Her Master's Christmas Read online

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Her Master’s Christmas: Copyright © 2016 by Lily White

  Cover: Cover Me Darling

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed in any printed or electronic form or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  [email protected]

  http://www.facebook.com/authorlilywhite

  www.lilywhitebooks.com

  HER MASTER’S CHRISTMAS

  (Masters Series 2.5)

  A dark romance novella by Lily White

  If you are interested in reading additional books by Lily White or would like to know when new books are being released, Lily White can be found on:

  Facebook and

  Twitter

  Join the Mailing List!!!

  If you are interested in receiving email updates regarding additional books by Lily White or would like to know when new books are announced or being released, join the mailing list via this link.

  http://eepurl.com/Onoeb

  Join the Facebook Fan Group!!!

  If you are interested in receiving exclusive previews for upcoming novels, or to participate in giveaways, join the fan group for Lily White Books.

  FAN GROUP LINK

  Other Books by Lily White

  Her Master’s Courtesan

  (Book 1 of the Masters Series)

  Her Master’s Teacher

  (Book 2 of the Masters Series)

  Target This

  Hard Roads

  Asylum

  Wake to Dream

  PROLOGUE

  I am a Master.

  I must first mention this fact to allow you to understand the story I am about to tell. I’m not here to offer you a delightful or cheerful holiday story. It’s not my job to fill your spirit and heart with the festive cheer of the season.

  If it were up to me, Christmas would only be another date on the calendar – another day that passes without interruption, disruption or notice.

  My chosen career may be to blame for my lack of interest in an overly sentimental holiday. I capture women, I break them down, and I transform them into a work of art that captures the attention and fancy of powerful and wealthy men. There’s no room for sentiment where I’m concerned.

  It would make no sense for me to subscribe to the spirit of the season when it’s one of the things I work so hard to extinguish in the courtesans I train.

  Given my profession - and given the fact that I’m the best at what I do - it’s frustrating that one courtesan, in particular, has always been stubborn when it comes to her love of a holiday that twinkles with silver and gold, a holiday filled with laughter, presents and ridiculous decorations that stand garish and proud in the homes of those who celebrate it.

  No matter how many times she’s been broken down and reconstructed into a sexual creature for the use of her Master, her heart has never released her innocent and undying love for the ludicrous holiday.

  Unfortunately, that one courtesan happens to belong to me.

  Rebecca thought she could seduce me into celebrating a holiday she loves.

  I don’t want lights and pretty baubles.

  I don’t want trees, wreaths or garlands.

  I don’t want presents or the fantasy of a day where nothing bad exists.

  She thought she could manipulate me until my heart warmed just enough to allow some festive cheer to sink into the depths of cold, bleak darkness.

  I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it again…

  She was wrong.

  CHAPTER ONE

  REBECCA

  Before becoming a courtesan, before leaving a life of one form of freedom to indulge in the freedom of another sordid and elicit type, there was one thing I loved beyond measure: Christmas.

  I assume the love of the holiday is shared by many people, young and old. It’s a time when the weather dips away from the languishing heat of the summer, a time when snow begins to fall gently over the ground.

  It’s a time for families to come together, for happiness to reign over the hearts of each person who embraces the magic of that time of year. Food was always plenty, and laughter and surprise teemed in the rooms as children and adults opened presents on Christmas morning.

  I’ve been a courtesan to Aiden Oliver for three years now. And in those years, I’ve never been allowed to celebrate the holiday I loved so dearly. Every time I was brave enough to request something simple - a tree or a wreath - he’d balked, and was always quick to remind me that our relationship was not about the things I loved, it was only about his desires and needs.

  Aiden hates Christmas. The mere mention of the holiday was so revolting to him that the sharp lines of his handsome face would twist up into a look of pure disgust. He took many issues with the holiday, but never bothered to explain them. The subject would be closed down just as quickly as it was brought up. That was that.

  That was life with Aiden Oliver.

  Never wavering in his absolute control of the world around him, Aiden was a cunning and shrewd man. He wore elegance and wealth as a second skin. He could easily and efficiently pick out the strengths and weaknesses of every person whose path he crossed.

  What he lacked was empathy and humility. Because he had no need for either.

  In all the years I’d been with Aiden, a Christmas never passed where I didn’t attempt to seduce him into celebrating. I wasn’t dumb enough to blatantly rebel. Aiden would only punish me if I attempted to force his hand. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t play.

  Refusing to be his perfect submissive, I found my own ways of spreading holiday cheer. Sometimes, I’d whistle a holiday song or hum beneath my breath just loud enough for him to hear me. Every day of December I made sure to wear red or green. Even naked, I remembered to wear emerald or rubies, that minuscule rebellion always pulling a smirk from his full, sculpted lips.

  A Christmas Eve hadn’t passed that I didn’t wear a red negligee to his bed. And not a Christmas had passed where he hadn’t torn it from my body, crumpled it in his arrogant hands, and tossed it away.

  We never spoke of what I was doing. It had become our little game.

  So, as Christmas approached on the fourth year I’ve been with him, I set my sights on seducing him into celebrating once again. I thought nothing of it. It was just play. A simple game that he humored without threat of punishment.

  At least, it used to be that game…until the year that Aiden stopped playing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  AIDEN

  “Black hair, short height, blue eyes, thick hips. This is, seriously, what he’s requesting? Could he possibly be less specific?”

  “She needs to come from money, Aiden. Beyond that distinction, he didn’t seem to care. Normally, I wouldn’t have bothered you
with this because, quite frankly, it’s beneath you, but you’re one of the only Masters taking cases around this time of year. This buyer pays big, Aiden. Big. So much so, in fact, that I should be guilty for taking the money off his hands.”

  Laughter barked from my lips. It was highly unlikely Brent could ever feel something even similar to guilt, much less the emotion itself.

  Scanning my eyes over the lush landscape beyond my office window, I idly tapped my fingers over the keypad of my laptop. The leaves had fallen from most of the trees, their spindly branches reaching up towards a sky that was pregnant with the winter’s first snow. All except the willow tree that sat next to the slow moving stream. Its branches arched over the ground, the wilted ends dragging across soil that buried one of my favorite secrets.

  “What do you say, Aiden? It’s a piece of cake. The pampered ones are never that hard to break. Take away their fancy cars, their designer shoes and their furry little dogs that are no better than small rats, and they mold like warm putty in your hands.”

  Four years ago, I would have agreed with him instantly. However, I’d once run across a woman who came from a wealthy family. I’d stolen her and broken her to a point where she’d stared death in the face. Yet, that little minx had never broken completely. Even now, she kneeled on a pillow by my desk, her usual rebellion for this time of year obvious in the sweep of alternating rubies and emeralds that ran the shell of her ears.

  Christmas. Who the fuck needed it?

  Gripping my fingers tight, my manicured nails pressed half moon circles into my palm. I pulled my eyes away from Rebecca to focus them on the garden outside. “Fine. I’ll take on the new project. What is my deadline?”

  Deep laughter sounded from the other end of the phone. “I knew I could count on you, Aiden. You haven’t let the society down yet. That’s one hell of a reputation you’ve created for yourself.”

  Cutting off the smoke he was blowing up my ass with his praise, Brent’s voice dropped to a normal pitch and tone. “Christmas Day. She’s a gift for his son, apparently. He believes he can bring the young man into the fray. It just means more money for us in the long run.”

  My curiosity nagging at me, I asked, “Why a rich woman? Not that it’s a problem, but why that particular detail?”

  More laughter. “I have no idea, and I don’t care. Maybe he’s looking for someone without a fighting chance. I haven’t met his son, but if he’s anything like his father, the kid is a scrawny little shit with fantasies that his family’s wealth somehow makes him stronger. Every courtesan I’ve procured for this buyer had to be a tiny thing from a prim background.”

  Easy to control. That’s what the buyer was looking for, and I wondered why. The courtesans weren’t delivered to the buyers unless their submission was absolute. It shouldn’t matter what the woman was prior to being indoctrinated into the life. They all ended up at the same place, no matter where they’d come from.

  At least, that was true for the courtesans groomed by my hand.

  “Consider it done. I expect the first half of my fee deposited into my account by tomorrow morning. As soon as I see the added zeros, I’ll hunt.”

  Hanging up the phone before he had a chance to respond, I placed it on the surface of my desk with such care that the small noise wasn’t enough to distract Rebecca from whatever it was she studied outside the picture window.

  She was as exquisite on this day as the day I first laid eyes on her. Maybe even more so now that she’d been transformed by the freedom this life gave her. The woman I’d seen on that day in the park long ago hadn’t understood the one that was hidden just beneath the surface of her prim and proper skin. It wasn’t until I’d torn her apart to free the sensual beast that existed inside - molding and shaping that part of her into the epitome of wanton and reckless need - that Rebecca had learned what really lingered inside just waiting for a man as wicked as me.

  With furtive steps, I edged towards her, a predator stalking with such care that it didn’t draw the notice of its intended prey.

  That’s not to say she didn’t know I was approaching her. Rebecca was well-trained and astute in her reactions. She knew better than to catch my eye without permission, knew what forms of punishment lay in her path with even the simplest of transgressions.

  I loved punishing her, and I’d come to the conclusion years ago that she’d grown to love it as much as me. The rebellion in her would never be broken - the spirit of a Master trapped in the flesh of a courtesan. Her body and mind vied for control in everything she did. And it was that special spark in her that I couldn’t extinguish that made her so valuable to a man like me.

  I grow bored easily. I’ll admit that flaw in my personality - or, perhaps, it’s a commendable trait.

  When I first started in this profession, the newness of the act kept me fascinated. Honing and perfecting my skill took several years, so each new woman - each new potential courtesan - was a thrill in itself. Over the years, and after developing a routine that worked well to break the mind down and reshape it how I wanted, the job lost a bit of its appeal.

  At least, that was, until I came across Rebecca.

  With the tip of my finger trailing the outer shell of her ear - that same ear that mocked me with red and green jewels adorning it - I stood silently above her, daring her to move from the position I’d instructed her to take an hour before.

  Her elegant hands were folded discreetly over her long thighs, her legs bent at the knees and her feet tucked beneath her ass. Long and lean, her back was perfectly straight, two dimples just above her thin waist that drove me absolutely crazy. Her head faced forward with no expression on her beautiful face. Like silk, her blonde hair fell in soft waves down her back, the slightly curled ends barely brushing the upper swell of her ass.

  She was a piece of priceless art, perfectly still and patiently waiting for my instruction. No other courtesan compared to her - not in mind, in body or in spirit. They couldn’t compare. Rebecca was an enigma wrapped in seduction, a mystery that no man could possibly understand.

  No man, but me, that is.

  “We have a job to do, Pet. There’s a party in a few days. Henley Clark is throwing it, in fact.”

  She flinched just slightly at the name. Her reaction made me smile.

  Kneeling down behind her, I brushed my mouth along her ear, a gritty whisper spilling over my lips to tantalize the skin. “I know you like Henley. You’ve stayed with him a time or two.”

  Henley is a buyer within the society whose hygiene and looks leave much to be desired. However, the man is as rich as they come, therefore, I don’t ask questions about his aversions with shampoo or a bar of soap.

  And on rare occasion, Henley has come in handy, especially when it pertains to punishing my spirited pet.

  Whereas Rebecca’s rebellion can be exhilarating, it can be quite vexing, as well.

  Keeping my voice at a dangerous whisper, I asked, “Would you do me the honor of escorting me to his little soirée?”

  “Yes, Master.” She swallowed just before the tip of her tongue pushed out to run along her bottom lip. I wanted to bite that lip, but I refrained.

  “May I ask a question, Master?”

  Taking the lobe of her ear between my teeth, I bit down gently, a warning that if I didn’t like the question, she might not like the answer.

  “Yes.”

  “Do I have to stay with Henley?” There was a noticeable hitch in her throat, the subtle and soft croak of fear.

  My palms ran up the sides of her body, the tips of my fingers softly tickling the skin. I watched goosebumps sweep down her arms. Gently dragging my lips along her shoulder, I reached that soft spot that makes her squirm. I bit down softly, and then ran the tip of my tongue along the light mark my teeth had left behind.

  Slowly, my hand crept up her back, brushing softly along her spine, up her neck, to the shell of her ear.

  My fingers clamped down over the earrings and she yelped.

  Ho
lding my finger and thumb as a vice grip over the offensive items - her little rebellion about a holiday I’d rather fucking avoid - I grinned to watch her wiggle where she was kneeling. The poor girl could barely tolerate not pulling away from my painful touch.

  After admiring the way pink shot across her features as she fought to control her reaction, I brought my lips to her other ear and whispered, “I don’t know, Pet. You’re the one who keeps giving me reasons to punish you. Maybe a trip to Henley’s house would be a good idea. It will remind you how good you have it here.”

  Her voice a breathless whisper, she asked, “May I speak?”

  “Of course, you can,” I cooed, the tip of my nose tracing the line of her ear. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll escape my judgment for whatever it is you have to say.”

  A tiny shiver rippled across her skin. It was the most exquisite sight I’d seen all day.

  Unable to continue her flawless routine of being the perfect pet, Rebecca breathed out a heavy sigh, the bits of strawberry blonde hair framing her face blowing out from the burst of air.

  “I thought this was a game,” she admitted. “I’ll take them out.”

  “You’re damn right you’ll take them out.” My words sounded more menacing than I’d intended, but at that moment, I wasn’t in the mood for games.

  Although I was never one to celebrate any holiday, I didn’t hate them like many other people. There were no sad memories affixed to specific times of year that I wanted to avoid. And I never got caught up in the tangled expectations that came with large families who insisted you attend dinner or any other such nonsense. Holidays were simply an annoyance. To me, they were just another day and another dollar to be made.

  Rebecca, on the other hand, came from a large family. From what I knew of her life before me, she was quite happy to attend the yearly gatherings and celebrations. It was an aspect of her personality that never completely went away. No matter what I did to erase those bits of her personality, they clung stubbornly in places I wondered if I’d ever be able to reach.