Page 8 of His Master

The thing was, I wasn’t so frightened that I nearly broke into whimpers as Norwalk slipped by and Victor made several turns because of my helplessness and what I knew Victor was going to do to me once we reached our destination, I was terrified because I wanted it so badly.

I wanted to be hurt and humiliated. The way Victor had exposed me and inspected me, with someone else watching, and the way he’d almost devoured my dripping hole and nearly made me come, again with someone else watching, had made me feel like an object, a servile, sexual object, completely subject to my master’s whims.

And I loved it.

Something was definitely wrong with me. So much that nothing I could do stopped me from crying into my blindfold as Victor turned into what I felt was a parking garage, by the way things suddenly went cooler and dark around me. I shouldn’t want these things. I shouldn’t want to feel this low. Hayden would be disgusted with me. Even Ari, who I trusted enough to ask him to be my second, would shake his head at me and say I was setting omega rights back two centuries with the things I wanted.

I was letting all omega-kind down by desperately hoping Victor would treat me like nothing more than a hole to dump his cum in.

The car stopped and the engine cut. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs. I sucked in a tight breath as Victor got out, then walked around to the door on my side, opening it and reaching for me.

“Come on, boy,” he said, his voice gruff and sexy as hell. “I want to get you upstairs as quickly as possible.”

He undid the seatbelt carefully, then manhandled me out of the car and onto my feet. The echoes around me, particularly when he slammed my door shut, confirmed we were in a parking garage. Maybe a large one. I didn’t know if there were other people in the garage with us. For all I knew, an audience had come out to watch Victor grab my arm and march me to God only knew where, my hands still bound behind me, and blindfolded, although he’d taken the ankle ropes off so I could walk. I could feel my cock bulging through the undone zipper of my trousers as well. Anyone who saw me would know in an instant I was aroused by my treatment.

I fought to keep all sounds inside as Victor took me through a door, down a short corridor, and onto an elevator. We whooshed up for so long that I thought surely, we had to be heading tosome sort of penthouse. That would make sense, given what I knew of Victory Holdings and Victor’s part ownership of the company.

“Here we are, boy,” Victor said when the elevator opened and he pulled me straight into a room. The fact that we didn’t have to walk down a hallway and go through another door confirmed the penthouse thing.

Victor stopped and pulled off my blindfold, and more of my assumptions were confirmed as I blinked against the sudden light. We were in a large, open-plan apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the tops of most of the buildings in Norwalk. There was a kitchen area off to one side and a doorway that led to a large bedroom.

The apartment was decorated in a steely but beautiful, masculine style. It was all shades of grey with occasional blue accents. And aside from the furniture you’d expect to find in a penthouse apartment, there was a cage, a curving lounge that I knew was for sex, and what looked like a wide ladder against the wall with various rings at the top and bottom.

I tried to catch my breath but couldn’t. What had I gotten myself into? And why did it have me so hard my balls ached and my hole dripped like I was in heat? Victor could torture me if he wanted to, and I wouldn’t be able to escape. Why did that appeal to me so much?

“You like what you see?” Victor asked, moving to stand in front of me.

When I was slow to answer, or even look at him, he grabbed my jaw in one, huge hand and forced my face up to him. The forceful gesture sent a shiver of longing through me.

“I said, do you like what you see, boy?” Victor repeated, his voice harsh, but his eyes somehow warm.

“Y-yes,” I whispered.

“That’s ‘yes, Master’,” he said, tightening his grip on my jaw.

“Yes, Master,” I gasped.

He studied my face for a second in a way I wasn’t sure I liked, like he was trying to see through me, see into my soul. He was trying to figure me out.

I didn’t want him to figure me out. I wanted him to use me.

He seemed to feel that thought and let go of my jaw, stepping around to untie my wrists.

“Let’s get you out of these useless clothes,” he said, tossing the rope aside, then grabbing the bottom of my shirt and sweeping it up over my head, still behind me. “Slaves don’t deserve clothes, and I don’t want to bother removing them every time I want to bury my cock in something.”

My breaths came in short, shallow pants as he tossed my shirt aside, then came around to undo the button on my trousers. Yes. That was exactly the way I wanted to be treated.

I was so ashamed.

Victor crouched for a moment to remove my shoes, then roughly tugged my trousers and underwear down, tapping my calves as a signal to step out of them. I shook horribly once I stood naked in front of him. It wasn’t just being unclothed, I felt so desperately exposed.

The way Victor raked his gaze over me, inspecting my body, only added to that feeling.

“Such a pretty boy,” he said, smiling like a predator as he stood, sweeping his hands over as much of my skin as he could. “That’s why I wanted you. Because you’re beautiful. You’re a work of art.”

My insides thrilled at the praise, all the way down to my primitive omega core. My master was pleased with me. My balls ached and my cock stood proud at that praise.

Victor noticed. How could he not? He grabbed my balls with one hand and squeezed until I moaned.

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