She looked panicked, ready to bolt.
“You can do this, Scar. You have to do this.”
It took her a moment, but she nodded. She mouthed the word ‘OK’ but no sound came out. Unfortunately, I wasn’t quite done.
“No matter what you see, and no matter what happens, you must behave. Eyes down, and no emotion. No lashing out.”
Now her whole body was trembling. This wasn’t going to work if she couldn’t rein it in. I reached down, running my fingers through her hair. It helped, but it wasn’t enough. I crouched down in front of her and leaned in. “You can do this. I will protect you. I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I whispered before I leaned in further and covered her lips with mine.
By the time I pulled away, she wasn’t trembling anymore. She was definitely calmer, and it was almost baffling to think that after all I’d done to her, she believed me. She trusted that I would protect her.
I stood back up and gathered the end of her leash in my hand. “Stay beside me or behind me. Never in front.” And then I started forward, not giving her mind a chance to work her back up into a nervous frenzy.
At the door, she hesitated just before crossing the threshold, nearly back-stepping into the room, but she got herself under control this time and followed me out. I locked the door behind me, comforted to know the only other key to the room was in the room with Marcos’ body.
The walk down the hall was quiet and she did well, keeping up despite the noises up ahead. But there was no show in the grand room this evening, which was a good thing. Seeing some of the things that Marcos arranged as entertainment—whippings, triple-hole assaults, and even bestiality if it appealed to the crowd—might send her over the edge.
Tonight though, there were only private groups scattered around the room. A slave on her knees, going down on her master; a pair of men going at another slave from both ends—all relatively mundane for this house.
She paused as we entered the room nevertheless, and I could see her taking in the various scenes, though she did well, remembering to keep her head down. I had to yank discreetly on her chain to get her moving, while the sick fuck I wished I’d attached the leash directly to the clamps instead of the collar. It made me jerk with arousal to think of tugging on those chains and watching her body with its unique response to pleasure and pain.
Once moving, it wasn’t long before we had to stop again.
“Good evening, Derek,” one of Marcos’ patrons greeted me and I shook his hand, keeping my body loose, feigning an ease I didn’t feel.
“Hello, Vincent. Are you enjoying yourself this evening?”
“I was until I saw this beauty,” He motioned to Scarlett and then leaned into stroke her back and along the curve of her ass. One more second, and I feared I wasn’t going to be able to stop myself from breaking the man’s hand. Fortunately, he had the sense to remove the offending hand before I had the chance.
“She really is something. I’d like to have her for a while,” he said, fully expecting me to hand her over.
It was going to seem strange when I didn’t, but Vincent wasn’t interested in just touching the merchandise. He had an anal fetish, and he preferred the slaves dry so he could make them bleed. And there was no fucking way I was letting him do that to her. If anyone got to fuck her tight, little ass hole, it was going to be me. And I had no interest in making her bleed. Scream—yes, in pleasure, not the kind of pain Vincent liked to subject the slaves too.
“I’m afraid Scarlett isn’t available this evening, but Marcos always has an abundance of slaves who would be happy to accommodate you.”
He looked displeased, irritated over being deprived of what he wanted, and his hand returned to her ass, skimming between her cheeks this time, no doubt seeking out the hole he’d been planning to use.
It was either time to leave or kill him. And I could tell by the way Scar’s body had stiffened, I had seconds to go out of there or else I might as well kill him. It would draw no less attention than the scene she was about to cause.
“Tomorrow night. I’ll let Marcos know you’ve reserved her,” I said and then yanked on her chain and walked away without giving Vincent a chance to reply.
She followed eagerly, but I could feel the tension in her and the tiny sniffling noises she made that meant she was trying desperately to hold back tears. Just one more minute—assuming we didn’t run into anyone else.