by Stella Hart
“See how good it feels to say those words?” Elias said. “Want me to keep it switched on?”
I nodded. As much as I hated him seeing this, it was the first thing that had felt good for me since my arrival here. I wanted to cling to it as much as I could, feel every bit of pleasure I could eke out of it. “Yes, Master.”
“I’ll leave it on if you keep repeating those words.” His perfect lips curled up in a sinful smile.
“My name is Doll,” I began, my legs shaking and juddering. I collapsed onto my knees and moaned. “I belong to Elias King.”
I kept repeating that, and as promised, Elias kept the vibrations going. He moved closer and hooked a finger around the edge of my panties before sliding them down just an inch or two, enough to let his thumb creep in and touch my swollen clit. My arousal was painfully obvious, quickly soaking him, and he hummed appreciatively as he rubbed my clit in slow circles. “You’re such a good girl when you’re like this,” he muttered. “So wet. So beautiful.”
He’d always acted as if he despised me, but his voice was betraying him, showing how aroused he was. Dark and low and gravelly.
All of a sudden, he bent down and kissed me. My body went rigid against him, and a bolt of electricity burst through my veins. As he hunted for a way into my mouth, I took a deep breath through my nose and found myself swathed in his scent. Rich, spicy, clean, oh-so masculine.
His tongue bathed my lips in heat as he leaned in, deepening the kiss, and finally I opened my mouth all the way, letting his tongue slide inside to conquer mine. With his hand down my panties and his other arm holding me flush against him, I had no way of escaping his embrace. For a moment, I didn’t even want to. A wave of primitive emotion swept through me, arousal that scared me more than any of his earlier threats of physical pain.
He drew back, lusty gaze focused right on my face as his thumb kept circling my clit. The wave of arousal became a dark, churning storm deep inside, threatening to overwhelm me.
“I think I’m going to….” I hesitated, needing to suck in a deep breath. I’d never had an orgasm before, but I felt myself being pulled toward the edge of something, and I knew I was close.
“Come?” Elias said, his deep voice laced with amusement.
I nodded anxiously.
“Who is making it happen?”
“You.”
“Who am I?”
“My… my Master,” I gasped. I don’t mean it, I don’t mean it, I kept reminding myself, but the words were becoming a distant haze in the back of my mind as the impending climax threatened to engulf me.
“It isn’t fair if you get all the pleasure,” he muttered against my ear, pulling his hands away from me. The panties stopped vibrating.
I let out a moan of protest, and Elias chuckled. “Patience,” he said. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his hard cock. I swallowed hard as I saw it for the first time. “I’m going to fuck your mouth, and you aren’t going to come until I do.”
Shaking desperately, I got down on my knees and looked up at his hard length. Elias kept the panty controller in one hand and used the other to grip my head, fingers roughly tangling in my hair to create a makeshift ponytail as he pulled me forward and pressed the tip of his cock against my lips.
My eyes grew wet with tears again, but I didn’t stop him. He tasted slightly salty, and I let him go in deeper, sliding the whole crown of his cock inside my mouth.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Keep taking it. Lick it and suck on it.”
He slid in farther, and I moaned and began to suck on him, my tongue flicking over the slit before licking the veiny underside. His hips thrust deeper into my mouth, and as much as I hated him, I had to admit I liked hearing his deep grunts and groans of pleasure.
He hit the back of my throat, and my vision blurred as tears spilled out. I felt like I was choking, but Elias didn’t seem to care. He kept thrusting, yanking on my hair harder, filling my mouth and throat with his throbbing length. I forced myself to look up at him, not wanting to miss the expression on his face when I finally made him come.
He was looking down at me, eyes dark and warlike, as if this were somehow difficult or painful for him to do. “That’s it, little slut,” he growled. “You’re a fucking natural. I knew you would be.”
He switched the controller back on. I moaned against his cock as my clit began to throb again. The cell was filled with the sounds of my wet mouth on his thick cock and the humming vibrations of the panties along with my plaintive moans and his husky groans. I began to breathe even deeper as I felt myself approaching the cliff’s-edge of my climax again. Elias noticed and began to move his hips faster, his grip tightening on my hair. Then he slowed and let out a deep groan, erupting in my mouth, hot and salty and slightly bitter.
I swallowed every last drop. At the same time, I felt an immense pressure deep within my core, and then it exploded out of me in hot waves of incredible pleasure mixed with trembling fear. Elias pulled his cock out of my mouth, and I cried out, the waves still crashing through me. The desperate sounds tearing from my mouth seemed to amuse him. He smirked down at me as I collapsed to the cold floor, my legs twitching.
The pleasure began to fade, replaced with stinging regret almost immediately. For all my talk of staying strong and refusing to give up, I’d broken down and given Elias everything he wanted within just a few hours. I was weak. Pathetic.
The magnetic attraction between us didn’t help matters, either. Even though I didn’t want to admit it existed, it was always there. Powerful, seductive. Toxic.
I hated him, and I hated myself for responding to him and sinking so low. I felt dirty, used, ashamed. I should’ve accepted the cattle prod or the whipping… it would’ve stung, but at least I would have maintained my dignity by refusing to ‘admit’ that Elias owned me.
“I’ll never forgive you,” I whispered, more to myself than him.
Elias heard me. “I probably shouldn’t be forgiven. I’ve always known that. But you… neither should you. In that respect, we’re exactly the same, Doll,” he muttered.
I wondered what he’d done that made him think he didn’t deserve forgiveness. Was it just my kidnapping? Or was there more?
Why did I even care?
I broke down in sobs, each one ripping out of me in painful contractions as my chest shook. Elias didn’t leave. He simply stood and watched me with a derisive stare in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he finally asked. “Tell me, Doll.”
I looked up at him again. “I just don’t know why you’re doing this. How I ended up here. Or what’s going to happen next. I’m scared,” I whispered, my bottom lip trembling. I sniffed and drew in a deep, shaky breath.
Elias crouched down next to me. “You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for this. You knew you would be sent here for training, and then you would be sent to the Lodge. Why are you pretending otherwise?”
I stared at him blankly. I didn’t know anything of the sort. What was the Lodge? Would I be given to other men there?
The thought was like a red-hot knife twisting in my guts. As much as I hated myself for thinking it, I didn’t want to be owned or punished by anyone other than Elias. Better the devil you know. So far, he hadn’t hurt me too badly, but god knows what another man might do to me…
“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “I didn’t sign up for anything.”
He laughed. “Yes you did. You know what I’m talking about. Granted, you didn’t know I would be your new master, but you still knew what you were getting into in general when you sold yourself to the society.”
I shook my head vehemently. “No! I didn’t! I’m telling you, I never signed up for any of this!”
He ignored the fact I wasn’t calling him Master. “What do you mean?” he asked sharply.
“I mean I didn’t do it. My parents sold me here! At least that’s what I was told.”
His eyes widened ever so slightly. The movement was barely percept
ible, but I saw it. “Your parents?”
“Yes. Your father told me about it. He even showed me the contracts they signed. I don’t belong here,” I said in a broken whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks again. “I would never sell myself. Never.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you lying? Is this some sort of game?”
I shook my head and widened my eyes. “No, I swear!” I felt as if I were choking on all my emotions. “Please, this isn’t some sort of act. I mean it. I have no idea what’s going on here, and I didn’t ask for any of it.”
Elias stared down at me, his expression hard and dark. Finally, he picked up the bag he’d brought in earlier. “I have to go,” he said.
He put the controller and the cattle prod in the bag, but he left the notebook and pen behind, along with the risotto. A small mercy.
He headed for the door without another word, and then he was gone.
12
Elias
After the brief flight back home, I drove down to my father’s main business headquarters in Fairfield and breezed past the frantic blonde assistant stationed outside his office. I stalked in without knocking, my brows knitted in a mixture of anger and puzzlement.
The room was set up to look like an old-fashioned study: antique desk with small framed photos, paintings adorning the walls, stacked bookshelves and soft carpet along with a roaring hearth on one side. Only the executive chair and computer made it clear it was an office.
My father was sitting at his desk, sipping at a two-thousand dollar bottle of scotch and staring at something on his computer monitor.
“We need to talk,” I said, by way of announcing myself.
“Remind me to fire Brenda later,” he muttered, glancing up from his screen. “What is it?”
I crossed my arms. “I was at the Finishing School with Tatum earlier.”
He blinked. “And?”
“She started crying hysterically and saying she didn’t sign anything, and that she has no idea what’s going on. She said her parents sold her to the society and that you showed her the contracts to prove it. Is there any truth to that?” I asked.
Before Tatum’s arrival, I’d been pissed at the idea of having some sort of begrudging consent from the girl. But now, knowing that there was a possibility that I genuinely didn’t have her consent, I felt differently about the situation. Something about it felt all sorts of wrong, deep in my marrow. Even to someone like me.
The traumatized look on her face, the haunted expression in her eyes, the raw note of pain in her voice… I thought I would love it. I knew I would. And yet, when it was right there in front of me, I wound up hating it.
I wanted her to fight, I wanted her to detest me, I wanted her to struggle and feel pain. But I didn’t want some broken girl in front of me, weeping and falling apart at all times. Not to mention how much fucking trouble the society would be in if we were somehow found to be holding an unwilling subject.
The deal was meant to be: virgin girls sold themselves to our society as subservient sex slaves for varying lengths of time, depending on their personal preference and how much money they wanted. During that time, they would become our property. They couldn’t leave, couldn’t argue. Their rights would no longer exist, and they would be branded with our mark and endure strict lessons at the Finishing School, which was essentially a training facility for all kinds of sexual proclivities. The wilder the better.
Afterwards, while they were in our service at the Lodge—a high-class luxury playground owned by Crown and Dagger and designed to offer any carnal delights a man could dream of—their families would receive the payment for them. Because we didn’t want any watchdog organizations finding out about what we did (as it was technically illegal) the money had to be paid out very carefully, often funneled through family businesses over months to appear as income from that, or laundered in other ways.
Some girls signed two year contracts to earn just enough to pay for college, and others did five year stints, desperate to pay off their family’s entire mortgage or other such debts.
It worked out well for everyone. In return for giving their virginity to us and providing every possible sexual service that the second and third-level men of Crown and Dagger might crave, varying from light vanilla to dark as sin, they received more money than they could’ve possibly dreamed about in the past. It was a symbiotic relationship.
When their contracts finished they were finally free to go, after signing heavy non-disclosure agreements (their families also had to sign these, for obvious reasons).
Tatum’s contract was unorthodox in that there was actually no time limit on it. She would belong to Crown and Dagger until whichever master she was assigned to finally grew tired of her. It could be a year, it could be ten years. Or longer.
She’d been rewarded heavily for such a sacrifice, though. She and her family had a free house to live in for the rest of their lives, all their debts paid, and several hundred thousand dollars given to them upfront as spending money. It could’ve been a million, or possibly even more, but apparently Tatum hadn’t bothered negotiating when she went through the process with my father.
If she even did that.
After this evening’s incident, I couldn’t be sure, and that was troubling, to say the least. Prostitution was already illegal, so if we were ever caught by the feds, we’d be in a lot of shit already… but if they found a girl with us who claimed to be an unwilling, abused hostage, we’d be fucked beyond repair. We might be the richest people in this country, but that didn’t mean we could kidnap a girl, keep her and hurt her without any consent. No, she needed to understand and sign that damn contract, whether we liked it or not.
Dad smiled at my pissed expression. For him, that was rare. “Oh, Elias. I didn’t think you’d fall for that so easily.”
My forehead creased with confusion. “Huh?”
He didn’t answer me right away. Instead, he stood and headed over to a filing cabinet on the other side of the office, humming as he went. He rifled through a drawer, then returned to his desk with a thin folder. “The original contracts are stored in my office at the Lodge, but I keep copies of them here,” he said, handing the folder to me. “Go on. Read it.”
I frowned and opened the folder, leafing through the paperwork. It was a contract, signed by Tatum in multiple places.
“Look at page three,” Dad said. “About halfway down the page.”
I did as he said, my brows immediately shooting up.
“See?” Dad went on. “I put that clause in. As part of the deal—and for an extra fifty grand for her family—she has to pretend to have no idea what’s going on at first and try to fight her new master on the issue whenever she can. I knew you weren’t too happy at the thought of having her consent, given that she gave herself to our group, so I thought it would be a nice touch.” He chuckled. “You’re just like me. You like it when they fight. Or am I wrong about that?”
He wasn’t wrong. I nodded slowly. “I see. I should’ve realized.”
“You actually believed her, didn’t you?” he said, still chuckling.
I stiffened. “Well, she seemed genuine.”
“She was acting. Women are vastly superior to men when it comes to thespian talents. Especially Tatum. We’ve seen her in action before, haven’t we? Lying little bitch.”
“I suppose so.” I finally took a seat, facing him. Something was still bothering me. “She was crying and breaking down all over the place, but she wasn’t fighting me. Not like this clause says.”
“I’ll have to have a word with her about that, then. She knows the deal and she has to stick to it. Fight, not curl up and cry a bucket-load of crocodile tears.” He paused. “I’d say some of those tears might be real, though. When I approached her and made the deal with her, she had no idea she would be given to you specifically, and she probably isn’t too happy with how things have turned out. Many of the girls are like that at first. They don’t like their new masters, so they act
out. That’s why they’re sent to the Finishing School first. It’s there to give them an idea of what their new life will be like.”
“I suppose.”
He sighed. “A lot of them think they’ll be treated like princesses, and they feel very let-down when they arrive and experience something far crueler and more isolating than what they imagined. But the treatment at the School is necessary to get them into the slave mindset.”
I grunted. “Right.”
“Why do you think there are so many guards there? We need to account for all the girls who change their minds and try to run away when it’s already too late,” he said with an annoyed sniff. “If Tatum is upset at how she is being treated or who she’s been given to, then that’s her problem. Her fault for making assumptions. She was well-informed about what she was getting into, and she should know not to expect any special treatment.”
I stared down at Tatum’s signature on the back of the contract again. It was right there, delicate little letters in spidery handwriting.
“She looked genuinely scared when we took her at the ceremony,” I muttered. Some fractious part of me was still unconvinced.
My father let out an exasperated sigh. “Again, she was acting. We set up that whole show purely for your benefit, Elias. I knew you wouldn’t be happy if she arrived on her own, totally willing. No, we had to make it dramatic, make it seem like she was terrified and had no idea what was happening. And it worked, didn’t it?”
I nodded slowly. My cock had never been so hard than when I saw Tatum running off the stage that night, fear marring those pretty features as she tried to escape the men charging at her. “Yeah. I liked it.”
“Good. By the time her training is complete, she’ll be prepared for the Lodge and her behavior should improve dramatically.” Dad pursed his lips for a second. “But I’ll go and talk to her about her recent conduct anyway.”
