Rennie examined her.
“Stop staring,” she said.
He pulled money from his wallet. “I shall walk down the street. If you change your mind follow me. Do not attempt to catch up. Stay behind me a respectful distance. I’ll acknowledge you when I’m ready.”
“Thank you.” She forced a smile. “For the coffee, but that’s as far as it goes.”
Rennie kissed her hand before walking away. Her belly did a hot flip.
She was doomed and she knew it. No matter the danger signs, no matter the moral wrongness of the whole thing, there was no turning back.
Cameron saw him outside the café. He was already a good ways down the cobblestone street. She called out to him. He either didn’t hear or he was choosing to ignore.
She kicked off her sandals for better traction.
“Rennie,” she said when she was just a few feet behind, her breasts rising and falling from the exertion.
Presently he crossed the street. She moved into his shadow remembering his injunction to stay respectfully behind. He walked another block or so. Cameron drew stares, barefoot as she was, clearly subservient. Her pussy was hot and wet and slick by the time they reached the red sports car.
Her knees nearly gave way when he opened the trunk.
“Suit yourself,” he said when she hesitated.
“No, wait.” She was pleading, her pulse racing. Looking around to make sure no one was looking she put one foot tentatively inside. He offered no help. She pulled herself up awkwardly.
“Hands and feet against your body,” he warned.
The trunk slammed hard, plunging her into darkness. Cameron whimpered. Oh, god, what had she gotten herself into?
The ride seemed very long and bumpy at points. Her body was hypersensitive to every little movement. Her sex throbbed with need but she was scared, too.
At a certain point she cried.
***
Eventually they reached their destination.
Cameron squinted, though the light was dim. How long had she been riding? Would Craig be missing her yet? Not likely. She could fall off the face of the Earth for all he cared.
Rennie gave her a hand climbing out of the trunk.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “Is this your garage? I’m so thirsty.”
Rennie ignored her. “Everything off, you can leave your clothes in the trunk for later.”
“Is this part of the game, then? How long will it last for?”
His face bore no expression. “You’re trying my patience, Cameron. If you’re not naked on your knees in the next thirty seconds you can expect punishment.”
She took a step backward. “What’s your deal? I thought this was a game?”
“It is a game, my kind of game. Surely you don’t expect me to treat my maids like royalty,” he pointed out. “Now move your ass, slut.”
Cameron ached to slap him.
“What’s the matter, you don’t like that? Well what do you think you are coming over here when you have a boyfriend?”
“I should go.”
“But you don’t want to, so follow me. It’s all right. I don’t have an axe in there or a chainsaw.”
She laughed in spite of her unease.
Rennie led her inside. The house was beautiful, modern décor, not a piece of dust anywhere.
He sure didn’t need a maid. That was for sure.
“Drink this.” He handed her a glass half full of scotch.
“It’s a little early in the day.”
“Fine, we’ll share it.” He drank half and gave it over.
She took a mouthful, liquid fire. “I’m going to be so sick in the morning.”
“Just try and relax,” he soothed, moving to unbutton her blouse.
She made no move to stop him. “I’m not a slut,” she said.
“You’re right, sluts do things for sex, you are just here to be humiliated.”
Her knees went weak as the reality sank in.
“Give me the glass,” he said.
She handed it over. He promptly threw the remains in her face.
“That’s for not getting naked when I told you to. Any more trouble and you’ll be licking my floors clean, got it?”
Cameron stood there dumbfounded, the scotch dripping down her cheeks and chin.
Rennie scowled. “Are you deaf, cunt?”
Her eyes watered. “Please don’t be mean.”
“I’ll be as mean as I like. You have a problem, you use the safe word, Rumplestiltskin and I’ll stop, otherwise I am going to feel free to be a total prick bastard for the next hour or so. Now, take off your clothes before I rip them off your pathetic, cringing body.”
“So…so you’re just playing now?” she said, pulling off her blouse. “Because you’re really good.”
He rolled his eyes. “You really are an empty headed little bitch. You sure you’re not blonde?”
Cameron’s cheeks glowed like fire. He was like a different man.
Then again, she felt like a different woman, dirty, needy, slutty.
Except she wasn’t here for sex.
She undid her bra. How long since anyone other than Craig had seen her breasts?
“This is the first time I have done something like this,” she said.
“No shit, Sherlock,” he scathed.
Chastised, she undid her skirt and skinned it down over her hips. Her nipples were rock hard and her pussy was thrumming with expectation.
“Nice panties,” he quipped, no doubt noticing the wet spot. “They would look real good wadded up in your mouth, wouldn’t they?”
“Please don’t, Rennie,” she said trying to get into character.
“Please don’t,” he sing-songed, mimicking. “Man, I would about kill myself if I had to live with you. Do you even know how to mop a floor, clean a toilet?”
She bit at her lower lip. Was that what he had in mind?
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?” he asked now.
“Craig,” she said before she could think to lie.
He snorted. “Craig? What kind of a pussy name is that? I bet you get away with murder, spread your legs once or twice a month in exchange for everything your heart desires.”
“We don’t have a lot of money.” Tears mixed with the scotch stung her eyes. “For your information, he’s a good man.”
“Yeah? Too bad he has you.”
Cameron lowered her head, the tears rolling down her cheeks onto her breasts.
“The first thing we need to do is get you properly outfitted like the little bitch you are,” he said. “You’ll find your uniform on the kitchen counter.”
She padded barefoot across the tile, her pulse racing as she crossed the threshold. Oh, god, it was a dog collar, studded black, sitting right beside the coffee maker.
Cameron stood there staring at it.
“You want an invitation, bitch?” he shouted from the living room.
She started at the sound of his voice. Reaching out, half afraid it might bite her she grabbed the circlet of leather and made a run for it.
He snarled as she held it out for him. “What am I supposed to do with it? I’m not the masochist, you are. Put it on, get your fucking jollies.”
Damn, but he was a mind fucker.
Hopefully he didn’t have an ax hidden away somewhere…or a little cage.
What had possessed her to do this, anyway? It was like ever since she had started the project she had imagined this shield of protection around her, like nothing bad would happen because it was all for a grade.
Cameron arched her neck now, pressing the dog collar against her carotid artery. She felt it throbbing. She buckled it, securing it by means of a tiny padlock.
“You’re mine until that comes off, understand?” said Rennie.
Cameron shivered, afraid to breathe. “Yes,” she said huskily.
He leaned forward, sudden as a lizard. “Yes, Master,” he said, spitting in her face.
She cringed, won
dering if it would be all right if she wiped off the spittle.
Of course it would be all right. It was her body, wasn’t it?
“Yes, Master,” she corrected herself.
Rennie had a leash now which he promptly clipped onto her collar. “We’ll be starting in the bathroom. I’ll show you the way.”
He reacted with fury as she tried to walk. “Who the fuck are you, the Duchess of Kent?”
She shook her head.
“You’re my bitch maid, say it,” he growled.
“I’m…I’m your bitch maid,” she repeated, the admission clutching at her tighter than the collar.
“And how do bitch maids move from place to place?”
Cameron took a wild guess. “On their hands and knees?”
“I guess there’s hope for you yet,” he said, waiting for her to lower herself onto the floor.
Cameron was made to crawl like this the whole way through the house. He led her just like a dog. “There are cleaning supplies under the sink,” he said. “I will be back to check in a half hour.”
With that he closed the door and locked it from behind. She tried the lock, not that it would do any good. Looking around her at the toilet and sink and shower she felt a streak of rebellion. Why the hell should she clean for him? He wasn’t a Master he was a con artist.
“I’ll sit here and do absolutely nothing,” she said to no one in particular.
Whether he was reading her mind or if had some sort of secret camera she wasn’t sure. In either case he came in a few minutes later, the coldest look on his face.
“You think you’re putting one over on me, do you? How about if I take you back to the club and they can teach you some manners?”
Cameron felt the grip of fear, the safe word on the tip of her tongue.
“Don’t worry,” he went on to redeem himself a little. “I won’t do that, but I think it’s what you need. You want a man to override your will. You want to be forced to do things. Now I know why you are so hell bent on saying you aren’t submissive. You’re a slave, Cameron, and that’s a whole different animal.
She was on her feet before she knew it. She slapped him hard, forcing his head around.
He glared back at her, saying nothing and for a split second she saw Victor’s face, emotionless, completely and totally in control.
A man like that could do things to a woman, Cameron thought. He could own her, punish her, play with her like a toy…all the while feeling nothing.
She ought to be terrified. She ought to be running away, from Rennie, from this project, the whole damn thing.
Instead she was sobbing—like Rennie could do anything for her.
“I’m sorry,” she kept saying over and over. “I’m so sorry.”
Rennie had to help her get dressed. He cleaned her up first, wiping off the scotch and the spittle. She sat slumped in the passenger seat the whole way. He felt so bad he gave her money, slipping a hundred dollar bill into her palm.
Like being a whore was a step up.
The gesture made her laugh.
Though she didn’t refuse it.
Rennie drove off into the darkness a very confused man.
Cameron, meanwhile, could barely get the key in the lock she was shaking so much.
She had to hope Craig was sleeping, it was her only chance.
No such luck.
The clock indicated it was nearly three am but Craig was not sleeping.
“Where were you?” she heard him as she tiptoed into the dark bedroom.
“Oh, Craig, you scared me. Where are you and why are you awake, honey?”
“I asked you a question.”
His cold tone made her pulse race, not to mention what it did to her pussy. She thought about Rennie. She thought about Victor.
I have three slaves I keep, he had said, Solange, Veronica, Chloe and lastly the child woman Rachel.
To her he gave everything…and nothing.
Did he have room in his stable for more women?
If stable was even the right word.
“I was studying with a classmate.”
He turned the light on by the nightstand. “Studying what? Where are your books?”
Cameron lowered her guilty eyes. He was sitting up with his back against the headboard, the sheet covering him up to the waist. He was bare-chested and she could see the outline of his cock under the sheet. More than anything she wanted to crawl to him and take it in her mouth.
Let him shove himself deep to the back of her throat, unconcerned with her gagging as he pumped himself to a spectacular conclusion.
She would swallow every drop, too, like a good girlfriend.
A good slut as Chloe had called her.
“I—I left them in the living room,” she mumbled.
“I don’t believe you,” said Craig.
Cameron bit down on her lip, afraid to look at anything but her own feet.
“Is there someone else, Cameron, as that it?”
She shook her head.
At least not yet.
Tears streamed down her face. Lord, where was all this emotion coming from?
“Come here,” he said.
Craig took her into his arms like the child she had become. For a long time he stroked her hair as she rested her head on his strong chest. She could hear his heartbeat, strong as ever.
“Do you love me?” she said at last.
“Are you kidding?” he said. “How can you even ask?”
“I need to hear it.”
“In that case, Cameron Emily Blaine, I love you more than life itself and I will shout it for the whole world to hear,” he said, the lightest undertone of play in his voice.
Cameron didn’t want light and she didn’t want play, at least not that kind of play. “Is this a joke to you?”
“Huh? Of course not.”
She rose from the bed, heading back to the bathroom.
It was getting to be a routine.
She listened for him to come for her, but he didn’t.
She fell asleep in a ball on the floor, her body naked on the tiles, much too tired this time to play with hairbrushes.
Chapter Six
Cameron awoke to the sound of knocking on the door. She sat up, woozy, feeling the tile prints on the side of her face.
“Are you in there?” she heard Craig call out. “I have to go to the tech lab, but I need to know if you’re still alive first.”
She opened the door. He was standing there with coffees in a cup holder and a small bag from the bagel place.
“I’m glad you find this funny,” she said.
“I don’t, but until you decide to tell me what’s really going on, there is nothing I can do, except try and keep you in one piece. I got you a double latte and a raisin bagel, strawberry cream cheese and lox. As usual, I got lots of dirty looks from the bagel people.”
He was sweet as hell, getting all her favorite things. He wanted a kiss but she didn’t feel human. “I’m like scum,” she said.
If only he knew how true that was.
“You do look a little like something off the bottom of my shoe.” He winked. “Luckily that’s a turn on.”
Is it? Cameron wanted to say. Do you have any kinks at all?
How hard had she been trying to run away from her fantasies and where did they come from, really?
Craig was about the safest, steadiest guy in the world, everything her father had not been. She knew the drill, the correlations between desires for BDSM and childhood trauma.
Up to now she’d assumed she had it all neatly compartmentalized.
But maybe it was too separated out, her past, her fantasies, her studies and her relationship. She hadn’t even told Craig about her BDSM assignment.
Why not?
It wasn’t like her.
Cameron compromised with a kiss on the cheek.
She would have liked him to have settled things for a change.
“Fuck that,” he would say, grabbing her
by the hair and taking what he wanted from her lips.
Just once she would like to taste blood, her own after a really evil kiss.
Was that so bad?
“You’re a nut, Cameron, you know that.”
“Be careful on the way to the lab,” she said. “You know how you get when you’re bike riding and thinking about some goofy computer problem.”
He grinned. “Hey I get my best ideas that way.”
“That broken arm last year wasn’t such a great idea,” she reminded him.
“Point taken.” He thrust the bagels into her hand, keeping one of the Styrofoam cups. Decaf, two pink sugars and a squirt of honey, same damn thing he got every time.
She watched him out the window, rolling up his pants legs with rubber bands. A few moments later he took off down the street, his cup balanced between his legs.
And a few moments after that she heard her cell phone ringing. It was in the living room in her purse.
“Is this Cameron?” said the unfamiliar voice with the unknown number. “Cameron Blaine?”
“Yes…”
“My name is Veronica. I was told to call you.”
Cameron’s knees went weak. She knew of only one Veronica and that was the one who belonged at least part-time to Victor.
“Yes…” Cameron repeated stupidly.
“I’m to have lunch with you today, one o’clock at the Danbury Room.”
Just like that? “I have plans,” Cameron lied.
“Please?” said Veronica. “It would mean a great deal to me.”
Cameron recalled the terms of her liaison with Victor. She would call whenever she could get away and he would decide if he had use for her…
“Shouldn’t you be with Victor?”
“He wants me with you.”
“Any idea why?”
“I was hoping you could tell me that.”
Cameron licked her lips. “Will it be just the two of us?”
“Yes,” she confirmed. “And I am to pay for you.”
“I’ll be there,” said Cameron, already thinking in her mind what to wear.
One never knew, after all, Victor might decide to show up.
Not that she wanted him to. It was just a good idea to be prepared.
***
Teach Me Tender, Teach Me Rough Page 5
