Page 61 of For Love & Torture
“It’s a soup. Chicken feet soup. A delicacy, you know?” She smiles at me. Her deep purple lips curve up sharply at each side. “My name’s Harsh, Grant Jamison. I’ve been sent to you. My master feels you should have a woman to replace the one he’s taken.”
“Your master, huh?” I take a seat at the table, trying to figure out the best way to handle this. “And where are he and my girl right now?”
A high-pitched laugh erupts from her throat, and I find it hits my ears in a manner that’s none too pleasing. “As if I could tell you that. Just get over her. She’s meant for him, not you. I can fill her role. I can fuck you every bit as good as she can. You may find I’m actually much better at it than she is anyway. And I love to receive punishment and pain. I live for it, actually.”
“Do you?” I drum my fingers on the table.
Now, why would that asshole send a woman over here to me? What kind of person is he?
She fills a bowl with the disgusting looking soup. Chicken feet stick up all over the bowl, and it is anything but appetizing. “Here you go, new master.” She places the bowl in front of me, and the smell, which is so close to my nose, threatens to make me gag.
“Not having any?” I ask her as she takes a seat without getting herself a thing.
Shaking her head, she picks up the spoon. “I’m feeding you, Master. A good sub never eats before making sure her master is fed. I’ve been taught well. No bad habits and I know how to treat a man.”
“Then you should know that I don’t eat things like this. And I don’t let women feed me. I’m a man who’s able to feed himself, and I’ll be doing just that. I am also a man who takes care of his woman, not the other way around. And I also am a man who keeps what is his.” Grabbing her by the wrist, I hold her to make sure she understands she will do as I say or she will suffer unbelievably. “Now, tell me where I can find my woman or you will be sorrier than you’ve ever been.”
Her eyes open wide as she laughs. “Do what you want to me. I’m unbreakable. Whip me, torture me if you’d like. It only serves to delight me. My old master made sure I was accustomed to pain. He’ll teach your little girl how to deal with that too. Don’t worry, she’s getting a good education.”
With a quick movement, I get up and pull my belt off then bind her arms behind her back, running the belt through the rungs on the back of the chair to keep her in place. Pulling out my cell, I call the police station. “Portland Police Department,” a woman answers.
“Hello, I need Detective Jones, please. This is Grant Jamison. I made a report to him this morning.”
“One moment, please,” she says with a cheery tone.
“Jones, here, Mr. Jamison. What can I do for you this evening?” he asks.
Harsh laughs loudly. “Calling the police won’t change a thing, Master.”
“Shut up!” I turn my attention back to the phone. “Bart Mason sent a woman here to replace the one he took from me. At least that’s what this woman who broke into my home told me. Is that enough evidence to make a kidnapping claim?”
“I’ll be right over to question her. Can you keep her there?” he asks.
“She’s belted to a dining room chair. She’ll be here. I’ll text you my address.” I end the call and turn a chair around backward and look at her.
Her long blonde hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail. Her makeup is thickly applied, and the sparkling blue eyeshadow makes her blue eyes pop. The short skirt she’s wearing almost shows her cunt, which I can tell is bare, no panties on her, not even a thong I bet. Her tight white shirt shows her pert nipples as they’ve pebbled with desire. No bra covers them, leaving nothing to the imagination. She scrapes her high-heeled feet across the tiled floor as she moves her chair toward mine.
Reaching out, I stop her when she’s at arm’s length. “Don’t.”
“You’re making things harder than they have to be. Just stop. Just let him have her. She’s not worth the fight, Master. I promise you that. And she’s into him. I’ve seen it myself. She quivers with desire for him. She looks at him with lust-filled eyes. And he denies her his affection, his sexual attention. She begs him for it, but he’s making her wait. It’s what he does. He teases and taunts for months before he allows his women to have a piece of him. Believe me, if you somehow managed to find her, she wouldn’t come back to you anyway.”
All I can think about is the fact that he hasn’t fucked her—if what the slut is saying is true. And he could be feeding Bell drugs to make her horny. If this woman has witnessed anything at all, which I highly doubt.
“Tell me where she is and let me see it for myself.”
She closes her eyes and tells me to close mine too and to touch her body anywhere, and she will show me everything. I see this as some kind of a parlor trick and do as she’s said to, placing my hand on her shoulder.
Just as my eyes close, I see a dark place, lit only by firelight. Someone is lying on what looks like an altar made of stone. A flowing white dress falls over one side, and I find the person’s wrists and ankles are bound to the stone. Her head moves back and forth as she pleads, “Please, stop making me wait. I can’t take it. Please.” It’s Bell’s voice.
A deep growl that turns into a laugh sends shivers down my spine. “You want it now. Imagine how much more you will want it if you have to wait.” It’s Bart’s voice I hear, and I can’t believe this.
I open my eyes and move my hand off her. “I don’t believe you. It’s a magic trick.”
Harsh looks at the stove and I follow her stare. A fire blazes up from the gas stove, nearly touching the high ceiling. “Is that a trick?”
“I’m sure it is.” I get up and go to turn off the burner, and the flame goes out. “I’m not falling for this shit, Harsh. And the detective that’s coming over won’t either. Time to be real. Time to face the music and tell me where my woman is. Or you’ll be sitting in jail for a good long while until you do.”
An eerie smile crosses her lips and I hear a clicking sound, and then look over to see the belt fall to the floor. Her hands are now free. “You want real, you’ve got it.”
