. For now. A few silent tears slid down her cheeks every few seconds. He shifted her to uncuff the thick piece of metal from her ankle.
Then he scooped her up and carried her down the stairs. He wasn't ready for her to see the rest of the house yet. When he reached the main level he crossed to his attached master bathroom beside the walk-in closet. Neither door was visible from her small perch.
She would enjoy this room when he was ready for her to see it. The bathroom had white and light gray marble tile in intricate patterns that mirrored the patterns on his vaulted ceiling in the bedroom. There was an oversized garden tub with generous counter space for candles and soaps and gels and lotions.
Behind the tub was a large floor to ceiling window with an expansive view of the property and some of the closest-to-the-house trees the estate had. A large glassed-in shower stood along another wall with floor-to-ceiling windows on either side. Despite the openness of this room, his large property and gated security ensured privacy—even if one felt exposed.
Ari sat her down on the toilet. “Do what you need to do. Don't remove the blindfold.”
She opened her mouth as if she might protest but closed it again. He knew she wouldn't want him to watch her. It wasn't as though it gave him a thrill, but he couldn't leave her unattended yet. Soon enough, privacy would be a distant memory to her anyway.
He opened and shut the door, then remained very still, his breathing slow and quiet. She turned her head as if trying to see he'd left. He expected her to remove the blindfold. Why wouldn't she? Surely she was curious and thought he'd gone. At the same time, she no doubt knew he could return just as quickly as he seemed to have left. She didn't touch the blindfold. She just used the restroom and flushed.
Ari opened and shut the door again. “Did you remove the blindfold?” It would be the normal thing to ask if he'd actually left the room.
“No, Master,” she said.
“Good girl.”
She flinched as though she expected some blow to come despite her obedience. It unsettled him. This was wrong in every way a thing could be wrong. But he hadn't bee
n able to leave her alone in a world she could no longer navigate, and he wasn't noble enough to pass up this opportunity or just keep her as his indefinite platonic house guest.
If someone had asked him three weeks ago, he would have been sure he was that noble. He wouldn't even recognize who he'd become in this short span of time.
He picked her up and carried her out of the bathroom. This time he took her out of his room and down the large front hallway, brightly lit by the sun shining in, bouncing off chandeliers. At the far end of one wing was a door that led down to the dungeon. He had a playroom on the first floor with all the same accoutrements except with a softer color palette and windows. But he'd told her he had to punish her for what she'd done, so it had to be the dungeon. He didn't want to confuse her.
Ari set his trembling captive on her feet in the dungeon. He regarded her, watching her shaky breaths moving in and out of her. He couldn't decide if he should leave the blindfold on or take it off. He was intrigued that she hadn't tried to cover herself. The normal thing to do would be to try to hide herself from his gaze. Especially with her history.
No begging. No running. No screaming. No fighting. What cocktail of things inside her psyche could make someone this compliant? Even the tears had seemed involuntary. She seemed determined to give him total obedience despite her fears. It made his hands clench and unclench at his sides because he knew what had made her this way. And now he was just a second monster holding her captive.
Maybe he shouldn't punish her. She was trying so hard even with little direction. But she needed to know what it would be like, and early. She needed to know that he wouldn't break her skin. He wouldn't torture her. He wouldn't starve her. He wouldn't share her. Today was an opportunity to show her.
“Claire,” he said quietly.
Her face rose to his. He could see how intently she listened.
