“Oh no – she was always quiet about the place. I think she believed in servant-employer privilege.”
“Ha, well. Even if Arthur told anyone anything in town here, there’s not so much to tell.” Daphne fought back a flush. What if the good people of Hillsdale found out all the things she and the Master had done? Then the boldness she’d had this afternoon with Jason returned to her. Let them.
“I’d love to see up there. Especially if the furniture – if you’re redecorating, you’ve got to let me know first. Please don’t send anything to the dump –“
“I’d never throw away so much history.”
The blonde offered her hand out. “A woman after my own heart. I’m Beth.”
“Daphne,” Daphne smiled and shook.
“Let me give you my card –“ She picked one up off of the desk and turned it over to write on the back. “That’s my cell phone. Call any time.”
“Thank you so much,” Daphne said, and meant it. “You’re sure your aunt never said anything about the house? Anything at all?”
“She’d never let me up there. It’s funny – I was the same age as that girl who died.” Beth said, then winced. “You did hear about that, didn’t you? I know it was a long time ago – I hope someone told you – oh my gosh --“
“I’ve been told.”
“Oh good, phew.” She shrugged helplessly. “Any time I asked my aunt about the place, she just said something about it not being safe. I always assumed it was under construction – you know how big houses are, there’s always something needing to be done, loose nails and belt sanders. And I was a pretty hyper kid – maybe she was worried I’d run amuck and break things.”
Daphne cast a meaningful glance at all the china in glass display cabinets. “Clearly, a valid fear.”
Beth laughed, and Daphne liked the sound of it. It’d been so long since she’d laughed – since she’d had someone to talk to who wasn’t Richard or Arthur.
“Come by for lunch tomorrow? If you can take it off, that is --”
Beth’s smile grew from ear to ear. “I’ll have to ask the boss – oh, wait – that’s me –“
Daphne grinned. “Twelve – and I promise to give you the full tour.”
“Sounds lovely,” Beth said, and Daphne waved through the glass window as she left the store.”
She mulled over the conversation on her way home, and told Arthur Beth would be coming over for lunch. She pulled out the other woman’s business card, and found that it had Beth’s last name.
“Did you know a Hetherington?”
“Oh, Mrs. Hetherington? She worked with the new family, exclusively. I’d retired by then – she never knew the Master.”
“If they were the new family, what are we Arthur? The new-new family?”
“You’re the current family in residence,” he said, overly grand, and she snorted lightly.
They arrived at the house, and when she went upstairs to shower and change into clean clothes for dinner, she found that the riding crop was gone.
Mrs. Dudley finished making dinner quickly and Daphne ate it just as fast. The second she heard the servants leave and the alarm turn on she ran upstairs to her bedroom and took off all her clothes.
“Where was I last night? Show me?” The riding crop was still missing. Unless Mrs. Dudley’s knees had suddenly gotten better, she thought she knew who had it. “I want to see it with my own two eyes.”
There was a strange sound from somewhere else in the house. She stilled, wondering if she’d really heard it – if it were mice, or raccoons, or burglars.
The sound came again. Closer now. And the sound of a foot in the hall.
Crack – she found she could identify it. The sound of leather hitting flesh, steady as a metronome, coming nearer, nearer, the steps louder and closer, until the cracking of the whip and the thump of the man who carried it was right outside her bedroom door.
Daphne’s breath caught, trapped again between panic and exhilaration. He would show her where the dungeon was in his own good time – but she had amends to make with him first.
The bedroom door creaked open, but the light inside hardly crept out. She thought she could see him there in the shadow, standing, waiting for her. Animal instincts rose in her, the urge to flee sending a bitter stripe across her tongue. She owed him this, she knew, for her dalliance with Jason, but she was still scared by the prospect of it – and of being cornered in here with him.
So she ran.
She rushed past him at the door, only barely, she felt his heat there, taking up all the room, but she pushed through, and then ran down the hall nakedly – and he chased after her. She could hear his footsteps behind her, three, two, one step behind, and then thwack, across her ass. She yelped at the sting, but kept running, in the dark and with whatever moonlight filtered in.
He could have out run her, she was sure of it, and yet he didn’t, content to let her race, hitting her with the whip as often as he could. Her heart was pumping, her lungs hot, and her bottom burned each time the crop left a new line.
Eventually she stumbled at the top of the far stair, running bodily into a statue’s stand. It teetered precariously and she caught it before it could fall, her current amount of adrenaline enough to haul it back into place.
Her care for his house didn’t make him stop though. Thwack, thwack, the whip bit into her, and she found herself clinging to the cold angel. He lashed her again, and again, and she cried out into the folds of its angelic robes.
Finally the sound of the whip stopped, and there was only her voice left, the small defeated sounds she was making, even with him holding his hand. Then a clatter, as the riding crop fell to the floor.
She stayed where she was, letting the cool marble soothe her – and then hot hands picked her up. She gasped in surprise as he lifted her, and let out a hiss of pain as he set her sore ass down on the railing over the hall.
Panic gripped her -- she couldn’t fight him now, she might fall back and dash her brains on the tile – she hurried to wind her feet in the bars even as his hands were pushing her knees wide apart. She felt like she might fall and screamed in true fear, until he caught her, one hand around her waist, pulling her back up like she was a dancer dipped too low. Then with his other hand, again, opening her legs up, making her show herself to him, feeling him slide his hips between her knees, and then the head of his cock probing in.
Daphne couldn’t rock forward or pull away, the railing was narrow and her ass already hurt – all she could do was stay still as he slowly pushed his way inside her.
“Don’t let me fall –“ she whispered as he thrust fully in, pushing her fractionally back. “Please, don’t let me –“
She reached for the railing again, and found his hand, not just warm this time but textured too, the feel of skin, the knots of knuckles – more substance than she’d ever felt from him before. Her hand trailed up his arm to find his neck and feel it solid where his shoulders met and slowly, so slowly, she started to hold onto him instead of the railing.
She clung to him, her arms around his shoulders and chest, as his cock slid in and out of her – and then she unwound her legs from the railing and looped them out around his waist, until her feet were intertwined. This was the most solid he’d ever been with her – even moreso when his hands went under her ass and picked her up again.
She whimpered in fear as he hoisted her in midair, seeing nothing in front of her, yet all of her senses telling her she was held, penetrated, owned. He stood in the hallway for the both of them, using his hands to hold her steady as he rocked back and forth into her. She closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t think she was insane, so that she could just concentrate on how it felt – her ass was on fire from where the crop had lit against it, and the places where his hands touched her burned, and yet her traitorous pussy needed him. She breathed faster and clung tighter, signaling him to thrust deeper still, and he spun her around until her back was against a wall, pinning her there wi
th his cock. The sound of her voice rose in the open, not constrained by a room, and she heard the open slaps of his body hitting against her wetness just as sharp as the whip had echoed prior.
Everything in her tightened, desperate to be held and to hold onto him, inside and out, until she screamed aloud in satisfaction, the urgency of his thrusts making the sound vibrate.
He sped up after she came, fast, faster, fastest, until he held her still, pulling her down and pushing himself up, and she cried out again for his sake, because he could not, imagining him losing himself inside her.
Then he pulled out of her without setting her down, changing his hold on her to be like a cradle. She didn’t question this, just sagged against his chest, in closed-eyed relief, as he took her down stairs, across the tile hall, and up the other stairs to her own bedroom. Once there he flung her on the bed so hard she bounced.
She heard his departing steps heavy in the hall, walking away from her, leaving her all alone on her too big bed.
“Stop –“ she called after him, and he did. Heat was radiating from her ass from where he’d whipped her and it reminded her of his hands. “Come…back?”
Her voice sounded so small in such a big place. But his steps returned to her, pausing in the door. Willing herself courage, she threw the sheets on the other side of the bed down. “Stay the night?”
Inside her room his steps were silent, and so she wasn’t sure if he’d heard her – even if she’d made her request aloud. But she felt the weight of him as he got into the bed, felt the springs sigh and give as he crawled up the bed to get into it behind her and then pull the sheets back up.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she put her back against his chest, and chastely went to sleep.
Chapter Seventeen
The alarm chirped, waking her to a still dark room. The curtains were drawn, yes, but no light peeked in from behind them – and Daphne realized with a start that she ought to be afraid. Had Arthur forgotten something and come back? Or had someone jumped him and taken his keys? She scooted back on the bed and found the Master’s presence still there. In moments, his heat overcame her chilling fear.
“Daphne?” a man’s voice shouted from below. “Pet, dear, I’m home!”
She sagged in the bed. “Richard?”
It was his feet she heard on the stair now. Him, lumbering up in the dark, with his luggage. She reached over and turned on her reading lamp and saw the covers tousled all around her. Three people could be hiding in here with her, not just one ghost.
“It’s the middle of the night,” she said as he appeared in the doorway.
“I know! I rushed home to see you, as soon as I could.”
“You did?”
“Don’t I always?” he asked, with a grin.
“And what about your work?”
“The market righted itself again. With me standing beneath it, just like Atlas.” He set his bag down and mimed holding the world. Then he started taking off his tie.
She pressed her head into her pillow and pulled the sheets up. “Turn off the light when you’re through.”
He took his time. She heard him shuffling around their room, kicking his shoes off, brushing his teeth, and then felt him sink into bed, not where he belonged, back where the Master had been sleeping, but in front of her, pushing her warm sheets up.
“What?” her voice was rough with sleep and prior screaming.
“When I left you couldn’t get enough of me.” His voice was a low rumble in his chest, and his hands were reaching out for her waist.
“That was before you came home at four AM, Richard.”
“But you made me promise.” His hand trailed up her side. “I took a solemn oath to fuck you as soon as I returned,” he said as he cupped her breast. “And Vances are always good for their word,” he said, lowering his mouth to nuzzle at her nipple.
“You –“ she moved to push him away, but – if he wanted her, and if she still wanted a child – she was hovering in indecision, trying to deny how good his suckling felt, when a hot hand touched the middle of her back and ever so slightly pushed her forward, into Richard.
She made a soft noise, and Richard chuckled like he knew her better than she did.
“I hate…when you leave,” she said, not sure which part was a lie.
“I know pet, I know,” he bowed to kiss her other breast now, to do that same thing he always did, where he sucked her nipple in and then stroked his tongue across it deliberately inside his mouth, and she shuddered.
Was she betraying the Master by being with him? The hand on her back was insistent, pushing her, daring her to continue.
Richard leaned against her, trying to turn her over so he could cover her, but she quickly shook her head.
“I want it like this.” No matter that it was the same as the way Jason had taken her – she didn’t want to turn over and find the Master gone away.
Richard grinned, smug. The reading lamp cast shadows down on him, making him look like a devil.
“Whatever my pet wants, she gets,” he said, pulling himself up the bed, his erection rubbing against her thighs as he rose. He kissed her and she put her leg up over his side, feeling his cock angle down and his hand following it to tilt it to fit inside her.
Despite the many reasons she had to hate him, Richard fit her perfectly. Perhaps that was why she’d been so willing to overlook his many flaws. When he was inside of her, she felt complete, like a puzzle that’s final piece had been found at long last. She moaned as he slid in, and so did he, his cock satisfied to finally be home.
“I could never get tired of fucking you,” he said, looking down at her, kissing her face wherever he could reach as his hips began to thrust. Her pussy gave an involuntary squeeze, knowing that he lied, same as she did when she said, “Nor I, you.”
There were no words then for a few moments in time, just them rocking with one another, in and out, dancing in perfect, gasping, time.
And then, from behind her, heat neared anew. She tensed and Richard looked down. “What is it, pet?”
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head quickly.
“Are you sure?” His thrusting slowed.
The Master was right behind her now. She imagined him breathing on her neck, and she could feel his hands caressing her back, her hot ass, her thighs. “What if tonight’s the night? That this finally takes?” she said, trying to remind the Master why she was there.
“Then I’d be delighted,” Richard said, in a low growl, with another thrust.
As he said the word delighted, the Master spread her ass wide, and she felt his cock slide down her cleft and position itself where he and only he had taken her once before.
“No!” she protested, and Richard stopped.
“No?”
By then it was too late. The slight pulling, and then an immediate sense of fullness. She clawed her hands on Richard’s shoulder as the Master slid inside.
“Just -- slower. If this is the time -- make it count.”
Richard blinked and then nodded solemnly. “Okay,” he said, and started thrusting anew.
The two of them inside her, one in front and one in back – the sensation of being stretched and nerves lighting up that had never lit before – Daphne started to moan incessantly as the two of them worked at her, dancing between both of them now, pinned and trapped. Richard sped up, unable to help himself.
“Pet –“ Richard grunted, between thrusts. “You’re so hot and tight, it’s unreal.”
“I know –“ Daphne gasped. “Don’t stop –“
“I couldn’t if I wanted too –“ he growled in her ear.
Her voice rose as they fought over her sex, her hips in Richard’s hands, her breasts in the Master’s, and she felt like she was being torn in two by pleasure.
She put her hands up to use the headboard to push down, unable to get purchase on anything else with both of them inside her.
“I’m going to – I can’t hold on anymore –“ Richard war
ned her, and she felt his cock stiffen even more inside, as the Master kept ramming into her ass, harder and harder.
“Wait -- just –“ she flung one hand out behind her and felt the Master’s ass there, clenched as he thrust. This was for him, he had to know that, everything was for him –
“I’m coming for you!” she shouted triumphant, her hips spasming between both cocks like a trapped pinball. Everything in her pulled tight, and Richard took her pussy fast, letting it grab his cock.
“Yes, yes, yes –“ Richard groaned, guttural, sending waves of hot cum deep inside her.
He slid out but the Master stayed deep, claiming her as his own. Then he pulled out too and Daphne sagged, like a puppet bereft of strings.
Richard reached a hand down, and pushed her hair away from her face. “Now that is how you make a baby.”
Daphne could hardly breathe, but nodded in desperate hope.
Chapter Eighteen
Richard, with his iron constitution, was up at dawn the next day to work. Daphne felt him leave the bed and crawled like a cat into the warm spot that he’d left.
The pregnancy tests would arrive today, and then she’d know where she was. Despite his anger after her interlude with Jason, the Master had seemed to understand her predicament last night.
And last night – she ran her hand down her chest, shivering. If only every night could be like that. She closed her eyes, savoring the memories, and then reluctantly got out of bed. Reality called, as did a shower.
She was drying off when Richard came back in.
“Pet!” He was still wearing his robe – he could do all his work at home online – and all the better to jerk off to chats with Becca in.
Daphne made a face at that – and didn’t think to cover herself in time.
“Oh my god -- what the hell happened to you?” He crossed the room and grabbed her arm so that she had to present her ass to him.
She looked over as though she’d forgotten herself. Yesterday’s escapade with the whip had left her marbled black and blue. “I was climbing in the stable yesterday and I fell.”
The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) Page 11
