by Vonna Harper
“Shit.” He slapped her right breast. “Ah shit.”
He’d barely struck her, just enough to remind her of his presence. An insistent voice warned that he was capable of much more, but she was on top for the first time since she’d been captured. In charge.
Instead of laughing at the insane thought, she acknowledged that her master and she were having sex. Yes, he’d whipped her last night, but this morning he’d gently treated her injuries. This man she believed she’d live in abject fear of was capable of kindness.
A warm ocean-like wave caressed her from head to foot. As it faded away, another sensation claimed her. She wanted sex. Needed to fuck.
Planting her hands on his chest for support, she started moving up and down. At first he rode with her, keeping his cock lodged deep within. Then he started working at cross purposes with her. She lifted, he pulled away. She came down, he rose up, smashing their bodies together.
And his hands—they were everywhere. Feather-raking her thighs, kitten-slapping her breasts. Somewhere in the middle of her fever, she felt his hand around her throat. If not for her collar, maybe, he would have choked her.
No. He wouldn’t.
Trust. Right now she trusted him.
Surprised by the thought, she sagged forward, but her pussy wasn’t done with her. It needed! It would have!
Claiming strength and energy from her core, she danced on her master’s cock. Her breasts bounced so they felt as if they were trying to pull free of her body. Running the same race, Master pummeled and retreated only to attack once more.
“Oh God, oh God!” she bellowed a half instant before a monstrous climax slammed into her. Barely fathoming what was happening, she froze. Deep inside her pussy exploded. Flew off everywhere, somehow gathered again, exploded once more.
“Oh God, oh God.”
“Fuck!” he roared. Liquid heat flooded her. “Ah shit, fuck!”
They had breakfast, or rather Master Bay wolfed down two bowls of cereal and a half dozen pieces of toast while she couldn’t manage half that much. She still felt wrecked, her body humming so she was unable to concentrate on anything else. Neither said much. His phone had rung while he was still inside her and he’d returned the call a few minutes later. Whatever the other person had said had pleased him, but he hadn’t relayed what it was to her.
As she—still naked of course—loaded dishes in the dishwasher, she again drew comparisons between his days and hers. He’d continue to live in the world while she’d, what, wait for him to want sex? Whether he kept her chained or in a cage made little difference. Her existence would be marked by helpless boredom punctuated with the occasional fuck.
And pain.
He’d opened the kitchen window, and she smelled the lake and whatever vegetation surrounded his place. How she wanted to be outside!
His cell phone announced another incoming call. If she screamed would whoever was on the other end—no. She didn’t dare take the chance.
“Well what do you know,” he said in response to whatever the other person had said. “I didn’t think things would move that fast. No, I haven’t heard of them but then I’m damn new to the advertising world.” He listened awhile longer. “I trust you. After all, I pay you too much for you to risk losing this cash cow.”
More conversation, something about a contract and recording whatever needed recording, but those things had nothing to do with her. Wouldn’t change her existence.
Ending the call, he stared out the window. “It’s the damn Midas touch. Everything I do these days turn to gold.”
And my world has turned to dust.
He’d pulled on a pair of shorts. Much as she wanted to avoid looking at his chest, she didn’t because she had to wrap her mind around the reality it represented.
“Tell me something.” He spoke without looking at her. “For a few minutes there was it good for you?”
The old-fashion way he’d asked caught her off guard. “It was, Master.”
“What part?”
“Climaxing.” She pressed her hands to her suddenly hot cheeks. Under her palm she felt the raised area where the whip had landed, but it no longer hurt. “That was very good.”
“I thought so.”
Looking at his back, she wondered what he was thinking. “Can I ask you a question, Master?”
“You can ask.”
“You’re going to be busy, aren’t you.”
He faced her. “More than I thought I’d be.” What was that, relief?
“When you are, what will happen to me?” Her throat clogged but maybe she’d said all she needed to.
For several seconds she feared he wasn’t going to answer. “I’ve made arrangements, a room to keep you in.”
“And ways of making sure no one knows I’m here.” She placed her hand over her mouth. “Unless you want them to.”
“It’s part of the Carnal package, no stone left unturned.”
Except for what goes on inside me. “Can I see it, the room I mean?”
More seconds ticked by. Maybe he was angry because she’d forgotten to call him master. It was so hard to know what lines she could and couldn’t cross.
“Soon. But first I want to get the rest of the things out of the car.”
My paintings!
Chapter Twenty-seven
A jerk of the head had her accompanying him into the garage. Would he raise the door, give her a glimpse of freedom? Her crazy wild hope died when he turned on the overhead light and popped the trunk latch.
“Your suitcase is in there. Get it.”
Wondering why she hadn’t noticed it earlier, she did as he commanded. A box filled with her painting supplies was next to the suitcase. She couldn’t take her gaze off it, couldn’t think. Instead of watching her, Master Bay opened the driver’s side rear door and pulled out her paintings. Numbness enveloped her.
What are you going to do with them? she wanted to ask, but the words jammed in her throat.
“Suitcase,” he commanded. “The box can wait.”
Back into his domain, his world.
Still numb, she trudged after him. The suitcase was the only one she had, but then she didn’t have that many clothes or personal belongings. Besides, Master Bay carried what mattered to her.
Returning to the kitchen, he placed the paintings on the counter. The suitcase slipped from her fingers. Barely aware of what she was doing, she walked over to the counter and caressed the top painting with the half-hidden buck staring out from the green curtain.
“Why did you take these?” she demanded.
“I didn’t. Carnal wanted it to look as if you’d packed up and moved. You wouldn’t have left without these.”
No, she wouldn’t. Her heart and soul lived in what she created.
“What are you going to do with them?”
“I haven’t decided.”
Maybe the paintings were worthless to him, something to throw out with the trash. Sick to the core, she picked up the top one. Under it was a painting she’d finished shortly before her capture. She didn’t remember what the tiny white butterflies were called, just that she’d been struck by how starkly they contrasted with the dark, wet rocks they’d been on. In reality there’d been well over a hundred butterflies when she’d snapped their picture, but she’d concentrated on around twenty of them. There was something playful about the way they perched on the random rocks, as if they’d just been let out of school.
She hadn’t truly cried since a dart changed her life, but she did now. Clutching the buck painting to her chest, she sobbed. She was vaguely aware that her master was watching her, but she had no defense against the earthquake of emotion pummeling her.
Without her art she was the same as dead.
Dead.
Bit by bit the earthquake quieted, but the rumbling remained in her cells and veins. Weakness enveloped her, compelling her to set down the painting. Despite her blurred vision, she looked around. Master Bay dominated the room, but he wasn
’t the only thing in it. Barely aware of what she was doing, she lurched toward some knives in a wood block. Her cold/hot fingers clutched a handle, and she yanked it free.
“Don’t. Damn it, don’t.”
“Too late.” The words spilled from her. Barely comprehending what she was doing, she pointed the blade at him. “You don’t know. You’ll never understand.”
“Understand what?”
If he’d moved a muscle, she’d missed it. The knife gave her incredible power. With it she could—what? “You’ve killed me.” Her voice sounded strong. “You and Carnal. You think you’ve created a sex toy, but you’re wrong. There’s nothing left of me.”
His eyes widened while his mouth thinned. “And you think by killing me you’ll get that back?”
Was she insane? What made her think she could bury a blade in him before he overpowered her? He’d made his living with his physical body while her ability to pay the bills had come from how nature spoke to her.
“Put it down,” he said softly. “You don’t want to do this.”
“Yes I do!” Suddenly the tip pressed against her throat. A little pressure and the nightmare would be over. “It isn’t you I want dead, it’s me.”
“Shari. Shari Isle. Believe me, you don’t want to do this. You have too much to live for.”
My name. “What life? A lifetime as a piece of meat? Someone’s property?”
“That’s what I was.” His hands became fists. Otherwise, he remained motionless. “I know what it feels like.”
The hell he did! “You didn’t have to. You could have walked away.”
“Yes,” he said after a long silence, “Even though playing football was the only thing I’d cared about since I was ten, I could have. Shari, I don’t want you to do this.”
He knew her name. For the first time in what felt like forever someone had acknowledged she was more than property, had a past. Confused, she struggled to think of something to say, but no words came out.
“You’re a young woman. You can’t want to end your life.” His attention settled on the knife tip pressed against her throat.
“Don’t tell me what I do or don’t want! You don’t know me.”
He opened his mouth only to close it.
“See.” Where had this crazy courage come from? “You have no idea who I am—was.”
“Tell me.”
“Why? You didn’t give a damn before this minute.”
“No, I didn’t because it was easier that way.”
Confusion raced in to war with desperation. “In other words, as long as you didn’t know I grew up dirt poor, that I was terrified of my stepfather, that we moved around a lot and I stopped going to school at fifteen, you wouldn’t have to think about me as a human being?”
“What happened after you dropped out?”
No! Don’t do this. I can’t handle thinking you’re more than a big dumb, powerful, dangerous jock. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t. Look, I wasn’t prepared for the end to my career. Fortunately, after feeling sorry for myself for a while, I screwed my head back on. What about you? I’ve seen what you’re capable of creating.” He jerked his head at her paintings. “That skill and sensitivity doesn’t come from someone who hasn’t done anything with her life since saying to hell with formal education.”
He’d called her skillful and sensitive. What was she supposed to do with that? Angry at him for throwing her off-balance, she tightened her hold on the handle. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve robbed me of what I most love about being alive.”
“I understand that. Now.” He extended a beefy hand toward her. “Please don’t.”
Please?
Before she could think what to say or do, he catapulted himself at her. His greater weight forced her back. She slammed into whatever what was behind her. Her body went numb, and he knocked the knife away from her throat. Somehow she held onto it.
“No!” Hating him as she’d never hated, she rammed her knee into his crotch.
“Ah! Fuck you!”
He could have knocked her senseless. Instead, he tried to grab her knife-holding arm. Desperate not to let him, she blindly slashed out. The blade struck something. Bellowing, he punched her in her stomach. Robbed of breath, she swayed. The side of his hand slammed against her wrist, and the knife clattered to the floor.
“God damn,” he hissed. They stared at the blood running down his side. Then his arms snaked around her, and he pulled her into him. Still struggling, she started to cry.
“Give it up, damn it. You can’t win this.”
“I hate you! Hate you.”
“Yeah, I know.” Releasing her, he planted his widespread hand against her chest and pushed, trapping her between his strength and the wall.
Much as she ached to claw his arms and knee him again, he was right. No way could she win this battle. They stared at each other like wary dogs.
“I could have killed you,” he said. “For a few seconds I wanted to.”
“I wish you had.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Bay’s deep, rapid breathing frightened her. Regardless of what she’d just blurted, she didn’t want to die. But neither could she face a lifetime as a sex slave. No matter how earth-shattering this morning’s climax had been, it would never make up for the constant fear of punishment. The loss of freedom.
“I had a life.” She needed to get the words out before she lost courage or he stopped her. “Nothing like yours, but it was what I wanted. A childhood of feeling as if I had no control was behind me.” She swallowed. “I have a gift. No matter what you do to me, you can’t take that away.”
He fingered his still-bleeding side with his free hand. “Does it matter if you’re never able to express yourself?”
His question hurt far more than the blow to her stomach had. He had the power to deny her everything that had given her life meaning. “I don’t know.”
“I do.”
Incapable of making sense of what he’d just said, her arms dropped. So this was what utter defeat felt like.
Still restraining her, he pressed his now bloody hand to his forehead. His frown made him look older, a weary warrior. The words she’d spat during her outburst echoed through her. Of course he’d beat her for what she’d said and done. What master wouldn’t?
Did it matter?
Did anything?
“I’m going to lock you up,” he said. “Then I’m going to be gone for a while.”
The cage Master Bay had placed her in wasn’t as large as her dungeon cell but more comfortable than the outdoor dog kennel. He’d left the light on so she had no choice but to study what else was in the room. There was a sawhorse much like the one her trainers had chained her while they raped her. The whips and floggers looked new as did the large X which was perfect for securing a slave for punishment or forced pleasure.
If her master’s intention had been to terrify and demoralize her, he was succeeding. The longer she clutched the bars, the more overwhelmed she felt. Every time despondency threatened to destroy her, she fought it by recalling those moments when she’d ridden him to mutual release. She didn’t ask herself whether other times like that would be enough to get her through the years because she knew the answer.
In a week, a month, maybe a year the last spark would die. Her body would remain behind for her master to do what he wanted with it, but it wouldn’t matter. Maybe she’d forget that painting had once made her feel alive.
The lock on the door to what she’d labeled the hell room groaned, and Master Bay walked in holding his cell phone. Despite his pullover shirt, she could see the outline of a bandage. There was no sign of blood.
“I’ve been out on the lake,” he said, “in my sailboat.”
A sailboat, the mainsail swollen by the wind and seagulls punctuating the clear blue sky. What a beautiful painting that could be.
“Thinking.”
“About what?” She’d already broken every rule that had been drummed into her. What more could he do to her than he’d already planned?
“The future.”
Not just today’s punishment? Confused, she ran her fingers over the bars. She should be terrified, couldn’t understand why she wasn’t.
“This isn’t going to work.”
He was going to send her back to Carnal? If he did, Damek and Reno would decide she hadn’t been broken down enough.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s why I needed some time to myself, because I didn’t either.” He rubbed his forehead, drawing her attention to the frown lines there. “Now I do.”
Did he expect her to grovel and beg not to be returned to Carnal? Promise to be obedient?
“I’m going to make a phone call,” he said. “I want you to listen and not say anything but first you’re getting out of there.”
Confused and wary, she waited while he unlocked the cage door. She walked out but didn’t feel any freer.
“Let’s get some clothes on you before we go outside.”
Speechless, she followed him into the kitchen where she’d left her suitcase. At his nod, she opened it. Almost giddy, she selected a pair of shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. He might change his mind, laugh and tell her he’d been lying about letting her get dressed. Done, she turned toward him.
“What—“
“Don’t,” he interrupted.
The deck overlooking the lake was accessible from the living room, his office, and the bedroom. He led the way through his office. Photographs of him in action on the football field dotted the walls. Interspersed with that were team shots and a couple of pictures of him shaking hands with what she assumed were dignitaries. She stopped before one of him in a hospital leaning over a bed with a small girl in it. He’d just handed her a teddy bear in a red and orange uniform complete with helmet. Seeing that side of him was almost more than she could comprehend.
