Page 10 of Dozer

I was still staring at his knees, and he put a finger under my chin. I had no choice but to meet his gaze again, so I did, but I gave himnothingwith my expression.

“Just as using my fists on women isn’t my thing, neither is outright rape. With that being said, if I decide to train you as a sex slave, that’s probably how we’ll have to start if you aren’t amenable to an agreement.”

“An agreement?” It came out more incredulous than I meant for it to, but what the fuck?

“Hey, I get it. I once tried to choose being whipped over being raped, so while I might not’ve understood that choice a few years ago, I’m not at all surprised you might offer your ass up for the belt before you’d spread your legs and ask to be fucked.”

He caressed my cheek, and I leaned away from his hand. His half-smile told me he was letting me get away with that for now, but not much longer.

“If you lost your virginity at eighteen, and I’m guessing you lost it to Dray, and that’s how he managed to talk you into running away from your life and going on the run with him, then the other logical—”

He broke off, put his finger under my chin again, and took a deep breath, as if he were smelling for something.

“I’m guessing Christian boarding school, maybe even Catholic. Two weeks at home over Christmas, and maybe you went home for spring break and maybe you went on some educational trip your parents spent megabucks for. Same thing in the summer — a two-month break, and you likely spent six weeks of it on some expedition related to whatever they thought you should go to college for.”

Every bit of it was right, and terror knifed through my gut.

“I could snap a picture of you and send it to a hacker friend. He’d have your name for me in under five minutes, if I was interested in ransoming you to your parents, and my guess isthey’d pay. So, what do you think? I’m not filthy rich, but I’m comfortable enough. Everyone has their price point, though. What would they pay for you? A million? Five million?”

My dad was worth around ninety million, last I knew, and my mom was worth triple that on paper, but I knew there were even more assets in numbered accounts. What would they pay for me? I had no idea, but the idea of having to face them after the way I left terrified me.

“Do you have a trust fund waiting for you to reach a certain age?”

I shook my head, but he made a tsking sound and my left nipple exploded in pain.

“I have to graduate college in a field they approve of to get it!” I shouted, and he let my nipple go.

“I wasn’t lying. It isn’t waiting for me because I don’t want to be an attorney, a politician, an engineer, or any of the other things on their list.”

“Fair enough. The hacker friend I mentioned made the same decision, but the difference is that he found a way to support himself. If you have no marketable skills in the usual job markets, that means you have to resort to either selling your body or doing something else illegal. So what have you been up to?”

I tried to move my face and discovered I couldn’t, so I closed my eyes.

“Have you had to hide from law enforcement? How hard are your parents trying to find you?”

I opened my eyes and met his gaze again. The smart thing would be to tell him I’d been running from their private investigators and it was a huge pain in the ass, but my instincts told me not to lie to him again. “I said horrible things to them before I left. I was eighteen when I left though, so they didn’t have to report me as a runaway. I can’t find any record of themhaving me listed as a missing person, and they never mention me on social media. When someone at an event asked where I was, mom evaded the question.” She’s a politician, and she excels at only answering the questions she wants to provide answers for.

“Ah, the truth. Thank you for that. You’ll soon learn that if you work with me, I’ll work with you.”

He let go of my chin and backed up a few inches. Still in my face, but it gave me some breathing room.

“So, I want a sex slave, and you need someone to pay your way, yes? It’s the beginnings of a negotiation, and we could certainly do worse. Ideally, when your term with me is up, you’ll have a way to support yourself. Is there a profession you want to do? Something mum and dad don’t approve of?”

I could see no harm in answering his question. I wasn’t negotiating to be a fucking sex slave, but I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I’m not a total loser. “I’d love to be able to make money with my art. Originally, I thought I’d have my artwork hanging in galleries, or maybe I’d make famous murals, or…” I sighed. “But now, I think I’d be happy as a tattoo artist. Helping people express themselves, working with them to get just the right image on just the right body part.”

He seemed genuinely interested in me in a way no one had since I’d first met Dray, and it occurred to me this was probably the equivalent of a great big flashing neon warning sign, but I kept talking anyway.

“When I was fifteen, my guidance counselor helped me get accepted to a summer intensive at the Royal College of Art in London, and I made a deal with my parents — that if they’d let me do that as my summer learning, I’d buckle down on my SAT and LSAT tutoring, and I’d do my best to situate myself so Yale or Stanford would accept me. I’d been letting my grades slip. I mean, I hadn’t actually made a B, but I was really close, and itwas making them nervous. I promised to get high As again if they’d let me do the summer in London, focusing on my art.”

“And where were you accepted?”

“Both, which means they chose Yale for me. Both of them passed the bar. Mom’s the politician, dad worked in corporate law until he was made CEO of—” I cut myself off before I told him too much.

“Okay. I’ll let you keep a little privacy for now. I’m going to assume you understand enough about contract law to know any agreement the two of us reach won’t be legally binding, but that won’t be the point.”

He pulled a few more inches away, gave me a little more space, and it felt like he wanted me to tell him the point.

“A sexual slavery contract? I agree to be your sex slave, and you agree to keep a roof over my head, food in my belly, and a way to support myself once the term ends? Is that it?”

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