Her Master's Reckoning Page 7

  A small shake of his head, patient disbelief. “Except, in front of Christopher, at least, her status has changed. And it’s a necessary change, Aiden. You know that as well as I. That’s the decision you made. Rather than stepping back, controlling your temper, and allowing her to play the role she is intended to play, you disabled her.” His lips curled with a faint smile. “Are you learning something of yourself in this? Finally coming to accept that, when it comes to Rebecca, your feelings -“

  “I have no fucking feelings,” I argued between clenched teeth.

  He didn’t waver. Never in the years we’d been friends had Anthony lost his cool except for once when I’d pushed a line with Sera. “So you say.”

  Topic dropped for a brief moment, we walked the remaining halls to find ourselves in my office, the landscape outside bathed in moonlight. Beyond my window the limp branches of a willow tree swayed softly in a early evening breeze. The daylight hours, it seemed, had raced past while we’d handled the broken man dropped at my door, a man I wasn’t sure Rebecca could train.

  “Where do you think Rebecca ran off to?” Anthony took a seat in a leather chair facing my desk. “It might be a good idea to chase after her.”

  I shrugged and kicked my feet up to the surface of the desk. “I’m sure she’s licking her wounds as we speak. We’ve been here before. She’ll forget by morning.”

  “Will she?”

  A simple question lingering between us, Anthony crossed an ankle over a knee, his clothes a wrinkled mess from where they’d been soaked in the bathroom. If it hadn’t been for him, I would have killed Christopher, would have ended this fucked up game right then and there for having dared turn a violent hand against Rebecca.

  “I fail to see how that even matters. Rebecca does what I tell her. She always has.”

  I didn’t have to openly agree with Anthony’s accusations for them to sting nonetheless. Even before Rebecca had been dragged under water, I’d almost snapped the leash of my self-control to see her hands on another man.

  And yet it wasn’t the act alone that had bothered me, it was the choice she’d made to do it.

  Since the moment I’d taken her, every decision in Rebecca’s life had been carefully, or callously, orchestrated by what I had demanded of her. But to see her choose...

  I needed to be alone. “Don’t you have a Courtesan to get back to?”

  Observant eyes pinned me in place. He was intelligent to keep his thoughts to himself in that moment. “I do. Will you join us for dinner?”

  “I might, but don’t wait around for me. I have a few issues to consider.”

  “Starving yourself won’t make them any easier. You’ll need your strength in the coming days. Christopher...” His voice trailed off, but I followed his thoughts regardless. It was clear to both of us that the Courtesan Rebecca would be training was a significant challenge for men as skilled as us. To expect her to rise to the occasion was a pipe dream I feared would only destroy her.

  “How much rein do I give her, Anthony? How can I trust she won’t get herself injured or killed?”

  He took a few moments to consider the questions, answering them with his own. “Are you convinced those are your only concerns?”

  “For now,” I answered succinctly, refusing to entertain the thought that the response had been a lie.

  Anthony stood from his seat, tried and failed to brush the wrinkles from his slacks, his eyes meeting mine when he gave up and straightened to his full height. “While you decide what to do about the issues that are bothering you, I think it will be in your best interest to consider the part you play in this equation. For now, Christopher is secured and can’t hurt her. Even then, I think Rebecca has learned her lesson about moving too fast with someone as broken as him.” He paused, his stare unwavering. “Tomorrow morning, she will walk in that room, Aiden, and she will do so alone. For the time being we can keep an eye on her for her own safety, but there will come a day when you’ll need to relinquish your insistence to spy. If for nothing else but your own sanity.”

  His steps were a slow crawl as he walked from the room, halting at the door as if he would turn to say something else. Deciding against it, silence trailed him as he left the room, leaving me staring out a window into the deepening night, the branches of the willow tree still now that the breeze was gone. The lake beyond appeared frozen in time, a tranquility that was in opposition to the storm inside me.

  How fucking dare she look at another man while my cock claimed her body?

  The thought had my fingers curling into my palm, my teeth clenching together until the muscle ached in my jaw. I had half a mind to return to that dark room and end the problem tonight, to make quick work of a wasted life and bury his body before dawn.

  But would that quiet the fury inside me?

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled Rebecca’s collar into view, dropping it onto the surface of my desk while admiring the gemstones glimmering beneath the light above my head. It had been in a moment of weakness that I’d given the collar to her, in a moment I’d allowed her to believe she’d managed to sink manicured claws beneath my skin to explore the possibility of a man I knew I could never be.

  Our fire had died slowly since that night, my interest waning while routine took over. Opening a drawer, I shoved the collar inside before slamming it shut. Out of sight, but not so completely out of mind.

  She’d have to earn it back, of that I was certain. The question becoming: Would she want to?

  Hours passed quietly as I decided whether what she wanted mattered in the long run. Finally settling on the answer that her desire was neither here nor there, I pulled my legs from my desk to stand from my seat.

  It was after midnight by the time I finally emerged from my office, but rather than heading to bed where I knew Rebecca lay waiting, I wound my way through the house in route to the dark room instead.

  I promised myself I wouldn’t kill him. It wasn’t my place to make that decision. But what I could do was evaluate Christopher without the presence of other Masters, without the presence of a woman who had brought both complacency out of him as well as violence. It didn’t escape me that physical pain such as her heel against his throat stilled him, while pleasure, the hand job she’d given him, had enraged him to a point where he’d made an attempt on her life. An odd reaction. Most men will fight when their lives are threatened, but to do so after a sexual advance was made? It wasn’t standard. It was too bad Adam was dead because I wanted to ask more about Christopher’s attack on the woman who attempted to ride him.

  Slipping inside the door, I left the room dark, only a sliver of light from the hallway revealing Christopher’s body bound over the bed as I let myself into the room. With chains at his wrists and ankles, we’d removed the ball gag so that he didn’t drown in his own saliva while lying on his back.

  Rebecca had bandaged his wounds with such tenderness before leaving the room, her eyes stained red from the punishing blows she received from my belt in the bathroom. I hadn’t hit her that hard since the first weeks I had her and I dared not think why her behavior with this man had dragged such violence out of me.

  Although Christopher hadn’t moved, I knew he wasn’t sleeping. His body was too still to be unconscious, his breathing shallow instead of heavy.

  “You can stop pretending you’re asleep.” My voice reverberated through the stygian dark. “I know better.”

  Usually this was the part where soft sniffles would erupt, heavy tears drifting down the ice cold cheeks of the newest Courtesan to occupy that bed. Begging came next. Pleading. The standard promise that if I were to let her go, she wouldn’t tell. It made me laugh every time I heard it.

  Not with this man. All I received was utter silence.

  There was every possibility his mind could be fractured, could have been shredded and turned to soup with whatever abuse he’d suffered before coming here. But I sensed intelligence in him, noticed earlier how he watched with keen interest the people in t
he room. If you asked me, Christopher was studying us just as closely as we studied him.

  Reaching above the bed, I flicked on a spotlight I’d installed several years ago, the high power beam bathing his body, blinding him to everything outside of the light so that he wouldn’t be able to gauge where I stood in the room. Beneath the beam, his naked skin was highlighted to reveal every cut, every scrape, every bruise and every scar. Not one muscle twitched beneath his taut skin, not one link rattled in the chains that bound him.

  I took a minute to survey his physical condition, and was surprised to see the amount of muscle definition he still had despite the months he’d spent a captive.

  Six foot three inches at least with broad shoulders and toned, trim waist, Christopher, at the peak of his health, would be a worthy opponent in any physical match. The scars - some thin white stripes, others more recent and still mottled - only added to a rough masculine air about him. His hands bore the calluses of a blue collar worker and I wondered who he’d been before he was taken. How had he caught the eye of his first Master?

  Although his hair was still a mess of tangled knots, the grime had been washed away to reveal a tawny brown with streaks of copper. And beyond the bruised line I’d marked across his cheek with my belt, his face was a strong structure that was both aristocratic and rugged at the same time. This was a man women would have admired.

  “Do you speak?”

  My question fell on deaf ears, his head turning toward the sound, his eyes squinting against the light, but he didn’t bother with the attempt at an answer.

  “That’s fine,” I admitted, “I have other ways of finding out what I need to know.” Better ways, I didn’t add. More enjoyable for me, at least.

  After searching the closet for a device I hadn’t used too often, I made my way back to the bed, set the heavy battery down on the side table and prepared the clamps. The press of a button turned the remote on and a flick of the dial set the charge to max. Sliding the clamps against each other I watched the sparks jump like fireflies through the darkness that surrounded me. I dialed the charge down to zero after checking that the device was functioning.

  “You should know,” I said conversationally as I stepped toward him, “that the woman you attempted to drown today belongs to me. I don’t appreciate it much when spoiled brats play rough with my toys.”

  Setting the clamps down on his stomach, I reached to tap his cheek. “Open up.”

  His jaw ticked when he clenched his teeth instead.

  A sigh blew over my lips. “I think it would only be fair that I point out I’m not into men, not like the ones who owned you before. Your looks mean very little to me and I’m not in a financial position where I have need of the money I’d earn to sell you. So, because I don’t give much of a shit that you remain pretty, I have no issue with breaking your jaw and using a pair of pliers to rip every tooth from your fucking mouth. Quite frankly, it would only make my life easier because then I could force you to suck my cock without worry of you biting it off.”

  His eyes closed, jaw ticking furiously.

  “Now open the fuck up before we do this the hard way and you end up gumming your food for the rest of the your miserable life.”

  His mouth snapped open and I placed a leather strap over his bottom teeth. “Bite down.” Pausing, I added, “Trust me. I’m doing you a favor and considering I’m not the type to do many favors, you should thank me for my kindness.”

  Silence answered me, my hands lifting the clamps from his stomach. “That’s what I thought.”

  Squeezing the handles, I felt only a flicker of sympathy for the poor bastard when I attached one of the padded clamps to his testicles. The pressure alone was enough to force a pained groan from deep in his chest.

  “Now you make a sound,” I teased, “It’s too bad that’s not the worst of it.” My thumb pushed the dial to a quarter charge, his body arching over the bed as electricity coursed through his balls up through the most sensitive of nerve endings.

  As soon as I dialed it back to zero, he fell against the bed with a heavy thump. His chest beat heavy with breath, but he didn’t cry or fight against me, didn’t attempt in any way to free himself from his bonds.

  “Interesting,” I said, more to myself than to Christopher. Setting the dial to half charge, I studied how his body reacted, noticed how every muscle went so taut there was concern the bones would snap beneath them. His teeth holding firm to the leather strap, he let out a closed mouthed roar that I knew couldn’t be helped. The chains at his wrist and ankles rattled furiously, the springs of the mattress screaming as his body moved in agony.

  Back to zero and his body went limp, but still, he refused to fight me.

  Pain was not his trigger. I was beginning to understand just how dangerous this son of a bitch was. Anybody else would have been reduced to snot and gibberish by this point.

  I took my time removing the clamps and returning the device to the closet. Crossing to the bed, I snatched the leather strap from between his teeth, dropping it to the floor before placing my palm against his bare chest. His heart beat erratically, a war drum beneath his ribs.

  “You can thank me for the strap now. It was the only thing that saved your teeth.” Nothing but silence, yet his eyes screamed fuck you. I could live with that.

  My hand slid slowly down his chest, sweat slickening his skin, the ridges of his abdomen firm beneath my fingers. When I passed his naval, his body flinched, biceps bunching, chains rattling as violence bled into his expression. His apparent trigger was just beneath my hand. It did nothing for me, and I was beginning to believe I did nothing for him either.

  Hating my touch, I could understand, but why attack Rebecca? Most men would give their left nut for a chance to be with her.

  Curiosity knowing no bounds, my hand slipped lower, the head of his flaccid cock brushing my palm. A weak growl of discontent rattled his chest, the clang of chains against an iron bedframe reverberating off the walls of a dark room.

  Sex was his trigger. Not a good sign for Rebecca. Every Master has their method, and I assumed she would have no problems convincing a man to crawl when the promise of her body was the reward.

  Not with this one, apparently.

  Trailing lower, my hand wrapped over his balls, fingers squeezing until his face twisted in furious pain, the skin from his chest up to his hairline flashing a deep, satisfying crimson. Body thrashing against his bonds as much as it could, there would be new bruises and cuts to tend in the morning.

  Leaning into the light, I made sure he saw my face as I drove my warning home.

  “I suggest you play along with your new role in the coming days. Your Master is the only one who protects you from me. And while she has it inside her to be tenderhearted, I can promise you I have no such soul. Harm her in any way and I will rip your balls from your body, dice them with a butter knife and feed them back to you in tiny tiny bites. And after I’m done doing that, real playtime will begin. I’m not into men. But I’m willing to do what’s necessary to get my point across. I’ll be pissed off while doing it, so I’ll let you imagine what that will mean for the health of every fucking hole in your body.”

  My hand ached from the vice grip I kept on his testicles. I couldn’t imagine the pain he must have been in.

  Our eyes locked. “Fuck with me once, pretty boy, and when I’m done destroying the holes you already have, I’ll make new ones just to ensure you leave this place dripping with my come.”

  My fingers released and I stepped out of the light. After a few seconds, he stopped fighting and I switched off the beam to leave the room.

  Closing the door, I had no doubt that Christopher would end up beneath my willow tree before long.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  REBECCA

  I’d slept alone all night, my eyes opening every few hours, my hand sliding across cold sheets to find Aiden hadn’t bothered to come to bed. Waking in the morning, I’d deliberated about my next move, while studiously
ignoring the grip of heartache tight in my chest. No doubt he was angry, but I’d assumed he’d feel the need to punish me further, to remind me in the moments we were alone that despite my role with Christopher, Aiden would always be Master.

  Although I had a duty to the man bound in a dark room that morning, I went through my normal routine, kneeling in wait in front of a door that hadn’t opened or closed since I’d last passed through it.

  He never came and by the time I pushed to my feet to start my day, imprints of the carpet bruised my knees.

  Screw him. Let him sulk like an errant toddler. There were two people playing this game.

  Having learned from the experience in the bathroom, I chose not to wear the costume of a Master that morning, opting instead for a simple pair of jeans and a long sleeve T-shirt worn and ragged at the collar, the cotton so thin that the shape of my breasts were obvious beneath it. It took very little time to gather water and a little bit of food from the kitchen before finding myself walking the halls of the Courtesan wing on bare feet that made no sound.

  Those same feet paused in place when I found Aiden outside the door of the dark room, his clothes unchanged from the day before, his hair unruly as if he spent the night running his hands through it.

  Blue eyes met mine, vacant of any warmth or emotion.

  “Do not fuck him, Pet. For your own sake.”

  The heat of my anger met his cold contempt. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Master.”

  Lips kicking up at the corners, a practiced smile that meant nothing, Aiden answered, “Neither does fucking a dead woman.”

  With that he pushed away from the wall where he’d leaned a shoulder in wait. Brushing past me without another word of warning, he strolled off, not bothering to look back at me before turning a corner.

  I let myself into the dark room, flipped on a soft light so I could see enough to set down the water and plate of food, and found Christopher staring at me intently. Blood seeped from his wrists and ankles, the bandages I’d applied to his previous wounds stained black where the blood had dried.