I pull a long, black velvet cloak from the giftbox on the bed, place the hood over her head, and fasten it around her shoulders. She nestles into the plush fabric and her heels click against the floorboards in time with her drumming knees, showing just a hint of that patent red leather sole. She’s terrified and looks good enough to eat. All eyes will be on her tonight. Pride, jealousy, and the fierce need to protect what’s mine all war within me. This exercise is important in fostering trust between us, and unfortunately, The Ranch is a necessary evil.
It’s imperative that she has complete and utter faith in me as her Dom, as her Master. Is it faith I deserve? No. She’ll come to learn that soon enough, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Every move I make is for the greater good. For her.
I lead Pet from the room and into the remainder of the house. Outside, Hermes opens the car door, and I gently usher her inside. For a beat, I watch her through the window. I see the moment she realizes she’s alone in the car, and her throat works. Her breaths are shallow, and her forehead pinched. I have half a mind to pull her from the back seat, carry her inside and take her away from this madness.
Hermes throws his hands up in a what-the-fuck gesture. My brother glares at me. I glare back, then I walk around the vehicle, open the door, and climb inside.
Resting one hand on her knee, I trace patterns over the silk covering her thigh. Pet snuggles close, practically straddling my lap, so I pull her all the way on top of me and let her relax against my chest with her chin on my shoulder. Hermes drives, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. Two hours later, we’re pulling into the long circular drive of The Ranch.
I wake her gently, and pull the hood back from her face. Then I remove the headphones and blindfold. Her eyes dart all around. I give her a moment before I slip a mask in place. It’s black and ornately beaded with silver thread and filigree. Horses whinny, and birds sing despite the lateness of the afternoon and the winter chill.
I refasten the lead to her collar and tug as I open the door. “Come, Pet.”
She’s so busy absorbing her surroundings that she doesn’t realize I’ve given her a command, so I jerk on her leash, not hard, but enough to show her I’m not playing. I have no time for delicacies. Not tonight. She won’t be throwing any tantrums in this house, or the punishment will be swift and as hard as my belt cracking against the soft flesh of her ass.
I place my hand on her head so she won’t hit it when she climbs out of the car, and I give her only a moment to feel the breeze on her face before I pull her toward the stairs.
“Good evening, Sir,” a buxom blonde in leather straps meant to resemble lingerie greets us. Fat, perky tits bounce as she curtseys. What I wouldn’t give to truss her up like a Christmas ham and flog the shit out of her.
Beside me, Pet is rigid. The confusion on her face tells me everything. Right now, she’s wondering who this newcomer is, and whether she should risk a beating to ask her for help. She’ll get no help here, but a sound beating I can certainly deliver.
“My brother has instructions for our bags,” I say to the blond submissive.
“Bags?” Pet whispers, shooting me a look of incredulity.
“Did I give you permission to speak, slave?” Her doe eyes widen, her mouth falling open ever so slightly. I’m glad my brother isn’t standing beside me to witness Pet’s shock, or I’d never hear the end of it.
“S-sorry, Sir.”
The help wanders over to Hermes, and I yank on Pet’s lead again. “You are not permitted to speak for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”
When she doesn’t answer, I yank her to me, digging my hands into the flesh of her bicep. “Do you understand?”
“Which is it? I’m allowed to talk, or I’m not?”
I slap her tits hard. “Who owns you?”
Tears prick her eyes. She sniffles and lowers her gaze to the ground. “You, Sir.”
“Good. Now, you may communicate by nodding or shaking your head. You are not to speak to anyone.”
“Anyone?” she mutters, as if the word slipped out with her musings.
“Do I need to put you over my knee, Pet? Or do you think you can obey a simple order?”
She shakes her head emphatically, but quickly nods when I give her an arch look. The poor little lamb is no doubt confused by my questions.
“You will answer only to me. I am your Master. If I choose to let another touch you, then that is my choice.”
A gasp escapes her lungs and tears well in her eyes, spilling over the delicate mask. “Stop crying, Pet. This is for your own good. I don’t like the idea of sharing you at all, but it’s necessary for your training. You belong to me, and if I deem another worthy of your body, of your slick cunt, then you must obey. Do you understand?”
Her whole body shakes, racking with sobs that she appears to be holding back. She nods. Carefully, I lead her up the stairs, one by one, and ring the doorbell.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Pet
The front door opens, and we’re greeted by yet another naked female, save for the Agent Provocateur lingerie. She straightens her spine, thrusts out her tiny tits, and eyeballs my Master as if she were fucking him with her gaze alone. “Good evening, Sir.”
Ares tilts his chin. “Pollyanna.”
Pollyanna? What is she, fresh off the farm in Oklahoma?
“Right this way, Sir. Master Texas is expecting you.”
Ares gives a lazy tug on my collar, and I follow to the right of my Master and always a step behind, the way he taught me.
Pollyanna opens a door and gestures for us to enter. As if on autopilot, I take a step forward. He yanks on my leash. The collar digs painfully into my throat, and I cough and glare up at him. Ares glowers back, until I lower my gaze to the ground. Pollyanna just stands there, watching us, judging me. I can feel it in her unwavering gaze.
“Just a moment, Pet.” He turns to the submissive, who immediately bows her head. “I know I taught you better than that, little Polly.”
He trained her? Did he do all the unspeakable things to her that he does to me? Did he fuck Polly’s pussy? Is she a better submissive than me?
“Yes, Sir,” she says breathlessly, thrusting her tits out again. “Apologies, Sir.”
Ares appraises me. He pulls the cloak off my shoulders, and hands it to Polly. “Leave us.”
“Yes, Sir.” She curtseys and turns away, scurrying back to her position at the front door, her hands stroking the soft velvet. I want to tear it from her hands, but doing so would earn me a sound spanking, and though I’ve come to love the ease with which Ares throws me over his knee and spanks my ass until I’m screaming for mercy, I need my wits about me in this place. I don’t understand why he’s brought me here. Fear gnaws at my already frayed nerves, as if they were a chew toy in the mouth of a teething Doberman.
“Eyes on me, Pet.”
I snap my gaze to Sir and feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. Did he guess my thoughts? Is my desire to pull every strand of fake blond hair from Pollyanna’s head written all over my face? Or is it fear he sees reflected in my gaze?
A chill runs the length of my spine, and my nipples brush against the soft silk of my gown. He pinches them, hard. So hard I cry out, but he presses a finger to my lips and tells me to be quiet, and he will reward me in kind. I take a deep breath and nod. And then I follow along blindly behind him as he tugs on my leash.
The door opens on an opulent great room filled with naked slaves and horny old men. Ares greets several of them. All have ridiculous names like Master Nightshade, Colonel Pain, the Captain, and my personal favorite, Muerte. Death.
It takes me a beat to realize who the last name belongs to. Then I’m hit with the stunning realization that I knew all along. The second I opened my eyes in that underground cell I stared Death in the face. Because whoever I was, she perished the day he stole me, and if Ares gave me back that life, if he set me free or sent me away, it would be the worst kind of hell. He may as
well bury me now. Loving Ares will be the death of me. He’s made it that way.
“And who is this?” asks one of the men nearby. I feel his lecherous gaze on me, though I don’t meet it. I’m under strict orders not to make eye contact unless it’s with Sir. I don’t know how many sets of eyes roll over me with wanton expressions, but I know it makes my skin crawl.
“This is Pet. Say hello, Pet.”
I don’t say a word, because he ordered me not to. He should really make up his mind. With a nudge at my side and his fingers tightening on my leash, he says, “Say hello, Pet.”
Or you will pay for it later.
I don’t miss the unspoken threat to his words.
“Hello, Pet,” I say, and I regret it instantly because his fingers twist my nipple painfully. I cry out and resist the urge to sulk. Why are we here?
“Such a willful little girl,” the bald man who’d spoken earlier—Colonel Pain, I think—chuckles as he sips his drink.
“Nothing that a good spanking won’t fix, I assure you. I’ve never seen a sub fight so hard and yet enjoy the stinging slap of my palm quite as much as my little Pet.”
They all laugh, jowls shaking, rotund bellies wobbling, as if my humiliation is funny. I set my jaw and try my best not to scream at the sick bastards before me.
“Excuse us. There’s someone I need to see,” Ares says, and tugs me forward. From out of nowhere one of the men grabs my ass as we pass. I shriek, and the entire room goes quiet.
Ares brings us to a stop, studying my face closely, assessing the situation. “What happened?”
I shake my head, unwilling to speak lest I be struck, or worse, put over his knee for the enjoyment of everyone here.
“Tell me now.”
“He grabbed me,” I whisper on a shaking breath. “Someone grabbed me.”
Ares’ gaze flashes with anger. “Who touched her?”
“I merely gave her a little squeeze.” The colonel’s ruddy face is as unapologetic as it is ugly.
“You touched my property?” One minute he’s beside me, and the next I’m alone. Ares stalks toward the huddle of men, all barely contained fury. He fists the other man’s collar and pulls him off his feet.
“It was just a little grab.”
“She is not yours to grab,” Ares mutters through his teeth.
“Is there a problem here, Master Muerte?” a loud, heavily accented voice booms. I can’t see the owner of it because of the bodies crowding around, but I see the white Stetson moving toward us.
“No problem.” Hermes seems to appear from out of nowhere and sidles up to his twin, speaking in a low hush. “Brother, let the colonel go.”
“The only violence I allow in my home,” the man in the Stetson drawls as he pushes through the gathering, “is directed at the slaves. But you already knew that, Master Muerte.”
“He knows. He’s just a little protective.” Hermes claps his brother on the shoulder, and Ares lets the colonel go. “This one is new, and very special.”
“I can see that. She is lovely,” Stetson says. I keep my gaze to the ground, but I feel his perusal of my body, and I silently thank Ares for ensuring that I’m covered. “I believe introductions are in order.”
“Texas, this is my Pet.” Ares enunciates the words “my” and “pet” perfectly, as if there could be any confusion about whom I belonged to.
Texas guffaws. “It’s a pleasure to meet Master Muerte’s Pet.” He pops the P in my name.
I don’t know what to do in this situation. Sir has forbidden me to speak to another, and I don’t want to disappoint him. I aim to please him in all things, at least while at this ranch, because the alternative is truly terrifying.
Ares answers for me. “She’s forbidden to speak to anyone. You’ll forgive her silence.”
The grin that stretches across Texas’ face is a jolly one. I realize I’m staring at the man when my gaze should be lowered. I blush, because his perusal of me is covetous, and hungry. “Of course she is. I tell you what, why don’t you show us just how special your new girl is?”
Ares clears his throat. “It’d be my pleasure.”
What? What does that mean? I snap my gaze to his. Dark brown eyes lock with mine, and I gape in horror.
“Well alright then.” Texas claps Ares on the back and turns, gesturing toward a set of great oak doors. “Join us, gentlemen. Pollyanna will show you the way.”
The blond slave opens the doors on a formal dining room and bows her head, curtseying as one by one, the men walk through.
As the colonel passes, Texas grips his shoulder, his fat sausage fingers digging into the bald man’s flesh. “Colonel, you know our rules here. Unless you are invited to do so, you keep your goddamn hands off another Master’s slave, or I’ll be forced to revoke your membership to The Ranch.”
“Of course. I meant no offence. My apologies.”
Warm fingers skim the collar around my neck. I flinch. “Relax, Pet. I’m the only one who gets to touch you tonight.”
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush. I can handle that. I know his touch. I trust it, whether to bring pain or pleasure. It is sure, certain, known. He will push me, of course, but he won’t set tasks for me that he knows I can’t handle. So I nod, though it takes everything in me to do so. Sir’s fingertips caress my neck, the softest of touches, and I lean into it.
“Good girl. I’m going to push you to your limits tonight, do you understand?” His breath is warm. His fingers follow the line of my strap over my shoulder, toward my breast. I break out in goose bumps, and nod because he hasn’t given me permission to speak. “I’m going to put you up on that table and display you for everyone in the room.”
A gasp leaves my throat.
“Shh, it’s okay, Pet. They may look, but they are not allowed to touch what’s mine. Only I say who can touch what’s mine.”
A tear springs free of my eyes, soaking the back of my mask. I’m sure it’s ruined my makeup too, but I don’t suppose it matters what I look like to these men—only that I have all the right bits, and a dripping cunt they can fantasize about sliding into. That they can take by force, if Ares allows them to. He pulls me close, his erection pressed into my side, the smell of his peppery cologne confusing my senses as he leans down over me, protectively. “I’m going to make you come in front of all these people, Pet.”
A sob escapes me.
“And if you don’t make me happy, I will not be kind. I know this will push you, but trust me, you’re a natural on stage.”
In my mind’s eye I see the flash of white light, row upon row of empty seats, and the spinning in my head makes me so dizzy I teeter on my heels.
“You will please me in front of my friends, or you will pay in bruises on your body. Nod if you understand.”
My body trembles, and I nod, because what other choice do I have? If I disobey, will he pass me onto another Master here? Throw me away? I know he’ll never let me go free. I’ve seen his face, his brother’s face. I know their names. Their real names, and they knew mine.
I had a name. I had a life, and if I was set free I’d return to it. I’d find a way to figure out who I was. The problem is, Ares knows who I am. He won’t let me go, and if I run, if I escape, he’ll know where to find me. I will never be free of him. Sometimes I’m not sure if I want my freedom.
He tugs on my leash and pulls me forward through the doors, past Pollyanna, and towards a table in the middle of the room. Several high-backed dining chairs remain in place; the rest are set in a semi-circle around the rich mahogany slab. All of those seats are occupied by filthy old men with hard eyes and even harder dicks.
Oh god, I can’t do this. My whole body tenses, ramrod straight, like a stunned deer the second before a predator strikes. Sir’s hands go around my waist, and he lifts me onto the table. I’m eye level with him now. It’s not the first time, but I feel the power exchange between us, and the significance of being below him at all times. This is too strange. As if we are equal
s. Everything about my captivity, about this moment, says we’re not. I could never be his equal; he’s made that abundantly clear.
“Breathe.”
I take a deep inhalation. My heart races, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore. What will he do to me? I look over his shoulder. The men lean forward in their seats, their hawk eyes watching everything as they wait for the show to begin. I can’t breathe. I can’t do this.
“Look at me, Pet. Not at the audience. You’re here on display for their viewing pleasure, but for you, they don’t exist. Only I do. Do you understand?”
I nod and swallow hard.
“I will not do anything to you that you don’t need or deserve.”
I meet his eyes again, but I look away, cast my gaze downward because I can’t see lust and intensity in his.
He chuckles and leans forward to whisper, “And you think you’re not naturally submissive.” He shakes his head. “So fucking adorable, little one.”
I want to scream that I’m not little. Inside me is the heart of a warrior, I’m sure of it, but I don’t know how to find it, so I suppose I am little. In every sense of the word.
“I’m going to play rough with you, Pet. This is your only warning. If you embarrass me in front of my colleagues, your punishment will be tenfold.”
I nod, terrified of that word. Rough. Hasn’t he already been rough with me? He’s been soft too, and sometimes sweet, but there is always brutality in his touch. No matter which incarnation he comes to me as, there’s always that tenuous thread between us anchoring me to him. A thread fashioned into a noose. No. Not a noose. You can hang yourself with a noose, and my rope is far too short. It is a lead, a chain, a way for him to keep me tethered, to dominate and command. A way to claim ownership, and to punish. Always to punish.
He pulls his tie from his neck and presses it against my eyes. It smells like him. Spicy, and erotic. The scent of pleasure and pain, and the promise of ecstasy. He ties it firmly at the back of my head, and I’m plunged into darkness save for the narrow line of light peeking in from the bottom where the tie hits the bridge of my nose. My senses are heightened immediately. The sounds are louder, the silence thicker.
In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part One Page 9
