by Kitty Thomas
He unlocked her wrists, rubbed them, then carried her upstairs. His fingers fumbled over the corset.
“Master?”
“Yes, pet?”
She flushed at the new endearment. “Did you pick this collar for me?” Her fingers grazed over the jeweled band.
“I did.”
“Thank you. It’s beautiful.”
He nodded and guided her to the bed. “Tomorrow I’ll lay out the rules. I also intend to do every filthy thing that was done at the house, and more. But today has been hard for you. I’m sorry you were so scared. I’ll be gentle today.”
“Please don’t be gentle.”
He smiled. “There’s my little slut.”
Michael bent her over the bed and took what was his. She writhed and moaned like a bitch in heat as he coaxed her body to obey.
“This was well worth the cost of training,” he said.
Vivian should have been pissed at that, but the training came back to her as if today had been a glitch. She bucked underneath him, unsure if she was fighting to get away or fighting to get closer. Every thrust sent her soaring higher, wanting to give him more.
“Come, Vivi.”
It had been six weeks since he’d last fucked her. The headboard of the bed thumped against the wall in rhythm to Michael’s thrusts. She came for him, moaning his new name.
EPILOGUE
6 weeks ago . . .
Michael sat at the card table at the club with Gabe, Anton, and Lindsay, the poker cards dealt.
“You’re always so sour now,” Gabe said.
Michael knew he was sulking, but he couldn’t help it. He’d grown tired of Vivian acting like he was a villain for wanting to screw his own wife. The horrors. He wanted her, not his secretary, not the slutty waitress who kept bringing his drinks. Her.
“You never should have married that girl,” Lindsay said, seeing through to the root of things. The doctor was far too perceptive for his own good. Always with his shrink hat on.
“That girl, is the woman I love,” he ground out, irritated.
“But she doesn’t give you what you need,” Anton said, flinging his chips to the center of the table.
Michael tossed his chips in and fought back the urge to yell at his friends. He’d met Anton’s slave one evening when Vivian thought he was at the gym. He’d watched her lovely submission, she way the word Master tripped off her lips, even with a stranger present. He’d grown hard watching the way she’d knelt at his friend’s feet.
Anton had asked if Michael wanted to use her, that she’d be happy to oblige him. Looking into her eyes, she’d seemed excited and turned on by the idea. He’d refused the offer, knowing it would only make him more bitter on his return home.
He laid his cards on the table and curses filled the air as he pulled the chips toward himself. “I want what you have,” he finally said. His eyes leveled on Anton.
“There is no way your wife will put up with you having a slave.”
“She will if she’s the slave.”
All three of them looked at Michael as if he’d grown a third head, and perhaps he had. It took a few drinks and an hour to bring them over to his plan and orchestrate how each of them would play their role to train his wife.
“I won’t do anything different from what I normally do,” Anton said, “If I don’t think she needs this, I’ll let her go. I won’t take a woman who isn’t wired to submit and turn her into this. Not even for you.”
Michael nodded, fighting back the eye roll. Anton fancied himself a civilized monster who played by a code of ethics that precluded him from taking a woman without deep needs to submit, using too brutal punishment, or selling them to anyone he hadn’t properly checked out.
If Michael hadn’t married Vivian, he’d probably be working in Anton’s house of debauchery right now, taking innocents and molding them for a life of sexual servitude they’d been trained to enjoy.
A few days later . . .
“Honest opinion,” Michael said into his cell phone when he knew Vivian had enough time to leave Lindsay’s office in the city.
Lindsay sighed over the phone. “Honestly? I’m not sure. She’s so tightly wound. I gave her Anton’s card. He’ll work it out from there.”
A few hours later he called Anton. “Well?”
The man chuckled over the phone, then the richly accented voice said, “Oh, she’s a submissive. She came for me like a rocket and I think forgot during that time that I’d closed off her escape. She didn’t put up much of a fight.”
Michael smirked. “What now?”
“Now, we wait. She’ll be back, and when she’s ready I’ll take her to the house.”
A few days later . . .
The four of them sat in the sauna at the club while Michael pumped Anton and Lindsay for more information.
“What happened exactly at the restaurant, Lindsay?”
“She’s not ready yet. But I can see it in her eyes. We’ll get there,” he said.
“You need to leave town,” Anton said.
“What? That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“I don’t think she’ll let herself go fully until she doesn’t have to face you every night. Just take away her ability to pay me, and invent a business trip.”
Michael took a deep breath and let it out on a sigh.
“It’ll be worth it when we finish with her. Trust me.”
A few weeks later . . .
Michael was in Mexico lying on a private beach, trying not to think about what was going on with Vivian when his cell rang. Anton’s number flashed across the screen.
“Yes? Is she okay?”
“Calm down. She’s fine. I just have to move the timetable up. I’m about to take her to the house.”
His chest tightened and for a brief moment, he considered backing out. But he was too committed. If they stopped now, she’d be like an unfinished piece of art. And it would hurt her. She’d have to be put into therapy for shit he’d initiated. By this point it was more merciful to continue the conditioning.
“Why are you taking her so soon?”
“She’s a loose cannon. I won’t compromise my operation on this, Michael. I’m taking her to the house. Don’t worry, it’ll just be me, Gabe, and Lindsay. We’ll take good care of her for you.”
“I want to talk to her before she gets there.”
“Call in thirty minutes. We’ll be on the road.”
A few days later . . .
Michael was livid. “I’m coming over there right now. I’ll fucking kill that bastard!”
Anton’s voice slid over the phone in that calming fashion that always somehow convinced Michael everything was okay. “Brian has been dealt with. He won’t touch her that way again.”
“He’d better not. It’s one thing for you three. You’re like brothers, and you know I don’t mind sharing her with you. But I hate that fucker. I’ve hated him since college. I don’t know why you employ him.”
“Relax. Everything is fine.”
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. Gabe took care of her. She’ll be ready for you in a few weeks.”
Today . . .
Michael sat on the edge of the bed, stroking Vivian’s hair as she slept. Her collar glinted off the light of the lamp. He’d known this would be difficult. Could he have trained her himself? Probably not. He wouldn’t have had the stomach for it. And she never would have believed in it.
The cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He disentangled his limbs from Vivian’s and moved into the hallway.
“Yes?”
“How is she?” It was Gabe.
“It was both easier and rougher than I expected. She seemed to submit to me, but there was a fight first.”
The other man sighed loudly over the phone. “Don’t let up on her. Don’t let her get away with a single thing or you’ll lose everything we did. I don’t know why the fuck you didn’t just come to the house as one of her trainers. It would have been a more control
led circumstance, instead of springing it on her like this.”
Michael gave a non-committal grunt, and Gabe let the issue drop.
“Lindsay wants to know if you’re bringing her back for visits.”
“In about a month. I told her then she’d go to the house weekly.”
“How did she feel about that?”
Michael scrubbed a hand through his hair, “She was trying to be nonchalant. I guess she doesn’t want me to be jealous, but I could tell she’s excited.”
He talked to Gabe for a few more minutes and then disconnected the call. His mind went back to the other man’s accusation about why he’d handled things in the end as he had.
They would never understand. Michael needed one moment with Vivian where she didn’t have anger or assumptions about him, where she was his slave and he was her master without any other layers of bullshit.
When Anton had brought her to him and she’d knelt at his feet and offered herself to him as his property, when she hadn’t known it was him, it was honest. Her fear, her surrender, everything.
The moment the blindfold came off, things got complicated, as he’d known they would. They would eventually get back to that place where she understood herself as his slave and not his wife pretending to be his slave. But either way, he would always have that one moment.
Where it was real.
It made the entire fucked-up thing worth doing all over again.
About the Author
Kitty Thomas writes dark literary erotica. Her stories explore the psychology of ownership. This work is fiction and meant for an adult audience. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior carried out by characters in her stories.
Inspiration for Kitty’s work comes from many sources including Story of O, Nine and a Half Weeks, the work of Claudia D. Christian, and Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty Trilogy.
For updates on new releases, please subscribe to Kitty's newsletter via the contact form at her site: www.kittythomas.com
