by Winter Fox
My hatred for both men bloomed, and with every strike of the paddle, and every violation of my body, I became more confident that I could hunt down Adonis and kill him too, once I’d killed his father. I almost hated him more. At least Charles had the decency to be honest about what he was.
With one week to go before Christmas Eve, I was feeling tense, but also nervously excited. I wasn’t stupid, and I knew there was probably a fifty percent chance that I would end up dead once I killed Charles—he had a lot of bodyguards around him. But I was okay with that, if it meant a fleeting moment to bask in my successful revenge.
As usual, I had been summoned by Adonis. I walked into the room, and dropped gracefully into my expected position. He was waiting as usual, but he was wearing more than just his jeans today. He had on a black T-shirt which pulled tightly against his muscled body. He was also wearing his trademark stone-colored boots.
“Up, eighty-eight.”
I stood up obligingly. Where are we going? I wanted to ask. He might have been dressed for the big wide world, but I was sporting yet another pathetically small bra and knicker combination.
If he knew I wanted to ask, he didn’t give anything away. He made for the door, tipping his head to let me know that I was expected to follow. I obediently trotted after him, along the hallway to a part of the house that I hadn’t been to before.
He paused at a plain white door, and turned the handle. Then he pushed the door open, and stood back to let me walk in ahead of him. I stepped into a sterile environment which was not dissimilar to a doctor’s surgery. In the center of the room was a medical chair which had restraints on the arm rests, and a raised pair of stirrups at the bottom.
“Sit,” he instructed.
I sat.
He wrapped the restraints around each of my wrists, then hooked my underwear with a single finger. He slid the skimpy garment down my legs, and then over my feet. I didn’t even flinch; this man knew every single part of my body by now. I had nothing left to be ashamed of.
Or so I thought.
He lifted one foot, placing it into the left-hand stirrup. Then he repeated the process with my other foot. I was now sat with so much of my body exposed, I was pretty sure he’d be able to see what I’d had for breakfast if he was so inclined.
When the door opened, and a young man wearing a white coat and glasses entered, I jumped, and tried to unhook my feet. Adonis placed a firm hand on one ankle.
“Stay still, eighty-eight. This won’t take long.”
The young man shook his head disapprovingly. “Do you have to call her by a number?”
Adonis suddenly seemed as though he’d grown two foot taller, and another two feet broader. The room was small, and it took only a half pace for him to come to a stop with his face inches away from the smaller man’s.
“I’ll call my property whatever the fuck I like, doc. Now, do what you’re paid to do, and certify her.”
Without a glance in my direction, Adonis stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
The doctor fired me an apologetic glance; before snapping on a pair of white latex gloves, and pulling up a stool, so that he could sit between my open legs.
“I’m sorry about this, Cara,” he spoke sincerely.
“What are you doing?” I asked. The chair was tilted back far enough that I couldn’t see what was happening between my thighs.
Suddenly, I felt something made of cold metal sliding inside me as he answered. “All of their women are examined before they leave training. It’s to confirm that you are disease free, and able to bear a child.” He paused. “Or in your case, children.”
I felt a sharp pain against my cervix, and closed my eyes against the invasion.
“Well done,” the doctor said encouragingly.
I felt the metal slide back out of me, but it was instantly replaced by two of his fingers pressing inside me. The fingers probed my most intimate area thoroughly. It was humiliating. But all I could do was lie there and wait for him to be done. I opened my eyes, and stared at the ceiling as he examined me. Future images of Charles Olympus dying on the floor at my feet, distracted me from the shame of the hideous present.
When he was finished, I breathed a sigh of relief. He made no move to unfasten the restraints though; instead he opened a bag on the table next to me, and took out an empty syringe.
“I’m going to take some blood, then all we need is the chip, and you’re free to get out of here.” He smiled as the needle broke my skin. Its interior starting to color with the rich, red swell of my blood.
I frowned. “Chip?”
He slid the needle out of my arm. Then lifted a metal device which resembled an ear-piercing gun from the bag. He sighed.
“You know, it would make my life a lot easier if they told you about these things, before they sent you to me.”
He pressed the end of the “gun” against my inner, left thigh.
“What are you doing?” I yelled.
“Your owner will wish to be able to track your movements, in case you go missing. This chip means that he can easily find you by using a basic GPS app on his phone.”
“Anywhere in the world?” I blinked.
He depressed the trigger, and I felt a sharp pain as the chip was punched below my flesh.
“Yes, anywhere.” The doctor turned sad eyes to me, as he packed his instruments back into his bag.
I laid my head back against the cold plastic of the chair. I wondered how much it was going to hurt to dig that thing out of me.
The doctor finished packing his bag; snapping it shut, and slinging it over his shoulder. I was surprised when he laid a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed gently.
“The chip is sited millimeters from your femoral artery. Unless you have a qualified surgeon on hand, you’ll almost certainly hit the artery and bleed out, if you try to remove it.”
I growled in frustration. My fifty percent survival rate odds had just been slashed in half. Once I killed Charles, they would use the chip to track me down, and they would kill me. My only hope was to get to a hospital quickly enough to have the chip pulled by someone who knew what they were doing.
The doctor was leaving now. “I’m sorry, Cara,” he said, as he opened the door.
He disappeared into the hallway, and I heard him speak again. “She’s physically in excellent health. I’ve taken her bloods, and should have the results within forty-eight hours.”
“And the chip?” Adonis sounded angry. He always sounded angry these days.
“In place. So, help me,” the doctor muttered, darkly.
“It’s a little late to be having a crisis of conscience now that you’ve been paid, Doctor Harris. I trust you can find your own way out?”
“Yes, sir.”
The sound of footsteps retreated down the hall, and the doctor was gone. Adonis appeared at the doorway, pausing for a moment, and fixing me with a cold blue stare. His eyes dropped down, to look between my legs, and I snorted out a huff of disgust.
Ignoring me, he walked over to the chair, and gently touched his finger against the puncture wound from the chip’s entry.
“It won’t be long now, and we can be free of each other.” He spoke distractedly, almost as though he’d forgotten I was there.”
“Good,” I murmured, turning my head to look away from him.
He suddenly pressed himself between my open thighs, and my eyes snapped back to meet his. I knew that he’d probably take the opportunity to fuck me while I was helpless like this. Every single sexual encounter between us over the last five weeks had been cold, and dispassionate. He had simply exerted his dominance over me. Nothing more.
Instead of doing what I expected, he started to unfasten the cuffs around my wrists. He spoke while he did it.
“In two days’ time we’ll have dinner with my father, and his closest associates. You will be: polite, submissive, obedient, and well-behaved. You will be perfect.”
Once my wrists were unfastened, h
e lifted each of my feet out of the stirrups, before sliding my underwear back on. Then he took hold of my hands, encouraging me to stand up.
“Why are you so cold and distant?” It was the first time I had rebelled since the night of the paddle, and the rape.
He stood in front of me, and seemed to really contemplate my question. “I’m not sure I understand the question, eighty-eight. You’re my slave—at least for now—and I’m your master. I actually feel that I’ve been more than kind.”
It was as though my hand had a life of its own. My arm flew forward with my palm outstretched, in an attempt to slap his face. He caught my slender limb easily, however. One large hand wrapped around my arm, and he squeezed until I yelped from the pain.
“Remember our conversation about what happens to slaves who continually disobey? You’ve done extremely well over the last few weeks, eighty-eight. That doesn’t mean that you won’t be ‘struck-off’ if you don’t toe the fucking line.”
Without giving me a chance to reply, he dragged me from the room, and along the corridor. He walked quickly, and I stumbled to keep up in my high heels. As we reached the door to my room, I managed to catch my breath enough to respond.
“Did you ever think that maybe I’d rather die, than have to go through the never-ending list of humiliations you have lined up for me, master,” I spat.
He slammed the door open, practically throwing me into the room. He closed the door behind us, and when I met his gaze, I knew he was furious.
“You’ve got one week to get that attitude under control, slave. Charles won’t put up with your shit like I do.”
“I don’t give a fuck what Charles thinks,” I roared. All of the hurt, and loneliness of the last few weeks came rushing forward in a wave of fury.
“You will when you’re dead, Cara. Fuck, why can’t you just do as you’re fucking told, for once in your goddam life?” He wasn’t just angry, I realized. He was hurting too.
Instinctively, I changed my attitude. Instead of talking, I approached him, and reached out to press my hand gently against his stubbled chin.
Had he always had stubble this thick? Or had that only happened over the last few weeks?
His eyes widened, and his breathing sped up slightly. I took this as a sign to continue, and stepping boldly forward, I pressed my body against his. I looked up into his eyes, and I continued caressing his cheek.
“I don’t think that you hate me, like you want me to believe that you do,” I whispered.
His face dipped toward mine, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer into him. I raised myself on tiptoes to press my lips against him, and he eagerly kissed me back.
Suddenly, without warning, his hand found my throat, and in a single swift movement; he had driven me across the room until he had me pinned against the wall.
His face was right in front of my own, and the look of fury on it—the darkness in his eyes—made my knees buckle.
“I don’t hate you, eighty-eight.”
His words didn’t match the rage on his face, and I looked back at him, confused.
What he said next helped me to understand. “I don’t hate you, because you’re a transaction, an acquisition. You’re something that will only exist in my world, for one more week. I pity you, because I wouldn’t want to be sent to where you’re going. But, hate? No. I don’t hate you. I feel nothing for you, slave.”
Without giving me a chance to respond, he let go of my throat. My own hands flew to the already bruised skin as I gasped in great lungfuls of cool, soothing air. By the time I managed to focus my eyes on the door, he was gone.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Adonis
His phone beeped, as a text message arrived.
Another outburst like that won’t be tolerated, Adonis. You’d better fix my wife-to-be before dinner, or I’m sure Erebus will be delighted to have a no holds barred experience with her.
His fist hit the wall with such force it smashed through both the plaster and the brick.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Cara
I’d suspected that I wouldn’t see Adonis for the next two days, and I was right. I’d hit a nerve with him. I was sure. And I was more than a little curious to see what the atmosphere between him and his father would be like.
On the night of the dinner party, Emma turned up to my room just after I’d showered. She was carrying a beautiful long green dress, made of soft silk. It was embroidered with gold stitching on the bodice, and neck-line. And the skirt was peppered with tiny green gems, which sparkled as they caught the light.
“Wow, I didn’t know Adonis cared.” I snorted.
Laying the dress on the bed, Emma selected a pair of strappy, gold shoes from the walk-in closet.
“It’s not from Adonis. It’s from Charles,” she said, as she placed the shoes by my bed.
I rolled my eyes, as I finished curling my hair. “My attentive husband-to-be, huh?”
Emma came to stand behind me, so I could see her face reflected in the mirror. She pursed her lips worriedly. “I know that you plan on killing him.”
I paused, mid-curl. “Who?”
She sighed. “Charles. There’s no way you’d be so calm about marrying him otherwise.”
I shrugged. “It’s not as though you can expect me to happily be his wife, Emma.”
“If you kill him, they’ll kill you, Cara. He’s their leader. Fuck, he’s like a king to them. Adonis will probably be the one to do it, you know.”
Finishing the last touches on my hair, I nodded slowly. “I hope it falls to Adonis to do it. I want it to be him.”
I crossed the room to the bed, and shrugged out of my towel so that I could put the dress on. Emma came to help me.
“I don’t want you to die,” she confided in me.
I slipped into the dress—it clung sensually to every curve of my body—Emma zipped the back closed for me. Then I stepped into the gold shoes. “I don’t particularly want to die, Emma. I’m hoping I can run far enough that they won’t be able to find me.”
“And if you can’t?”
“Then at the very least, I won’t have to spend the next two centuries getting raped and abused by a man who wants me to suffer.” I studied myself in the mirror as I spoke. I looked good. I was too thin. I’d lost a little weight during my confinement. But all in all I looked pretty hot.
“Promise me that you’ll wait a little while before you kill him?” Emma asked.
I turned to ask her why the hell she’d want me to wait through the torture that Charles inevitably had planned for me, but the words died on my lips, as I caught sight of Adonis standing in the doorway.
He was freshly showered, and shaved. His stubble was completely gone, leaving a smooth, yet rugged jaw. He was immaculately dressed in a tuxedo, which was perfectly complemented by a white bow tie. I’d only ever seen him wearing jeans and a T-shirt before, and I was stunned into silence by how beautiful he looked.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“So do you,” I replied, without thinking.
“Leave us.” This was said to Emma.
When the witch was gone, Adonis closed the door behind her; before turning to face me.
“I have something for you.”
“What is it?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small purple object, which was shaped like a letter “U.”
“Charles will be expecting you to be on your best behavior tonight. He will also want to know that the woman who will share his bed will be wet and willing.”
But I’m not. I thought.
“This will stimulate you, and I will have the controls for it in my pocket. If I feel that you’re going to be disobedient, then I can distract you.”
I shook my head. “I’m not wearing it.”
He raised a brow inquisitively. “I thought you might say that. Would you prefer if I called for the cane, and sent you to sit through dinner with
stripes on your ass?”
I shuddered. “No.”
His mouth twitched, and he gestured to the bed. “Then lie down, and let me finish getting you ready for dinner.”
I lay on my back on the bed, and he pushed the long material of my dress up until it bunched around my waist. He opened my legs, and pulled my underwear to one side; then quickly slid one end of the “U” in between my soft folds. The other end settled neatly outside of my body. Positioned just over the sensitive nub of my clit.
He fixed my clothing, and used a hand to help me stand up from the bed. “How does it feel?”
“Uncomfortable,” I said with honesty.
He smirked, before reaching into his pocket. There was a tiny buzz, and I was suddenly overloaded with a thousand tiny vibrations of pleasure pulsing through my clit. “Ahh,” I gasped.
“Good girl,” he said, as he stopped pressing the button.
I stood and stared at him, miserably.
“Oh, don’t look so upset, eighty-eight. I intend to make you come at least three times during dinner, and you’re going to make Charles a very happy man.”
I followed him to the dining room, and I quickly realized that I was nervous. No, I was more than nervous. I was afraid of seeing Charles Olympus again. It wasn’t really surprising, since the last time that I saw him was over my father’s dead body.
When I entered the room behind Adonis, my own eyes quickly sought out the single cold eye of the man who had been responsible for almost everything that had happened to me in my short life.
When he saw me, he smiled, in the same way that an alligator smiles at a bird, before it snaps its jaws closed on the unfortunate feathered beast. I sensed his desire for my fear, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t give it to him.
“You’ll forgive my intervention, Adonis, but I altered your seating arrangements somewhat.” Charles’s voice was exactly as I remembered it. Rich, and gravelly, with a only hint of the cruelty I knew that he was capable of.
