Chapter 23
“Don’t be alarmed, little rabbit,” he smiles as his clown red mouth turns upward, clearly expecting my panic.
“As an owner of Clarendon, I have to hide my face and identity. That is all. Nothing sinister here I assure you. Only the things I am going to do to your body shortly as my prize.” His eyes twinkle but it doesn’t take away from the sinister look of the joker painted across his unknown face.
Staring, frozen in fear, he picks up my hand as I feel his come dripping down my leg.
“Let’s get you cleaned up before breakfast, you are going to need sustenance for my day of planned activities ahead.
” He walks me to what looks like a downstairs bathroom, opens the door and says, “Here you go, I’ll wait here. ”
Not looking back at his creepy face, I hurry inside and close the door.
I wipe at the trailing mess down my leg with toilet paper and use the toilet, thankful for once that no one is watching me.
Washing my hands I have no choice but to leave.
This is what I signed up for. I can’t believe it’s a creepy painted face that has tipped me over the edge.
I open the door and take in the man I’ve only judged by his painted face.
He leans against the wall across from the toilet, his arms folded, a lazy, relaxed feeling rolling off him.
He reminds me of a calm, confident tiger, stalking his prey, ready to pounce whenever he feels like it but happy to wear his prey down before he jumps.
He wears cream trousers and a dark polo t-shirt open at the neck and taut against his wide chest, the veins standing prominent along his arms.
I smile sheepishly, trying to avoid looking at his creepy face but failing.
He holds out his hand, I take it again feeling the warmth of his hand and the power of it clasping mine.
I feel small, like a little lamb off to slaughter.
We walk silently into the kitchen, and he reaches for some croissants and jams and juices.
“Hungry?” he asks and I nod my head. My growling stomach says I am but I’m in all kinds of knots being near this man.
He lifts a bowl of cut fruit from a giant double-door fridge and sets it on the kitchen island.
“Please sit,” he waves a hand at the bar stools underneath the island, so I pull one out and climb onto it slowly, feeling the aftermath of being taken so roughly in addition to the sting from Jacob’s punishment.
I watch this mad looking man pulling out plates, glasses and jugs of juice from the fridge.
He casually leans across the opposite side and offers, “Dig in, little rabbit.” And I take that as permission to choose a croissant from the plate and begin to pull it apart and look back at the Father. “What is your name?” I ask timidly, watching amusement crinkle his eyes.
“Mateo,” he replies in his silky-smooth voice that wraps around my senses and covers me in a honey-thick calm.
“Nice to meet you, Mateo,” I reply as I tear off another piece of croissant and put it into my mouth.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he smiles wickedly, “or it most certainly will be soon enough.”
“Now you have won the game, what do you have planned for me?”
“Eat up your breakfast, little rabbit, and you’ll find out very soon.”
My mind whirls, He doesn’t want to tell me.
Is that to build the anticipation and enjoy my fear or is it that because he thinks I’ll balk?
The croissant feels dry in my mouth and I try and swallow it down, grimacing.
Watching me closely he doesn’t miss my discomfort and says, “I’ve been watching you little rabbit and I have a feeling that whatever plans we have for you these next few days you’re going to submit, take what you’re given and revel in it.
You could surprise me, but then, you already have.
Never in my life have I seen someone play so well with Angus or not tap out with Jacob.
What is it about you that you can embrace any kink and enjoy it as your own?
You don’t run away in fear like everyone else, you run towards it, most likely with a dripping pussy. ”
I can feel the blush creep up my neck and heat my cheeks.
This man and his sons see me for what I truly am.
I don’t know what that is, but they see me.
Why am I like this? This openness for more, to take what I’m given greedily and ask for more?
Is it the money, is it empathy? Or is it that I crave something darker, something more, something unseen and unspoken.
Something that lies in the dark corners of my mind, waiting to be unleashed and enjoyed.
But what if his plans are my limit? Surely I have one somewhere?
What is my limit? I confess even I’ve been surprised how well I take to people and their kinks.
But maybe that is it—I see the people first and their kinks second?
I’m willing to do for them what they’re paying me to do because they have to pay people to do it.
I empathize with their situation and when I open myself up to the men and their kinks, I open my heart and mind to enjoy it with them, for them.
They are willing to open themselves up and be seen in their moment of fantasy, who I am to judge or limit them.
Could that be it, why I seem to embrace each kink?
All these years, having my own hidden kinks and feeling ashamed, so much so I hadn’t even mentioned them to James.
I get these men, I get it. Even by doing this job, being open to it, I know deep down so many people wouldn’t, it’s why I haven’t told a soul about this job.
They wouldn’t understand and worse, I’d be ostracized in my community for it and even worse than that?
My children would be ostracized. I couldn’t live with that.
So I keep my job a secret like these men keep their kinks a fantasy.
“Have you finished eating Roxy? Can I offer you anything else?” asks Mateo, tipping up his glass and finishing his juice.
“Thank you, I think I’m full for now.”
“Ok,” says Mateo in reply, standing straight and brushing crumbs from his shirt. “Let’s go back upstairs.”
I climb off the stool and brush my t-shirt down, cringing at the state of me in comparison to Mateo’s crisp, clean clothes.
I almost don’t feel worthy being in his presence but then have to remind myself, they chose me.
I am here because they wanted to play with me.
Mateo holds out his hand and I take it, allowing him to lead me out of the kitchen and up the two flights of stairs entering back into the attic room.
Not once did I see or hear Angus and Jacob.
Where were they? Will they be live-streaming?
Entering the room, I see it’s exactly as I left it. “Let’s get started, can you lift Angus’ t-shirt off?”
I nod and pull up the hem and tug the t-shirt over my head standing completely exposed and awkward.
Mateo stops what he was about to do mid stride and turns to me making me jump, his creepy face mere centimeters from mine as his body stands close but not touching.
I think he forgets he looks like the Joker, but his eyes show something different to his face.
They look dazzled as though he’s just spotted the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.
Running the back of his hand down my face, our size difference is stark as he stands well over 6 foot and my 5ft 5.
Everything about him screams he’s in his prime, although I can’t guess how old he is.
He stands strong, confidence oozing sex appeal even with the Joker face.
His salt and pepper hair sits cropped and styled, his ice blue eyes look crystal clear, likely even grey in certain lights, and I wonder if I was to see him in the street whether I’d be attracted to him.
I can’t help feeling a shiver as he pays me so much attention, goosebumps crawling up my skin in anticipation and excitement.
Putting both hands around my waist, he slowly runs them up my body until he gets to my armpits where he adds pressure forcing me to lift my arms up.
He holds my wrists in one hand above my head and looks down at me as I look up at him unsure what is happening.
He reaches up above his head and I realise we are standing underneath the hanging bar from the rafters.
Reaching for it, he tugs it lower and pulls out a set of handcuffs from his pocket.
Hooking them over the bar, he cuffs my wrists as I stand obediently watching him secure my arms above me.
He lets go of my wrists and pulls the bar up higher by a chain hooked by the wall so my arms are raised high above my head but my feet are still flat on the floor.
“You look stunning like this. One accessory and then you’re ready for me,” he reaches into his other pocket and pulls out an eye mask. He holds the front over my eyes and velcros it tight at the back of my head. “Can you see anything, little rabbit?” he enquires.
“No Sir,” I reply, an automatic response to his dominance.
“Good girl.”
I hear his light footsteps leave as I wait, hanging from the beams of the attic.
What is he going to do to me? Why can I not see him do it?
Is that part of his fantasy or for more sinister reasons?
Light footsteps return through the door and I wonder what he left to collect?
A whip? A cane? Some kind of torture device, I’m positive of that.