Chapter Twenty-Four
Hadrian
I’ve grown too used to peaceful obedience from Juliet. I knew my revelation would change things, but even so, when she launches a headbutt at my face, it catches me off guard. I lurch back just in time, but she doesn’t stop. She slams her fist into my ribs, and it actually hurts.
I’m ready, though. Months ago, I asked Jacob to show me some basic catch-and-restrain maneuvers, and we practiced them on and off until Juliet arrived.
“You motherfucker. How dare you—”
Her fist flies out again, this time aimed at my face, and I catch her wrist. With my new strength, it’s easy for me to use her momentum against her, spin her around, and bend her over the altar, arm twisted up behind her back.
She screams, an ear-splitting howl filled with fury, and kicks her leg back. It connects with my shin. Pain ricochets up the bone, and my adrenaline surges.
I don’t fucking think so. I press her body hard into the altar, raise my hand, and bring it down full force on her ass. The crack is deafening, and she screeches her fury as I do it again. And again. And again.
This wasn’t on the menu for today, but as my hand lands again, leaving bright red prints, I realize I don’t actually care.
Saldar was all cold precision and planning, but he’s gone now.
There’s only Juliet and me. This is real, she’s mine, and if I don’t make her understand that today, she might never understand it at all.
She squawks and thrashes at first, but as my hand starts to really hurt, she falls still. How many was that? I have no idea. God, there’s a freedom in facing Juliet as myself that I hadn’t bargained for. And when she mumbles, “Please. Stop,” it’s a direct line straight to my cock.
I made her say that. Not her demonic construct. All me, and she knows it.
I give her ten more hard smacks, drinking in every little whimper, then stop. A few deep breaths, and I trust my voice enough to say, “On the altar, doll. Face down.”
There’s a moment where I’m sure she’s going to fly at me again, but after a few long seconds, she drags herself onto the altar.
Rich, heady satisfaction fills me. She’s obeying me.
This is actually working. I fasten her restraints quickly, before she can change her mind, and run a finger over her red, raw ass.
She whimpers, and I lean down so I can whisper in her ear, “Until I tell you otherwise, the only words I want to hear out of your mouth are ‘Yes, Master.’ Is that clear?”
There’s that long silence again. I’ll have to do something about that if it continues. But finally, as if it hurts her to say it, I get a clipped, “Yes, Master.”
Oh, how I love hearing that applied to me.
“Good.”
Not being able to ask questions must be killing her. I take my time setting up the punishment, placing the timer in her eyeline as usual, then squeezing out a generous amount of the stinging lube. It tingles on my fingers, heating my skin, and she hisses as I use them to open up her ass.
From what I’ve read, repeating familiar punishments will help during this transition period.
She needs to stop seeing a difference between Saldar and me.
We must become one and the same—her master.
I used this punishment five times for this very reason, until Juliet learned to behave and stopped giving me the opportunity.
I’ve selected a nice, wide plug, and it takes a couple of minutes of twisting and moaning from Juliet until it’s fully inside her. Then, I set the timer for thirty minutes. I give her one final slap on her cherry-red ass, and she yelps, clenching on the plug.
“You’re a lucky doll today. For the way you behaved, I could have made this much, much worse. I knew today would come as a shock; I expected a single outburst. A second will get you a very different result.”
Before I leave, I check her pussy with the hand not coated in the stinging lube. My two fingers slide in as easily as ever, and the relief is undeniable. Her body still craves this, even though she knows it’s me. From the pained little noise she makes, she must be thinking the same thing.
I repeat the words I said on her first day. “You’re going to love being owned by me, doll.”
I hope with everything I have that it’s true.
I close the door behind me, muscles relaxing as it clicks shut. The temptation to stay in the room is almost unbearable, but I can’t let myself give in to it. As Saldar, I left her alone to think. Now, as myself, I have to follow the same pattern.
If I slip and start behaving like a different man entirely, all my hard work will have been for nothing. All I can do is pace outside her prison, checking the screens every fifteen seconds.
I will the timer to count down faster—how can thirty minutes take an eternity?
—when something in the corner of the top right monitor catches my eye.
Flickering, like one of the pixels is on the blink, but moving in occasional regular patterns.
My heart drops, all the elation of the last half hour draining away in an instant.
Not again.
The first time this happened, a week ago, I dismissed it as my mind playing tricks. But then it happened a second time, and a third. Part of me still thinks I’m imagining things, but it’s getting less and less likely to be true.
It’s not Morse code. Not quite, anyway, though sometimes occasional letters make it through.
A long flash, then three short flickers.
A fairly clear B in the code, but the flickers before and after were nothing but gibberish.
Later, the B replayed, followed by a pause, then another pattern.
Short then long. BA. But again, everything else was nonsense.
Since then, it’s happened almost every day. The BA has repeated too many times for it to be random. Other letters, too. An N. What looked like OT, though I couldn’t be sure on that one. An E. But all scattered, as though someone is fumbling with the language, struggling to make sense of it.
I should tell someone, but who? Just like with the gym bag incident, speaking up feels like more of a risk than keeping quiet. Too many people have their knives out for me. Speaking about flickering lights that could possibly be fragments of Morse code could get me a one-way trip to a padded cell.
I need to be here for Juliet, not trapped under psych evaluation.
I stare at the flickers, trying to make some sense out of it.
I’ve learned Morse code since the first, creepy message, and the letters come easily to my eye.
An M, on its own. E and N again, though I can’t work out whether they're supposed to be together. Then the only phrase I’m really sure of. BA.
D.
I freeze, staring at the spot. A long flash, then two short ones. AD, unmistakably. The flickers devolve back into nonsense, but I don’t look away. That was new, and its placement, right after BA, has my skin tingling.
BAD.
The small word holds weight.
I’ve tried not to think too hard about what the flickers mean, keeping everything focused on Juliet. But there’s only one explanation that makes sense, and if it ends up being true, we could all be screwed. Maybe some fragment of Candice is still on the loose. Maybe she’s trying to communicate.
BAD.
It doesn’t tell me a lot on its own, but an uneasy feeling lodges in my stomach anyway. I watch the flickers until Juliet’s counter reaches zero, then brace myself to head back in.
Without the ritual of donning my Saldar costume, the transition from my normal self into Juliet’s master is jarring.
I psyched myself up for an hour the first time, but I can’t keep giving myself that luxury.
Soon, if all goes well, Juliet is going to be in my apartment.
In my life. I’m going to have to stop thinking of myself as two different people.
Time for lesson two.
Juliet whips her head up as soon as I enter, twisting to see me as best she can. Her eyes scan me, and I can’t help but wonder what she thinks of the physical changes. Right now, though, I’m sure her focus is on getting rid of the plug, and she has one more test to pass before that happens.
“Comfortable?” I give the word a sarcastic, mocking edge. She flinches but doesn’t retaliate, as per her instructions. “Would you like me to remove it?”
Her face twists, and she gives the finished timer a pointed glance but manages a “Yes, Master.” Good.
“I’ll need an orgasm from you first.”
She draws in a sharp breath and blurts out, “Bu—” before remembering the rule and shutting her mouth. No “Yes, Master,” this time, but I don’t demand it. I just made a statement. Silence is fine by me.
I choose a small but strong vibrator from the cupboard and position myself behind her. From previous experience, this should happen quickly. The combination of vibrations plus the pain from the plug seems to be a winner for my twisted little doll.
I activate it and set to work, using it gently at first, teasing her clit.
Out of everything I’ve done to Juliet since taking her, owning her pleasure is my absolute favorite.
I always loved giving her pleasure, but now I’m the only one who can.
If there’s one thing I’ll never get tired of in life, it’s this.
She fights it. I can tell by the way her brow creases and she bites her lip as I play with her. I let the pleasure build, then pull away. Normally she’d be begging after a couple of minutes of this, but that was when I was Saldar. She’s still trying to put on a tough front for me.
It’s useless, of course.
I work her up slowly, giving her longer and longer each time I touch her. Soon, her face softens, and her pale skin turns pink. Her eyes lose their tightness, and she meets my gaze, her expression sad and desperate all at once.
“You earned this, doll. Let yourself enjoy it.”
Then I turn the vibrator up a notch and press it hard against her.
It only takes a few seconds. Her lips part, her eyes close, and she lets out a noise from deep in her throat. A cross between a moan and a sob. Her body twitches, and I let her ride the wave of pleasure before pulling the little device away.
When she opens her eyes again, there’s a spaced-out look in them, as though she’s miles away.
“Well done. Now. Can I trust you to behave?”
I twist the plug for emphasis, and she squeaks before muttering, “Yes, Master.”
“Good.”
I let her squirm for a minute longer, just to see if she’ll flare up. Only the steady trickle of the water, and Juliet’s ragged breaths fill the room. Once I’m sure she’s resigned to waiting, I remove the plug. She sighs, then waits quietly as I unfasten her wrists and ankles.
I don’t instruct her to shower. The lube will have lost most of its potency by now, but she’ll still be feeling the sting. I want her to have that reminder for a while.
“You may sit.”
I watch as she levers herself carefully up. I could look at her for hours. Some days, I do. She’s lost a little muscle during her time here, with limited space to exercise and no equipment, but she doesn’t look any the worse for it. Maybe one day, we’ll be able to go to the gym together.
What in the hell am I thinking about? She’s my naked sex slave, she fucking hates me, and here I am planning couples workout sessions. I’m skipping about a thousand steps ahead of the game plan. That sort of thinking that will get me in trouble.
Once she’s settled on the edge of the altar, I stand in front of her. Her gaze flickers over me, darting over my face and body like she still can’t believe I’m here. She’s tense, and I can feel the questions she’s keeping locked up.
Too bad. Information is a privilege.
I cup her face, and her green gaze settles on mine. Her lips part, and I run my thumb over them. “That’s a good doll. Show me that you can behave, and I’ll consider explaining why you are here. You do not have permission to ask me questions. Is that understood?”
Her eyes widen. This is the worst thing I could have said to her. The next few days will be torture for Juliet. But it’s necessary. One shock at a time. She needs to get used to the idea of me as her master before I hit her with the Brotherhood.
I can’t deny the thrill that scorches my nerves as she forces out, “Yes, Master.”