Page 44 of Cruel Master
Mine. Mine. Mine.
Except for the scars on her thigh. I still need to ask about them.
My uncertainty fades as I spread the blanket out on the altar. “Lie down.”
She does, keeping her gaze averted from mine. Her jerky, angry movements are a bright red flag of her mood. She’s calling me an asshole in visual form. She lies on the altar, stiff and sullen, and I take a seat on the edge.
“You were a good doll while I was away. Something came up that unexpectedly delayed me, and you still behaved yourself. That earns you a reward. Close your eyes.”
She frowns, still tense, but complies. I make quick work of fastening her stiff limbs into restraints, legs spread to the corners, then fetch the custom blindfold I had made. It blocks out everything, not the tiniest shred of light getting through, and wraps securely around her head so no amount of thrashing will remove it. For what I’ve got in mind, it can’t slip.
Juliet’s breathing picks up, and I smile as I observe the changes in her body. For all that she’s been scared and angry, she still just endured a long night of deprivation. Her mind might hate me, but her body knows only I can deliver what it’s been craving.
I don’t touch her yet, though. Instead, I pull my phone from its hidden pocket and place an order from the kitchen. I don’t speak as we wait, but I rest my hand between her legs, unmoving, finger pressed directly on her clit.
It doesn’t take long for her to start to wriggle. The pressure there, after such a long period of desperation, has to be almostunbearable. She shifts, tiny movements, and I let her get a little bit of friction. Not enough, of course, but her body is wound so tight she starts to soak my hand almost immediately.
Poor Juliet. I never realized how much I love seeing her all needy and desperate like this. Before, I used to make sure she came every time we made love. Sometimes twice or more. If only I’d known how much fun denying her is.
My phone lets out a quiet buzz, and I leave Juliet long enough to collect what I ordered. She shifts in her restraints, turning toward my footsteps, until I sit on the altar again. I give her cheek a light tap. “Open up.”
She hesitates, as I thought she might, given the circumstances. She swallows, and her throat bobs. “Please. Not the drug again. I can’t stand any more. Master.”
Her voice holds true desperation, and it tugs at me. “Not the drug again. Now do as you’re told.”
Chapter Eighteen
Juliet
Openmymouth.Again.What will it be this time? His cock, unless I’m very much mistaken. He abandoned me for hours, and it’s right back to this. No apology. Nothing.
And just why in the fuck would he apologize to you? You’re his slave. Get used to it.
The voice is right, of course, but it still stings. I’d let myself believe I was important to him in some messed-up way, but clearly I’m not. But I open my mouth anyway. I’m all out of choices.
Nothing happens for a long time, and I can’t help picturing how depraved I must look. Strapped down, blindfolded, waiting like a good little sex object for my master to put whatever he wants in my mouth.
My pussy gives a twisted little pulse. The aphrodisiac has faded, but some of it must still be lingering, or there’s no way I’d be able to be turned on right now. Not after hours spent crying my eyes out.
Screw him. He doesn’t get to make me horny, not after leaving me alone and scared.
When the ice cream hits my tongue, I yelp. It’s just so unexpected, an explosion of icy cold flavor after days—is it days? I’m losing track—of grim, bland food. I swallow it, licking my lips, and when the next spoonful comes, I’m ready.
Holy shit. Did he import this from Italy? It’s the best goddamn ice cream I’ve ever tasted. Rich and sweet but with the slight bitter note that tells me it’s a dark chocolate variety. I’m as serious about my ice cream as most people are about wine or coffee, and this is insanely good. I swallow and open my mouth without prompting, like a baby bird asking to be fed.
Dignity be damned. I need more.
Saldar laughs, and his deep chuckle resonates through my bones. “I take it you’re enjoying your reward?”
I nod, then follow it up with a “Yes, Master,” just to be sure.
He chuckles again and feeds me another spoonful. I spend the next few minutes in chocolatey heaven, all my senses focused on nothing but the next spoonful. Blind and restrained, I relax for the first time in hours. Maybe it’s the sugar hit after days without it, or maybe it’s just the fact that Saldar is treating me gently for once, but my body melts into the soft blanket.
Does he know ice cream is my ultimate comfort food? Did he discover it in his research? I should be furious, but right now, I’m just happy he did his homework.
When he starts to explore my body with the hand not busy feeding me, I don’t even flinch. The angry, sensible voice inside me screams a warning, but it’s muted for now. I’ve had a long fucking day. If Saldar is in the mood to hand out treats, I’m not turning them down.
“Such a good little doll.” He feeds me another spoonful and trails his fingers down my stomach, toward my aching clit. Hebrushes over it just once, then pulls away. Christ, no. No more teasing, please. I’ll go insane.
