“Not likely.”
She pouts. I take a calming breath. It’s all I can do not to put her over my knee, or worse, kiss her again. I lead her to the bed, cover her eyes with a blindfold, and slide the noise-cancelling headphones over her ears. Her whole body stiffens. I’m sure she believes I’m taking her outside again. I am taking her outside, and from there we’ll get in a car and drive miles away from this room, but I doubt she’ll like our destination as much as the garden.
I pull a long, black velvet cloak from the giftbox on the bed, place the hood over her head, and fasten it around her shoulders. She nestles into the plush fabric and her heels click against the floorboards in time with her drumming knees, showing just a hint of that patent red leather sole. She’s terrified and looks good enough to eat. All eyes will be on her tonight. Pride, jealousy, and the fierce need to protect what’s mine all war within me. This exercise is important in fostering trust between us, and unfortunately, The Ranch is a necessary evil.
It’s imperative that she has complete and utter faith in me as her Dom, as her Master. Is it faith I deserve? No. She’ll come to learn that soon enough, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Every move I make is for the greater good. Forher.
I lead Pet from the room and into the remainder of the house. Outside, Hermes opens the car door, and I gently usher her inside. For a beat, I watch her through the window. I see the moment she realizes she’s alone in the car, and her throat works. Her breaths are shallow, and her forehead pinched. I have half a mind to pull her from the back seat, carry her inside and take her away from this madness.
Hermes throws his hands up in a what-the-fuck gesture. My brother glares at me. I glare back, then I walk around the vehicle, open the door, and climb inside.
Resting one hand on her knee, I trace patterns over the silk covering her thigh. Pet snuggles close, practically straddling my lap, so I pull her all the way on top of me and let her relax against my chest with her chin on my shoulder. Hermes drives, glancing at us in the rearview mirror. Two hours later, we’re pulling into the long circular drive of The Ranch.
I wake her gently, and pull the hood back from her face. Then I remove the headphones and blindfold. Her eyes dart all around. I give her a moment before I slip a mask in place. It’s black and ornately beaded with silver thread and filigree. Horses whinny, and birds sing despite the lateness of the afternoon and the winter chill.
I refasten the lead to her collar and tug as I open the door. “Come, Pet.”
She’s so busy absorbing her surroundings that she doesn’t realize I’ve given her a command, so I jerk on her leash, not hard, but enough to show her I’m not playing. I have no time for delicacies. Not tonight. She won’t be throwing any tantrums in this house, or the punishment will be swift and as hard as my belt cracking against the soft flesh of her ass.
I place my hand on her head so she won’t hit it when she climbs out of the car, and I give her only a moment to feel the breeze on her face before I pull her toward the stairs.
“Good evening, Sir,” a buxom blonde in leather straps meant to resemble lingerie greets us. Fat, perky tits bounce as she curtseys. What I wouldn’t give to truss her up like a Christmas ham and flog the shit out of her.
Beside me, Pet is rigid. The confusion on her face tells me everything. Right now, she’s wondering who this newcomer is, and whether she should risk a beating to ask her for help. She’ll get no help here, but a sound beating I can certainly deliver.
“My brother has instructions for our bags,” I say to the blond submissive.
“Bags?” Pet whispers, shooting me a look of incredulity.
“Did I give you permission to speak, slave?” Her doe eyes widen, her mouth falling open ever so slightly. I’m glad my brother isn’t standing beside me to witness Pet’s shock, or I’d never hear the end of it.
“S-sorry, Sir.”
The help wanders over to Hermes, and I yank on Pet’s lead again. “You are not permitted to speak for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”
When she doesn’t answer, I yank her to me, digging my hands into the flesh of her bicep. “Do you understand?”
“Which is it? I’m allowed to talk, or I’m not?”
I slap her tits hard. “Who owns you?”
Tears prick her eyes. She sniffles and lowers her gaze to the ground. “You, Sir.”
“Good. Now, you may communicate by nodding or shaking your head. You are not to speak to anyone.”
“Anyone?” she mutters, as if the word slipped out with her musings.
“Do I need to put you over my knee, Pet? Or do you think you can obey a simple order?”
She shakes her head emphatically, but quickly nods when I give her an arch look. The poor little lamb is no doubt confused by my questions.
“You will answer only to me. I am your Master. If I choose to let another touch you, then that is my choice.”
A gasp escapes her lungs and tears well in her eyes, spilling over the delicate mask. “Stop crying, Pet. This is for your own good. I don’t like the idea of sharing you at all, but it’s necessary for your training. You belong to me, and if I deem another worthy of your body, of your slick cunt, then you must obey. Do you understand?”
Her whole body shakes, racking with sobs that she appears to be holding back. She nods. Carefully, I lead her up the stairs, one by one, and ring the doorbell.