In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part Two (Gods & Monsters Book 2)

by Carmen Jenner

  “We need to go now, Pet. Chances are the theatre security guard has already woken.”

  “Woken?” I frown. “What did you do?”

  “You didn’t think he’d just let me walk right in, did you?”

  I hadn’t thought about anything. Only that my Sir was here, and he’d come for me.

  It’s clear from his expression that Ares is growing impatient with me. “He’ll be fine. A little tired when he wakes, likely with a killer headache, but he’ll live.”

  “You drugged security?”

  He shrugs. “I didn’t kill him.” He slides his hand around my neck, gently stroking the tender flesh that’s likely already bruising. “Come, Pet. Traffic is a bitch, and we still have to find a way to lose your tail.”

  “What tail?” I glance up at him.

  “You didn’t know the FBI have been following you since you broke Officer Torres’s heart?”

  “I didn’t break his heart. It was one time.”

  “It was still one time too many. The night you let Maximus up in my pretty little cunt, it was so fucking hard not to slit his throat.”

  “You can’t kill him, Sir. Please? It was my fault. I begged him to fuck me.”

  “And you will pay for it with a sound beating. You’ll pay for it all—Atticus and Violet too. Every orgasm you took without my permission will earn another red-hot weal on your ass.” He snags my earlobe with his teeth, sending tiny little electric currents through my body. I need him inside me again. Ares’ lips brush the shell of my ear. “When I’m done, you’ll have more stripes than a fucking zebra.”

  It dawns on me that he said, “that night.” He knew I was fucking Max, but how? Was he there? Did he somehow sneak into the apartment? Has he been this close the whole time, and was I just too blind to see it?

  “We need to disappear, now. Leave your shit, and let’s go.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because abductees don’t have time to stop for their bags.”

  “But I’m coming freely.”

  “And the FBI will persecute you for it. We’re traffickers, Pet. You can’t be seen to be willingly accompanying traffickers. That makes you an accessory, and more than that, you’ll no longer be protected by the Victim’s Protection Act.”

  “Then how do we do this?”

  He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. “You take a nap.”

  A humorless laugh escapes me. “What?” Ares pulls a plastic baggie from his pocket. Inside is a wad of cloth. I stare at the offending item. “What is that?”

  He opens the bag and the sickening chemical scent leaches out, wafting on the air between us.

  “Chloroform,” he says, a wicked glint in his eye that I’ve missed so much.

  All the blood drains from my face, and my heart beats so loud I wonder how he can’t hear it. “You weren’t really giving me a choice, were you?”

  “No, Pet. You’re mine. There is no other choice.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t need to dru—”

  Before I can finish my sentence, he covers my mouth with the rag. I hold my breath as I struggle in his arms, but I wasn’t prepared. The chloroform burns my nose, my lungs squeeze painfully, and I can’t help but breathe in through the thick chemical cloud.

  “No,” I murmur against the cloth, attempting to push him away, but my limbs are weak and of little use against my Master. My monster.

  “Shh, Pet. Five more minutes and you’ll be asleep.”

  “Why?” I splutter. He removes the rag, but the drug is already at work. It’s not like in the movies. It takes hold of you slowly, lethargy seeping into every limb, bone-deep. “I would have come with you.”

  “I know.”

  I close my eyes and swallow hard. All I can taste is the sweet chemical. It rolls over my tongue like a treat, though it’s anything but. I struggle, one last attempt to free myself.

  Ares presses a kiss to my temple. His breath is warm against my ear. It sends shivers down my spine. “You’re mine. Don’t fight it, Pet.”

  “I . . . I hate . . . you.”

  He sweeps me up in his big arms, carrying me through the door to my dressing room. I struggle to keep my eyes open, and tuck my head in against his chest. “I know, but you love me more.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Pet

  The scent of coffee wakes me. That, and the whirring of jet turbines. My head aches as I sit up in my seat and look around the small cabin. Everything is white, from the soft leather chairs to the pristine glossy lacquered surfaces of the tables and cabinets, and the carefully coiffed hair of the smiling flight attendant leaning over me.

  “Welcome back, Miss Flynn. Can I offer you a hot towel?” Her hands grip a pair of silver tongs containing a rolled bundle of cloth. In her other hand is a tray with several more towels. A waft of steam rises from it.

  “No.” I shove the towel away, and the flight attendant struggles to hold onto her possessions. I sit up and glare at Ares in the opposite seat. He drugged me! He fucking drugged me.

  His grin shows he’s amused, as always. “Good morning, Pet.”

  “You asshole. What did you do?” I lash out, preparing to strike him, but he grabs my wrist with his iron strength, and it takes me all of ten seconds to submit.

  “Is that any way to treat your Sir?”

  “You drugged me!”

  “I did. I never would have gotten you out of the country, otherwise.”

  I wrench out of his grasp and slide the blind up over the window. It’s dark outside, and I doubt I’d see anything but cloud cover in the daylight anyway. “Where are we going?”

  “What does it matter?”

  I rake my hands through my hair and suppress a scream. “You drive me insane with your inability to answer questions.”

  “Do I, Pet?” He folds his newspaper and tosses it on the seat beside him. “It’s just become abundantly clear that you have been out of my care a little too long, and are in need of a good, hard spanking.”

  My breath hitches, and my heartbeat flies to my throat. I stare at my Sir, gauging the seriousness of his words, and instantly know what’s expected of me.

  I sink to the floor and kneel before him, my back straight, my legs spread, my palms up and my eyes lowered.

  Ares takes a measured breath. “Submission still looks so fucking good on you, Pet.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He leans forward and chucks me on the chin. “That’s my greedy little whore. Tell me Pet, are you wet? Is your cunt aching to be fucked?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Show me.”

  I glance at the hostess coming back with a tray of drinks, and I blush. Ares snaps, “Take off your fucking clothes and present your pussy to me, Pet.”

  With another look at the hostess, I stand and remove my sweater. Then I slide my skirt down over my hips, but I pause when I reach the waistband of my tights. At The Ranch and in my room where I was held, I became accustomed to being naked in front of others, but this feels different, strange.

  “Vivian doesn’t care, little one. This is Texas’s plane, and I assure you, she’s seen much worse. Probably even done worse too.”

  Vivian sets the drinks on the table jutting out from the wall on the opposite side of Ares. She gives an uneasy smile and bows her head. “Will that be all, Sir?”

  “No.” He doesn’t take his eyes off me as he says this. “Stay and watch. Pet has been a bad girl. She’s disobeying orders, and she’s forgotten who is the Dominant and who is the sub here. It won’t do. Stand there while she undresses and let her show you how perfect her little pink cunt is.”

  “Of course, Sir. Whatever you wish.” She nods and folds her hands together, the picture of calm, but her cheeks have flamed red and I can tell she’s as nervous as I am right now.

  “See, Pet? Money buys everything—everything but your submission. You don’t give it freely. You make me take it from you over and over, don’t you?”

  “I-I’m
sorry Sir.”

  “Don’t be sorry. Just strip and present.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I tuck my fingers into the waistband of my tights and panties and attempt to pull them free at once, but his hand lashes out and grabs my arm, drawing me closer. “Tights first, then show me your panties. I wanna see you soaking the fabric.”

  I nod and slip out of my tights, discarding them on the floor, then I turn and brace my hands against the headrest of my seat, bending over so he can see what he does to me.

  I don’t look at Vivian. In my head, she’s not even here. Ares strokes my panties. They stick to my wet sex. I arch my back and lean into his caress with a moan.

  “Take them off, Pet.”

  “Yes, Sir.” I hook my fingers in the elastic and wiggle my hips as I slide the panties over my ass and down my legs, then discard them on the floor and step out of them. I bend at the waist, like all bad girls do, spread my thighs, and offer myself up to my Sir’s inspection.

  “Oh, you can do better than that, Pet. You’re a dancer, after all. Bend lower. I want your head between your knees.

  “I’m a ballerina, not a contortionist,” I murmur.

  A firm hand comes down on my ass. The sound rings through the small cabin, and a sting comes a beat later. The stewardess actually squeaks. I suppress my laughter, because I’d be punished for that too.

  “I don’t like your tone.” Ares slides his palm up the inside of my thigh, but doesn’t touch my pussy. Waiting is its own form of punishment. “Now, do as I say, and show your cunt to me and this nice stewardess here.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I lower my head between my knees, ignoring the protests in my back and hamstrings. I’ve been training again, but it’s not enough. Ares and ballet both conditioned my body for pain and endurance, however I still need to take my time to avoid injury. It seems time is one thing I don’t have. I bend double and jut out my ass, keeping my spine and head bowed low.

  “Doesn’t she have the most perfect pussy, Vivian?”

  “Yes, Sir. It’s lovely.”

  “Leave us.” Ares’ command sends my nerves into overdrive.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  Upside-down, I watch her scurry away in the direction of the cockpit.

  He chuckles, low and devious. “I think we frightened her.”

  “You frighten lots of people, Sir.”

  “I do, don’t I? Do you know why that is?”

  Because you’re scary as fuck? “No, Sir.”

  “Because I . . .” He leans forward and runs his nose along the line of my sex. “. . . am not afraid to take what I want.”

  Without warning, he plunges his fingers deep inside me. I gasp. It hurts, but it also stokes a fire in my belly that can’t be doused, one that burned long and hot all of these weeks without him. One that I fear will never burn out, or be smothered or snuffed. He made sure of that the very first time he touched me.

  “Mmm, I’ve missed you, Pet.”

  “I’ve missed you too, Sir.”

  He stands. I pitch forward, almost losing my footing, but he just shoves me into the soft leather in front of me with his large hand splayed at the base of my spine. I press my cheek into the cool surface as he unfastens his fly, spits on his cock, and slams it inside.

  I cry out. One hand is sealed over my mouth. His other hand grabs the nape of my neck tightly as he thrusts in and out with brutal force.

  Breath saws in and out of my lungs, but with his hand covering my mouth and nose, and my face pushed roughly against the chair, I can’t get enough. I shake, pleasure and pain spiking inside me and reaching a heady crescendo no doubt made all the more intense because of the breath play.

  I’m dizzy, nearing orgasm, and right on the cusp of passing out. He removes his hand from my neck, and a beat later, his wet finger circles my ass. I still, or I go as still as one can when your legs are threatening to give out from under you. He pushes into the tight, puckered flesh with his thumb. I moan against his hand, darting out my tongue to lick him, taste him. He tastes like my Sir; he tastes like me. I smile against his hand. As angry as I was that he drugged me, I can’t find it in me to be mad, because I want this. I want to give up control to him.

  And I never want him to leave me again.

  I want to always be his little one, his Pet, and if that means giving up my freedom, then he can take it. I don’t want it.

  Like a tsunami tide, my orgasm threatens to overpower me. His rough hands, his cock and fingers inside me, his spicy cologne—all of it is too much. “Please, Sir. Please may I come?”

  His dark chuckle presses down on the air around us. It wraps me up, engulfs me like a shroud. God, how I love that sound. “Yes, my greedy little whore. Come on my cock. Come with my fingers in your ass, and show your Sir how much you missed him.”

  As if his words were caresses, I come, clenching hard around him. I bite down on his fingers as I ride out the rest of my orgasm.

  Sir pivots his hips, a low moan reverberating around the cabin. He comes, hard, and the brutal force drives me closer to another orgasm. I rock my hips against his and squeeze my inner muscles. He gasps. “Fuck, Pet. Your cunt is so fucking hot, so tight. So mine.”

  He falls heavily against my back, pushing me deeper into the soft armchair. His hands dig into my hips so hard I know I’ll have bruises, his bruises, his brand. His.

  I milk him for every last drop of creamy cum. Ares’ hands move from my hips to band around my waist, and he pulls me up, his cock still buried deep inside me, and positions us both in his chair. His hands trace the swell of my breasts and thighs, the crevice between them until finally his fingers find where we are joined, sticky and wet, and he caresses the oversensitive flesh. His, mine—it’s all the same, because I am nothing without my master and he is nothing without his Pet.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Pet

  The next few hours are spent snacking, dozing, and kneeling at his feet where I belong.

  When the pilot announces that we’re on schedule for an eight thirty p.m. landing, and that the weather in San Miguel de Allende is a mild 58°F, I glance up at Ares. “Mexico?”

  “It’s the safest place to get lost.”

  “I’ve never been.” I frown. “Or if I have, I don’t remember. Did you grow up in Mexico?”

  “I did.”

  “Where? When did you leave?” His face shuts down, and I know I won’t get the answers I seek. Resigned, I say, “Enough questions, I know.”

  “I grew up in Mexico City, Pet. For the most part. Then we moved around until my father found somewhere that stuck.”

  My mouth gapes. I can’t believe Ares just shared a tiny little snippet of his life with me. Granted it wasn’t much, but at least he didn’t shut me down altogether. I open my mouth, greedy for more, but he levels me with an impatient look, as if maybe he’s regretting telling me anything at all.

  “You need to get dressed, and cleaned up. Your clothing is laid out on the bed.”

  “There’s a bed on this plane? Why the hell didn’t we use it?”

  “Because I wanted your humiliation, Pet.” Sorry I asked. “Besides, the next bed I have you in will be my own.”

  My brows knit together, and I swallow hard. I don’t know what to make of that. I’m not used to sweetness from Ares. I’m used to insults and sound lashings and more pleasure and pain than I can fathom. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all. I stand and make my way to the room at the back of the plane.

  I enter the small suite. The bed is large for such a cramped space, and the bathroom is no bigger than the average amenities you use when flying coach, but it is a lot nicer. I clean myself up using the basin and a stack of neatly rolled washcloths.

  When I exit the bathroom, I pick the floral dress off the bed, and put it on. It’s pretty, made from sheer fabric with a bohemian vibe, and it has a long thigh split, and three-quarter-length sleeves with smocked cuffs. It’s beautiful, but not something I would eve
r pick out for myself.

  I glance at my hair, which has come lose from its bun thanks to Ares’ rough treatment, and I decide to leave it disheveled. My cheeks are pink, my eyes glassy, and my pupils dilated. A different woman stands in the mirror than the one I saw this morning. That girl was miserable, starved of her Master. Her purpose was going through life just wishing for death, but this girl? She’s different, new, and brave, and perhaps even a little bit more in control.

  Ares fills the space behind me and presses a tender kiss to my nape, sliding the sleeves off my shoulder and tugging my dress down until the fabric protests with a sharp sound of the stitching snapping. My breasts are exposed, and I stare at them in the mirror as he slips his fingers into my bun and yanks my head back. “What have you been doing in here all this time, little one?”

  “I-I freshened up just as you ordered, Sir.”

  “And the rest of the time?”

  “I was making myself presentable.”

  “Presentable?” He arches one perfect black brow. Where is he going with this? “Then why aren’t you presenting?”

  He steps back and allows me to move in the tiny space. I fall to my knees with as much grace as I can muster with this dress. It billows out around the floor. With the thigh slit, my legs are exposed right to my bare pussy.

  Ares watches me like prey. I’ve never been more willing to be the hunted. To be caught between the wickedly sharp teeth of a predator.

  He sits on the bed and points to his knee. I scramble closer, practically throwing myself over his lap because I have missed his maintenance as much as his disciplinary spankings.

  Ares lifts the skirt over my hips, exposing my bare bottom. His hand smooths circles over my flesh. He delivers a series of small smacks all over it. They don’t hurt, but what he’s about to do next will, no doubt. He only tenderizes my rump when he intends to play rough.