The basement of this house is set up like a torture chamber with sleek black tiles that can be washed clean, so I assume he’s trained many slaves here, though there are no cages here like in the New York house. Perhaps he only brought his lovers to his home.Did he bring Israel here? Did he fuck him in the basement, make him choke on his cock? And bring him pleasure like he’s never known?
On the third day of hardcore fucking, Hermes doesn’t join us, for which I am glad. Logically, I know privacy is a thing I gave up returning to Ares. My nudity does not bother me; I’ve spent my entire life on the stage. My body has always been the topic of scrutiny, in one way or another. Why should this be any different?
Ares pulls me back into the warmth of his embrace. His own body is slick with sweat, and I’m covered in bodily fluids and I don’t care because this peace—this is what I’ve searched for as long as I can remember.
He chuckles, but it’s not the cruel and bitter laugh I’m used to. He sounds . . . happy. “Are you still with me, Pet?”
“Ye-yes, Sir.” I could so easily fall asleep here.
“Come. Let’s get cleaned up.”
I expect him to make me walk, or worse, crawl, as he’s become accustomed to doing these past few days, but he carries me up the flight of stairs, and only pauses at the base of the next set to heft me closer because our bodies are so slippery. He sets me down in the bathroom, and I stare at the floor, breathing deeply of the rich gardenia and lavender oils he adds to the bath.
Ares holds out his hand to me and I take it, but my body is heavy even while I float.
“Careful, Pet. I can’t have you falling and cutting open that beautiful little skull of yours.” He kisses my hair and helps me into the bath, and then climbs in behind me, pulling me back into his embrace.
“I’m so sleepy.”
“Really? I never would have guessed.” He reaches one long, muscled and tattooed arm outside the tub and picks up a bottle of water. Taking off the cap, he hands it to me.
I shake my head. “No.”
“Drink, Pet. You know you have to keep your fluids up.”
“I’m not thirsty. I just want to sleep.”
“I know, little one. Lie back and open for me.”
I do as he asks, and I let him bring the water to my lips. It’s cool as it slides down my abused throat. He was rough last night, and again today when he fucked my mouth, and the cool water brings welcome relief.
Next, he hands me a banana, breaking off the tip. I shake my head as he presses it to my mouth, but I open anyway when he growls. I chew and swallow on autopilot because my Sir wants me too, not because I require the sustenance.He is all I need.
“Tell me, Pet. How do you feel?”
“Like I’m floating, Sir.”
He sighs against my hair. “Sometimes, I envy you.”
I sit up and turn to see his face. The tub is large but it isn’t so big that I can rotate fully, so my upper torso is strained as I attempt to face him. “Why on earth would you envy me?”
“I envy your courage, the way you love so freely, the way you give all of yourself to me, to Athena.”
I drop my gaze. His is too telling. His fear is written all over the hard lines of his face, but why? Is he afraid of losing me to Vladik, or afraid I might take my freedom and not come back? “I envy your ability to love.”
“Do you not love me, Sir?”
His inhalation is sharp, unexpected. I should not have asked him that. How will I cope when the answer is no, or if he tells me not to be stupid, that he could never love a slave? Oh, God. I gave up everything for this man because I believed he loved me, but what if I’ve been wrong?
“As much as I am capable, Pet.”
As much as I’m capable? What does that mean? He set me free because he didn’t want me to suffer at Vladik’s hands, so was it mercy or love that compelled him to do so? He risked his own freedom and came back for me. Again, love or mercy? I don’t know. I’d follow this man through the fires of hell if he commanded it, and he can’t even give me an answer to one simple question. He can’t give me all of him.
Stupid, traitorous tears spring from my eyes and trail down my cheeks. I try to turn away, but he grabs my shoulder and holds me in place, watching as one rolls down my face and glances off my jaw. It lands in his upturned palm, and he leans forward and licks the salt from his hand. I close my eyes, wishing I didn’t love him, praying to gods long forgotten to free me from feeling this way. As much as he envies my ability to love, I envy him too. If I were like him, I’d never cry a single tear again.