Dark Facade (Book One) (Dark Facade Series)

by Hubbard, Sylvia

  “You were searching for something, weren’t you? Or someone?”

  Lying, she said, “I don’t know.”

  “Did you ever think you would enjoy a white man eating you out, slave?”

  She blushed profusely and gasped as she felt movement against her bare thigh. HE WAS NAKED! Her unrestrained stiffness increased as her nervousness and fear showed through. “N-no,” she panted.

  His arrogant lips, moved into a very confident smirk. “And if I fucked you, slave? Would it be your first white man?”

  “Yes.” She trembled really terrified now. What had she gotten herself into? This wasn’t supposed to happen, was it?

  “Kiss me,” he ordered, but he made no effort to lean down to her.

  She had to lean up to press her full lips against his for a brief moment.

  He was about to say something else, but Maxine moved up again to kissed him. Roughly, he pressed her back down on the bed and she stiffened again.

  “What do you really want, Maxine?”

  “To be adored,” she lied. “By you.”

  The pressure on her shoulder didn’t decrease. “And?”

  “Your name.”

  He looked deep into her eyes for a long time as if trying to see something she wasn’t telling him. Nervously she looked down pretending shyness to hide her true feelings.

  “Philippe.”

  Smiling brightly, she said relaxing, “Thank you.”

  He stared down at her for a few more moments, before he said sternly. “Turn over and look at the wall to your left, slave.”

  Her nervousness returned as she did as she was instructed, closing her eyes tightly she stiffened and waited for anything. He moved his thick arm around her waist and pulled her to him until her back was molded against the front of him.

  Maxine waited for more, when he made no indication of anything else and after a few moments, she felt his deep breathing on the back of her neck.

  Now that she knew his name, she wanted to know even more about him.

  CHAPTER 9

  Even after an hour, she was still awake. The candles had burned out and darkness surrounded the room. No longer could she observe the contrast of the color of his arm to hers. How her caramel skin seemed darker compared to his natural tone. Not only that, she marveled at the strength in his arm all the way up to his shoulder and she knew he could have hurt her more if he had wanted to.

  Once Philippe twitched and groaned deep. His pelvic rubbed against her ass and she could feel his manhood grow. She didn’t breath as his arm seemed to pull her even closer and he planted soft kisses on her neck, but sleep must have overtook him and the kisses faded away and his body relaxed - all except his steel root, which she knew if it stayed in that hardened state that there would be a mold of it on her ass.

  When his breathing returned to normal, she listened more to the outside noises around the chamber. Maxine heard lots of crying, some screaming and even one or two people getting whipped. Every lash made her eye twitch and she wondered who the woman was?

  Maxine remembered a lot of her childhood as she laid there in Philippe’s arms. Her earliest memory she recalled her parents taking her out to the car and buckling her up in the seat. It was her only memory of her real parents.

  She was four and a half years in age and remembered them kissing her and telling her how much they loved her. Her mother was crying, but her father just pulled her mother away and they sat in the front seat.

  They put their seatbelts on, put a note between them on the seat and kissed each other. Her father cranked the car up, but instead of backing out like they use to, her mother pushed the button to close the garage door. Her father partially opened up all the windows.

  Maxine never forgot how her head started to hurt and her chest felt like all the air was being sucked out. Her parents had gone to sleep, but not Maxine. She figured out how to get out the seatbelt. Something seemed to tell her to grab the note on the front seat and then try to get out of the car.

  She tried to get out the back seat door, but it wouldn’t open, so she climbed in the front to get out and found a way to climb over her mother and get out the door. There was a hole in the garage door at the bottom. If she laid her cheek on the cold cement, she could press her lips to the hole where her mouth could just breathed fresh air coming from outside of the garage.

  The details of how she was rescued were foggy, yet even though she had been only four the incident had been her very first indelible memory of her life.

  She remembered that soon the hole in the garage door didn’t seem to give her enough air after a while and she began to cry for help. Being the middle of the day, it seemed as if no one was around to hear her. Still, she used what was left of her energy to call for help.

  Suddenly, two thick shoes appeared in her line of sight and then a young white man in a gas company uniform popped down out of nowhere.

  “Honey, what’s wrong?” He tried the garage door, but it was locked.

  “H-Help,” she had cried weakly.

  He had stood up and hit the garage door. “Can you open it?”

  “N-No!” Maxine was fighting the consciousness. “H-Help!” The world around her began to dim, but she just knew if she went to sleep she would never wake up, just like her parents had done. “…p-please….h-help.”

  Her pleas must have panicked him enough. She felt a hard thud and the aluminum door to the garage almost bent in half causing a crack, yet the partial opening he created was barely enough for her to squeeze through. He was pushing his shoulder against the crack to open it further. “Come here!” he ordered.

  Maxine felt her world circling around her as she tried to make it to him. His voice kept saying, “Come to me. Come to me, sweetie.” But for some reason it sounded farther and farther.

  “STAND UP!” his voice bellowed.

  Realizing she had fainted, she forced herself to stand up and make it close enough for him to grab her arm. Her body felt light as air, as he carried her away. Even he had started to cough from the fumes, but when they were far enough to breathe easier, he cradled her in his arms.

  In the distance, she heard sirens, but that didn’t matter as she strained to stay awake just to see his face up close.

  “You’re going to be fine, sweetie,” his soothing voice promised.

  Maxine felt so safe in his arms. “Don’t leave me.”

  “I’m here, my love. I’m here,” he promised.

  Not being able to stay awake longer, with the assurance that he would be there, she allowed her body to relax. Yet, when she awoke in the hospital all alone, no one would give her answers as to who the man was and what happened to him, despite her cries to see him.

  No one would help her find him and she remembered although she was only four, she tried to escape many times to runaway thinking she could find him on her own. The hospital staff all thought it was cute, but they didn’t understand the seriousness of the matter to her. After a while, she stopped asking about him and then she slowly began to even forget how he looked and how he sounded.

  A couple of weeks passed and she was allowed to leave, but only put into a juvenile home until she was sent to live with the Gallaghers, which was the first foster home she lived in.

  The Gallaghers’ home was beautiful and Maxine thought this would be more perfect than her parents. Yet, looks were always deceiving. She learned that at a very young age.

  Because Ms. Gallagher was partially blind in one eye, she couldn’t fully adopt a child, but she practically spoiled Maxine. Immediately, Maxine was signed up for dance lessons, musical lessons, and singing lessons, along with being privately home schooled with extra subjects.

  Five weeks after being there, her world was crushed again.

  Mr. Gallagher snuck in her room and felt her up. “Shhh, baby. It’s all right. I’m going to make sure you are happy. Me and your new mama will take care of you real well.”

  The Gallagher’s owned a motel on the Boulevard and Ma
xine was subjected to seeing the fast life very early in life whenever she was taken there. Ms. Gallagher hated her to get dirty and with her one good eye, Ms. Gallagher could spot filth a mile away. Yet, Maxine wanted to be dirty to keep Mr. Gallagher’s hands off her. For her punishment of getting dirty, it was always beatings with an electric cord with a towel wrapped around so there would be no marks or a soft covered belt that would pain her. Yet, Maxine would never tell the social worker of what they did to her.

  Even when things were at their worst, Maxine never spoke a word and Ms. Gallagher never suspected the horrible things her husband had done to Maxine. Mr. Gallagher had never fully put it in, but he’d rub the tip against her entrance and cover her face with a pillow not caring if she was hurt by it.

  Maxine stayed with the Gallagher’s until they were hit with bankruptcy five years later. By then social service didn’t care where Maxine lived and she learn to take care of herself. Any money she made she put it away. She saved up until she was able to get what she needed.

  Knowing that no one cared, Maxine also never told of all the horrible things that had been done to her by the Gallaghers.

  At fourteen, she finally moved in with a decent family. The Praders were real nice, but by then Maxine had been saturated with the worst by then. Being a teenager, she rebelled and often ran away, running the streets with so-called peers and getting high on marijuana. Boys and men would try to feel her up, but Maxine would instantly think of the lecherous Mr. Gallagher’s hand moving up her thigh and she would become very violent. It took her a long time to relax for her to even let a boy she wanted to touch her.

  The Praders never gave up on her. Mr. Prader would often pick her up from wherever she was, no question asked. When she was fifteen, she would let some of the neighborhood boys rubbed up against her naked. They’d never put it in, which was why Maxine was shocked she got pregnant from that incident. Before the Praders knew about it, she got the guy to pay for the abortion.

  At sixteen stupidly thinking that same thing could never happen again, she got pregnant again. She wasn’t taking any birth control and the boy had ejaculated just like before rubbing up against her. He disappeared and this time Maxine had no one to turn to, so she stole four hundred dollars from Mrs. Prader’s purse and sold some valuable stuff out their house to pay for a cheap back alley abortion. When the bleeding did stop after a day, the street doctor kicked her out and left her in a dumpster for dead.

  Maxine crawled out the dumpster and made it to a payphone. She called the Prader’s collect. Mrs. Prader came to pick her up and took her to the hospital. Three weeks later, Maxine found out that she would never be able to have children. She had to have an immediate hysterectomy. Mrs. Prader nursed her to health and the Prader’s paid the huge hospital bill she had incurred.

  The most depressing part was that she had never had real sex like other girls had said they had with a guy. Maxine knew it was from her sexual abuse at a young age she just couldn’t get over just letting a guy put his manhood inside of her, because all she kept thinking of was Mr. Gallagher’s parts.

  Her outlook on life immediately changed after her near death experience. With two years left in high school, she involved herself in dance and music again, which she had enjoyed very much when she lived with the Gallaghers despite the abuse going on, and then she also took up some art classes as well, which she found she was very good at.

  Mr. Prader helped her get a music scholarship to college and Mrs. Prader sent her supply boxes up until they died in a fire to their home in her second year in college. The small assets the Praders’ had amassed helped her pay for her college all the way up to her bachelor’s and then they even left a five thousand dollar trust fund to get her started in life after she left school.

  She moved to Detroit where she had grown up and tried to make a “normal” life for herself.

  Her relationships with people had been few and far between. Maxine received counseling for what happened to her during childhood in her early college days. That was what made her take the step so late to explore sex on her own, but most people didn’t understand her - especially men. Her first guy didn’t seem to know the mechanics very well and neither did future partners, even Gerald.

  Every encounter physically with a man left her empty and she resolved to be a loner and not like to be bothered much.

  No man had ever offered her the feeling that she needed. Sometimes Maxine didn’t think she knew what she needed. Looking down at Philippe’s arm securely around her waist, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  Being a man’s slave was definitely not what she needed, but feeling a man’s body pressed warmly against hers made her feel… so right.

  *****

  Despite the screaming, she was able to sleep just a little bit, but awoke when she heard his alarm go off.

  Just the idea of sleeping with a man seemed so foreign to her and the idea that this man was the man in her dreams and the same one that was on Lisa’s computer had her mind reeling over what to do next. She needed to know where Lisa was, but if Maxine disobeyed, she would be punished. She wanted to know did Philippe meet with Lisa that night. If so, what happened?

  His watch was on the bedside table on her side, which read six a.m. He reached over her and turned it off. She didn’t move as she could feel him stirring behind her. His shaft was still partially hardened, and Maxine did nothing to encourage anything

  He could rape her and she wouldn’t be able to do anything. She didn’t know him! She didn’t even know where she was! He had all the power and this terrified yet excited her at the same time.

  Damn!

  “You’re not sleep,” he proclaimed. It wasn’t a question and the darkness didn’t hide her nervous breathing. “How long have you been awake?”

  She shrugged still stiff as a board as his arm moved back around her waist and his face nuzzled the back of her hair. “I slept a little.” He wasn’t going back to sleep.

  Philippe spoke softly, yet with authority. “I’m going to leave you this morning, slave, but unlike other days when I leave you, today you’re going to have to finish up orientation. By now they have weeded all the women out that really want to be here. Most masters enjoy watching the process, but I grew tired of that a long time ago. ”

  Maxine was itching to ask questions, but she didn’t.

  His hand moved up to rest on her arm. She held her breath awaiting his next touch acutely very aware of his fingertips on the side of her breast.

  No more movement came from him, but she could feel that he was deeply disappointed somehow. After a few more minutes, he turned away and got out of bed. A light came on behind her, but she still didn’t move.

  When he came around to the other side of the bed, he wore a black thigh length robe that accentuated his brawny body. Her hand wanted to touch him just to give her own conscious assurance that he was real. This man was the essence of bodily perfection. She only saw bodies like his on strong men’s competitions, but with a smoothness about him that just radiated sexiness.

  His hair had come down completely and there was a slight growth of hair on his face. Fierce. Animalistic. He looked as if he had grown up in the streets. Been a drug dealer’s bouncer. Killed a couple of people and not thought twice about it.

  Yet, he exuded control, authority and power.

  He had to be rich to afford the luxury that surrounded them, but was this legitimate cash or illegitimate?

  Philippe sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on her hip, which was covered by the sheet. “I expect obedience at all times when I am not around. Keep your mouth closed and your ears wide open, Slave. Control your urges for resistance and obey your handlers. Others who are in control won’t be as nice as I.”

  Maxine wanted to snort to refute that statement, but held back.

  “Especially,” he said. “Control that tongue of yours.” He cupped her chin with a smirk to those beautiful lips. “It’s a very desirable tongue, whi
ch I would appreciate not being cut on because of your lack of control.”

  Tenderly, he kissed her forehead and went over to the closet.

  What kind of threat was that? Her tongue being cut on? Were they serious?

  “Every morning we spend together you will take out my suit. Before our evening meal, you’ll use the special bags with the room number on it to put our items inside and place right outside of the door. The special bags are in the closet you will put all our discarded clothes inside. They’ll be returned by morning.”

  She frowned. “Won’t you be wearing them again?” she questioned, but then immediately jammed the satin covers into her mouth remembering she wasn’t suppose to ask questions.

  Philippe gave her a strange look before he removed a lavender knee length dress and another off white silk shirt out the closet. On the chest of the dress there was a strangely embroidered crest on the front in real gold thread.

  “I’ve always had the mindset that everyone speaks their own language, but once you get use to them, you’ll understand what they are saying. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I think,” she said. He must have figured her to be uneducated and that she had spoken out of turn because she didn’t understand. It seemed he was used to dealing with ‘these’ types of women. “You and I speak differently because we grew up in different environments.”

  He nodded and moved to her after setting the dress beside her. “Your personal items are in the dresser behind me. Right now I am going to take a shower, so I may get to Chicago and back again before tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sternly grabbing her chin, she was forced to look into those eyes that contrasted with his coloring and seemed to just jump out at her. “I am not your sir.”

  Forcing out, Maxine said, “Yes, Master.”

  Leaning down, his lips tenderly brushed against hers. “Don’t use it just to get a boon, Maxine.”