Page 20 of Cruel Master
The door opens, and relief douses my veins as the lights come on. I let out another sob, and my body shivers. He’s here. I’m not forgotten. Even broken as I am, the irony isn’t lost on me. He’s my captor, and I’m practically crying with relief at his return. Well played, Saldar. Well fucking played.
This time, there’s no messing about with vibrators. He comes into view and says, “What do you have to say to me?”
The words burn my throat, but he’s won this round. I’d say anything to get off this table. “I’m sorry, Master. Please let me go.”
The hot wash of shame almost eclipses the pain, but not quite. Now that he’s here and release is imminent, I can feel everything in sharper relief. The burn and the aches scream at me.
I said it. Let me the fuck out of here.
I think the words but don’t say them. I can’t let my mouth trap me here for longer. He runs a finger over my cheek, and I try not to scream with the frustration of it. Is he enjoying this? Does he seriously think I am?
“What have you learned?”
Seriously? I squirm against the altar and try to think of a response. What have I learned? That he’s a psychotic asshole who isn’t going to give me an inch. That’s what. But it’s notwhat he wants to hear, and I’m not brave enough to push any further. I search for words that will get me off this goddamn table.
“To do what I’m told the first time.” I pause. “Master.”
Chapter Eight
Hadrian
It’sworking.It’sactuallyworking. My poor Juliet squirms on the altar, and I can feel how desperate she is to escape. I don’t blame her. An hour in that position would be bad enough without the added pain from the plug.
Part of me wants to hurry this along and relieve her suffering as quickly as possible, but I press down the urge and take my time. I’m her master. I don’t work on her schedule.
Her beautiful hair is plastered to her face, and I stroke it back. She flinches at my touch, but I don’t let myself react. Of course she flinches. I’m not her husband; I'm the psychopath who locked her in a dungeon. If she knew it was me, would her reactions be different?
Maybe. Or maybe she’d be even more scared to see what I’ve become.
Juliet blinks rapidly, and I can’t tell if she’s holding back tears or still adjusting to the light. I run a finger down her spine, tracing the pink and blue flowers tattooed down it. A new addition, and it suits her. Juliet loves pretty, delicate ink. Peacock feathers on her inner forearms. A flower on her foot that she got the day she turned eighteen.
I’m still unsure what to give her at initiation, but I’ll make sure it will compliment what she already has.
Her clammy skin worries me for a second before I remind myself not to be stupid. She’s not even close to the limit of her endurance yet. I’ve barely scratched the surface.
She wriggles, shifting her shoulders the little she can, and whispers, “Please.”
It’s plaintive, but there’s something strange and unfamiliar in her voice that tugs at me. It’s higher than her usual voice and soft. Meek. I’ve never heard that tone from her. Is this really what she wanted all along?
I had my hands tattooed in preparation for today. I didn’t want to rely on gloves and deprive myself of Juliet’s soft skin. They’re unfamiliar to me now, and I stare at them against her pale ass. It’s a snapshot of a scene from some dark movie, and unreality makes the world tilt. I take a deep breath.
This is me. I’m really here. And what happens next is under my control.
Juliet whimpers again, and it snaps me from my reverie. She’s done as I asked. She deserves a little relief. Moving with the swift, decisive confidence Juliet’s master needs to, I twist the plug free. She yelps, and I make quick work of undoing her restraints.
I stand back and just watch as she moves slowly with a lot of muffled squeaks. Once she manages to sit up, I point to the vertical stream and the bucket of cold, soapy water and sponge I set next to it. “Wash yourself.”
Her head swivels between me and the bucket. Her lean frame shivers, and she’s like a deer caught in a predator’s sights. Me. She’s responding like that to me. It’s lightning to my cock, and as her lips part, I force myself to keep still. I could wash her myself. Explore more of the body I’ve missed so, so much.
God, I didn’t expect to enjoy this as much as I am. I thought I might struggle to treat her the way she needs. But she responds to me so beautifully it’s hard to resist taking things further.
No. I have a plan. Stick to it.
“Problem?” My voice rasps through the changer. She jumps.
“No… I… No.”
“No what?”
