It's about a half hour before sunrise. The sky is changing into a brilliant shade of pink. I grab my phone and rearrange the sheet to showcase Blakely's creamy shoulders. It's clear she's naked, so I snap a few photos.
Daddy's going to love these.
I quietly get up, go into my closet, and pull a burner phone from its box. I always have at least a dozen on hand. You never know when one might come in handy. It's like the collar, numerous toys, and birth control shots. While I always take those things to one of my L.A. apartments where I house my auctioned subs, for some reason, I keep my stash here.
When Blakely came on stage last night, the thought of bringing her to Malibu consumed me, just like it did on her twenty-first birthday. There was no way I could convince myself to keep her in L.A., hidden away, while I was back in Malibu. Unlike my previous subs, I want her at my beck and call all the time.
I take the phone out of the box and set up the network. It's a secure one that Jones created for me years ago. I've used it a dozen times over the past few years.
I text the picture from my cell to the burner and send it to her father with a caption.
Me: What should I do with your princess first?
Satisfaction fills me. I turn off the phone and hide it in my closet drawer, knowing he doesn't get up early like I do. It'll be hours before he reads the message.
As quietly as possible, I go out of the house, naked, and grab a wetsuit in the closet near the shower. I put it on, grab my board, and go down to the water. The cool water feels refreshing as I paddle far enough out and wait for the right waves.
My adrenaline won't stop pumping harder than normal. Since I saw Blakely on stage, it's like it's on overdrive. Buying her was the biggest break I could have gotten. I can destroy Hugh without her, but it'll make the process so much sweeter.
And Blakely... Jesus, I'll have more fun breaking her and turning her into my pet than I ever anticipated. All the years of waiting for her and imagining her under my control were grossly underestimated. She'll please me more than I could have ever thought possible.
A swell of waves rolls in, and I ride several of them, but I never take my mind off Blakely. Everything about her is mysterious. It shouldn't be, I've watched her grow up, but there's so much that's happened over the last few years, and I don't know any of it.
Also, I know she wasn't telling the full truth last night. I plan on getting it out of her. Whatever happened, she needs to divulge it.
Several hours pass, and I ride until I'm exhausted, catching one final wave and riding it to shore, surprised and pleased when I see Blakely sitting on the sand.
She hugs her knees to her chest, wearing one of my white button-down shirts. Her dark hair blows wild in the morning breeze, and a couple of the purple highlights glow in the morning light. None of the makeup she wore the night before can be seen, which makes me happy. She's too beautiful to have that crap on her face. Her barely visible freckles dot her cheeks, which are normally covered by her foundation. The gold collar gleams around her neck.
Everything about the vision in front of me makes my dick hard. She's pure perfection, and now I own her.
As much as I like her dark hair with purple highlights, I'm still not totally used to it. I toss my board on the sand and sit next to her. I twirl a lock of purple around my finger, asking, "When did you change your hair?"
She shrugs. "A few years ago. I'm kind of tired of it though. I've been thinking of going back to blonde."
I make a mental note to take more pictures of her to send to Hugh before she changes it. Everything about her hair color with the purple streaks will send him into a tailspin. He'll hate that she's with somebody he doesn't know, but it might bug him more how she changed her hair to something he deems inappropriate.
She takes my silence as disapproval, but her lips twitch. "Is that okay? Or do I have to get your approval to do my hair?"
I struggle with my inner demon, who wants total control of her, and the part of me that suddenly wants to see her back to her natural state. I finally reply, "You're beautiful either way. If you want to change it, I'll make an appointment for you."
She shakes her head. "There's no need for that. I can do it myself."
I snort. "No, you're with me, Blakely. That means you get the best."
She declares, "That's not necessary. I've learned to do a lot of things for myself. It saves money."
I know all about scrimping and saving money. But the last thing I'm about to do is return to that situation. I respond, "Yeah, well, I have lots of it, so you don't need to worry about that."
She hugs her knees tighter to her chest and stares at the ocean. I can't tell if my answer pissed her off, but I can see that she has a lot more questions. Instead of asking her what's on her mind, I decide I'll ask later, and now is the time to push. I want answers that I didn't get last night, and she's going to tell me.
I turn her chin toward me, demanding, "Blakely, why were you running on the L.A. streets last night?"
She freezes, then slowly answers, "I told you, I was late to the auction. I didn't want to run in my stilettos. They're not exactly easy to trot around in."
"You could have stepped on a needle or some other dangerous thing. I'm not buying it, Blakely. Why were you running?" I ask again.
Nervousness fills her expression, and I know it's true. She didn't tell me everything. Yet she also isn't ready to come clean.