by Skye Warren
I felt like I was drowning. The bodies rocking me, air growing thin. “What’s happening?”
She leaned in close. “Trust me. He knows what you like.”
How would she know? Her insistence flayed open the fear I had kept so tightly under wraps these past two months. I had a premonition that if I went downstairs, I may never come back up.
“If you’re sure this guy is right for me,” I said, striving for casual, “maybe I’ll give him a try. Let me just freshen up.”
She looked like she wanted to come with me, and she’d have the perfect excuse. We used to go into the bathroom together and share dirt on the guys we were with. She always carried a flask in her purse, the hard stuff, and we’d take a shot of liquid courage before going back out.
“I just need a minute,” I said quickly. “I need to redo my make-up before I meet someone.”
“Okay,” she agreed. “Do your lipstick at least. And hurry back.”
In the restroom, I leaned on the sink, staring into my bloodshot eyes. I looked a mess. Anyone could see I wasn’t up for playing. I probably wouldn’t even pass the monitor’s inspection. Why did she want me to play with someone so badly?
The door opened and I tensed, thinking it was Anya come to check up on me. But instead a slim woman in a black sheath and high heels came in, laughing at something on her way inside.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew her from somewhere, from another lifetime. I didn’t know her name, but I knew she cried at the first touch of pain, and then grew quiet when she fell into subspace. I knew the thing she feared most was needles.
I gaped at her as she went into a stall, waited dumbly until she came back out. She noticed me as she washed her hands.
She smiled. “Hi.”
“Um, hi. I’m sorry, but you seem really… familiar.”
“Oh, I remember you. You’re talking again.” She looked radiant, and as unaffected as if we were swapping stories about a day spa.
“Right. So. What…how did you get back?”
“The same as you, I suppose. When we’re ready. When we’re done.”
When we’re done—like turkeys in the oven. And she was okay with it?
“I don’t understand,” I said. “They shouldn’t have…I didn’t want that. I hated it there. You hated it there.”
Her face drew into a small frown, looking tragic and haunted and beautiful. “It’s not about what I like. I want to serve my Master.”
Her makeup was flawless, her up-do classy. The hem of her dress exposed long, shapely legs adorned with leather cuffs. Complete with a placid expression, she was a kinky Stepford wife.
“Um. I gotta go,” I muttered, angry and confused.
“It was great to see you again,” I heard her say before the door swung shut.
I edged around the crowd and pushed out an emergency exit that I knew from my many visits here wouldn’t set off an alarm. The stench of the street was a relief to me. I leaned against the concrete wall, catching my breath. The atmosphere in there had been stifling, Anya’s pushiness unsettling, but that slave was terrifying. Was that supposed to be me?
The door squealed open behind me, and I startled, thinking Anya had followed me. Instead it was the bouncer from the front. “You need to leave,” he said.
I glanced around the small alley. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m going, I promise.”
He shook his head. “Not here. You need to leave the club. The city. It isn’t safe for you here.”
He knows. “How?”
With a shrug, he said, “That’s above my pay grade. You were marked for the program. Then you went away, and now you’re back except…”
“Except what?”
“You’re still you.”
“Just tell me something. Do you know someone named Brendan?”
He gave me a strange look. “Don’t you?”
“I don’t remember,” I whispered. “Please tell me. I can’t remember what I need to know, and it’s killing me.”
There was a long pause, where I knew he was debating the risk to himself.
Finally he said, “Some girls want to be more submissive. Hell, most submissives do. Comes with the mindset.” He shrugged. “Or even if they don’t want it. They go off, get a little training, and come back to their lives here, but now they’re the best subs in the scene. Everyone wants them, but they’re completely devoted to their Dom.”
I choked on the words. “And that happened to me?”
“You were Brendan’s girl, and then you were marked. What do you think?”
“I think I brought this on myself.” My survival instincts told me to run, but a growing horror chained me to the spot. Through everything that had happened, my helplessness had been my treasured safety blanket. Oh, the regular stand-bys of shame and guilt still visited me on occasion, but as long as it was all forced, I could absolve myself them. But if I had ever consented to that… then I was the monster.
I swallowed thickly. “What do I do?”
“Well, that’s the thing. Every girl that’s ever come back is different. To be honest… they seem pretty happy. But not you. I don’t see how they can let you go around, asking questions, stirring up trouble. It’s not going to look good. Something’s gonna have to be done. That’s why I said, you need to leave.” With that he reentered the club, leaving me in the cold.
I walked briskly into the shadows with nowhere to go. The club had turned out to be a snake’s nest; I was lucky to have gotten out alive. I couldn’t go back to my apartment, where Brendan was possibly waiting for me. I couldn’t go back to work tomorrow either and face Anya and my suspicions that she had been involved in my abduction—that she had tried again tonight.
I stood on an unfamiliar street corner and allowed myself to be jostled to and fro. What was I doing here? This wasn’t reclaiming my life. My friends had betrayed me; I felt so alone. This hadn’t been a life at all.
I never should have left Sam, but I could rectify my error. I had to flee somewhere, and the islands had never sounded more appealing. I took out as much cash as I could from an ATM and boarded the first flight south.
Chapter Eleven
The soft island breeze was a balm to my fear. It was sunny when I stepped out of the small airport, the brightness barely dimmed by the rain that pattered on the window of the cab. I arrived in a small building. This village was the farthest outskirts of civilization, and this grungy bar was at its center.
A bell tinkled as I pushed inside. My heart thudded—what if someone here had worked with Brendan? They might recognize me. But the bar was mostly empty, and no one looked very curious about a woman in a crumpled business suit and Manolo Blahniks.
The bartender had a face of leather and scruff, his eyes only visible in small red-black pools.
“Que pasa?” he asked.
I had fretted on the plane—how would I find Sam’s place? “Hi, I’m looking for someone with a boat. Un barco?”
“Forty dolares,” he said flatly.
I fumbled with the native currency I had exchanged at the last international airport.
“No,” he said. “American dolares.”
After handing over the requested amount, he left through the back door. I glanced awkwardly at the other patrons, one of whom seemed asleep—at least I hoped that’s what he was. It seemed I should follow the bartender, so I edged around the bar and exited through the same door. He was already several paces away, walking toward the water where a man sat on a small boat.
They spoke rapidly together, too fast for me to understand, as I caught up. The bartender gestured me inside the boat. “Sam…” Well, that was deflating, to realize I didn’t know his last name. Except I did, because now I knew Brendan’s. “Sam Pike.” I flipped through my little dictionary. “Un hombre. Cabina… solitario.”
He didn’t react to my words except to gesture me inside.
For all I knew, they could be taking me captive, leading me straight to Brendan’s men. I could im
agine them bragging about it back in the bar later: she didn’t even put up a fight! I told myself, again, that all men weren’t bad, but the truth was I was in the middle of nowhere. Home wasn’t safe for me anymore. I needed to find Sam and hope he would take me back. Oh please let him take me back.
Gingerly, I climbed inside the small green boat. The man in the boat barely glanced at me but when I was seated, he tapped the engine with a wrench, and it sputtered to life. Well, that was a relief. The sight of the oars at the bottom didn’t escape me.
Cold sea spray lashed my face as he picked up speed.
I glanced nervously at the tree-lined beaches, all alike and unfamiliar. “Do you know where we’re going?” I asked dumbly. “I’m sorry, do you speak English?”
I thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he said, “Carpintero, eh?”
The dictionary, carpintero… carpenter!
“Yes, that’s right!” Relief swept through me, solidified when I sighted the pebble beach with what looked like a large rocky overgrowth—the cave. They must have figured out where I needed to go from my bumbling attempts. Or maybe we were just the only Americanos in the vicinity.
He cut the engine, and we drifted until the hull batted against the rocky floor. Taking off my shoes, I jumped into the shallow water. I’m coming, Sam.
“Oh, did you need payment too?” I turned back, but the man had already pushed it away with an oar in the water. As I watched, he clanged the wrench on the engine casing and sped away, landing a fresh spray of water over my suit.
I cut the soles of my feet to ribbons along the beach. I glanced with longing and anticipation at the beach. There was a parallel to our play, that the payoff was all the sweeter when I had paid from my body.
Or maybe I was just giddy. Oh, Sam.
I passed the clearing where he had felled the tree and followed the path toward his cabin. The rain had stopped, but everything was wet with it, light reflecting off slippery branches, leaves quivering with weighty drops, everything bright with anticipation.
There it was, so small and humble and proud at once. My heart swelled. This was home.
I knocked on the door with abandon. “Sam!”
When he didn’t answer, I checked the knob and went inside. “It’s me, Melody. Where are you?”
Everything looked like I had left it, except the black trunk was missing. I spared a quick frown for the empty corner before checking the two bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen—all empty. He must be in the workroom. Stumbling through the back door, I ran across the yard and burst in on the room.
The discordant piles of furniture had disappeared; in its place stood a bedroom… of sorts.
A bed was clearly the focal point, built with wood of rich caramel. There was a side table, a drawer. And beside those ordinary things, I recognized the spanking bench. A few other standalone pieces, whose overall shapes I recognized from the dungeon that I remembered from my time in slavery, all designed to hurt.
Blood raced through my veins, and for a moment, I was back there, running through the woods, away, away. A man’s voice calling, “Melody!” Who had been chasing me?
I had told Sam when I remembered my life back home. He had said, You please me, Melody. But I had never told him my name. Confusion and dread knotted in my stomach.
What had I done?
In a trance, I crept toward the bed, as if the intricate carving in the headboard would have my answer. A nymph stood by a river, her hands covering her ears, mouth open. Her expression was a mixture of horror and fear, like a reflection of my own heart.
“That’s Echo,” said a voice behind me.
I whirled around to see Sam come inside and casually close the door. He was wearing a red plaid shirt, hung open to reveal a white undershirt, and his well-worn jeans. How could he look so beautiful and ordinary at the same time? He had brought the smell of the woods in with him, and I realized he must have been out for a hike, perhaps chopping another tree. My sweet, harmless lumberjack—how wrong I had been.
“Sam, no,” I whispered.
He sat down on a stool, hooked his boots in the rungs. “Some people think she slept with Zeus, but that’s not true.”
“It’s mythology. None of it’s true.”
“Don’t interrupt,” he said mildly. “But Echo didn’t sleep with Zeus, or maybe she did, but that’s not what got her in trouble. It was because she helped him go off and rape all those little mortal girls by distracting his wife. It was Hera who put the curse on her. Echo can’t speak unless spoken to. She can only repeat what others have said.”
I hugged myself, gripping the wet, ragged silk of my suit. “Why are you doing this?”
“The story has a sad ending. Echo falls in love with a man, Narcissus, but he doesn’t want her.” Sam slanted me a look. “Obviously he doesn’t realize what he has in her. So poor rejected Echo lives in the woods, pining and fading away until all that’s left of her is her voice.”
I bolted for the door, made it just outside before his hands gripped my legs and dragged me back in. My fingers clasped dirt and then nothing, helpless on the wooden floor.
“But I’m not going to let that happen to you,” he whispered against my ear. “You see, I’m never going to let you go.”
He released me, and I scrambled away. I huddled against the far wall, panting, while he considered me thoughtfully, not having broken a sweat. He closed the door, locking us inside.
“There’s an alternate ending to the story. In this one, there was a god who fell in love with her. Echo, being rather cursed, rejects him. He gets so angry that he sends his followers. They tear her apart, Melody. Her pieces are scattered across the Earth.”
I began to shake. “Is that what you did to Amanda?”
His face darkened, with pain not anger. “I would never have hurt her that way. And I’ll never hurt you like that. You know that. You trusted me once.”
“Never again,” I spat.
He rubbed his forehead. “You’ll need time to adjust, but I hate to see you like this. It may be hard to believe right now, but I do love you. If I didn’t, I’d ship you back to Brendan well-used. That was the plan, but it changed pretty quickly once I met you. You changed my mind.”
His expression softened, turned rueful. “You’re the whole package, smart and sexy, but your capacity for submission is a beautiful thing. So sweet, begging me to collar you.” He held up a round silver collar.
This was what I wanted, dreamed of, but not like this. “Wait, please.”
“This one’s not leather. It’s not coming off.” He approached me.
I cringed away from him, holding my hands over my head.
“Shh,” he soothed. “Don’t look so terrified. It’s unnerving. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to hurt you, just a little, and then make you come. It’s not a very scary proposition. What more do you want?”
“Freedom,” I whispered.
“Freedom’s an illusion. We all live in prisons of our own making. You picked this one. Kinky games in the city wasn’t enough for you, but those men were too brutal. Little Goldilocks, walking into houses that aren’t yours. This will be just right for you, Melody. I promise you that.”
“Brendan will come find me.” When had the man I feared become my potential savior?
“I don’t think so. Not after the way we left things last time.” His expression hardened. “Brendan didn’t deserve you.”
“This was only another one of your competitions.” I was indignant. “He cheated on you with your girlfriend so now I’m just… just payback.”
He chuckled softly. “Are you really upset because we fought over you? Or worried that I don’t really care about you? What an insecure little girl. And look, I’ve told you I loved you and you haven’t even said it back.”
I stared at him mutinously. He’d be waiting a long time for that.
He softened. “Isn’t this what you came here for? You wanted to be my girl, didn’t you? My lit
tle subby?”
It seemed like a trick, surely it was. But I didn’t really have a choice, and besides, it was the truth. I nodded.
“You want to be my sub, but now that you’re here you’re trying to set the terms.” His expression was disapproving but indulgent. “No, subby. That’s not how this works.”
Sam held my hair aside with a tenderness that made me ache. I stayed still as he latched the collar around my neck and locked it. Overcome, I rested my cheek against his thigh. Was it true? I had come here to beg to be his sub. I had accepted that meant his authority over me, including how I lived, so what had really changed?
“That’s my good girl,” he said, stroking my hair.
“Master, you scared me.” My voice trembled.
“I know.” His thumb rubbed softly across the nape of my sneck, where the metal had warmed. He accepted the truth of my words without apology, but with comfort. This is how it will be.
I spilled tears of hope, unable to speak. He had promised to find the middle ground between play and horror, which was only everything I ever wanted. If I had come back here to find him pining for me, if he had sat down with a D/s contract, it would have been a dream. Instead I had come here to submit to his will, and this was it. I had come here to live under his care and control, and here I was.
A small, secret smile curved my lips. I looked down at the floor until I realized I didn’t need to hide myself anymore. Turned my face to my master, I said, “I really do love you.”
His eyes shone with possession and pride, and both feelings were reflected in my heart.
“I know, subby.”
It was just like he promised. That night, and each one after that, he made me scream in pain and pleasure, and no one ever heard but him.
THE END
Thank you for reading Hear Me!
He horrified readers in Keep Me Safe and Trust in Me. Carlos is cruel, fearless, and irredeemable. Meet the woman who brings him to his knees in…
