Chapter 60 #2
The words are a polite suggestion, but they carry the weight of a command and they send a fresh, ice-cold wave of terror through me. The ‘pleasure remains’. I know what that means, I know what happens next. The flicker of hope is snuffed out, replaced by a rising tide of pure panic.
My breathing hitches, and I press my palms flat against my thighs to stop them from shaking.
The men begin to rise, their chairs scraping against the floor. Antonio stands with them, playing the perfect host. “Please, gentlemen, go through. Everything is prepared. I will join you momentarily.”
They file out of the dining room, their voices fading down the hall. For one breathtaking, delusional second, I think he is dismissing me. That my performance was adequate, that I am to be sent to my room, spared whatever awaits in that smoke-filled room beyond. That I have been perfect enough.
He turns to me and the hope dies a swift, brutal death.
“Stand,” he says.
My legs are weak, trembling from kneeling for so long, and from sheer fear. I push myself up, my body feeling alien and uncooperative.
He steps close, his presence overwhelming. He lifts my chin with two fingers, forcing my terrified eyes to meet his. There is no warmth there, only possession and a sharp, warning glint.
“Remember your place,” he whispers, the words a venomous caress.
A whimper escapes me, a tiny, broken sound I cannot contain. It is a sign of weakness, of imperfection.
He tuts, soft, disapproving in a way that is more frightening than a shout.
His eyes leave my face, and he turns to the table, to the remnants of the port as he picks up his own untouched glass.
From his waistcoat pocket he produces a small, clear capsule.
Without ceremony he cracks it between his thumb and forefinger and lets the liquid seep into the deep red liquid as he swirls the glass gently.
He holds it out to me.
My heart seizes. Is this the same thing he gave me last time? The same drug that made me lose myself? My body screams at me to refuse, to knock the glass from his hand and run.
But I remember his warning.
“Those men are going to fuck you.” He says, so matter of fact. “You can either scream, fight and suffer through it or you can drink this now and ease your pain, ease your memories. The choice is yours.”
I stare back at the glass and I suddenly, desperately want whatever this drug is.
I don’t care if it makes me the whore they want me to be, I don’t care if it knocks me out entirely.
I want oblivion, I want nothing. I want whatever this will do to me if it promises to make the next few hours more bearable.
My hand trembles violently as I reach out and take the heavy crystal glass. The eyes of the painted portraits on the walls seem to watch me, and the silence of the room is deafening.
I bring the glass to my lips. The port is sweet and thick but I can taste a faint, bitter chemical undertone. I drink it all, desperate to get it over with. The liquid burns a path down to my stomach, where it sits like a lead weight.
A smile touches Antonio’s lips. A cold, satisfied curve that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Good girl.”
He takes the empty glass from my limp hand and sets it aside. Then his fingers wrap around my wrist, not hard, but with an inescapable firmness. The touch is a brand.
He then pushes me back, onto the table and spreads my legs.
“Remember,” He murmurs, his fingers making me gasp as he starts circling my clit. “You’re a whore, my whore. I’ve trained you, I’ve moulded you. You will take what they give you, you will take it all and you will be grateful for it.”
“Yyess Master.” I whisper, shutting my eyes, burying my face in his shirt as he starts drawing out one delightfully poisonous orgasm from me.
“I want your cunt nice and wet and ready.” He says. “It’s a favour I’m granting you because you’ve been so good already. If you’d been naughty, I would have let them fuck you dry and let them tear you up. But you deserve this, don’t you Pup?”
“Yesss.” I gasp again. I do deserve this, I deserve this moment.
I stretch my legs wider, gripping his fingers with my muscles as he penetrates me.
“Greedy little slut.” He chuckles.
“Antonio…” I gasp. It’s half pleading, half I don’t even know what.
His hand claps around my mouth, and his eyes turn dangerous. “Not that.” He snaps. “Not to you. I am your Master, and you are my bitch. Remember your place.”
I shudder, writhing against the table. Wanting to shake my head, wanting to argue, wanting to scream his name until everyone here understands what he’s doing to me. That we are more than Master and Pet. More than slave and owner.
“Fuck,” He groans as the sound of his fingers inside me turns to a shameful squelching.
“I’m so close, I’m soo…” I scream out as I throw myself backwards, sending a plate or a glass shattering to the floor as he finger fucks me.
“More, more…” I don’t even understand the words coming out of my mouth but in this moment his hands, his touch; it’s electrifying, it’s exhilarating, and I can’t get enough.
“You will have more, Pet.” He says as he steps away and wipes the remnants of me from his hand with a napkin. “Behave tonight, embrace the pain as well as the pleasure and your Master will give you so much more.”
Pain. Pain and pleasure.
I try to steady my breath as he pulls me off the table, as he leads me through the hallway toward the closed door ahead.
Pain.
Pain and Pleasure.
My feet move numbly, following his pull. The world begins to take on a soft, fuzzy edge. The lights seem to halo and a strange, artificial warmth starts to spread through my limbs, muting the sharp edges of my fear, replacing it with a thick, drowsy dread.
I am being led into the lion’s den, and I can already feel the bars closing behind me. He opens the door, and the scent of cigar smoke washes over me. The low laughter of powerful men pauses for a beat as we enter.
Antonio leads me inside and the door swings shut, metaphorically sealing me in my gilded cage.
“Gentlemen,” My Master says with such a smile.
And these men, they all smile back, they all show their teeth and they’re sharp, so fucking sharp. I know they’re going to sink them right into my flesh, and tear and tear.