by Jax Hart
“You know why. Don’t plead. Tears won’t work either.” He picks up my hand, placing it against his rapidly beating heart. “It’s gone. I threw the pills into the Aegean the night before Alex’s wedding.”
“No, Christos,” I breath.
“It’s done. It took a few weeks for everything to fade into darkness again. But I won’t ever lose control like that again…it was you. My wild, obsessive feelings for you that drove me. I can’t let you control me like that again. I won’t.” He swallows hard. “The only pleasure I feel now is this,” he takes my hand to press against the fabric of his stretched trousers where he strains, “and you’ve been denying me the only thing that makes me feel alive. I’m still your DOM and it’s my job to give you what you need. I respected the fact that you needed time. But it’s about to run out. You’re mine, little dove. Stop fighting the inevitable.”
I let my tears fall freely, no longer caring he sees them. “You needed more than the pills. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I would’ve stayed by your side if you had gotten help.”
“I don’t need help,” he growls, “all I need is you.”
He picks me up, backing me into an empty stall full of fresh hay. He’s wild, out of control, hands and lips everywhere at once. My sweater rips apart, his mouth tugs and rolls a nipple, his hands cup my mound over my jeans. It’s madness. Sheer madness. I cling helplessly to him, feeling the fire but despondent at what we lost. The man I loved is gone, replaced by the cold shell whose touch is fire, but heart is ice.
“I can’t. I need an emotional connection. I can’t.”
“Theos, Jessie!” He roars punching the wall splintering the wood. The horses neigh and kick against their stalls. He’s freaking them out too. His knuckles drip with blood as he backs away from me but doesn’t leave.
“We have forever. I made sure of that.”
“What are you saying?” The crazed look is back in his eyes, the same look I saw the first night I met him aboard the Oasis when he told me this is exactly where we’d end up.
He opens his sport coat, pulling a few papers from the inside pocket and hands them to me. I read the news clippings in disbelief. “What have you done!” I cried. Truly shocked but knowing I shouldn’t be. According to the text, I was lost at sea. Falling overboard while at work, caught up in a rogue wave during a freak storm. The search was called off after a week.
“Jin personally flew to California to pay his respects to your parent’s and deliver a check. It should help them grieve for you.”
“You bastard! Money can’t replace me!”
“No, it can’t. But it will help them move on.”
“You really are the devil! But Yaya and Andre know the truth!”
“Do they, my pet? Who is to say I haven’t eliminated them, too?”
I sink to the floor in anguish. “You just ensured, you’ll never touch me again. You murderer!” I scream at his back. The stall door closes firmly, the bolt slides across. He locked me in!
“Here,” he tosses a cell phone through the stall bars. “The only number it calls is mine. There’s no internet either. I picked it up on the black market for you, my dove. Always answer it or there will be repercussions.”
But what more could he do to me? He already stole everything…took everything from me, including faking my own death.
Maybe that’s what’s next in this sick game. He could never set me free, without ending his own freedom. For I’d make sure he rots in prison. I’m not sure how much time passed as I sat lost in the hay, locked in the stall with nothing but neighing horses and Ollie to hear me finally break for good. But this time I knew the crack split my soul and heart so deep, I would never recover. I always knew I wouldn’t survive him again. And this time he didn’t even need to demolish me using sex.
“Are you ready to come out now?” Mrs. Fitz slides the bolt back and opens the door. Blinking, I raise my head. Pieces of hay stick to my face, cling to my hair and clothing.
“It’s past supper. You cried yourself to sleep.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Come inside and eat or I’ll handcuff you to the table and spoon feed you like a baby.”
I didn’t doubt she would. My tummy grumbled as I scramble up. I’d need my strength back to fight. And fight I would. I have nothing left to lose now.
“Where is he?” I whisper, looking around the empty rooms.
“Gone.”
“I can’t be that lucky.”
“He left for London. It was either that or strangle you…before or after he fucks you. I’m not sure which.” She shrugs, sliding a hot plate of roast turkey and mashed potatoes in front of me.
“How can you be so nonchalant?”
“Christos might not be able to save himself, but he can save my Johnny. My son is all I care about.”
“How old is he?”
“Twelve. Now eat. I’m going upstairs for the night. Don’t try any shit with me. If you think Christos is hard, you have no idea what I want to do with a self-entitled American cow like you.”
“Bitch,” I mutter to the empty room. She left before I could pull the fork from my mouth to fling the word at her. I finished everything on my plate before pushing it away. I’m wired. My mind racing, heart hurting that everyone I know thinks I’m lost at sea. My poor father must blame himself for giving me the love of being out on the water. I vow to get back to them one day. I just need to figure out how.
With Christos gone and Mrs. Fitz in her quarters, I’m less hesitant to explore. I’ve never ventured through the house, never wanting to chance running into Christos. Making my way to the front of the house where the grand foyer is, I turn into the drawing room, not finding anything worth noting besides priceless art and expensive furniture. The formal dining room could seat at least fifty. I don’t bother going in, passing it by. There’s a small alcove I’ve never noticed, but as I turn the corner, it leads down a small hall. A solid oak door is closed. Carvings etched in the old wood in an intricate pattern. I trace it with my fingers before trying the handle. Of course, it’s locked. It must be Christos’ office.
But the next door swings open at my touch. My hand feels for the wall switch. I gasp as lights flood the small room. It’s a woman’s room. Painted in a soft pastel yellow. Stately Victorian style furniture fills the space cozily. But my eyes don’t linger on the art or vases filled with fresh flowers. Instead, they focus on the rows of pictures sitting on lace table runners. It’s him. I’d know his eyes anywhere. I gasp, clutching my sides. He’s empty. This poor little boy who’s frozen in time is empty. There’re pictures of Christos in various stages of his life but his childhood photos tell his story. He was lost, so lost. Sometimes forcing a smile, but in others not pretending to fake what he doesn’t feel. What’s left of my destroyed heart falls to the floor as I pick up picture after picture, holding it to my chest.
I still love who he could be. But how can I get past everything he’s done? There’s no chance for a normal relationship now—that chance came and went. All I can hope for is he’ll change his mind. Get bored of me and let me go. Deep inside me, I remember who he was during that stolen week we spent moored off the coast of Southern Italy. I can’t believe he’d hurt Yaya and Andre. But I do believe he faked my death somehow.
“This was his mother’s drawing room.”
I spin around, almost dropping the picture in my hands. “I thought you went to bed.”
“I needed a cuppa. Tea,” she explains, noticing the puzzled look on my face. “Do you want one?”
I shake my head, not trusting her in the least.
“Place everything back exactly where it was. We wouldn’t want Christos getting angry, would we?”
“He can’t get angry. He doesn’t have the ability.”
“Even so. He needs things orderly. Patterns help him make sense of things...knowing plans in advance, organization—he needs that to function.”
“That explains why he’s so uptight. B
ut why does he want me? I’m chaos. Where is your son anyway?” I suddenly ask, noticing the picture I’m holding is of Christos when he must have been about twelve.
“Switzerland. It’s the only place they would do the trials using the medicine Hexagon Pharmaceuticals manufactured.”
“Hexagon? That sounds familiar.”
“It should. Christos’ mother owned forty-five percent of the stock. Naturally, it passed down to him.”
“Why aren’t you there with him?”
“I was. Until, Christos flew me back here to take care of you.”
“You should go. Fuck Christos. I can take care of myself.”
“I wish I could. My husband is there with him. I can’t risk crossing Christos and put my son’s life in jeopardy.”
“I don’t know. If I was sick…I’d want my mom.”
Her face turns red. “Now, you know why I hate you. Forgive him for whatever he did. Let him back in your bed, so I can just get on with my life and get back to my son.”
“Let me get this straight—you want me to whore myself out to the devil, so you can get back to your life?”
“Why not. It’s not like you haven’t before.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it? You’re not the first woman he’s toyed with…just give him what he wants and maybe he’ll grow tired of you like the rest.”
“Then what happens?”
“Nothing. You go home.”
“It’s not that simple.” She obviously doesn’t know how far he went to make everyone believe I was really gone.
She leaves to make herself tea and I make my way upstairs. I smell like the stables. I take a long, hot shower, feeling surprisingly tired when I get out. The bump under my wrist still hurts if I bang it the wrong way, but I forget about it when the shrill ringing of a cell phone sounds from the pocket of my jeans that I left on the floor.
El Diablo. He input his name as that…it flashes across the screen. Seconds later the phone pings with a text:
STAY OUT OF MY MOTHER’S STUDY.
Make me. I type back.
Ah, little dove wants to play?
I don’t respond. I can’t. Part of me misses sparring with him, but I always end up losing these battles when I’m forced to recognize how much his games turn me on despite everything.
Minutes later, my punishment comes. He sent me a screenshot of my obituary from the San Diego Sun newspaper. I bite my knuckle in anguish. I hurl the phone across the room, screaming and cursing his name. No one will ever find a person they think is already gone. The article had the date. I’ve been here almost a month and didn’t even feel the weeks flying by. I’ve lost all sense of time—all sense of myself.
My sobs echo all around me as I sit huddled in the middle of the floor, grieving for the girl I was before him. Wishing I never left California. For the first time, I truly believed this is it for me. There really is no way out.
CHRISTOS
“ARE YOU ALONE?” The sub asks, kneeling at my crossed feet.
“I’m waiting for someone.” I look over her shoulder at the red velvet door to the secret club tucked away; a stone’s throw from London Bridge.
She pouts, then crawls across the floor to the next unaccompanied DOM.
I’ve been in London for two weeks. So much work piled up when I was in Italy and Greece that needs attending to before I disappear from the world again, hiding away with my pet. I’m using the work as a test to see if keeping my mind sharp in patterns of numbers and the black and white reports can stop my craving for her.
“Christos!” Alex greets me with Helena’s hand pressed tight in his. She looks different. She’s wearing a black leather pantsuit with bright red lipstick. But I do a double take as Alex comes closer. There’s a strip of black leather around his neck with a metal hook.
“What the fuck? Is that a sub collar?”
“It is,” he replies, then leans in closer. “I bloody like it. Helena’s a Dominatrix. The shit that woman does to me…let’s just say my punishment for my summer long bachelor party still makes it hard for me to take a proper shit.”
“Theos, Alex. Enough…”
“What the fuck, Christos? Since when is anything too much for you?”
“Do you want in on our scene tonight?” Helena asks in Greek. I shrug sipping my drink. The smell of sex and pussy floats by us as a door to a private room opens and a group leaves.
“No. But I’ll watch.” They both grin as I follow them upstairs to the main playroom. A woman is tied to a bed, all four limbs spread like an eagle. Her lips are open, winking, as a diamond gleams from her cunt under the light.
Alex catches me staring. “I got one too. She made me pierce my fucking cock. I passed out. But fuck—if I don’t come like a freight train now.”
I process his words, shuddering. No one with a needle was getting near my cock. It’s the only part of me that makes me feel human. But picturing Jessie with the glint of a diamond shining from her clit is making me rock hard.
Helena approached the woman first, tonguing her body, suckling her breasts. “She’s Bi. Just like me. We’re bloody perfect together. We often have foursomes, fucking each other after we fuck a person of our choice. I only wish I married her sooner.” Alex confides before unbuckling his belt and shoving his cock deep in the woman’s throat. I wait for a few minutes then place my unfinished drink down and walk out.
The cold, autumn rain smacks my face. But I don’t care. I can’t feel a thing. Not even the club parties that always made me feel high did anything for me tonight.
She changed me.
Somehow in the short months this past summer, she fundamentally changed me. If anything, she has more power now. My body only wants hers. She makes me feel human. Sex with anyone else won’t work anymore.
Watching Helena and Alex didn’t do a damn thing. Nor did any of the finest subs I’d ever seen in there tonight. Their bodies were tight, had pussy’s as sweet as juicy plums— but I didn’t want to stick my dick in any of them.
My sassy American with the gap in her teeth and will of iron is who I want. I don’t want a submissive anymore. But I do want Jessie to break and admit she’s mine. I sit on a bench under an overhang, watching the lights from the city streak across the water. I might not feel love, pain, or rage but I remember feeling it. What the fuck am I doing here? As soon as the deal I’m working on closes at the end of the week, I’m driving back out to the country and reclaiming her.
“SHORTEN YOUR REINS. You’ve got this Jessie. Now ask her to trot.” A laugh almost escapes me as my hair blows back. Riding Simone almost makes me feel as free as I did when I’m out on the ocean. It only lasts moments before my frozen heart remembers I’m a dead woman walking.
Christos took everything from me…even the premise of life. I’m a breathing corpse. Knowing he probably hurt Yaya, Andre, and broke my parents’ heart after he destroyed me…no. No—there’s no way I could ever let him put his hands on me. But I also know there’s no stopping it.
It’s inevitable. El Diablo always gets what he wants and what he wants seems to be me. But he’s been gone weeks. I tried to escape. Late one night. I was a fool for thinking the lack of locks and people meant he didn’t have security. I didn’t make it twenty feet before the armed guard came out of the shadows to block my path.
“You can’t stop me without using that gun at your hip.” I had taunted. “And he can’t have me if I’m dead.”
“I don’t need a gun to stop you. I’ll just use this. But I warn you—it’ll hurt.”
The guard I saw weeks ago, held up a taser. I shivered and started walking backwards. He chuckled, blending back in with the night.
I’ve been hurt enough already. Besides, I was scared. I didn’t know the man or what he was capable of. I haven’t seen him since that night and I choose to stay near the barn, being close to the animals helps me.
With Christos gone and Mrs. Fitz keeping to herself or Facetiming her s
on…I’ve been able to pretend I’m on a sort of vacation instead of living out a life sentence. I train in the home gym, swim laps in the indoor heated pool, stretch my body as much as I can. Mrs. Fitz thinks I’m vain, but I’m not exercising for that. Keeping my body busy, keeps my mind busy and off thoughts of everything I’ve lost. At night, I take the astronomy book outside and sit with my back against an old oak tree teaching Ollie and the ponies about the stars.
Will, the barn manager, doesn’t talk much. But when he saw me sitting by Simone’s stall day after day…he slowly warmed up to me. After he sees after the horses, he’s been teaching me to ride. I’m naturally athletic and picked it up quick. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that I trust Simone. The huge horse is the only thing I can trust.
“That’s all for today.”
“But I just got on.”
“I just got a text. He’s on his way back…. almost here. It’s best he doesn’t see you on a horse, eh?”
My throat thickens, even the smallest pleasure I’ve been able to find for myself—he somehow manages to take away. Panic fills me. I have no doubt he’ll want me tonight. He put too much effort into capturing me I know it’s time for the devil to collect his due.
“Help me. Please Will.”
But he ignores my pleas as he leads Simone back into the stables. My eyes search every direction, frantically. I’m physically strong again. I could run. Sneaking a glance towards the barn doors and one at the house, I walk slowly towards the garage. The kitchen is on the other side of the house. I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. Christos surely must have a fleet of cars and if I’m lucky keys or fob keys might be laying around.
The huge bay is open. I walk past a few fancy cars trying to find the plainest one. Something that would blend in. An old Mercedes might work. I press my face to the glass, peering in. “Ah, I knew you missed me, eh? Did you see me drive in and decide to run to meet your master?” His hot breath lands on my neck. He boldly presses me forward. I’m trapped between the cold metal car and his hot steel rod as it pokes against my bottom.
