Carnal Slave (21 page)

“What are you feeling, slave? Where has your mind and body taken you?”

Her master/lover wouldn’t punish. He’d wait her out until she found the words she needed. Understand her.

“Are you that far gone, slave?” He pushed deeper, stayed longer. “Past being able to think?”

“I’m sorry. What…”

A subtle shift in her vagina warned her that he was about to withdraw. Sick because she couldn’t do anything about it, she whimpered and tossed her head.

Long after he’d abandoned her sex hole, she waited for him to speak. His silence was as cruel as any whip and just as hard to endure. She tried to look over her shoulder but couldn’t find him. At least he still claimed her ass and his heat along her flank kept her on the sexual edge.

“To clarify something we touched on earlier,” he finally said, “you and I have certain things in common.”

Are you going to—
“What?”

Instead of answering, he vigorously rubbed her clit. The so-familiar electrical current charged through her until she stood at the brink of a climax, needing just a few more seconds to finish what might have already begun.

“You ran away. So did I.”

If only she could concentrate! But for that to happen he’d have to walk away from her.

Her breasts hung heavy, shaking in response to his pummeling of her sexual trigger. Her legs were strained but she struggled to open them further so he’d know how much she needed—needed—

“You waited longer than I did,” he went on as his fingers stroked at a fever pitch. “You had things planned out, a place to go to while I—hell, I just ran.”

There was the touch of a boy in his tone. She longed to embrace and comfort the child he’d once been. A man stood there, manipulating her, making her crazy.

“Huh, ahh.” She couldn’t remember how to close her mouth, couldn’t stop shaking.

“Call this my going away gift to you,” he said and touched three fingers to her vaginal opening.

“Master, why?”

“Why did I decide to give you a little pleasure?” His fingers slipped past her welcoming tissues, spreading and branding her. Throwing her into space where pleasure ruled. “Hell if I know.”

Finger fucked. Occupied. Attacked.

Lost in harsh yet wonderful reality, she dove into her body. Master Damek was right, she loved sexual pleasure. She’d always been a little afraid of her responsiveness. Not many men were worthy of that much trust. Why then had she tried to hold onto Mitch, damn her!

Because you hated being alone.

Her captor, her sex slave trainer had wrenched self-control from her and she loved it.

Feared and embraced the journey at the same time.

Her thoughts again broke off and melted, leaving her to simply experience. Electrical sparks crawled all over her trapped body, her ass muscles bit down on the finger in it while her pussy silently shrieked. Master Damek, who knew her better than she did herself, was again attacking her with broad, strong, hot fingers.

Was she swearing? If so he wouldn’t punish her would he? He was winning whatever these moments were about. He could be kind, couldn’t he?

“Let go. Surrender.”

She did, screaming and fighting bonds and fingers as the world disappeared. She broke apart. Splintered. Like a small animal caught in a raging river she rushed through endless rapids.

Screamed and swore and cried.

When he pulled out of her holes, the waves started to lessen. Alone, she wondered if she’d thanked him for her climax, asked herself if she’d called him names he couldn’t forgive.

Her pulled back and up arms ached. All too soon euphoria would fade and she’d be left with questions and pain only he could make go away.

“Damn you.”

Why was he swearing? Had she, again, done something wrong?

Familiar hands slipped between her legs from behind. Just like that she sank back into a place where everything was all right. She knew it wouldn’t last, that it was a lie, but she had to embrace these precious moments.

Master Damek’s cock brushed her sensitive weeping sex hole. Closing her eyes, she experienced. This mysterious, frightening, and complex man’s penis was diving into her. His hard length invaded, took over.

She was a sex slave, nothing more than flesh, bone, and muscle with one purpose in life—to serve. She might slip from his mind the moment he had no use for her, but that was beyond her control She’d been put on this earth to sag in her bonds and offer her body to him.

For this precious and overwhelming moment they were one, united. He thrust repeatedly, grunting and swearing as if he hated both of them. His hands gripped her hips, keeping her in place and taking some of the strain off her arms. Her pussy twitched. Leaked.

Shivered.

“Fuck you, fuck you,” he chanted.

“Fuck me, fuck me,” she echoed.

His attack on her pussy kicked up a notch and then another. His cock bruised and caressed. Then the river caught her again. Lost, she begged him to destroy her. He raked her hips and all but pushed her off her feet.

“Yes!” she screamed. “Yes!”

Naked except for the slender collar around her throat and the leather cuffs that kept her arms behind her, Willow followed Master Damek up the stairs leading to the house she’d only seen from the outside. He’d barely spoken to her since they’d fucked two nights ago, and since then she’d spent most of her time in her stall. Twice he’d checked the cuts on her thighs, but neither of them had said anything about the rapidly healing marks. It’s be a cold day in hell before she thanked him for the cream.

Staring at his back as he opened the front door, she frowned. For one brief insane moment she’d thought she loved him. Now she could barely stand to be in his presence, not that she had a choice. He’d used her pussy. She’d used his cock. Nothing more.

As for the glimpse he’d given her of the boy he’d once been—no! She would
not
think about that!

With the decision, calmness enveloped her. She wouldn’t just try to survive. She’d face her future with courage. Master Damek had taken her to mental, emotional, and physical places she’d never known existed, and she was still alive.

Stronger than she’d ever been. More aware of herself.

Taking hold of her arm, he guided her into a nondescript room. Her first impression was that the air was stale, the space ill-lit. Then her eyes started to adjust, and she spotted several men sitting in a semi-circle. Fighting herself, she refused to shrink against the man who would continue to dominate her existence until someone else took his place. She’d been without clothes for so long she’d become used to the feel of air against her flesh. As for embarrassment—the emotion belonged to the woman she’d been a long time ago.

The auction wasn’t until tomorrow so what was this about? Yesterday Reno had stopped by her stall with his trainee and explained to both of them that the thirteen captives who’d been brought here would be “put through their paces” on the raised platform being erected near the corral followed by the auction itself. He hadn’t detailed what those paces were but she could guess.

“She’s standing,” a man sitting to her left said. “I didn’t expect that.”

“You wanted her on her knees?” Master Damek retorted. The speaker’s voice was familiar—and one she’d believed she’d never hear again.

“Hell yes. Wasn’t that the point? I might not have gotten in touch with your organization if I’d known she’d be treated so damn well.”

Raymont Manchin! The man who’d fired her.

Master Damek said something in response, not that it mattered. Trying to support herself on suddenly weak legs, she stared at each member of her
audience
in turn. There were five men. Four were owners or senior employees at M & M Road Construction where she’d worked a lifetime ago. The other—was Mitch.

She stared at her former boyfriend. “What are you doing here?” she demanded when deep down she wasn’t surprised by his role in what had happened to her.

Master Damek touched her side. “Remember your place, slave.”

Slave. Subservient.

“It’s all right,” Mitch said. “She has a right to ask.”

“The hell she does,” Raymont shot back. “Look Damek, you were supposed to beat the God damn arrogance out of her. Just because she’s standing there buck naked—“

“She’s trained,” Master Damek broke in. “She didn’t know this was going to take place because I wanted to see how she’d react. Now we all know.”

Was this her master’s idea of psychological torture? His power came from demeaning her in every way possible?

“You recognize these men, don’t you, slave?” Before she could reply, Master Damek went on. “Carnal Incorporated is structured so potential slaves are nominated in a variety of ways. Most frequently trainers like myself do the legwork necessary to identify females who fit within our parameters, but suggestions are also made by those who have already proven their trustworthiness to the organization. This was the case where you’re concerned.”

She couldn’t take her attention off Raymont. What a fool she’d been to believe he was out of her life. As for his co-workers—and Mitch…

“Cut to the chase, Damek,” Raymont snapped. “Never mind, I want to do it.” When he leaned forward, she half expected him to jump to his feet and attack her. “For the record, bitch, I’ve had slaves. I know how Carnal operates. When I hired you, I suspected you had some of the traits needed for a successful slave, but I needed proof.”

He stood and walked over to her. Easy living and little physical work had packed on the pounds. At well over six feet, his weight was nearly double hers. He stopped when she was just out of reach.

“I have to hand it to you for figuring out why the company was doing so well. We didn’t expect that.”

In part they’d hired her to submit invoices to city and county finance departments. Did they really think she wouldn’t notice the difference in quality between what was on the invoices and what the employees actually used? Given everything that had happened since she’d started to get suspicious, she wasn’t surprised to realize she’d forgotten most of the details. At the moment the only thing that mattered was not shrinking away from Raymont—whose domineering glare reminded her of her father. She had nothing else.

Taking another step, he ran a fleshy hand over her shoulder. Any moment he’d touch her breast, but she’d weather the disgusting intimate touch damn him.

Damn him.

“Once I realized what you uncovering, I hired someone to keep an eye on you,”

Raymont said. “His orders were to make sure you had a fatal accident the moment you went anywhere near the cops.”

Smiling slightly, he grasped both arms and drew her against his belly. Disgusted, she turned her head to the side. His hold tightened.

“Damn bitch. I thought you’d come onto me, try to seduce your rich boss. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Just the thought made her gag. Despite the extra pounds, Raymont wasn’t bad looking, but his superior attitude had always grated on her.

“Why didn’t you go to the cops?”

The question pulled her back to the moment. “I wanted to, but I was afraid—“

“That’s it,” Mitch interrupted. “Willow, that’s your whole problem. You don’t have the guts to stand up to anyone or anything. You’re such a clinger.”

Her former boyfriend’s accusation made her blood race. How well would he have done if he’d been forced into the hell she had? Would he have survived?

“What were you afraid of?” Raymont demanded. “You had tons of proof.”

“I wasn’t sure I had enough. It would be my word against a well-respected organization.”

“Is that it, or was it easier to pull in your head like a turtle? Hide under a rock.”

The accusation hurt, but much as she needed to tell him he was wrong, she couldn’t.

Instead of turning what she’d uncovered over to law enforcement, she’d kept telling herself she needed more. Day after day she’d stalled—unable to make the necessary decision.

“It’s your fault that you’re here, Willow.” Raymont fingered the lightweight collar.

“Lacking guts is your fatal flaw.”

“That’s right.” Mitch stood but remained where he was, making her wonder if he didn’t want anything more to do with her. “In a way I feel sorry for you. It’s a shame you don’t have more backbone.”

“I don’t know about that.” Raymont’s fingers slid closer to her breasts. “Becoming a sex slave might be the best thing that could happen to her.”

“You think so?” Master Damek asked. He’d been silent so long she’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Don’t you get it? Here she is unemployed with no references to help her get another.

Hell, I could get her blackballed all over the state. No boyfriend. How the hell would she have been able to pay the bills? Wait, I know.” His hold on the collar tightened so it dug into the back of her neck. “She could sell herself. Think you could do that, bitch? Walk up to a man and offer to spread your legs in exchanged for money to pay the rent?”

Raymont had never spoken to her like that. In the two years she’d worked for him he’d always been respectful. When Mitch broke up with her, Raymont had given her a week off to pull herself together. That, in part, had been why turning him in would have been hard.

Damn it, he’d played her for a fool!

“You really should thank me,” he went on. “Play your cards right and you’ll have lifetime job security.” He frowned and looked at Master Damek. “What happens when she’s used up and no one wants her?”

His features impassive, her master stared at her.

“My guess is she gets shipped out of the country,” Mitch said somberly. “She’s never heard from again.”

She shuddered at the thought of winding up in a shallow grave. At the same time she felt disconnected from the image. Things like that happened to people who lived on the edge, not an ordinary woman like herself.

A naked and restrained woman surrounded by men who didn’t care whether she lived or died.

“Look,” Mitch snapped, “I didn’t come here to catch up on old times.” The way he approached, she wondered if he was having regrets. Raymont let go of her and stepped aside, giving her ex-boyfriend full access to her.