by Regine Abel
My eyes widened. I couldn’t recall meeting him before. While Braxians, and especially half-breeds, weren’t all that frequent in my usual circles, I had met a number of both over the years. But I never paid them much attention; they all looked the same to me. Come to think of it, I had noticed an unusually high number of Braxian half-breeds on the sanctuary planet Haven when I last performed there a year ago.
“I thought you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen,” Anton said, a strange glitter in his eyes. “From that moment, I never stopped fantasizing about you writhing under me as I plowed into that pussy of yours, or how you’d look with your lips wrapped around my cock.”
That should have offended me, but instead, I felt moisture pool between my legs. Damn that man.
The lights in the room faded while the spotlights on the small stage lit, saving me from replying. The beautiful Seria Gallant walked onto the stage in a skin-tight red dress with a side slit that ran up her thigh. Her small orchestra on the side began playing a jazzy ballad. I watched in awe as Seria swayed to the first notes. Her deep, throaty voice was the sexiest thing I had ever heard.
“Watch her carefully,” Anton whispered in my ear. “Even though she has nothing on you vocally, the type of performance you do would never grant you a spot in elite venues. Look at the way she moves, the way she interacts with her mic. Do you understand the difference?”
Seria was mesmerizing. Her movements were slower, measured, and more delicate than mine.
“She’s more elegant,” I said.
Anton shook his head, frowning. “The end result is elegance, but it’s the intention that makes all the difference. When you sing, you treat your mic as a cock that you’re stroking and aching to deep-throat. You’re essentially fucking on stage.”
He gestured at the mic stand. “Look how she handles the stand and the mic. That’s a lover she’s slowly, sensuously making love to. See how she caresses the length of the stand with her fingertips? It’s the same way you would the thighs of your lover. The way she softly brushes her mouth against the mic is like fluttering kisses on his lips. Each time she rubs her thumb under its length, she’s stroking her man or licking his cock. And when she holds the stand and mic tightly like that with both hands, swaying from side to side, that’s penetration.”
Anton turned to face me and gently brushed my hair aside before softly kissing my lips. “Anyone can fuck, Grace. If you want to move to the next level, learn to make love.”
CHAPTER 4
Grace
Three days had gone by since I had become Anton’s indentured servant. He gave new meaning to the word workaholic. People often referred to him as Mr. Ant or The Ant. I always assumed it was just them shortening his given name, but Anton literally worked like those little critters from dusk ‘til dawn. No wonder he built such a massive empire by the age of twenty-eight. Still, he managed to have plenty of time for me.
Though he owned me for the next six months, so far, Anton treated me more like a girlfriend than property... and I was falling quickly for it. Dr. Hazan, my former therapist, wouldn’t be pleased.
Anton was insatiable, which was pretty common in new relationships. Oddly, he didn’t fuck me often. It’s not like he suffered from any kind of erectile dysfunction; he could all but get it up on command. I should know. My throat and that glorious prick of his had become quite intimately acquainted over the past few days.
But it wasn’t just sex with him. Every time we went out, with surprising patience, Anton taught me something new. First, that impromptu mentoring session while observing Seria. The second day, I learned proper table etiquette dealing with the slew of utensils and glasses in multiple course meals. Last night, we attended a wine tasting event. I never realized there was such a science and community of connoisseurs around it. If nothing else, I now understood the basics of wine pairing.
The only cloud in that perfect sky was that he wouldn’t let me share his bed or have one of my own. While he didn’t have me on a leash or make me eat from a bowl, I was his pet. My bed was a large, plush cushion on the floor at the side of his bed. When he first indicated where I would sleep, I laughed, assuming he was joking. He didn’t smile.
Anton confused the hell out of me. One minute he was tender, passionate, and considerate, and the next, he looked like he wanted to crush my bones.
By the time we returned from Risqué, William not only handled the creditors hounding me, but he also retrieved all my things from the hotel. Anton loved my fuck-me shoes. He often made me parade for him wearing nothing else. My sarongs were a hit, and not only because of their versatility. They offered little obstruction to Anton’s wandering hands. However, the fabric didn’t meet his quality standards and he intended to remedy that problem. As for the rest of my wardrobe, he asked William to dump it all in the incinerator.
Anton didn’t mind that my other clothes did nothing to hide my curves or that there was very little fabric to them. I was an exhibitionist and he didn’t mind. It’s the clothes themselves and their cut he didn’t approve of. Over our first couple of days together, Anton made me examine the way the women in the VIP section dressed. He then compared it to my own aesthetic.
Many didn’t show half as much skin as I did while others wore outfits even tighter than mine. They were sex on legs and yet still looked classy. As Anton pointed out, it wasn’t necessarily how much skin you showed, but how and which parts. You wanted to flaunt just enough to get a man’s cock to perk up with interest, but not so much that his imagination didn’t even get a chance to kick in. In short, the way I dressed made me look cheap and slutty, which wasn’t okay for his woman.
His woman…
It caused a strange fluttering in my stomach. Braxians had a thing about human women. It was major bragging rights for them to have one as their pet. So Anton parading me around wasn’t surprising and had nothing to do with my personal merits. Still, I loved being a trophy.
I had mixed feelings about what Anton was doing. On the one hand, he showed me all the things I had been too blind, lazy or stupid to realize. On the other, he turned my life upside-down, opening me up to things I never thought accessible to a girl like me. Only three days in, and I was already addicted to him, to this life.
This morning, Anton took me to Aphrodite’s Vault. The price of a single dress there could feed a family of four for a year – or two. The minute we stepped inside the boutique, Ms. Braddock, the owner, treated us like royalty. She took us to an elegant room at the back of the store. Our own reflection greeted us in the ceiling-high mirrors covering the walls. They were separated by light brown draped curtains hiding the changing rooms. Anton and I sunk into a comfortable khaki couch, surrounded by throw pillows. A glass coffee table, laden with fresh fruits, cheeses, and a platter of amuse-bouche reminded me lunch time was fast approaching. The champagne set to chill in the ice bucket drew my attention. I recognized the brand from last night’s wine tasting.
It made me feel worldly.
While waiting for Ms. Braddock to bring in the racks of clothes, I distractedly traced the dark linear patterns on the beige rug covering the marble floor with the tip of my shoe.
Three pretty models gave us a private fashion show. Any piece either of us liked was set aside. In the end, it was my turn to model for Anton. The girls assisted me in and out of the clothes – right in front of Anton – and brought whatever accessory would complement the outfit. Thinking to earn extra points, one of the girls tried to cop a feel while helping me wiggle my way out of a second skin of a dress. I put a quick stop to it with a slap on her wrist and a stern stare; I wasn’t looking for some girl-on-girl action and didn’t want Anton getting ideas.
We returned to the boutique’s entrance where Anton settled the bill with Ms. Braddock. The elegant older woman beamed at us, multiplying the niceties. I couldn’t blame her. She was a shrewd businesswoman. Her boutique was renowned for a reason. Anton bought me a full wardrobe, including lingerie – that I had no clu
e when I would ever wear it since he wanted me commando all the time. It struck me that this shopping spree alone would cost close to, if not more, than my entire debt.
Tucking my hair behind my ear, I realized one of my earrings was missing.
“Anton, I’ll be right back. I lost my earring. It probably fell off while I was trying on clothes.”
He nodded. “Go ahead. There’s no rush.”
I smiled and headed for the private room at the back. The door stood ajar. Beyond, the conspiratorial voices of the models stopped me.
“I don’t agree that ‘clever slut’ is the right term to describe Mr. Ant’s new squeeze. Well, the slut part sure, but clever, not so much,” a voice said.
“Aw, come on, Mary. What would you know about being clever?” The high-pitched voice belonged to the brunette model.
“A lot more than you, Jenna.” Mary’s voice dripped with contempt. “Everyone knows she was Marcus’ pet. All he had to do was point and tell her to show her tits. And bam! That show of hers wasn’t singing. She all but masturbated on stage.”
Ouch.
I knew my show wasn’t exactly classy, but I thought it was sexy, not slutty.
“Marcus did use her and I agree that she never struck me as particularly smart. But you’re only pissed because she didn’t let you eat her pussy,” a third voice said.
“Why the hell would I want to go down on that cheap whore?” Mary said.
“Cut it out, Mary,” the voice sounding like Jenna said. “We remember how you attended most of her shows like a lovesick puppy. Grace is a hot piece of ass and we all know which way you swing.”
“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Mary snapped.
“I was there when Grace told you she only liked dicks,” Jenna said. “You’re hurt she didn’t remember you today. By the way, groping a customer without permission – especially Ant’s girlfriend? Not a good idea. Don’t be surprised if Ms. Braddock tears into you.”
My mind was reeling. I got hit on a lot before and after my performances, by both men and women. It didn’t bother me, quite the opposite. But for all that, I didn’t fuck around. Sure, I enjoyed sex. However, despite finding a woman’s body sexy, they held no attraction for me. I liked men. And I couldn’t recall turning Mary down. Sadly, she was one face among thousands of would-be lovers.
“She’s not his girlfriend,” Mary muttered under her breath.
“He sure treats her like it,” the third voice said. “Ant is always generous with his lovers, but this was crazy. If the rumors about her debt are true, he just bought her a second time.”
“So you see, Mary,” Jenna said, “Grace is the clever one. I’d spread my legs for that ugly bastard any time he wanted for that kind of royal treatment. He could even fuck me in the ass.”
A dull pain in my hand made me realize I was clutching the doorframe, my fingertips whitening from the strength of my grip.
The third voice chuckled. “I wonder if he’s already rammed hers.”
“I overheard Sheila talking with Ms. Braddock yesterday,” Jenna said. “Sheila saw them at Risqué a few days ago. Word on the street is Ant had Grace coming all over the leather seats.”
“No! Right there, in front of everyone?”
“Sure did. It seems Ant is all over her all the time, and she bends over willingly, taking it like a champ,” Mary said.
The clanking sound of hangers falling on the floor was followed by a muttered curse.
“Wouldn’t you in her shoes?” Jenna asked. “That’s a butt load of credits she owed. That she managed to get him to pay that kind of debt in exchange for riding her is a feat in and of itself. I’d like to know how to get in good with him like that.”
“You’d fuck Mr. Ant?” the third voice said, sounding disgusted.
“Hell yeah, as long as he shows me the money,” Jenna said. Chuckling, she added, “Plus, his body is hot. I’d just picture Caleb’s face instead.”
That was enough. I held onto the wall, wavering. Those bitches needed an earful. I wanted to storm into the room and put them in their place, but I couldn’t – the thought of confrontations made me anxious. My hand slipped down the wall and fell to my side. Head down, I returned to the front of the boutique.
I hated the way they spoke about Anton. Granted, he didn’t have a pretty face, but he wasn’t ugly either… Plus, if you ignored the pet bed, he treated me pretty well. A gentle soul lurked behind his brutish face. If I were honest though, what upset me the most was that some of their comments echoed my own thoughts when I planned on begging for his help. Even if Anton had been a complete douche, I would have spread my legs, taken it like a champ, and begged for seconds to keep him happy.
“Did you find it?” Anton asked when I rejoined him.
I shook my head with a strained smile. “No. I guess it must have dropped somewhere else.”
Anton’s eyes narrowed and he cast a speculative glance at the back of the store. He was a little too perceptive for my liking.
“If it turns up, please have it forwarded to the penthouse, Ms. Braddock,” Anton said.
“Of course, Mr. Myers. I’ll personally make sure of it.”
Without another word, Anton placed his hand on the small of my back and led me out.
CHAPTER 5
Anton
For the past few days, Grace hadn’t acted quite herself. Something happened at the boutique that shook her self-confidence. She kept saying everything was fine but the way she wouldn’t make eye contact and chewed on her nails told me otherwise. It had to be the models that somehow upset her. Under different circumstances, I would have lashed out already at anyone who messed with my woman.
My woman…
She wasn’t and I needed to stop behaving that way. I still couldn’t believe she belonged to me, even if only for a while. By granting myself one week to enjoy her luscious body, I fell into my own trap and got lost in the pleasure of being with her. The truth was, I wanted to experience what could have been. She starred in my wildest fantasies for so long...
I was addicted to Grace’s eagerness, willingness to please… to be mine. It also took little to make her happy; a bit of attention, a gentle touch, a kind word and she melted. That too was addictive. She was so keen to learn – humble in her ignorance yet hungry for every tidbit offered to her. Grace never asked for anything but her gratitude for the slightest scrap given to her was heartfelt. The way her face lit up during that shopping spree made me want to buy the whole damn store – I nearly did too. Her wardrobe needed a change anyways. As she would be considered ‘my woman’ by everyone for the next six months, I couldn’t have her looking trashy on my arm.
You didn’t need to spend sixteen million credits on clothes to achieve that, though.
Whatever, credits didn’t matter. But I hadn’t acquired her to seduce or please her. It was time to silence the softer emotions she stirred within me. She was here to receive her punishment. If nothing else, my kindness towards her this first week worked well as part of my revenge. The shock would shatter her once she realized fun times were over and not coming back anytime soon. The day of retribution had finally come.
A quick glance at the clock confirmed we would meet for breakfast soon. Chastising myself for all the time spent musing – fantasizing – over Grace, I tried to reset my focus onto the reports on my monitor. Her intrusion completely ruined my perfect routine, setting me behind in my work. This was unheard of for me. With a will of their own, my eyes wandered to the shaggy carpet across from my office desk where Grace had stripped and pleasured herself so prettily.
Growling at my inability to stay focused, I closed the report and left my office. While crossing the living area on my way to the kitchen, I nodded at the two men cleaning the room. Startled by my presence, one of them looked at his watch, wondering if they were behind. The staff knew I treasured my privacy and usually worked around my schedule to remain invisible. William was the exception. But then, he was mor
e than just staff. Aside from being my Head of Security, William was my friend and had saved my life fifteen years ago.
I entered the gourmet kitchen where the cook was busy preparing breakfast for Grace and me. On the island behind him, a plate of freshly cut fruits sat by a full pot of coffee. I poured myself a cup before walking over to the dining table. The cook, also surprised by my early arrival, rushed to pull out the dishes from the cupboards to set up the table. It was large enough to seat twelve people, although I’d never entertained more than six in the penthouse. Sitting down, I read the latest news on my datapad. Minutes later, the object of my obsession walked in. Her high heels clicked on the floor tiles as the cook plated the steaks to go along with our scrambled eggs and toast.
“Good morning,” Grace said and kissed my forehead. I nodded in greeting and gestured for her to take a seat.
The cook served our food and refilled my cup. He brought a fresh pot of coffee, the plate of sliced fruits, and cream before leaving.
In the last week, Grace relaxed a great deal around me. Sometimes, she seemed to forget she signed herself over as my indentured slave. It was foolish for either of us to indulge in the illusion that we were a regular couple. Her pet cushion was but one reminder of her true position.
We ate breakfast, making light conversation. The laid-back atmosphere didn’t last. It was only a matter of time before she brought up the topic of her career. However, Grace probably wouldn’t like where that conversation would end.
“Anton, I want to start singing again.”
I stopped chewing for a second and looked at her. I swallowed and washed the food down with a sip of coffee.
“Ok.”
Grace heaved a sigh of relief. “Awesome! If you don’t have plans for me this afternoon, I will go see Peter to ask—”
“No.”
She recoiled. “Excuse me?”
“If you want to sing, I have no problem with it. But what you were doing at Peter’s didn’t qualify as singing.” I meticulously cut a piece of steak. “Right now, you are my pet, Grace. As long as you’re mine, I will see you do better.”
