I should be floating. I should be tossed on his ocean, bitterly tired but sated. Instead, it feels as if my organs have been removed and my insides have been replaced with worms.My body is not my own. I suppose it never really was. Isn’t that what he’s been trying to teach me all along? That I belong to him, and he’ll do with me as he pleases? I bury my head against his chest and cry.
“Well, I don’t know about you, gentlemen, but I need me a stiff drink and a hard fuck after that,” Texas booms, his voice shattering my nerves. “Head on into the parlor and grab yourselves a whiskey and a woman. Or a man, if that’s your thing, Captain.”
Ares pulls the blindfold from my eyes, but keeps my mask firmly in place, even though it’s soaked with tears.
“Very nice, Master Muerte,” Texas says, stopping behind Ares. “If you’re ever looking for a buyer for your little Pet, you know where to find me.”
Sir’s arms stiffen. He straightens. “She’s not for sale.”
The other man chuckles. “Surely, you’re mistaken. Everything has a price.”
“Not her.”
“My brother drives a hard bargain, but he’s rather temperamental with this slave.” Hermes’ voice chills me to the bone. If I had a sharp implement, I’d spear him right through with it. “Why don’t we have a drink and discuss a few things while he sees to her aftercare?”
“Please, Sir.” I clutch tightly to Ares, risking another beating by talking without permission. “Please don’t let him sell me.”
“Shh, Pet. No one is going to own you but me.”
I swallow hard, wincing at the pain in my abused throat. My body shakes as he unfastens the restraints on my wrists and scoops me into his arms. I resist the urge to pull away from him, to rant, rave, and hurt him the way he hurts me, but I’m terrified of the outcome. Will he give me to Texas if I misbehave? Will he sell me to one of these other men, or share me with them like a common whore the way he shared me with his brother? It’s too horrible a thought, so I shove it down, lest I give it too much weight.
I tremble violently in his arms, and a male slave, naked but for a leather harness that trusses up his hard dick and balls with a steel cock ring, approaches us. His head is covered with jet black curls, and he has one of the prettiest faces I’ve ever seen on a man. A man no older than twenty-two or three, at a guess. He’s young and innocent, with a distinct middle-eastern flair. His carnality is palpable, and those blue–grey eyes are soft with affection as he watches my Sir. “Allow me to show you to your room, Sir.”
Ares’ breath hitches. It’s infinitesimal. I never would have noticed from a few feet away, but held in his arms, pressed up against his chest? I feel it. I hear it, but I don’t understand what it means. “Thank you, Israel.”
Israel gestures for us to go first, through the wide oak doors and up a sweeping staircase. From there, he leads us to a door at the end of a long hall, but he doesn’t step in front of Ares. He remains slightly behind, to the right of Ares’ shoulder. At the door, Israel inserts a keycard into the slot, and holds it open, allowing us to enter.
A decadent wrought-iron four-poster bed takes up most of the room. A great wooden beam runs across the exposed ceiling. There are cuffs and chains hanging from both the bed and the wood. A rich mahogany armoire sits in the corner beside a leather chair of the same color.
Ares lays me out on the bed, but despite the rage festering inside me, I cling to him when he tries to let go.
“Can I offer Sir anything else?”
“No, Israel. You may leave.”
“Yes, Sir,” he whispers, as if it were a caress. Jealousy twists my gut, but I wait until the door closes behind him before sneering at my Master. “Did you train him too?”
There’s too much anger, too much attitude, and I tense for the blow I know is coming. Sure enough, Ares’ palm comes down on my side, where my hip meets my thigh. I hear the slap before I feel the burn, and when my wrung-out senses process the pain, it smarts like hell. I grit my teeth, hating the way my pussy clenches with every slap, bite or caress.
“Do I need to put you over my knee again, Pet?” Ares tears off his button-up and throws it on the floor, his muscles bunching with every movement.
“Fuck you!” I rip the mask off my face and throw it at him. “How could you let him do that to me?”
“What did you say?” he hisses through his teeth.
I shriek. I scurry back across the bed, clutching to the iron posts because my legs are noodles, and I know they won’t carry my weight. “Fuck you!”
“I don’t like your tone, little one.” Grabbing my ankle, he yanks me toward him. I hold tight to the bedposts, but he pulls me down the coverlet with ease. The brocade scratches my bare ass and back, and I let out a yelp though it’s through frustration more than any real pain. “You’re mine, and I’ll give you to whomever I see fit to use and abuse, every fuck-hole you have.”
“You’re a pig! I’m going to get out of here, and I’m going to fucking kill you.” I fight beneath him, lashing out with my hands, striking his chest and arms, and finally his face. He stills, his murderous gaze promising retribution.
“You dare raise a hand to me?”
“I hate you!” I spit, striking the hard flesh of his chest with my nails.
“Right now, Pet, the feeling is more than fucking mutual, and you don’t want to see what I do to women I hate.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”