No one can hurt her now … except for me … because I am her master now.
What have I done?
3
Marcus
She cleans my house like a proper housemaid. Not because I demand that she does, but because she likes to do it. So I let her. I even gave her a sheet with tasks so she’ll have some work to do. And I must say, she’s very diligent.
It is sinful, the way I watch her work.
She meticulously cooks pancakes for me, taking extra care they are round and all the same size. How she arranges the clump of butter on top with squinted eyes to make sure it’s lying in the center. How she drizzles the syrup on top like it’s an artwork she has to create.
And she does it all for me.
In order to please me, she strives for perfection.
And it makes me wild with desire.
I don’t want these feelings that lurk beneath the surface. My cock twitching in my pants, telling me how good it feels to have someone take care of me. To have someone so utterly devoted to making me happy. It does something to a man.
I’ve always had a weakness for willing girls. If they spread their legs for me, I yield. I love it when they surrender. But this girl … she’s something different.
Something I shouldn’t touch.
Yet I want nothing more when she walks to me with that sparkle in her eyes and that pretty smile of hers, carrying a plate filled with pancakes just for me. It’s as if she knows she’s teasing me with that perfect submission of hers.
Her eyes … they haunt me. Whenever she looks at me, it feels as though she craves my recognition. As if she’s never been given enough.
Which is exactly why I shouldn’t give it to her.
Just two days. Two days and I’m already a fucking melting puddle for her obedience.
I must rein these temptations in, quickly, before I succumb to them. But the only way to properly make sure it’s taken away is to teach her not to care so much about what her master, or even other people, think of her. To make her realize she is her own person and not just a tool for another to use.
But God … it is so fucking tempting.
To use her … for my every goddamn soul-sucking desire.
Especially when she places the plate down in front of me and her breasts peek out above the dress as she says, “For you, Master.”
Those words.
Fuck. Me.
I don’t fucking dare look her in the eyes. Not because I’m afraid for myself, but because I’m afraid of what it’ll do to her. What I will do to her.
So I frown and stare at my plate, saying, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Master. I hope you enjoy.”
I pick up my fork and knife and cut out a piece. “I’m sure I will, but please, make yourself some too.”
She licks her lips and leans back. “But these are only for Masters.”
“And I am telling you now. You will eat it too.”
“Yes, Master.” She bows. “I’m sorry for defying you.”
I slam my fork on the table. “Enough. Stop apologizing. Now, make yourself some breakfast and enjoy it.”
“Yes, Master, I will.”
She smiles and nods, and then scurries back to the kitchen to prepare some pancakes for herself. I shouted at her, yet she didn’t even flinch. All she could do was smile, as if all she knows is how to make me happy again. Agreeing with me is the only thing she can do. Not because she wants to, but because she was trained to.
She’ll never stop wanting to please me.
I hope I have the strength to control myself.
***
Ava
I spend the days exploring his home, but it feels so surreal.
How can Master let me walk around so freely?
Does he trust me this much?
I even have my own room. My very own bedroom, complete with a bed, desk, chair, and a closet filled with clothes. I’ve never had my own closet before … in my old home, we used to get the hand-me-downs from the women who visited my Master as well as rags. We wore mostly outdated, dirty clothes that we’d wash until they were somewhat clean, but the spots never went away.
But these clothes are brand new, and they smell so good. I bury my nose in one of the black dresses that hangs on a hook. They look lovely, too good to be true. But I remember my new Master specifically saying they were mine and I could put them on whenever I wished.
He told me many things.
I am his now, and with that comes certain responsibilities, like cleaning his house, making sure everything is prim and proper, and assisting him with anything he asks me to. Cooking is also part of my daily chores, as he explained by using a roster with times and checkmarks on it. It now hangs on the wall as a reminder of my purpose here.
I finally have a purpose … besides pleasing my Master.
I haven’t heard him speak a single word about this yet.
Truly pleasing him … no matter how many times I look at him or ask him if this is all he needs, he will not ask me for more. My previous Master demanded that I be there every night, dressed in specific outfits—but not Master Marcus. He has not requested my presence since I came here, two days ago.
It makes me question whether I’m doing my job right.
I should not hesitate when it comes to my Master, but I am always worried whether he is pleased. It is what a girl like me should do … her Master always comes first.
However, tonight I will stop by his room to pick up his dirty laundry so I can wash it and maybe then he will finally ask me to be truly his.
So with the black dress in my hand, I walk to the mirror and hold it in front of me, checking if it will fit. It’s the perfect size, small enough to cover my skin and bones. I don’t have many curves, but this dress will hide my shortcomings well.
As I put it on, I can’t help but let my eyes wander across my body. The scars and dark marks that cover my skin have all but disappeared. It almost looks like they’ve sunk deeper into my flesh. I don’t dare look at the fresh lashes and marks on my back. They are still too painful, and sometimes, I worry that if I move too much, they will break open and bloody my clothes. It would be a crime. I’d be lashed again if I bled on my clothes if it were up to my old Master. So I have to make sure I don’t crack open any of the scabs as I pull down the dress.
Only perfection is good enough for my Master.
I gaze at myself in the mirror and put up a smile. It has never come this easily as it has now.
After taking a deep breath, I push the button on the side of the door, which then opens sideways. I still get a little spooked whenever I see it slide automatically, but it sure beats having to push open doors with a cart full of dirty laundry all the time.
I grab one of the empty baskets from the laundry room and make my way through the narrow corridors of his home. There are so many doors; I still hardly know what’s behind each one, but I’m trying to memorize as best as I can so I won’t bother him unless I need to.
One leads to his study, another to the fitness room, one to the walk-in-closet, and another where all the cleaning supplies are; there are two separate bathrooms, plus two toilets, and then there’s the upper left one that leads to his office. To the right is his bedroom, and then there are a couple of doors which I haven’t opened yet.
I don’t dare open anything without his permission.
When I reach his room, I suck in a breath and hesitate to knock on the door. The door is slightly ajar but not closed. What if he’s asleep? I don’t want to wake him. But he could be studying too or reading a book, in which case I don’t want to bother him. But if he wakes up with a mess around him or if he realizes I didn’t come to clean it up, he might be mad, and I don’t want that.
So I decide to peek into the room before I enter.
He’s lying on his bed, his eyes closed, bare-chested muscles tensing. However, his face is contorted and he’s making hissing sounds, biting his lip. So I look closer because I’m worr
ied, only to find his hands are in his pants, which are tented to the limit.
My eyes widen.
That’s when his widen too.
One second is all it takes to notice him. And he’s noticed me.
In shock, I drop the basket, unsure of what I’m seeing. If I should be seeing this.
Oh God, why did I peek into his room?
He stops immediately and leans up against his bedrest, further emphasizing the thick muscles around his abdomen and torso. He gazes at me. I shouldn’t be here.
I pick up the basket. “I’m sorry, Master.”
He stands up, revealing his erection even more. “No, wait.”
“I shouldn’t have come into your room.” I turn around and storm off.
His footsteps follow behind me as I go into the laundry room and face the wall, trying not to make a sound so he won’t notice me. The tumbling of the clothes inside the washing machine makes a lot of noise, and I hope it will mask my presence. I hope he walks past the door and forgets about me and what just happened. In fact, I wish I could banish what I just saw from my head.
Not because it was sinful but because it did something to me.
Inside my body. I could feel it. A spark, right there …
I look down at my legs and close them immediately, pulling down my dress as far as I can.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about this. It’s wrong. He is my Master, and he does what he wants to. I shouldn’t have bothered him.
“Ava.” His voice freezes me.
His hand touches my shoulder, and I flinch.
My immediate instinct is to drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness, but I know he doesn’t want that, so I won’t. “I’m sorry, Master,” I say. “I apologize for the intrusion.”
“It’s okay,” he says with a soft voice. “I’m not angry.”
“But I didn’t knock. I shouldn’t have entered your room without your permission.” The washing machine’s rumbling almost drowns out my voice.
“It happens,” he says, grabbing my shoulders and turning me around. “Don’t run from me.”
I look down at the floor. “I didn’t know what else to do. I saw something I shouldn’t have, and I interrupted you.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“But—”
He tips up my chin with just one, decisive finger. “You don’t need to apologize for seeing what you saw. If I wanted complete privacy, I should’ve closed my door. It’s my fault.”
“I will act as if nothing happened, Master,” I say, nodding.
“No … I know what you saw …” He smiles gently and steps a little closer. “I know it’s hard to forget such a thing.”
“I will do my best, Master.”
“Tell me what you saw.”
I bite my lip. “Well … you had your hands in your pants and you were …”
“Yes …” He leans forward. “I was pleasuring myself.”
I swallow away the lump in my throat as I look up into his smoldering eyes. “And you have every right to do so whenever you want.”
“Don’t you ever feel tempted?” he asks.
“What?” I step back until I touch the wall.
“You must’ve felt something when you saw me,” he says, coming even closer until I have nowhere else to go.
“I … I …”
He places his hand beside me on the wall. “You don’t have to be frightened. It’s normal to feel … excited. It’s in our very nature to want and desire.”
He’s so close I can smell his breath, which oozes alcohol. “I’ve never desired anything, Master.”
“Really? Or is that just something you feel like you must say? Something you were trained to do?” His free hand grabs my arm and he pushes himself against me.
“I … don’t know.”
His forehead leans against mine, and the inevitable friction that it causes ignites a flame in me that I simply can’t ignore. I know it’s there … but to act on it is a whole different thing.
He searches my eyes for something. “I know you felt something, Ava. I could see it in your eyes while you watched me.” His free hand inches up my arm and to my face, cupping my jaw softly in the palm of his hand. He’s so gentle, I could almost lean into his touch. Almost.
“Pleasure and enjoyment are a normal thing to experience,” he says calmly. “Like eating and breathing. Can’t you feel it?”
I nod slowly. “Yes, but only if my Master wants me to.”
He narrows his eyes. “I want you to tell me what you feel. What you thought when you saw me.”
“I felt … warm.”
“Did it make you want to come closer to me?” he asks, licking his lips.
“Yes,” I say in a single breath.
“What do you feel now then?” he murmurs, his mouth so close to mine I could almost taste him.
“Whatever it is that you want me to feel,” I mutter while closing my eyes.
“I don’t decide what you feel. You do. And I want you to tell me what you feel when I touch you like this.”
I know what it is that he wants from me now. My former Master was very brazen and straightforward with his needs, but my new Master is unlike anyone else. He’s complicated … and difficult to understand. But from the way his body arches toward mine and his hands briefly skim my face, I can tell that he wants to be close to me. Maybe that’s why he asks me if I want to do the same. But why would he care? I live for him. I am his to do with whatever he desires. He needn’t worry about my emotions or thoughts. They are of zero importance compared to his wishes because that is what I was trained to believe. So why would he attempt to change it?
“I feel … good,” I mutter.
It’s not often that I truly express how I feel, and the words don’t easily come to my mind. But it does feel very good to have him caress me so softly.
“Do you want to touch me?” he murmurs between ragged breaths.
“I want to do anything to please you, Master.”
He sucks in a breath as if he’s desperate, and then he grabs my face with both hands and covers his mouth with mine.
4
Ava
A kiss.
I’ve had so many before. Brief, simple ones, meant only as a device to preserve lust.
This kiss is anything but simple.
It fills me with warmth and arousal, my body freezing and turning into a puddle all at the same time. His lips numb mine with an unprecedented affection. An emotion I never knew existed and have never felt before. His kiss is so full of raw need; it literally takes my breath away.
His hands grip my arms and turn me toward the washer, and he lifts me up to sit on top of the shaking machine. His mouth never breaks contact, his lips so enticing I let go at the moment. I’ve never felt this feeling before … this wantonness growing inside my heart.
A kiss only ever served to increase my wetness, to make it easier for my Master to penetrate me, but now, something more than just that wetness occurs. I am not just being prepared for the taking. My heart is being unshackled.
His hand moves from my arm to my breast and he squeezes lightly, my senses shooting bolts of pleasure through my body. A moan escapes his lips as I let his need consume me. His body presses against mine as he kisses me deeply, his pants tenting against my leg.
But then, out of nowhere, he stops.
His mouth pulls away from mine, leaving me with plump, red, tingling lips. As I open my eyes to see what’s wrong, he blinks a couple of times, his eyes flashing down toward his hard-on, and then steps back.
“Shit,” he mumbles. He lets go of me and steps backward.
“Master, what’s wrong?” I ask as he keeps backing away from me. It’s as if he’s seen a ghost.
“I can’t,” he says.
Shaking his head, he turns around and leaves the room.
I’m still sitting on top of the shaking washing machine, my body fluttering with a need I didn’t
know I had.
The first thought that crosses my mind is that it was me. But then I remember that he came to me, kissed me, and got a hard-on from touching me. I didn’t do any of those things. But why was I not able to please him? I wish I knew what was bothering him but asking now seems out of place.
So I let out a sigh, slide off the washing machine, and grab the basket again so I can continue where I left off. However, that kiss remains firmly lodged in my mind as I do my chores. They’ve never been more fun.
***
Marcus
A few days later, evening
I instructed Ava to stay away from the office, as I’m having a meeting with the company. I don’t want her to interfere because she could put us both at risk. She doesn’t know who’s coming, and it’s better if it stays that way. Just having everyone here is already creating a tense atmosphere.
Top-level handpicked personal guards of all three guests station themselves at the doors and outside the building, which is conveniently hidden in a dense forest so no one in the outside world knows what goes on in here.
Three men, myself included, and a woman sit at a table, holding all the power in the world in the palm of their hands. That’s why it’s of the utmost importance no one knows.
“So how is business, Marcus?” Amir, head of the Middle Eastern division, brushes his beard softly.
“It’s going well, Amir, thank you.”
“Caught any trespassers lately?” The sparkle in his eyes tells me he’s fishing for clues.
I clear my throat. “Ah, you know, the usual.” There’s a reason for my vague answer.
The Tribunal never exposes its workings because then the individual divisions would try to circumvent the rules the Tribunal upholds for each of them. And he knows that. Not that he won’t try to find out regardless.
Ultimate Sin Page 4
