Page 24 of Enslaved

“Why? She’s gorgeous.”

“Maybe, but she’s too eager to land a rich man. They smell her desperation. Besides, before she got promoted to chief stew, she used to fuck the crew. The big players don’t want pussy a common man’s dick’s been in. I bet yours would fetch a fortune.”

“What?” I croaked.

“You are just the kind of girl they want. Young, fresh…I bet you’ve probably never done anal.”

“No…I’m pretty much vanilla in bed.”

“We all were,” she smirked. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“No, thanks.” I got up to leave, both repulsed and intrigued by how open she was being. “Can I ask you something?” I paused in the doorway.

“Sure.”

“Did Christos ask you to talk to me.”

She was silent for a few seconds. “No, but if he wants you…I’d consider it. He’s very discreet. From what I hear—his subs are set for life when he’s done with them.”

“I don’t want money.”

She rolled her eyes, “stop being such a goody-two-shoes. Life is about money. That’s why you swabbed decks today and cleaned up cum.”

“I didn’t do that. And no—I can work anywhere for money. But being on the Mediterranean earning it was a goal.”

“If you give Christos a chance…you could make all the money you want on the Med.”

“But on my back.”

“Yes. Your knees, too. It’s your loss if you don’t. I knew his last sub. She said he fucked like a wild stallion, not stopping until she fainted from the force of her orgasms.”

“Bullshit. You can’t faint from them.”

“Yes, you can. Sounds like your vanilla guys don’t know shit in the sack.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed.” But something held me back. I was curious about her…this faceless woman who did everything Christos had asked.

“What happened to her.”

“The ex-sub?”

“Yes.”

“She made the same mistake I did. We met at the club for broken-hearted subs.”

“She fell in love…with…him?”

“Don’t look so shocked. It’s hard not to fall in love with your Dom.”

“But him?”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“I don’t know…he seems so, so—arrogant…domineering and he’s kind of a prick.”

“What’s your usual type then? Blonde surfers, half-baked, strumming guitars on the beach living in an Airstream?”

My face turned red. She had just described my ex, Warren, to a T.

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