by Kitty Thomas
“You’re out of your mind,” Anton said. “No way in hell.”
“I mean just to fuck, not permanently. Trust me, I don’t want to have to deal with a slave permanently. Sounds like hell.”
“And if I win, what do I get?”
“Two hundred?”
“Not today. Maybe some other time.”
Brian shrugged and switched back to his previous game.
Anton reached down and took the other sandwich half off her plate and took a bite. “Not bad,” he said, returning the rest of it to her.
As Annette ate, she thought about her time upstairs with Anton. She was starting to wonder how much of this was about her sister and how much of it was about her. Oh, she wanted Janette safe and knew she had to keep Anton satisfied to do it, but why wasn’t this more of a trauma?
Because she was a fucking human. And he was rich and hot and was paying for all her sister’s expenses and sparing both their lives when he could have just killed them both to keep things neat and tidy. And that accent. How many women could realistically resist this? Why did she want to be such a fucking martyr all the time? What was the harm in just… falling? Especially when it wasn’t like there was any realistic way out anyway.
And besides, when she saw her sister—if she saw her sister—it would be so much easier if Janette could see she was really okay. If she’d already convinced herself, it would be that much easier to convince her sister.
She felt so ashamed. But it wasn’t shame over what Anton was doing to her as much as it was shame that she was going along with it so easily. Could she picture a reality where Janette hadn’t been a pawn and she’d do this? No. She could never have just abandoned her sister without any financial support to run off with some guy for kinky sex games.
And besides, she hadn’t thought she liked kinky sex games. She’d been sure this wasn’t her thing. It had all been a lie that night at the club… hadn’t it? But the more he touched her, and the more he commanded her, the more she just kind of … fell into it.
It seemed impossible to her that only a few nights ago Anton had asked what she would do when she started to crave this enslavement. No matter how beautiful he was, she was never going to crave being his property or toy. And yet, already… here she was… craving.
The door opened, and Lindsay walked in. He glanced briefly at Annette. “This much success already?”
“She’s a good girl,” Anton said. “Very little of it is my doing. You know my history with subs. I would have committed a felony a long time ago if I thought I’d get these results. So what about the girl?”
“I’m sending her to you at the spa. She’s passed my test. Let’s see if she passes yours.”
“What does she know?” Brian asked sounding much more tense than he had just moments ago.
“Almost nothing. I said I was sending her to a kinky friend of mine who would give her a massage she’d never forget if she was game. Anton can feel her out from there.”
Anton chuckled. “Yes, I can feel her out.”
When Annette had finished the sandwich, Anton took her plate and glass and got up. “Stay,” he said. “Gabe, I’ll be back in a few; you’re in charge.”
Almost the second the door had closed, Brian reached for her.
“Brian!” Gabe snapped.
“What? What will you do if I touch her?”
“Annette, come to me,” the blond said, ignoring the bait.
Annette crawled the few feet over to Gabe and knelt next to his chair.
“No, sit here with me,” he patted his lap.
When she sat, he pulled her closer and cuddled her against him, stroking her hair.
“You’ll spoil her,” Brian said. “Anton won’t like it.”
“He said I was in charge. I’m sure he’d rather I spoil her than you destroy her.”
Brian shrugged and went back to his game.
Gabe unhooked the leash from her collar and put it on the floor beside his chair.
“Yes. Well, I’m going to do some work in my office,” Lindsay said, excusing himself. Annette wasn’t sure what to make of the older man. He’d kept a polite distance from her since she’d been at the house.
At first she’d thought the blond would just hold her, but soon Gabe began to stroke first her breasts, then her belly. Annette’s breath caught as he nudged her legs apart and slipped fingers inside her. She moaned, her hips moving in rhythm with his fingers.
There was no arousal cream involved, but it didn’t matter.
“Please,” she whimpered, wishing he’d increase his pace and let her come.
Anton cleared his throat. She startled and looked up, but Gabe’s hand was still buried between her legs.
“This is what you do when you’re in charge?” Anton asked.
Gabe continued to stroke her, and she couldn’t help the way her body arched into his touch.
“Yeah,” Gabe said. Finally he withdrew his hand leaving her unsatisfied and frustrated.
Annette waited to see if she’d somehow be in trouble for this, but Anton made no further comment. Instead he placed a lingerie bag on the floor. She recognized it from the bedroom closet.
“Go put this on and bring us some coffee and some of those pastries Phyllis was icing,” Anton said.
“Yes, Master.”
She took the bag and left the game room. She scurried down the hallway to the spa and shut the door behind her. She was still excited from Gabe touching her. Annette shut and locked the door of one of the treatment rooms then she lay down on the massage table, spread her legs and stroked herself. She closed her eyes and thought about Gabe touching her and imagined Anton watching.
She bit back a moan and let out a long shuddering breath. She got off the table on shaky legs, feeling strangely guilty doing this in secret. Already this felt like something that should only happen if Anton allowed it.
Annette sat up and took a look around the room. It was a nice little room with light gray walls and a table full of candles. And a vase filled with flowers. She wondered who kept the flowers changed. She’d never noticed anyone doing that before, but it had to be one of the guys. None of them seemed the type to really be into plants.
Annette dumped the contents of the lingerie bag out on the massage table. Wow. Classy. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She’d expected some humiliating costume that revealed far more than it concealed, but instead, what she found was a long black satin nightgown with thin corded straps.
The gown fit like a glove and had high side slits on each side. There was also a pair of black heels.
She put the shoes on and tossed the bag in a garbage can at the edge of the room. On her way out, she stopped in front of a full length mirror.
“Wow,” she murmured. She’d never owned something this smooth and elegant before. She ran her hands over the soft slippery fabric. The thin leather collar somehow worked with it.
Annette knew a normal person would be horrified by all of this, but all she could do was stare at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that. Some dark part of her thrilled at the idea of belonging to Anton.
Phyllis was cleaning up the kitchen when she walked in.
“Where are those pastries you were icing? Anton wants me to bring some and some coffee.”
The older woman motioned to a far counter where the pastries sat on a wire cooling rack. “Coffee isn’t made. It’ll take a few minutes.” Then she disappeared into a side pantry.
She reappeared a little while later with a rolling cart, a coffee pot, cups and saucers, and little plates to put the pastries on.
“Put the pastries on the plates, and I’ll make the coffee. Forks are in the drawer at the end of that counter.”
Annette went and got the pastries ready while Phyllis made coffee. She could tell the woman wanted to say something to her, but she kept her mouth shut. It was really starting to bug Annette.
“He’s not hurting me,” she heard herself say. Was that true? She wa
sn’t entirely sure.
“You tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night,” Phyllis said.
Annette took the forks out of the drawer and slammed it. “So you would rather I be traumatized and crying myself to sleep? Isn’t it better that I’m not?”
“Coffee’s ready. I’m sure you know how to transfer it to the pot. I’m going to bed.” With that, Phyllis draped a towel over the counter and left Annette alone in the kitchen.
She tried not to let it bother her. The only other female in this place was impossible to get along with. It would have been nice to have somebody to talk to—maybe a friend or an ally, but it seemed Phyllis would never be any of those things. Annette found herself surprised the woman hadn’t poisoned them all already.
53
Annette stretched and rolled over in bed. Sunlight was just beginning to come into the window. Somehow she’d settled into Anton’s twisted routine. It had been six weeks. A memory stole into her mind from early in their training.
“Each morning, you will wake me with a blow job. Then when you’ve finished with that, you will go downstairs and make my coffee. You’ll bring it up to me along with my paper. Then you’ll take a shower and put on the pineapple body cream and return to me for further training.”
Anton still slept beside to her. She’d thought when he’d first made this demand that he was kidding. And what about on days when he woke up first? But nope. He hadn’t been kidding, and the man could sleep through anything. Anything except her mouth on him.
She slipped back underneath the covers and ran first her fingers, then her tongue over the shaft of his cock. He shifted in sleep. She smiled to herself and tried again, taking him fully into her mouth this time.
He moaned in response, his hand straying under the blankets, to stroke her hair. “Morning, kiska. Did you sleep well?”
She crawled up his body and kissed the side of his throat. “Yes, Master.”
“Hey! Finish your job!”
She giggled, and moved the blankets out of their way and went back to work. His fingers threaded through her hair again, petting her as she sucked him. He groaned in pleasure every few moments, urging her on.
She’d gotten quite good at this.
She sucked harder, then pulled away to lick and tease and caress as goosebumps broke out over his thighs. She might belong to him every other moment of the day, but in the first few minutes, he belonged to her.
Annette went back to her earlier rhythm. It didn’t take long for him to come.
“I think that’s my record,” she said.
“You are far too satisfied with yourself, pet. I should wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Promise?”
He smacked her across the ass. “Go. Be a good girl.”
She got up and put on a robe and went downstairs to make his coffee, humming to herself.
Phyllis was already in the kitchen making biscuits and gravy. “Why are you so perky? Is slavery still everything you thought it would be?”
Annette shot her a dirty look and went to get the cart and the morning paper. If she acted like anything but a beaten dog, Phyllis started in on her. Why shouldn’t she enjoy the beautiful man upstairs in bed? He’d been kind to her. The pleasure was off the charts. She thought she might be starting to fall in love with him, even. But she would never say it. She was still too afraid if she did, it would all somehow disappear.
She put the coffee and a cup and saucer on the cart, grabbed a pastry Phyllis had already made off the counter for herself, and went to the elevator.
When she returned, Anton was still in bed, reading email on his laptop. She loved when he wore those glasses. She rolled the cart over, poured his coffee, and placed it on the bedside table next to him along with his paper.
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Good girl.”
She felt the flush move up her body and into her face before she looked away. She’d become such a girl with him. Every time he touched her now, it sent a flutter of pleasure through her stomach. Even when it wasn’t sexual. Sometimes especially when it wasn’t sexual. These small tender moments were the thing that had changed everything.
It was no longer some contractual obligation to keep her sister alive.
He turned back to his email and she crossed to the bathroom. Sometimes he joined her in the shower, but this morning it seemed he had things to deal with on the computer. She hated when he was in work mode. She could tell by his focus that they wouldn’t be able to play until the evening when he got home.
Still, when she got out of the shower, she put the edible pineapple body cream on. She wouldn’t break his rules just because he wouldn’t have time to lick it off her. And anyway, she loved the smell of it. It made her feel like she was on a tropical vacation. It was sometimes hard not to think of the house as some grand resort.
She went to her spot in the room near the chair he often sat in and knelt on the floor, legs spread, eyes cast down… waiting, hoping he had a few minutes for her before work.
She heard the laptop snap shut. Then he was up and crossing the floor. He went into the bathroom and shut the door. Minutes later, the shower came on. The first week with him had been amazing. They’d spent every moment together until all her fears had melted away. But now he was back to the normal routine. It sucked.
Annette heard the shower cut off. Several more minutes passed. Then the door opened. He crossed to the walk-in closet. More time. More waiting for him to come touch her. Finally he came out, dressed in a pair of dark casual pants and a black T-shirt for the spa.
He put his laptop and glasses in his laptop case. Finally, he came over to her. Annette’s breath caught in her throat at his nearness.
He took her hands and pulled her to stand, holding her close. He whispered in her ear, “We’ll play later, kiska. I’m sorry I have a busy day today.”
Even so, he pressed a kiss against her throat, and then another on her lips, and others trailing across her collar bone. Then he paused to take each nipple into his mouth one at a time, tasting the pineapple cream. “You taste delicious,” he said. “Be good, today.”
“Always,” she said.
He winked at her, then turned and left the room.
Annette sat in a lounger beside the pool with a wide-brimmed hat shading her face still wishing he’d had more time for her this morning. She’d had very little time to angst about how wrong any of this was. And in a way, she was just grateful that once they’d settled in, Anton had turned out to be the fantasy. Every woman’s fantasy. Rich. Hot. Intelligent. Powerful. Decent. In his way.
Annette had been sure in those first few tumultuous days that he would end up some abusive monster. But it hadn’t turned out that way. They’d somehow bonded, and he’d kept her in such a frenzied aroused state and given her so much physical pleasure that it was increasingly hard to see any of this as some great sacrifice anymore.
The evil arousal cream was part of the daily ritual more than once per day. She should hate it, but she loved it. She loved the loss of control and that she couldn’t really blame herself for how shameless she was when under its spell. She was helpless to resist it or anything her master demanded of her during that time. It made things easier. It kept her from fucking up something that was bizarrely somehow working.
Though if she were a bit more honest with herself, she might admit that she also felt these things when there was no arousal cream in play. She’d often catch herself having lunch in the cafeteria, and Anton would come into the room. He’d catch her eye, and she would immediately blush and look down at her plate. She’d get a nervous flutter in her stomach which was now almost a constant companion whenever he was near, and then the excitement would push further, between her legs, and all she wanted was for him to touch her.
By the end of the first week, she’d given up all pretense of lying to herself—that she was some hostage. Maybe in the strictest sense, but by that point, she’d already stopped believing Anton wou
ld ever hurt her or her sister. If she somehow managed to get away from him, she didn’t believe he’d kill her, or even that he would send Brian to do it.
But she didn’t want to get away from him. It was a secret she held ever closer to her because she didn’t want him to know how much power he had over even her mind at this point.
He hadn’t been lying when he said he could take excellent care of her. She’d been eating so well that it took hours in the fitness room per week to stay in shape. Every need she had: material, sexual, emotional… he met them.
After a time, it began to feel that the trade was no longer her enslavement for her sister’s life and freedom, but her absolute obedience in exchange for all that Anton gave her, which made it worth doing. She often had moments where she forgot this had all started in a much less fairy tale place.
In their quieter moments, when her master would lie in bed with his laptop and reading glasses and she’d snuggle against him, there was a peaceful coexistence between them that she couldn’t explain with words. It was a visceral contentment.
She had begun to feel a sort of compulsive pathological need to please him. She’d started to care about his opinion of her. When he wasn’t at the spa working, she’d taken to making food for him instead of Phyllis. Annette wanted to be the one to cook things or make the sandwiches. She wanted to be something more to him than just sex. And she took care of not just her laundry, but his as well. She couldn’t do the dry cleaning, of course, but everything else.
She’d seen her sister several times in the intervening weeks. The first time, Janette had flung herself into her arms and cried for fifteen minutes straight. Despite daily phone calls, Annette hadn’t fully realized just how hard it must be for her sister to not see her and know she was fine. At that first meeting, she’d felt guilty that she hadn’t begged to see her sister sooner.
She just hadn’t wanted to push him.
But once Janette had settled down and gotten a good look at her and had a long talk with her, she’d finally become convinced Annette was okay. Since then she hadn’t had to worry too much about her sister. She could, instead, focus on the new reality that was her life with Anton.
