by Kitty Thomas
The door to the bedroom easily clicked open in her hand, and she crept out into the hallway. Even though she'd seen parts of the house in disconnected puzzle pieces, she hadn't seen this. On one side was nothing but windows, letting the bright sunlight in, streaking patterns and prisms from the intricately designed glass across the floor and onto the wall.
Exquisite chandeliers hung in the massive high-ceiling hallway and cast even more tiny rainbows across the wall. She shouldn't be awed by his home. If they were to put their bank accounts side-by-side, she probably had as much money as he did.
But she'd never had the knack for this much style. You could have a lot of money and still not own the most beautiful things. Beauty wasn't always about money. It was about taste, style, talent, art. And Ari's house was a work of art.
When she reached the front door, she paused and glanced around furtively, but she was alone. There was a keypad beside the entry, much like the one she'd set up to keep Ari in the cell. There was no place to input a code, only a fingerprint.
Claire tried to turn the knob and felt the resistance. There was no visible lock or keyhole in the doorknob. Bending down to peer more closely she could see deadbolts between the small crack in the door—or they would be deadbolts if there were any locks she could physically turn.
She wondered idly if she could break the glass? But just looking at the windows along the hallway, she knew this wasn't the kind of glass she could ever shatter. This wasn't the glass in a normal person's home. With this much security, none of it would break, at least not by anything she could do.
Claire let out a long sigh. She didn't have to berate herself for not trying to escape. Ari's careful security would keep her inside. She never could have predicted that the thing that would finally fully break her was pleasure and kindness.
Further down the hallway she heard voices. One of them she recognized as Ari, but the second was an unknown male voice. Her heart hammered in her chest at the awareness of an unfamiliar male. She thought about turning and running, but instead she edged closer, her curiosity too overwhelming. The other voice felt like a threat because it came out of a man, and so many men had hurt her.
But she couldn't resist the urge to assess the threat for herself. She eased along the wall and stopped just outside the door to listen. The door was cracked open a few inches. The two men were talking about some sort of project and plans and a deadline. She peeked through the opening, just a quick look inside.
“Hello,” the strange man said, looking up at her. He was older than Ari but attractive in a sort of devastating way.
She leapt back into the hallway and was about to turn and flee back to the white room when her master's voice stopped her.
“Claire? Come here.”
His tone was firm, and she knew if she ran he'd be very upset with her. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and pushed the door open, grateful his shirt was so big. It was practically a dress on her. Still she was aware of how naked she was underneath his shirt. Her nipples pebbled out against the linen. She was about to turn and run—consequences be damned—when Ari's ice blue gaze snared hers.
“Claire, come here,” he said again, more firmly.
He wore the same shirt she did. They were a matching pair. Except he only had one button undone and wore a pair of jeans.
She eased into the room. Ari sat at a large drafting table. The stranger stood on his other side. There were what looked like blueprints spread out across the table. Her hand drifted to the gold collar around her throat.
“Kneel,” Ari said when she reached him.
Her breath caught in her throat. Claire's gaze dropped to the ground, feeling the stranger's eyes on her. She felt the panic edging in, the tears prickling the corners of her eyes. “But...” she whispered.
“Now,” Ari commanded. It was a quiet command, but it carried so much weight.
She looked into his eyes and didn't speak another word in protest. His expression was absolutely serious, and she still didn't know if she was supposed to be wandering around the house like this. She was angry at herself for thinking these things. She found herself grateful again that she'd tested the bars of her cage, because otherwise she'd regret not trying to escape when she'd had the opportunity.
At least she'd tried. It was the most important thing.
The tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she got down on her knees next to him and stared at her hands, her breath coming in short, shallow pants. She wished her breathing was quieter. She wished it wasn't so obvious just how upset she was. What would the stranger think about this?
Ari's hand was immediately in her hair, petting her. “Good girl,” he said, his voice going back to that softer place that soothed her and made her feel safer than she should feel in captivity.
“Were you trying to escape?” he asked. His tone was casual, like he was making a joke, but they both knew he wasn't. Surely he had to keep up the pretense for the other man, that this was all some game. She hoped he had to keep up that pretense, anyway. The possibility that the stranger would approve of what Ari was doing would be so much more dangerous.
“No,” she lied.
“No, what?” His tone went back to that harder place again.
She felt the heat rise in her face.
“No, Master,” she said quietly, but she knew the other man could hear. The room was too quiet, the only other sound was the ticking clock on the wall.
Finally the stranger spoke. “So, you have a new pet. Hiding her from me? When do I get to play with her?”
His tone was light, but the moment was anything but light for Claire. A small whimper escaped her throat, and she moved closer to Ari, as if begging his protection from this man. She was too afraid to actually beg him—afraid it would only make things worse. Begging had never done her any good in the basement. It only made her captor do more terrible things to her.
“I'm not sharing this one,” Ari said, still gently stroking her hair and the nape of her neck. She leaned into him as he petted her.
“Whatever happened to my slut is your slut?” the other man asked.
Claire flinched at that, biting back the sob that wanted to escape as she waited, still terrified Ari would turn on her.
“I'm afraid we won't be playing that game anymore,” Ari said. “Claire is different.” Then his attention turned to her. “Look at me, little one.”
The gentleness in his tone called her gaze to his. He wiped away the tears on her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Did you need something or were you just exploring?” he asked.
“E-exploring,” she said because she couldn't think of a made-up need. She still wasn't convinced he hadn't forgotten to lock the chain around her ankle. Would he punish her for wandering through his house?
“Let me watch, then,” the man said.
“Kane...” Her master sounded exasperated.
“You know how much I like to watch. I promise I won't comment or interfere or touch her.”
There was a pause as if he were actually considering it, and Claire found herself holding her breath.
“You want to paint her,” Ari said finally as if a realization of some importance had just hit him.
Claire chanced a glance up at Kane. He stared right into her. It was a hard unyielding stare that unnerved her, but there was no malice or cruelty in it. He looked at her as if he could see through the shirt she wore, but there was surprisingly nothing lewd in his expression. He wasn't leering at her. She wasn't sure what it was she saw in his gaze, but it contained an intense raw power, whatever it was. And it scared her.
“No, I need to paint her. You've always wanted me to paint one of your girls,” Kane said.
“And you've always said no.”
“Holly? Are you kidding me? I wouldn't mar a canvas or waste the paint on that brat. I'm glad she's in Paris. This one suits you much better. And those eyes... holy fuck, Ari. I have to paint her. You know I have to paint her. But I need to observe her
in action first.”
So Kane was an artist? But he wanted to watch Ari touch her? Or fuck her? What kind of art did he make? Claire's gaze had returned to the floor as the two men talked about her like she wasn't in the room.
“When would you want to do it?” Ari asked.
“If you let me watch you with her today, I'm free tomorrow morning to paint.”
“How much?”
“I'll give you the friends and family discount. Two hundred thousand,” Kane said.
Claire's breath felt trapped in her chest as she waited. Ari wasn't selling her to this man, but the exchange of money, the negotiation over her... it felt too uncomfortably familiar.
“How big would the piece be?” Ari asked.
“You've seen my work. The standard size.”
Ari sighed. “Okay.”
He stroked her hair, and she looked up at him, knowing he would see the fear and question in her gaze. She couldn't wipe it from her face in time to hide it from him.
“He's not going to hurt you,” Ari said, “but he is going to watch, and tomorrow you'll pose for a painting.”
“Y-yes, Master,” she said even though she had no idea what any of this meant or why Ari didn't seem able to say no to Kane's request.
“Good girl.”
“She really is perfect,” Kane said. “Even if I'd agreed to paint Holly she would have opened that smart mouth of hers when you told her. She never would have just said Yes Master and obeyed, even if she wanted to pose for me.”
“And that's why Holly only called me Sir,” Ari said.
“I'd assumed as much.”
Claire chanced a glance up to catch Kane pulling a white tube out of his pocket. He placed it on the table. “Use this on her.”
Ari picked up the tube. “What is it?”
“Arousal cream,” Kane said. “I got a whole crate of it from Lindsay. The results are... intense to say the least.”
Ari turned the tube over, reading the words printed on the back. “Have you used it on Saskia?”
“Oh yes. Many times. It turns her into an even more wanton whore than normal.”
Claire flinched at that, but Ari just chuckled.
“It would make this much easier on her,” Kane said, his eyes meeting Claire's. She looked back down at the ground, her pulse racing.
“How long does it take to reach full effect?” Ari asked.
“Up to fifteen minutes. Depends on the person.”
“And how long does it last?”
“An hour more or less,” Kane said. “You can use more if it wears off before you want it to.”
Ari nodded, still reading the back of the tube. “Go to the playroom, We'll join you in a few.”
Kane left the room without another word, closing the office door softly behind him. When they were alone, Claire started to cry.
“Master, please. I can't...”
“Look at me.”
She looked up.
“You've been such a good girl. And you will be a good girl today. My friend won't hurt you. He isn't going to fuck you or touch you. He paints the most amazing nudes. I've been trying to get him to paint one for me for years. He wants to paint you. It would mean a lot to me to have this painting,” he said.
That last admission was her undoing.
“W-what if he decides he won't paint me unless you let him fuck me?”
“Then he won't paint you. But he won't make those kinds of demands. He really wants to paint you. He won't jeopardize it by pushing me.”
“But he wants to watch you... do things to me,” she said, unsure how she felt about that. Her fear was beginning to edge out her arousal again. Kane was a stranger. Against all odds, Ari didn't trigger any traumatic flashbacks when he touched her, but what if Kane just watching did?
“It's part of his artistic process. It helps him figure out his composition. It gives him a sense of the subject before he figures out what he needs to pull out of her to paint the piece.”
What he needs to pull out of her? What did that mean?
“Will you do this for me, little one?”
Claire looked down at the ground for a few seconds, thinking, gathering her nerve. Finally she said, “Yes, Master.”
Ari pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Good girl.”
He helped her stand and positioned her so that she leaned back against the drafting table, her legs spread. He unscrewed the cap on the white tube.
“W-what will happen when you put that on me?”
“If Kane's glowing review is to be believed, it's going to make you very very excited.”
Claire bit her lip and nodded. She gasped at the first touch of the cold cream. Ari spread a generous amount between her legs, covering all of her pussy, including her clit. Then he put more on his finger and put some of the cream inside her, stroking her inner walls with it.
She moaned and arched toward him.
He withdrew his finger. “Not yet, little one. Wait. Save the show for Kane.”
Claire felt the flush crawl up her neck.
Ari took Claire to the end of the brightly lit front hallway. She was squeezing the life out of his hand. He shouldn't do this to her.
He had to keep reminding himself she wasn't like his other subs. She wasn't a sub at all. How had he ever gotten to the point where he'd justified taking an actual captive, a real slave? She couldn't just safeword out of something that upset her. And he didn't want to traumatize her. He just wanted her. Her and her obedience. So if he didn't want her a broken mess at his feet, he had to watch her carefully and not push her beyond what she could take.
He pressed her against the wall next to the playroom door.
“Claire, look at me.”
Wide, scared eyes met his.
“If this is too much for you, I can send him away and punish you instead.” He needed to give her an out, however weak. He should have made her tell him everything that had happened in her former captivity but he couldn't bring himself to hear the details. It would only confirm what a monster he was for keeping her like this.
“What if I have a flashback?”
Ari brushed her hair back and kissed the shell of her ear. “If you have a flashback, I'll get rid of him.”
He pushed the door open. “Kane? Could you come here a minute?”
The other man joined them out in the hallway, and Claire flinched. Not a great sign. He should shut this down right now. But if she couldn't handle it, she needed to tell him and take the out he'd given her.
“Yeah, what it is?” Kane said, his gaze raking over Claire.
“Will you go get me a bottle of water from the kitchen?” He didn't want to leave her alone right now.
“Sure.”
Kane was gone a couple of minutes. Ari stroked her hair and carefully watched her for signs of a panic attack.
“Here,” Kane said when he returned. “Is she okay?”
He actually looked concerned. That expression was weird on his usually impassive face. But the show of concern seemed to loosen Claire's tension. Ari couldn't begin to imagine what mental acrobatics were going through her head to make this even a little bit okay for her.
“She'll be fine. Just give us another minute.”
“Sure.” Kane went back into the playroom.
Ari unscrewed the bottle cap and handed the water to Claire. She took several long drinks. Finally, when the bottle was half empty she handed it back to him.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes, Master.”
“Listen to me. He's in art mode. When we go in there, he's looking at you as an artist. Nothing more. He's not judging you, and he's not going to hurt you. Or touch you. Okay?”
She nodded. The fear was starting to recede. Her breathing had moved back into a more normal pattern. Her pupils were beginning to dilate, evidence that the arousal cream was working.
When they were inside the playroom, Ari turned to observe her reaction to the space. Unlike the foreboding dungeon, thi
s room was bright and welcoming with sunlight streaming in through a giant window which took up one full wall.
Outside the window was a view of the pool which was covered for the winter. Beyond the pool was a seemingly endless stretch of green rolling hills. Or they would be green if they weren't covered in snow. The trees next to the perimeter fence sat so far away, they looked like small landscaping bushes. Gauzy light gray drapes were pulled back from the windows letting the full light and view in.
He watched Claire as she walked around the room, taking everything in. Her bare feet padded over the blond hardwood before sinking into one of the fluffy white rugs scattered about the room. He had the same bondage equipment upstairs that he had in the dungeon as well as many of the same whips and crops and canes. Only in this room, the sex furniture was a light gray leather against blond stained wood. Any metal parts, instead of being black, were a bright stainless steel.
He'd designed and made each piece for this room.
In one corner was a large blond stained wood box filled with every manner of sex toy—except Claire couldn't see the contents from her vantage point. Kane had made himself comfortable on a gray leather sofa placed along the far wall. On either side of the sofa, two gray leather chairs were turned inward facing each other. The only thing missing between them was a coffee table.
But there was no coffee table, only a thick soft white rug his former pets had knelt on to service his guests—Kane usually being that guest. He was used to sitting on that sofa, just as he sat now, legs spread wide with soft lips wrapped around his cock. If Kane was bothered by the change in the rules of their game, he didn't show it. His gaze remained intently focused on Claire.
Ari wondered if his friend could possibly be putting together any of her history as he watched her with the calculating focus he was known for. Kane hadn't missed her flinch out in the hallway either. Or her fear when she'd first come into Ari's office, her small body huddling closer to him, seeking his protection from Kane's hard stare.
“Claire,” Ari said.
Her gaze jerked to his. Her pupils remained dilated, even in the brightness of the room, as though the arousal cream were more powerful than the sun. Her breathing began to come in shallow pants as she gripped a spanking horse close to her for support.
