5. Drake
CHAPTER 5
Drake
How dare she.
How fucking dare she.
I can’t believe Mimosa had the fucking gall to bring up something she shouldn’t have even heard, something Hunter shouldn’t have even said. He’s such a high and mighty prick, and I guess it’s easy for him to forget that some women still have a spine at first. His Stef never had, but my girl has a fire I’m going to have to extinguish.
Sooner rather than later.
I mull over it as I head to the kitchen, looking through the liquor cabinet. I don’t know if I have anything strong enough to really help, and I think of the supply of pills I have locked away in my room.
Pills, and a few things that are a bit stronger — things I don’t usually touch because I have to fight to stop taking them. Things you snort, things you ingest, things that have a bad reputation for good reason.
The only problem is the high doesn’t last nearly long enough to make them worth it.
I take a deep, shuddering breath and close the liquor cabinet. I storm off to my room, my eyes scanning it for the little snake I’d taken into my home. I wonder if she’s going to try the door — naked and in a place full of predators — and I half hope she does so I can drag her back kicking and screaming.
So I can show her that no one gives a fuck about her.
I own too much for them to do more than turn a blind eye.
I go to my safe, crouching down to input the code and press my thumb to it to unlock it. Everything’s neatly inside, for all that the supplies are nearly depleted. I shove the bottle I’d gotten today into it, wanting to keep that out of sight from nosy little bitches, and hesitate over the rest.
But I need to calm the fuck down.
Fucking Hunter.
Fucking Mimosa.
I snatch up the last little baggie of powder, using my bedside table to cut a line of it. It burns when I snort it, but the sensations that wash over me almost immediately wipe away any hints of discomfort. It’s so fucking good , and it’s all I can do not to keep a constant supply on me.
I know better, though. Some things leave traces too easy to follow, and this is one of them.
The last thing I need is a drug scandal.
I put the bag away and close the safe, making sure it’s locked so certain little sex slaves who don’t know their place yet can’t continue to snoop around. I don’t know what I left out to tip her off to anything else, but apparently, I’d been careless.
I don’t care, though, not right now, because the euphoria wipes away those thoughts, too.
Calmer, I think about the fact that my new slave is hiding from me instead of servicing me, which is a pity and a waste. I stalk toward the closet, standing at the doorway.
“Mimi,” I say in a singsong, “it’s time to come out and play with your Master.”
I hear a soft inhale, but she doesn’t answer. If she hides from me… well, I’m going to have a lot of fun dragging her out and reminding her just what she’s here for.
Disappointingly, she comes out from behind some old coats, with a blanket wrapped around her. She holds her head high and stares straight at me .
She doesn’t say a single word.
Her defiance still sparks something in me, though, a bit of anger that even the drugs can’t quash. “Drop the blanket,” I tell her. “I want to see all of my property.”
She lets go of the blanket, and it falls to her feet.
Despite being completely nude, she doesn’t act embarrassed or ashamed.
I remember Hunter’s girl being in tears when she had to perform for us. Chase’s girl fought and argued the entire night.
Mimosa is just quiet, and something about that pisses me off.
“What? Nothing to say now?” I taunt her, trying to get a reaction out of her. “You were big and bad before. Say something. You know you want to.”
“How can I serve you, Master?” she asks steadily.
There’s nothing sarcastic about her tone. It sounds like a genuine question—but I know better.
I stare at her, trying to find something in her expression that’s an excuse to smack the shit out of her. Then again, I don’t need a reason. Still…
“Get down on your knees and give me a blowjob,” I tell her. “Since I can’t fuck your diseased cunt yet.” It’s tempting to ignore Hunter about that, though. Pavone had mostly insisted that the men wear condoms, and he wouldn’t have wanted his girls passing on diseases.
Mimosa walks closer to me without a single faltering step, then gets to her knees. She reaches for my belt, undoing it with practiced ease.
I should be pleased about this, so why does it just piss me off more?
Fuck, the drugs should be suppressing all of this anger, but it just seems to be amping it up. A blowjob will do it, though. An orgasm on top of all of that will calm me down, then I can enjoy the rest of the evening.
“Hurry up,” I say.
Mimosa unzips my slacks and gets my cock out, giving it a hard stroke immediately. Then she leans in and wraps her lips around the head of my cock without any fanfare at all. She sucks and strokes at a fast pace, exactly like I told her to .
Why does it irritate me when I’m getting exactly what I want?
I grab her by her orange hair, gripping it tight. I wait for her to relax her jaw a little, and she takes the hint. I pull her completely off, telling her, “Just hold your whore mouth open.”
She swallows once, then opens her mouth wider. Her eyes meet mine, and there’s no anger or fear in there.
But there might be pity.
I hate it.
In this moment, I hate her too.
I shove my cock into her mouth, ignoring the way her teeth slightly graze the underside until she gets her bearings and opens up even wider. I should punish her for it, but getting face-fucked is going to be punishment enough.
I think.
Fuck, I want to beat her senseless and fuck her and come all over her body?—
I rein myself in, though, because the last thing I need is to accidentally kill her. It’s a sobering thought, just how easily my anger could overtake me, but it doesn’t kill my erection. I grab her tighter and push deeper until the head of my cock is at the back of her throat.
At least that gets a physical reaction out of her. She chokes, and her eyes squeeze shut as she fights to breathe. Her face flushes red, and tears leak out of the corners of her eyes.
I want to choke her with my cock. I like that she can’t breathe, that she’s not fighting me on this even though this has to be torture for her.
Good.
I slowly shove my way in until I’m completely buried inside her throat, my balls brushing her chin as I bottom out.
Her eyes widen in desperation, and she makes a noise that zings through my cock, sending pleasure rushing up my spine. She tries to pull back and even has the gall to push against my thighs.
It feels good.
I feel powerful.
“Don’t you fucking bite me,” I warn. “I’ll let you up when I let you up. Now fucking suck, Mimi. ”
There’s a flash of something in her eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. She stops struggling, and I can hear her inhale through her nose in a desperate attempt to get air.
As amazing as it feels, the last thing I need is to kill her by accident. Imagine explaining that to Hunter: oh, I fucked her throat too hard, my bad. I pull back, letting her suck in a few breaths of air before plunging right back in.
I fuck her like that, bringing her to the edge again and again as I get closer, and when I’m on the precipice, I abruptly yank back. A few strokes, and I’m coming on her face, spraying it white all over her eyes, her nose, and her mouth.
All she’ll be able to smell and taste is me.
She coughs, and some of my cum lands on her tongue. She makes a disgusted expression and tries to spit it out, but I reach down to clutch her jaw.
“Swallow it all. In fact, lick your lips. Show me how much you love my cum.”
Mimosa blinks quickly, and after a few seconds she swallows. Her tongue darts out to lick all around her mouth, which does barely anything to clean her face, but I love that she finally, finally , seems affected by all this.
So all it takes is a little bit of humiliation.
I’m flying high, and I finally start to calm down and cool off. I’m not feeling particularly kind, so she’ll go back into the cage tonight, but she’s at least earned herself a meal.
I watch her clean her face and tell her, “No running off to wash yourself off. Now come on. I’m sure you’re hungry.” I’m not, but I know I need to eat — and like she’s my pet, I have to remember to feed her.
I never have been very good with pets, so a part of me wonders what the fuck I’m doing, but at least this one can sort of tell me before anything too bad happens.
Mimosa starts to stand up, and I shake my head, placing a hand on her shoulder. “No, crawl. Like the filthy little bitch you are.”
I hear her huff, but she doesn’t say anything as she gets on all fours .
“Good girl,” I mock her, but luckily for her, she doesn’t argue.
I lead her into the kitchen, my pace brisk, and she lags behind me. I wish I had a leash with a choke collar so I could make her crawl faster. I add that to the mental list of supplies I have running in my head.
I head to the fridge, where I have a steak marinating. I’d almost forgotten about it. Hunter and Chase would mock me for it, but I always keep some sort of meat on hand. They might not mind living like rabbits on occasion, but I need the additional protein.
“If you were a vegetarian or whatever, you aren’t anymore,” I tell Mimosa bluntly.
“Okay,” she answers calmly. Her nose twitches, and I’m sure the cum drying on her face is itchy, but none of that is affecting her.
It pisses me off, and I don’t know why. I think it’s just too easy, but at the same time, I know she’d run for the door as soon as she got a chance. She isn’t tame, no matter how meek she’s acting right now.
No.
Not meek .
She’s acting like she’s just biding her time, like she can wait me out. I don’t fucking like it, but I can’t punish her for things she’s not doing…
Well. I can. But I’m hungry, and she’s behaving for now, so instead of kicking her in the side like I want to, I start heating up my favorite cast iron pan.
I cut up some potatoes, which are the closest I’m willing to get to veggies these days, throwing salt and pepper on them and putting them on a sheet tray. That goes into the oven, and as I get into the groove of cooking, I forget Mimosa is even there.
I season the meat before I put it in the pan, and I’m watching it sizzle when Mimosa suddenly says, “You have the temp too low.”
I nearly burn myself on the cast iron, then I turn and glare at her. “Excuse me? I know how to fucking cook steak. Do you want to come over here instead of backseat cooking?”
Not that I’d trust her with anything hot or heavy.
Mimosa points over to the oven. “Your potatoes are going to be soggy. They need higher heat.”
I stare at her. “The potatoes will be fine.” So what if she’s right that they’re usually a little less crisp than I like? It’s not like I really care if I’m feeding her something subpar. “I can fix you instant potatoes if you’re going to be a little potato snob.”
She shrugs and settles with her back against the island counter again. “If that’s what you want.” She pulls her legs up to her chest, and I don’t know if she’s trying to hide her body from me or if she’s cold.
“So what temp would you put it at?” I ask her through gritted teeth. “If this isn’t good enough for Her Royal Highness.”
“425,” she answers easily. “But I would have seasoned them first, too.”
“Excuse me. I did.” I point to the salt and pepper shakers on the counter. “Why the fuck am I justifying myself to you?” I wonder aloud, turning the temperature on the oven up.
“Rosemary, chili powder, paprika, lemongrass, oregano…” Mimosa lists off. “Those could all add more flavor. But maybe you prefer bland and predictable.”
I take a deep breath, flipping the steak before going over to her and shoving her hard with my foot. “Maybe you need to keep your fucking mouth shut before I shut it for you.”
“Okay,” she says before closing her eyes and resting her head on her knees. Like she doesn’t care either way how this argument goes, like she’s not bothered by anything I’ve said or done to her.
I hate it.
“Maybe I’ll return you,” I say before turning on my heel and stalking back to the stove. I touch the steak, which is cooked more than I usually like because of the fucking distractions, then take it out of the pan so it can rest. “Would you like to go back to fucking anyone who can pay enough? Get a diseased cunt, die before you’re thirty?”
“If you want,” she answers, not even lifting her head.
“Don’t you care at all?” I demand, staring down at her. “For fuck’s sake, you should be bending over backwards to avoid going back to Pavone. Instead, you’re… you’re…”
Acting like a house pet, and instead of enjoying it, I’m annoyed by her obedience. Maybe it’s because she’s acting so nonchalant; I don’t really know. I thought the face-fuck would have humbled her more .
Maybe my mood is because I always get irritable when the drugs wear off…
But I’m not thinking about that.
I pull the potatoes out of the oven, setting the sheet tray on the stovetop with a clatter.
I’m not really hungry anymore.