“Whoa! You alright?” I grabbed a handful of kitchen towels from a drawer and threw them on the mess of coffee and broken porcelain and then reached down and touched her on the back. She was trembling. Hard.
“Hey? I’m not mad at you. It was an accident. Come on, up. Are you burnt?” I pulled her up to her feet.
The back of her hand was red. The front of the robe was wet. I took her to the sink and held her hand under running cold water. She was staring at my face. Our eyes met.
Felicia
I wanted to get my head straight. I wanted him to put my collar back on. I wished there were a magic button or a magic pill that could undo the last 22 months so that my brain would be right. It wasn’t right. Not even close. My thinking that I was guarding myself and protecting it? I was so wrong. I didn’t know how wrong I was until I got out and tried to find function. I wanted to ask him why he called me angel. Did he call every girl that? I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to take me. Hard. No. I needed him to take me. I needed sex so bad it was going to kill me if I didn’t get it soon.
His scent, his warmth, even the sound of his breathing…when I was in bed with him the last few nights it was so comforting. It was the safest I’d felt in more than 22 months, maybe even ever. But it was like one big long foreplay lead up. And I seriously needed to have an orgasm.
Yesterday when we were on our way here from the airport I was almost jumping out of my skin imagining that when we got in the door he’d throw me down and finally make me his. I was wet, my nipples were hard, and I could…not…wait. It had been a long stretch of deprivation, waiting to give it to my Master, not knowing a thing about that Master but then meeting him and wanting him, wanting him like I hadn’t wanted anyone ever. He carried himself like an absolute Dom and I
could
not
wait.
And although at that point knowing he might reveal himself to be horrible, terrible, sick and twisted and ready to put me through some serious pain after getting me where he knew there would be no Kruna cameras I couldn’t help but think about what I’d seen so far, the sweet, the protective. I was thinking about the sweet touches to my face, the spooning, the sandcastle, the swimming, holding me and the keeping me safe in the water and safe from them and I dared to hope just a little bit that it’d somehow be okay, that we’d get here and the sex would be spectacular and he wouldn’t morph into something horrible and cruel. But what had happened when we arrived here turned my carefully constructed universe into an absolutely ravaged war zone.
Yes, it’s messed up that I didn’t try to make a run for it the minute we got here but I was brainwashed. I was brainwashed to the point that the notion of running would just not happen. Never ever.
People who haven’t been in my situation…they do not fully grasp the concept of being broken. I was like a horse who didn’t need to be tied, didn’t need a saddle, didn’t need spurs because I’d been broken. I would not run away. Every once in a while a rare horse will get his or her spirit back and rear up and throw an owner off out of the blue. But that wasn’t me. I didn’t think it was possible. I’d been professionally broken by people trained to make sure I didn’t rear back ever and they certainly must’ve believed that or they’d never let me leave the resort with one of their new partners. Not only had they thoroughly broken me but they had an insurance policy that would keep me in line.
I used to be a sassy fun-loving girl with a filthy mouth and stereotypical ginger bad temper and no fear of anyone or almost anything. All that changed over the first few months at Kruna.
The nearly 2 years there I had a single-minded focus to stay out of trouble and be a perfect slave so that I would not be subjected to the consequences that they’d laid out as well as corrections and re-training and so that I would get and then stay on the short list of available slaves for sale. Kruna rarely sold the assets. I wasn’t advertised. At first I was very sheltered but after Mr. Frost died I was put into the general slave population and allowed to serve more patrons and without his iron fist ruling over me I found my way to getting ranked among the possibilities for those who were interested in either taking assets off site temporarily or acquiring them permanently and I made sure that once I got on that list I stayed there. It’d been over two years since someone wanted a Kruna wife but now that there was the demand, I’d been the one chosen.
When I found out that I replaced a slave who had become an owned wife that possibility was the closest thing to freedom I could imagine and so I strived to get on that list. And that was what made me a possibility when they looked for a redhead with a big sexual appetite for Dare.
That’s all I knew of what he wanted other than that he planned to marry me. For a request to include a big sexual appetite made me think that I’d be subjected to some serious marathon session sex and I was physically fit, I had stamina, and I had a sex drive that rivaled most of the girls at Kruna and that was what helped me get to where I got to. Point C.
When he didn’t lay a hand on me and turned down my advances and I thought I wasn’t up to par and that would mean that he wouldn’t bring me with him and that would mean I’d be off that list and that the possibility of life off the resort was off the table. I knew I was gambling by aiming for that short list. I knew that because I knew that most girls who left the resort didn’t generally get a happily ever after.
A few success stories had been discussed but more often than not we knew who the Masters were and knew their tastes because of what we’d endured at the resort with them. A man who was into severe pain, mutilation, play with body fluids, or who had plans to make his girl the star in her very own snuff film was always a possibility.
Some girls preferred being a Kruna asset to being owned because even if some days were hard they were not endless with one horrible patron. I’d spent months with one horrible man here and knew firsthand how awful that could be. I’d been with a lot of patrons since then and none had come close. I hoped no one in the world would ever come close to that again…
Some dreamed of becoming an owned slave or some even dared to dream about being an owned wife because of the hope that it’d be somehow better. No, you’d never be fully free and your Master or your husband could be the Devil incarnate, but it was life outside of Kruna and the hope ingrained in unknown possibilities…that was everything. That was what gave me my single-minded focus to keep going from A to B and then A to B again and again. The quest for Point C.
Dario taking me off the resort was point C and I couldn’t help it, when we built a sandcastle and when he swam in the ocean with me on his back, and when he refused to let Cleo be alone with me before we left, hope kind of crept in. It crept in enough that I wanted my Master to be pleased with me, pleased enough to never make me go back.
Cleo hated me. She wanted me off that list. She was constantly trying to trip me up and that was at least partly because one of the VIP patrons, Joseph, had taken a liking to me and had her reprimanded for her treatment of me one night. The VIP owned a girl that came from Kruna and still visited a few times a year and brought her with him and would request group play. The girl he owned was a favorite of Cleo, someone she’d been buddies with.
Cleo had previously been a regular slave and had been promoted to handler when she started to look older because of her dominating personality. If she’d been a submissive she might’ve ended up on staff in the kitchen, in housekeeping, etc.
The VIP’s girl was jealous of me the first night I was with them because her Master was very enamored with me and she was Cleo’s bestie from the days before Cleo was promoted and she got sold so she must’ve gotten into Cleo’s ear about it and that was the start of Cleo’s hatred for me and it seemed to progressively intensify from there, especially after Cleo had to endure a correction as a trainer, which was a huge blow to her ego.
But now I was here, away from Cleo and Rafe and Mr. Chen and all of the others, and my Master was telling me I wasn’t his slave, that I was eventually going to have freedom again. But that was sort of impossible to comprehend. I’d never ever expected freedom again, never even dared to hope it was in the cards for me. So I couldn’t wrap my brain around that right now. I just couldn’t.
Right now, all I could think about, was how bad I wanted him to take me, throw me down, and screw the ever-loving life out of me. I was seriously whacked in the head.
Dare
She needed to stop looking at me like that. When she forgot to hide her emotions she had a very expressive face and it was speaking loud and clear to me right now. She was having some sort of hero worship side effect or some shit like that and it needed to damn well stop. I was not taking advantage of what those scumbag motherfuckers had done to her for my own carnal satisfaction. No way.
I turned the tap off, “There’s probably some ointment in my medicine cabinet. Let’s go look.”