23. To own is to… Dictate
Chapter twenty-three
To own is to… Dictate
W arrick
“I didn’t— It wasn’t like that,” she stumbles over her words, her eyes wide with panic.
“It doesn’t matter if it was your own mother. You’re mine. Nobody else is to show you physical affection.” I calm my hands as I lift the pinch collar to her delicate neck, letting the chilled chain tease her flesh. “You are not to show anyone else affection. I hope this will be a proper reminder tonight. I’d hate to make a mess of her.”
She stills, whether from my threat or the collar being fastened, I’m not sure. Its dull inner claws are already digging into her neck, each swallow, breath, and tiniest movement causing them to dig in deeper. She hisses as she turns to me, lifting on her tippy toes to place a kiss on my cheek. “I’m sorry, Sir.”
Instantly, a few of the flames roaring in my chest lessen, a sigh leaving me as I grab her chin, forcing her back up, making the back claws dig in a little deeper, my hand forcing her mouth open. I watch the desperate, needy hope blooming in her eyes.
I’m content to just watch her squirm, but Pup is rarely quiet, her nervous chatter the reason for many headaches and lost work. “Am I—"
My thumb finds her tongue, capturing it between my thumb and pointer. “Are you a bad dog? Is that what you wanted to ask me?”
She nods, tears welling in her eyes.
“Pitiful thing. If we had the time, I’d fuck this pretty little mouth, maybe even find something to fill your poor little holes.”
She whimpers, her doe eyes pleading as I lean in, pressing a kiss to the spot Mahari had. Mine lingers as I suck the spot gently, leaving a little mark. My mark. She moans as I release her tongue, mine lapping at her sweet flesh. It’s barbaric, me scenting her like an animal, but I don’t stop until I feel sated. As much as I hate sharing her time, the faster we get to dinner, the faster this ends. When I pull back, I wipe her spit off my hand, using my thumb to edge away the small smudge of her lipstick before heading down the hall with her on my heels.
It’s well into the night by the time we finish dinner, most of it spent listening to Andres’ long stories with full theatrical production. Even Stuart seemed fit to stop scowling at some point in the night. He and his wife seem to compete, working in tandem like a well-oiled machine. Their shared adoration is jarringly clear.
The sounds of keys being pushed from the lounge tell me Pup is still determined to teach the woman to play something tonight. Their laughter acts as a thorn in my skull, a tether pulling my attention away again and again. I want to know what she’s laughing about, what she finds funny. It’s not that I simply want to see her smile—I want to possess it, to keep it hidden for my eyes only, to retain a fraction of the light she has forced into my home long after she’s gone .
“He often hosts these on Tyet’s dime, yacht parties filled with women and drugs. Nobody of substance will be there, so I’ve never attended, but my invitation is an easy way in. Beats the head of one of the leading houses showing up unannounced at his rival’s footman’s party.”
“That would certainly turn heads,” Stuart agrees.
I just nod. “And get back to Tyet quickly.”
“But with the invite, you simply scan in at the door and walk in. I doubt anyone there is high ranking enough to even realize who you are.” Andres takes another heavy drag of his cigar, mine forgotten between my fingers.
“It’s important we do this without setting off reg flags. We need to approach him as calmly as possible. Tyet moves quickly on leaks in their facade.” Stuart captures my gaze again as it lingers on the door. The look of loathing in his eyes only further grates at my nerves. He has hated Pup since the moment I made clear my attention to buy her. The only thing keeping that annoyance at bay is that Stuart more or less hates everyone for the mere crime of existing in his line of sight. The older he gets, the more cantankerous he becomes, and he was never known for his sunny disposition before. That’s what made him an excellent second in command to my father, a man who took close to nothing seriously.
My bourbon coats my throat, burning it. “If he doesn’t have access to the information I need, it’ll be a risk having him move in on his own. Even with a substantial offer in place, his disdain for his boss needs to be assured—"
“Assured!” Andres laughs. “The sorry sod off never shuts the fuck up about it! Everyone from the woman who sucks his cock to the man upstairs knows how much he hates the bastard. The right offer, and he’d flip like a fish. He’s no more loyal than Judas.”
I still, my hand tightening on my drink as Stuart's eyes cut to mine. Ever the dammed strategist, the answer is obvious, filling the silence of the room as we stare each other down. I hope he sees the warning in my eyes, the fucking dare.
“Stu—"
He cuts me off. “Then it’s safe to assume the man would jump at the opportunity the fuck the one who got away from his boss, the Lily he so brazenly obsessed over at Bloom. A token of goodwill before we talk to the man.”
Andres, for the first time tonight, quiets, giving me a loaded look that pisses me off. “Mahari would have my fucking balls with a side of caviar if I responded in agreement with that.” The odd man raises his glass of now brandy, giving a soft toasting to God knows what with nobody at all. A sudden thousand-yard stare in the older man’s eyes makes him look more like a prisoner of war than a millionaire oil tycoon. If I wasn’t currently digging my teeth into my cheek to keep from beating my second in command to death, that’s a story of his I might actually enjoy listening to.
More giggles filter into the room as an iron weight settles in my gut.
“She’s quite taken with your little pet…”
I ignore him, finally taking another puff of the cigar. “The man… Are you aware of his preferences?”
“I don’t get your meaning,” Andres replies.
“Does he fuck violently?”
The sight of disapproval in the man’s eyes doesn’t touch me any more than what’s budding in my chest. “From what I know, his tastes are quite mundane.”
“How long?” I breathe out, watching the smoke leave my mouth.
“The party is next month. Basilisk, there are other—"
“I trust you’ll send the details of the invitation and whatever else before you leave the estate tonight,” Stuart interrupts.
It’s a way in, a simple way. Offer an olive branch, and I can have everything I’ve searched for. My father can rest knowing I took back that blood Tyet cost him. It’s a simple solution to a complicated problem, and I feel sick at the thought of it.
Andres ignores Stuart, taking a long swig, finishing his sixth or seventh drink before addressing me again. “Some lines, you cannot—"
“For fuck's sake, she is a whore! You are here as a guest. A friend, even.” Stuart sighs as he stands, his hand going to his waistband, but all I can hear is the giggling from the other room, the piano now long forgotten. It’s amazing how even with all the suffering, she laughs. “…But you and your wife will not leave in that capacity if you should refuse us the information you came to give.”
Andres stills as I stare at my second in command, cocking my head at him. “You overstep.”
Stuart's jaw clenches as he nods. “Sir.”
Reprimanding him in front of another man was a low blow, but so was what he did, and we both know it. I inhale deeply as I stand, nodding to Andres. “Give Stuart all the necessary information. I’ll gather the women to the parlor. I doubt we’ll be separating them anytime soon.”
I want her to have this.
A good night.
One last one before I rip this all to shreds.
“Master!” Pup giggles, making herself wince slightly as her collar digs into her throat. “Mahari is a terrible pianist.”
The lanky woman cants back her head with a laugh. “Perhaps you’re just a poor teacher.”
Pup laughs even harder, her pale cheeks flushed with color. “Perhaps.”
My brow furrows as I watch her sway on her feet. “Pup, come.”
Her head snaps over to me, making those pretty ringlets bounce. Her bad eye is slightly reddened, something it often does when irritated. I assume she forgot to apply her drops tonight. Something she will pay for when she wakes up in discomfort tonight. She sways slightly as she reaches my side, hanging onto my arm lazily. Henrietta scurries in, cleaning up an empty bottle of wine.
“Show Ms. LaMonica to the parlor. Her husband will join her shortly.”
“Yes, Sir.” The woman nods.
Mahari doesn’t miss a beat, winking at Pup as she follows the other woman out, already making another wine order. One of my most expensive bottles, to be specific.
Pup has busied herself fiddling with my cufflinks, little snakes set in gold. “Pup.”
She doesn’t respond.
“Dog,” I bark, making her jump as she straightens.
I lean in close, inhaling her, and most irritatingly, the smell of alcohol on her breath. As if her ruddy cheeks and swaying weren’t signs enough. “You’ve been drinking.”
Big doe eyes find the floor before looking up at me from underneath thick, painted lashes. “I felt awkward not drinking with Mahari.”
“Alcohol is not good for dogs.”
“Yes, but—”
“Disobedience is not good for dogs who wish to be well-behaved. Pets who take advantage of their master’s kindness are not praised by his cock.”
Her eyes go wide as she takes an indignant step toward me, every bit the petulant brat I’ve come to adore. “I wanted to have fun!”
“Did you?”
“Well, yes, but—"
I put up my finger up, silencing her, letting it stretch on as she stares unflinchingly at me.
Bold little thing .
My cock hardens despite the sick feeling still plaguing me.
“Then it seems you have done what you set out to do. Now, you will deal with the consequences of your actions. Tell me, Pup, would it embarrass you if your friend found out what a pathetic little cum mutt you are? How desperate you are to be well and truly stretched and filled?”
Pup's breathing quickens as her doe eyes droop to half-mast, staring at me in a way that makes me throb, my cock pressing against my zipper.
“What if I painted you with my cum? What if I made you wear it?”
“Sir, please,” she gasps, taking a step toward me as I take one back.
“Kneel.”
She whimpers as she drops to her knees, looking so utterly undone in her pretty white dress when she should be in blue.
But she can’t be.
My hard-on lessens with the thought, the idea of her ass and cunt being filled by another man obliterating it completely.
“I’d like to continue my night, please, Sir. Just this once.”
I’m sorry, Pup.
“What is it worth to you?”
Her eyes perk up as she clasps her hands together in front of her. “I’ll make it worth it, I promise! I’ll, uhm…I—"
“You will wear your punishment collar for the rest of the night, and I’ll double your punishment tomorrow for drinking, regardless of how bad you feel. Do you understand?”
Her smile needles at my chest as she staggers to her feet. I don’t catch her in time before she slams into me, pressing her soft lips into mine. My entire body stills as she kisses me. The first kiss. Our first kiss. The ridiculous woman doesn’t even notice. “Thank you, Sir! I’ll be so good, I promise!”
I don’t move when she runs from the room, not even when I hear her giggling with Mahari resume. I stand there with my heart pounding in my chest so hard, it’s trying to rip through. I barely breathe as I reach behind me, closing the door. Mere seconds pass, of me struggling, fighting for control, before slamming my fist into the mahogany wall. My knuckles crunch as my blood splatters the hand-crafted molding. I don’t stop until the feeling in my chest eases, until the memory of her kiss leaves my lips.
I’ve calmed by the time I entered the parlor. Andres is back to his animated self, looking at the wall-to-wall habitat of some of the world’s most deadly snakes as Pup stands in front of it, a cautious distance from the man, explaining to him which ones are which, what they’re known for and everything else she compiled about them. Pup knows more about the snakes than I do at this point. She still pouts every time I refuse to let her enter the room during feedings, let alone engage them directly.
I watch her, everything about the woman screaming elegance. Ease. She could be a curator, explaining her favorite museum piece so far, separated from the wonton whore desperate for pleasure and praise I’ve made her to be. Like the gluttonous miserable bastard I am, I’m desperate to covet it all, despite knowing I won’t.
I can’t.
“You should really be softer with her. Affections would go much farther than punishment.”
I pull a calming breath through my lungs, ignoring the headstrong woman at my side. Of course, she couldn’t fucking care less about my lack of response.
“There's something so innocent about her,” Mahari continues. “Almost childlike.”
The look of disgust must be plain on my face as I glare down at her. “There is nothing childlike about her.”
She laughs. “You know what I mean. She’s so sweet, fragile, in a good way. A way I’d forgotten the world could be. You care for her .”
“As much as I care for any investment.”
That comment marks the end of whatever white flag she extended to me. “You don’t deserve her, much less her love.”
I stay quiet. There’s nothing to say, and we both know she’s right.
“She deserves more than you . She deserves a life with love and affection, one you are incapable of providing her.”
I turn on the woman, my hastily-wrapped hand stinging as I fist it. “Do not presume to understand what I can provide her.”
To her credit, she doesn’t flinch. “I simply do not wish to see the sweet girl destroyed any more than you do, but you will, Basilisk. You will destroy what little spirit she has left. You could change that—"
“One more word, and you never see her again. Who will look out for the poor, abused Pup then, huh? Who will offer her a respite from the evil—"
“Master…” Pup's voice halts the anger in my chest as I turn toward her. Her eyes dart between us, her forehead lined with worry before she flashes that bright, jarring smile of hers. “I’m out of dream-sickles. Andres has never had one!”
The breath locked in my chest releases as I stalk over to her, gathering her in my arms. “Perhaps we can rectify that before he leaves.” I settle us in a chair, my staff bringing everyone—including a very bold Pup—another drink. Her body pressed to mine is a small respite, but she doesn’t stay long, wiggling from my arms after confirming my hand is okay to join her friend on the rug by the fireplace. Her pretty pale neck is red from her collar as Andres joins me, rolling into another story like he’d never stopped. Blissfully unaware of the pounding in my skull and the impending sense of dread settling on my shoulders.
Chloe
I groan, the woozy feeling roiling my stomach again as I try to get comfortable. The metal claws of my collar make that nearly impossible as I’ve regained consciousness. I don’t want to open my eyes; I don’t want to move, the tender flesh around my neck having long surpassed soreness. I feel like I’m on a Tilt a Whirl, and I’m desperate enough to indefinitely suspend my sleep to make it stop. My lips part as I wrench my eyes open, letting them land on a messy mop of speckled auburn hair. My head’s on Sir’s lap as he types furiously on his phone. The room around us has long since gone quiet. I only vaguely remember telling Mahari and Andres goodbye.
My heart does a silly little flip when his tired eyes leave his phone, finding mine, like some kind of pull brought them there. A flush creeps up my neck as I shoot up off his lap, only for my long, messy hair to be caught by his wrapped hand, holding me in place like a leash. The tug doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even really pull. It’s a passive tether, and I don’t mind it a bit.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” I clear my dry throat, my stomach still swirling from the alcohol. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
He sighs, his eyes still glued to his phone. “It was cute, I suppose.”
Cute.
I dig my teeth into my cheeks to hide the silly smile that pulls at my face. It’s not until I go to move up that the passive tether becomes a restraint. My hair pulls at my scalp as he guides me back down, still never looking my way as he sets his jaw hard. “Go back to sleep.”
I’m uncomfortable as hell, thirsty. My neck is on fire, but my heart is so full, it’s on the verge of bursting. I turn to my side, taking the pressure off my collar, and do just that, with that stupid, silly little smile plastered across my face. Sleeping with him is something that has become the norm, but not like… this . Never this close, although I often wake up with a very heavy arm over me, only for him to quickly wake and move away. But he’s not moving away. He wants me here, sleeping in his lap.
He wants me.