“Glenn, this is Daphne –“ Richard began, and introduced her to everyone, in a blur of names. Glenn’s wife, Sharon, was an imposing figure, twice Daphne’s size in every direction, neck completely obscured by pearls, and Roger with his wife Tiffany, and James with his wife Patricia. Daphne tried to remember them all, she’d heard Richard talk about them before, but it was hard to keep track of them when they were all so intense and wore so much black.
Arthur escorted the last wave back down the stairs from their bedroom. Tyler and his wife Nalo. Nalo gave Daphne a quick smile – she was the only one who looked as nervous as Daphne was.
“This place is positively quaint, Richard,” Glenn announced, having settled into a glass of wine.
“You said it was a strange, but – “ one of the other men shook his head.
“Nonsense. This is an up and coming area, and you all know it. Are we all here?” Richard asked, taking control of the conversation again. “Do we all have drinks?” Men and women lifted up their glasses. “Then let’s go on the tour!” Richard announced, and led them out of the library like they were an upscale pirate band.
Daphne tagged along at the back of the group, and listened to Richard narrate the trip. He told them of how he’d found the place on an obscure real estate listing, like the owners hadn’t even really wanted to sell it, but how when he’d come here his first time through – without Daphne – he’d fallen in love. He had a story for each room already – what it had been, what it would be when they were done with it, and Daphne realized he was making everything up on the fly. Her husband, the expert at spin. It’d worked on her, hadn’t it?
For her part, every time they changed rooms, she remembered what the Master had done to her there. The hallways that they’d fucked in, the statue that she’d clung to as he’d whipped her, the massive four-poster where he’d taken her ass now ceded to Glenn and Sharon. Her passion with the ghost infused every space in this house – all the times she’d posed for him, gone looking for him, been waiting for him – how could everyone else not feel it?
She felt a warmth behind her – like a hand, cupped against her ass, and turned quickly. Her imagination? Or him, reminding her he was there?
Nalo stood beside her, as the men talked of freshening drinks before dinner. “How can you live here?”
“Excuse me?” Daphne blinked.
“With so many eyes looking at you all the time?” She pointed at the nearest statues. “It’s horrifying.”
Daphne’s jaw dropped, unable to defend herself. “Nalo, don’t be rude,” Tyler chastised her, and pulled her away, before Daphne could answer.
Arthur had the entire table set by seven. There were ten of them, and she and Richard were at opposite ends of the table, so that they could look down on all their dinner guests like royalty. Nalo was on one side of her and Sharon on the other, with Patricia and Tiffany after them, so that one half of the table was women and the men were free to talk ‘business’.
“You’d think they get enough of that during the work week,” Nalo said, with a small frown.
“Does your husband travel as often as Richard?” Daphne asked. “By which I mean, a lot. Like half the time.”
“Yeah. We got married a few months ago – I only see him on the weekends, really.”
“Glenn doesn’t travel often enough,” Sharon said.
“I thought he traveled with Richard?” Daphne asked.
“Oh, he does. I just wish he were gone more.” Sharon gave both of them a pursed smile, and took another sip of her wine. “So what are we going to do with the rest of our weekend here? What entertainments do you have planned?”
Daphne’s mouth opened. “Um – I thought everyone was just spending the night. There’ll be breakfast tomorrow, of course –“
“We’re going to be here for two nights – and I didn’t see a TV in our bedroom. A place this big – do you have croquet? Badminton?”
“There’s the library.”
“It’ll have to do, I suppose.”
“I like to read,” Nalo said, trying to help. Daphne gave her a quick smile – and Arthur emerged from the kitchen with the first course.
Salad, soup, and finally steak, all of it impeccable. Richard’s associates were suitably impressed and the table was littered with the bottles of wine they’d wrested away from Arthur over the course of the evening.
Laughter percolated up from the men’s side. “Come on. Somebody’s got to have a cigar – Tyler – you’re usually good for a Cuban. Don’t hold out on us now –“ Glenn was saying, and sure enough, cigars were pulled out. Sharon fluttered at this, saying something about asthma, using that as an excuse to go outside.
Daphne glared down the length of the table “It’ll stay in the walls, Richard –“
“It doesn’t matter if it stays in the walls. We own them.”
Daphne frowned. Alcohol would have helped her impression of this night immensely. She looked around the room at the slurring men, gesticulating wildly with their half-thought ideas, and the women who either whispered to one another – surely unkind things about her or the house – or hovered near the men, trying to be included in their conversation, and again, even in a room full of people, Daphne felt incredibly alone.
Then underneath the table a hand reached up and touched her inner thigh.
She gasped, but no one heard her. She tried to close her legs, but hands as strong as steel pushed her knees back open, and the sensation of heat, of probing fingers, moved higher.
She almost said the word Stop aloud. But what if anyone else at the table heard her? What would they think?
What would she tell them anyhow? The truth? No one would believe her. The only other sober person here had been Arthur, and he’d left an hour ago.
She fought the Master with her thighs, trying to hide herself from him. She would have excused herself, only what was the point, where could she hide? Daphne licked her lips and realized the enormity of her predicament.
There was no place in the house where she could be away from him. No where he couldn’t follow her.
He wasn’t just the Master of the house now – he was the Master of her.
It was frightening and impossibly erotic at the same time. She was as trapped here with him as she had been in the dungeon, bent over, chained. Slowly, ever so slowly, she gave in.
He spread her knees wide beneath the table, hands reaching up her thighs. Sensing that she’d abandoned herself to him, he started in on her, using a finger to pull the fabric of her underwear aside and another to massage the entrance of her pussy – he wasn’t content just to have his way with her, he wanted her to enjoy it to, he was going to make sure that she came here, in front of so many other people, she wouldn’t have a choice –
All these people here thought she didn’t matter – they’d almost ignored her completely, except for politeness’s sake. Little did they know what was happening to her underneath the table’s edge, how the Master’s fingers were rubbing inside of her, how insistent his thumb was on her clit, how much he wanted to own her right under their very noses, how much he wanted her to come.
She tried not to think about what was happening to her, and it felt as though she were pulled in two – the drab ignorable housewife above, the incandescent woman hidden underneath. She clutched at the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white, she could feel her face flushing, her nipples harden, her wetness soaking through her underwear and likely staining her chair, and and and -- she came. In quiet shudders that would have looked like moments of distraction to anyone else, biting the insides of her lip, pleasure pulled from her body, spooled onto the Master’s hands below.
When she was done she sagged forward, leaning on her elbows, looking like one of the very drunk men, and thunder clapped outside as rain began.
Sharon turned to look at her. “Now’s when you’ll find out all your house’s dirty secrets.”
“What?” Daphne flushed with guilt.
“A
ll the shit the realtor and inspector didn’t tell you about. All the leaks and floods.” Sharon seemed pleased that the very house might wash away around them, as though it would serve someone like Daphne right.
“Oh. Yes. That,” Daphne limply agreed.
Chapter Twenty-one
Couples bowed out one by one – and then the lights flickered, encouraging everyone else to disperse, while they could still find their rooms. Daphne busied herself taking their dishes into the kitchen to give Mrs. Dudley a headstart on morning’s breakfast.
“Meet you upstairs, pet?” Richard asked, with a leer.
“Soon,” she promised him. He was so drunk chances were he’d be asleep the second his head hit the pillow.
Once she was the only one still up, the house felt like hers again. She cleared the last of the wine bottles away – Richard did know the compunctions of his friends, apparently – and washed her hands in the sink before heading back to the entry way, past the library.
The lights were off, but lightning flashes illuminated through the library’s uncurtained windows, and she thought she saw a figure standing there. She walked in on tip-toes.
“Is it you?” she asked, breathless.
“I don’t know. Is it?” a drunken voice answered her.
Another lightning flash, and she saw Glenn there, holding a snifter of brandy, looking not unlike the Master’s portrait. “Your bedroom’s upstairs –“
“I know. I couldn’t sleep. Jet lag.” He leaned against the desk, which had half as many bottles on it as when it’d started. He set the brandy down. “Keep me company?”
Daphne took a step backwards, and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a long day, and I’m tired – “
Glenn strode across the room to her before she could escape. “I saw you. Looking at me all night. You’re a minx, I can tell.”
Daphne shook her head, but he was right beside her. Lightning struck and she could see that he’d untucked his shirt, and thunder clapped, and the sound of rain redoubled – she could barely hear him talking, she knew no one would hear her scream.
“Richard’s told me about you. The way your face lights up when you get fucked. He says you’re the world’s best lay. And when someone like him, who’s put his cock into every piece of pussy this side of Burma, says that to someone like me – what’s he think that’s going to get him?” Glenn grabbed her arm as she tried to take another step back.
“You don’t want to do this, Glenn.”
“Oh yes, I do. I’ve been thinking about it all night. I know exactly what I want.” He pulled her to him as she struggled.
“No – no no no –“ she thrashed, but he was as big as Richard was, and whereas Richard had never hurt her until last night, Glenn seemed to be familiar with giving others pain. His hands were tight on her arms and he dragged her across the room towards the couch.
Daphne punched at him and nothing landed, then he took both her wrists in one wide hand and yanked them over her head, pinning her down with his greater weight and she could feel the outline of his hard cock against her stomach. His other hand pushed her dress up and started to pull her underwear down.
“Don’t! No! Richard! Richard!!!!” she shouted – but the rain – lightning flashed again and she saw the portrait of the Master looking down. Glenn shoved his hand between them, trying to free himself to fuck her.
“Master!” she shouted, in desperation, just as Glenn’s knee wedged between her thighs.
Heat rushed over the both of them like a wave of the thunder booming outside, and Glenn’s body flew across the room to strike the desk.
Daphne panted on the couch for a moment, pulling herself together, sniffing back tears. Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows, making the house shake just like she’d been shaking.
“Oh my God –“ Daphne sat up, pulling her skirt down, and looked over to the floor. Glenn groaned and a dark pool of blood began leaking out from underneath his head where he’d landed.
Daphne screamed.
Chapter Twenty-two
No one heard her.
She didn’t stop screaming until she got Richard up, and until he’d gone downstairs to call 911.
“What’s wrong?” Nalo appeared in the hallway, and Daphne screamed again – dressed in a white slip, the woman looked like a ghost.
“Glenn – he tried to rape me –“
Nalo blanched even whiter, and then turned and ran.
“You cannot tell them that –“ Richard said, cupping the phone receiver after having given 911 their address.
“But –“ Daphne protested, feeling fragile.
Richard made a face, encouraging her to close her mouth – and behind him, Daphne could see Sharon advancing, like an oncoming freight train,
“You little slut –“ Sharon tried to slap her across her face, but Tyler reached out over Daphne’s shoulder and stopped her.
“Why would he try to sleep with her, when he could have me?” she asked him, still trying to yank her hand down.
“He didn’t try to sleep with anyone. I’m sure it was all an epic mistake. Wasn’t it, pet?” Richard’s eyes begged her to deny the whole thing.
Daphne looked up at Richard, eyes glaring. How dare he tell her that she hadn’t been in danger – he wasn’t there! If the Master hadn’t saved her…who would have?
“Look, he slipped and fell. That’s it.” Richard was fighting his inebriation, trying to get everyone on the same page before authority arrived, setting the phone down.
“Where is he? I need to see him –“ Sharon yelled.
“He’s in the library.” Daphne pointed to the room’s door on the other hall. Sharon pulled her hand back, and started towards it. Daphne watched her go, until Richard took hold of her shoulders and shook her.
“He was just drunk, and you were helping him up to his room. That’s what happened.” He shook her again, harder than she hoped he meant to. By now everyone else was in the hall around them, and Sharon had started wailing at the sight of her downed husband.
“That’s what happened,” Daphne repeated dutifully back.
She ran upstairs after that and sat in the middle of her bed like it was an island. The door was open so she could hear the commotion burbling up from below. Was Glenn…dead? She hadn’t wanted him to touch her, but did he really deserve that? If the Master hadn’t saved her, it was clear what would have happened.
“Thank you,” she said aloud, knowing the ghost would hear.
Heat surrounded her in an instant. The arms of a man around her, burning hot. She bit her lips and rocked back into him, still frightened, and he pulled her tight. And then his hands began to wander.
“No –“ she pushed at him, shoving him away, but arms came back. “Not you too –“ She lurched out of the bed, holding herself. “Stop it. This isn’t how I want things to be.”
Heat remained around her, still for a moment of time – and then left her as though she’d been dipped into an ice bath, and the bedroom door slammed, making her jump.
Had he closed it behind him? Or was he still in here, with her?
Footsteps ran up the outside hall. “Pet?” Richard pushed his head in. “The medics want to know if you need to go to the hospital.”
She knew what he was asking. Was she hurt? Even if she couldn’t tell any of his friends.
“I’m fine.” Everything’s broken and wrong, Glenn, me, you, this house, the Master, she thought, but swallowed the words without saying them.
Richard came back upstairs soon after that.
“Is he alive?” she asked, sitting with her knees under her chin, her arms laced around her legs.
“So far. But he’s injured, badly. I don’t think you could have hit him harder if you’d had a frying pan.”
“I didn’t hit him. He tripped and fell.”
“Were you…doing anything?”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Are you honestly asking me that?”
“He’s my oldest f
riend –“
“Who said you’d slept with every woman this side of Burma.”
Richard made a troubled face. “He shouldn’t have said that.”
“Is it true?” Her voice was so small. Even though she already knew the answer, she didn’t want him to lie to her.
He put a hand to his forehead. His breath still stank like tonight’s wine and she suspected he was still a little drunk, because he actually told her the truth. “I may have not been the most faithful husband, pet. But -- I love you.” He took her wrist in hers. “And I’ve sworn off all other women but you. You’re the only one for me now. You’re going to be the only one for me for forever.”
She turned towards him and searched his eyes. She’d seen the chat logs from him and Becca just hours earlier. But he sounded so sincere right now – and despite everything she still wanted to believe him. She needed someone on her side. And maybe for once, he was telling the truth, and it wasn’t too late for them to start over.
Tears welled up and she started to sob.
“Oh pet, pet –“ Richard said, taking Daphne into his arms. “I’m so sorry pet. Glenn’s dead to me. Even if he doesn’t die tonight.”
He held her just like the Master had and she sagged into him.
She cried all the tears she’d been holding back since discovering his betrayal, and when she was done she’d come up with a plan.
“We have to leave here, Richard. I don’t want to live here anymore.”
“Don’t let Glenn ruin things for you – you said he didn’t touch you, right?”
“We have to pack up right now. We just need to go –“ Daphne nodded, stronger and stronger, with the wisdom of her decision. “Let’s just take a few things, leave the rest of it behind. I feel like this place is haunted, Richard. We just need to start over. Just us. You and me.”
Richard’s face was disparaging. “Pet, listen to yourself. You’re sounding crazy.”
“I don’t care!” She struggled free of his arms. “I want to leave here. I want to go now and never come back here again!”
The Haunted (Sleeping with Monsters Book 1) Page 14
