by Kitty Thomas
She’d gone back to looking at the floor because it felt safer than trying to figure out what was going on behind those stormy blue eyes of his. She knew he was watching her, assessing, cataloging, trying to figure something out. She could feel his stare on her.
“Is there someone you’d like to call?”
Her eyes snapped up. “Call?”
He took a cell phone out of his pocket. “Surely you have family or friends back home you’d like to speak to. Someone you miss?”
Why was he doing this? Why was he dangling these carrots? “Please don’t do this . . .” She just wanted him to be however he was going to be. No games. No pretending. If she let herself believe in this and then he took it away . . .
He arched a brow. “Don’t do what? Don’t let you call someone? Don’t be decent? Tell me what you want, in plain speech. I don’t need a title this second. Just tell me exactly what it is that you most want right now.”
She took a breath. “Just be real. This sl . . . I . . . I can’t do this again. I can’t believe in something that isn’t a nightmare only to have it torn away again. Please, please, just be real. Keep me in the dungeon or beat me or whatever it is you want, but don’t pretend to be kind.”
The look he gave her was so far outside her recent experience that she didn’t know how to categorize it, at least not on any face but her own on the few occasions she’d made the mistake of looking at her reflection in Lucas’s dungeon. She shut her eyes tight, to block out the look he gave her.
Grace startled when hands closed around her arms.
“Look at me,” he commanded.
She opened her eyes. His expression was fierce, but it didn’t seem angry. Not like what she’d seen that morning when he’d stepped into the dungeon. The thought came over her suddenly that maybe he hadn’t been angry at her at all. Maybe it was something else.
“I am real. This room is real. The breakfast you just ate is real. None of this is a game or a trick. I know you don’t believe that yet, but you will believe it in time. Now do you have someone you want to call?”
“No, Master.”
He let go of her and sat on the sofa. “You have no family or friends?”
“My brother is a drug addict. I worked a lot of hours, so I just had one good friend, Lainey.”
“So call her.”
“She tried to convince me not to come here. I couldn’t . . . I can’t . . .”
He nodded. “You don’t have to explain. I think I understand. How about the Internet? Could you email or instant message her?”
She thought about it. “I think so.”
Asher stood and extended a hand. She tentatively put her hand in his and allowed herself to be led across the hall. His room was opposite from hers in every way. Whereas hers was bright and colorful and inviting, his was dark and intimidating.
The walls were done in rich, dark wood paneling. Heavy drapes blocked the light from the windows. He crossed the floor and pulled the thick fabric back to let the sunlight in. A king-sized bed stood against one wall. The headboard consisted of metal bars, perfect for chaining someone down.
In another life, standing in a room with such an attractive, dominant force of a man, she would have fantasized about him chaining her to the bed and having his wicked way with her. Now the thought scared her. She’d experienced too much real pain and fear to see it as a sexual game anymore. And yet her body still perversely responded.
There was a small desk on one side of the room and a laptop. He sat in the leather, swivel chair and booted up the computer. Then he pulled up a folder. “If your messenger service isn’t one of these, you can go online and download it. I’ll give you some privacy to chat or email. Come join me when you’re finished.”
Giving her privacy didn’t mean leaving the room, only that he wasn’t going to hover over her while she typed. Instead, he propped some pillows against the headboard and turned on a flat-screen television to a sports channel.
He seemed so normal. What if she just tried to believe in him? For a little while. The worst that could happen is he’d take everything away. Maybe she should embrace whatever small kindnesses he offered, then if they ended, she wouldn’t have to berate herself for wasting it all waiting for that other shoe.
Finally, she settled in the chair and searched through the folder to find the link to her messenger service. Lainey worked in a small advertising office that didn’t monitor Internet activity as much as some of the larger firms. She usually kept her messenger on all day.
Grace entered her screen name and password, shocked she could still remember it. She hadn’t been on a full minute when Lainey messaged her.
StrawberryLaine: Grace? Is that you? Are you okay?
She took a deep breath. This was exactly why she couldn’t do this on the phone. The second those words came out of Lainey’s mouth, Grace would have broken down in sobbing fits.
Gracie343: It’s me. I’m fine.
StrawberryLaine: I haven’t heard anything from you for almost a year! I went to the police, and when I told them about the island they thought I was insane. Making it up. They’d never heard of it, of course. And I didn’t know exactly where it was so I couldn’t point them in the right direction. I didn’t know if your plane crashed or you were murdered or . . .
Gracie343: I’m okay.
She stared at the screen for a long time. She’d have to tell her the truth, or some version of it. After all that worrying and mourning, Lainey deserved some answers. Grace waited for more questions or accusations. Maybe she’d been called away for a moment. She was at work after all. Another few minutes passed before Lainey finally replied.
StrawberryLaine: Well, what happened? This better be good. I was so worried. If you just decided to lose track of time and . . .
Gracie343: Lucas was a bad guy. You were right.
StrawberryLaine: Oh. Oh my God. Are you still with him? How did you get to a computer?
Gracie343: He sold me. Asher, my new master, let me use the computer.
StrawberryLaine: Has he hurt you? The new one?
Gracie343: Not yet.
StrawberryLaine: How long have you been with him?
Gracie343: A few hours.
StrawberryLaine: Do you want to come home?
Gracie343: He won’t let me go.
StrawberryLaine: We could find a way . . . The police didn’t believe me before, but I can give them the chat logs.
Gracie343: No.
StrawberryLaine: What do you mean, no?
Gracie343: I’m different, Lainey. I can’t . . . There’s no . . . If Asher is real, maybe this is the best place for me.
StrawberryLaine: What do you mean if he’s real?
Gracie343: Just leave it alone, okay?
StrawberryLaine: I’m sure there’s a way we can track your location just from being on the Internet.
Gracie343: I need to go. I’ll talk to you later if he lets me.
StrawberryLaine: Grace, wait.
StrawberryLaine is typing . . .
She logged out before Lainey could say more. Grace clicked the laptop lid shut and moved over to the bed. She had no idea what he wanted. Stand? Kneel? Get in the bed?
“That didn’t take very long.”
She just stood, staring down at her hands. An awkward silence descended between them, and then he spoke again.
“I know you’ve been abused in every way imaginable and that right now you don’t know if more is coming, but when I do something nice for you, I expect manners. I expect you to say thank you.”
“Thank you, Master.” She looked up when she heard his hand patting the bed. He’d pulled back the covers beside him.
“Undress and get in.”
She couldn’t stop the tears that started to move down her cheeks.
“Grace.”
She looked up.
“I’m not going to harm you, but the sooner we at least partly cross this bridge, the easier things will go. I’ve been thinking wh
ile you were on the computer. I don’t know if my way of dealing with this is the best way, considering your history. But it’s the way I’ve decided to proceed. I know perhaps it’s selfish. But I bought you for many reasons. I want a sexual companion. If I were just some guy on the street who wanted to date you, then perhaps this would be evil and insensitive. But I’m not just some guy. I’m your master.”
So maybe he hadn’t bought her just to clean his house or cook his meals. Grace didn’t know how she felt about that, but she did know she was getting stupid. He was patiently waiting. Not yelling or screaming or grabbing her and throwing her down. He was waiting for her to make the choice to come to him. But that only made it harder and made her feel more responsible somehow for whatever happened next. Irrational though that was.
With Lucas there had been none of that. There had been demands and either immediate obedience or swift and painful punishment. Sometimes punishment had included missed meals and sensory deprivation. A few hours away from that, and she was already hesitating because so far hesitating hadn’t earned her pain.
“Don’t force me to punish you on your first day.”
Those words made her blood run cold. So like what Lucas had told her when she’d hesitated for a moment about giving him the ring. Asher was the same. Of course he was the same. Why would she believe he wasn’t the same?
But he hadn’t punished her yet. Maybe he wouldn’t look for imaginary reasons to beat her. If she just gave him whatever he wanted, maybe she could delay punishments for a while. After all, there were differences between them, weren’t there? Lucas had burned away all her memories in the first twenty minutes and locked her in a cell. Asher had given her nice clothes, a warm shower, a good breakfast, and contact with her only friend in the outside world. But Lucas had built her trust for a year online . . .
“Last chance, Grace.”
His voice had gone down a register, sounding almost like it had in Lucas’s dungeon. There was that scary edge that compelled her to obedience. It worked again now as she peeled the clothing off and climbed into bed.
Asher lay back against the pillows. “Straddle me, kitten. I don’t want you on your back until it heals.”
She could feel his erection straining against his pajamas into the space between her legs as she obeyed the order. One of his arms wrapped around her waist, just missing the marks Lucas had left, and the other gently grasped the back of her neck, pulling her to him. When his lips pressed against hers, his tongue demanding entrance into her mouth, she gasped.
Inexplicably, her body responded to him. She could feel the wetness building. After everything that had transpired with Lucas, no part of her should want this. Even though Asher hadn’t hurt her, it was . . . perverse. She couldn’t even tell him no. She didn’t even have the right to tell him no. And if she did, surely he wouldn’t listen. It would be bad. So why did she have to physically stop herself from rubbing against him?
She wasn’t able to contain the tears that started until they became pained sobs. Asher stopped, pulling back from her, and she tensed, waiting for pain to be delivered. How dare she interrupt his sexual experience with her trauma.
“Grace, look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered open.
“Tell me exactly why you’re crying. And don’t be cute about it. I know why, but I want to know exactly why. I need to know everything that triggers you. I need to be completely inside your head. And if you even think about lying to me, I will know.”
She shuddered at that last part. Every time he wanted her to tell him something, he said he would know if she lied. And she believed him. It was too big of a risk not to believe him. And she didn’t know what to do with this because Lucas had never made these kinds of demands. He’d just wanted to use her and wanted her to obey. He couldn’t have cared less what she was thinking. She knew even now that Asher would own her fully because he was willing to make demands to get inside her thoughts, and she was too afraid not to give him everything he wanted to know. If he turned on her, it would be worse than it had been with Lucas.
She took a breath. “This sl . . .” She faltered under the sharp look he gave her. It was so hard to speak about herself in first person with him. He couldn’t begin to imagine how hard. Lainey was the only person with whom it had been easy. But with a man who had complete power over her, it felt foreign and odd. And uncomfortable. “––I mean I . . . I’m wrong. I’m not just broken. I’m wrong. Things that shouldn’t turn me on, turn me on. Even when Lucas punished her . . . me . . . sometimes, I got wet. And now . . . I don’t know you. And I’m . . . responding. It’s wrong.”
He pulled her down against his chest, stroking her hair. “Lucas used your needs against you. But you aren’t wrong. There is nothing wrong with you or how you’re wired. The only thing wrong is how Lucas used it to hurt you. I’m glad your body wants me. It’s okay to just give me your body and your obedience for now. The rest will come in time.”
He slid a hand between her legs to feel her wetness. “This, I can work with.”
She blushed when her hips pressed harder against his probing fingers.
Suddenly Asher wasn’t just theoretically attractive. Though she struggled with an uncountable number of conflicting thoughts and feelings, she couldn’t deny that she did find him appealing, and her body agreed. She was still sure everything would be ripped away and something bad would happen any minute. But for now, for just this one moment, she was so grateful to be feeling something pleasant, that she was willing to surrender to it and try not to think too hard about anything coming after.
Like the sex, what would happen when he was inside her? Was it going to feel like rape? Like Lucas? She squeezed her eyes shut, as if by doing so she could shut out the noise in her brain. At the same time, Asher started stroking the folds of her sex, dipping inside her and using her moisture to massage her already swollen clit.
Her breathing came heavier and faster as all those awful thoughts blanked out, and then a minute later, she came. He moved his hand out from between her legs and let her collapse on top of him.
Oh God, oh God, oh God. The yelling in her mind kept getting louder. Was she in trouble for that? He hadn’t given her permission. Lucas almost never let her come, except in circumstances where he felt making her come would be more awful and shameful than not letting her. Surely this wasn’t acceptable. She should have asked. But it had happened so fast, too fast to think.
“It’s been a long time for you, hasn’t it?” he said.
“Yes, Master.”
She didn’t beg this time. Already she was developing a new strategy where Asher was concerned. If he heard her beg every second of every day, he’d become so desensitized to it, that when she actually needed mercy, it wouldn’t penetrate. Maybe it wouldn’t anyway, but if she could hold back and not beg so much, she might have an ace to play later. At least she shouldn’t beg until the moment before he seemed about to do something horrible. Right now they were just laying there, his erection wedged between her legs, hard and large, with only the material of his pajamas barring his entry. And even after the orgasm, she wanted to rub against him.
He was wrong: there was nothing okay about the way she responded to things. Without that weakness, she never would have come to Eleu to begin with. She’d be safe and happy, living a normal life with a normal job in the normal world. Not laying here, helpless to protect herself, hoping her new master could really be decent, that it wasn’t some trick.
She was so exhausted. She was tired from getting such poor sleep and so little nutrition in the dungeon. She was tired from all the fear. She felt like she’d gone non-stop on adrenaline for so long until her ability to produce it had just stopped. She’d been running on fumes, just trying to survive for weeks––if not months. Suddenly everything in her body gave out, and if Asher said anything else, it didn’t slip past the barrier of unconsciousness for her to hear it.
Six
Asher stood in the kitchen, having do
wned his third cup of coffee because it felt too early for alcohol. Perhaps he should amend that rule. After her orgasm, he’d felt the light trembling, as if she was afraid she’d done something wrong. But she was quiet, retreating back into her head.
Which was when he felt like an evil bastard.
The unfortunate reality was that there was no real way to know the best course to take with her. He couldn’t simultaneously try two different methods, and he was still convinced his way was right in the long run. She was his, damn it. And he wasn’t harming her.
He hadn’t fucked her, and wouldn’t have even if she hadn’t fallen asleep on top of him. It was too soon. But it didn’t mean he wouldn’t touch what belonged to him. He’d waited until she’d drifted deeper into sleep and her breathing had evened before slipping from the bed. He’d covered her with the blanket and shut off the light on his way out the door.
His erection was still raging. She thought she was wrong? He was the one who got a hard-on every time she looked up at him with those desperate, brown eyes. Everything in his brain screamed: Prey. Take. Use. He wasn’t exactly proud of it, but there it was. He hadn’t even felt this way with Darcy. And he’d loved Darcy.
Lucas wasn’t the only one who told pretty lies. Asher had been lying to himself since the moment he’d decided he was going to take Grace to atone. He’d been kidding himself thinking he wasn’t ready to move on. He was ready. He hadn’t just wanted a slave who he may or may not bed. He’d wanted a lover, and he’d perhaps selfishly taken one who was too damaged to want that as much as he did. At the same time, he couldn’t deny the fact that selfish intentions or no, he had rescued her from a much worse fate.
