I despise you to the bowels of the cosmos.
My soul recoiled. I fought the tug as much as I dared.
But ultimately, I let him guide me to where he wanted, keeping my eyes squeezed as his cock nudged against my lower lip.
Bing bong.
We both froze.
The doorbell hovered in the space with demand.
Master A breathed hard, his chest working with anticipation of my mouth. “Who the fuck is that?”
How the hell would I know?
Rearing back, I thanked whoever it was. They couldn’t stop this from happening, but at least they’d given me a small reprieve—enough to swallow back my lunch and mentally shut out the classical music, so I might be able to do my task while blank and numb.
Shoving me away, he didn’t care I sprawled on my hands and knees as he clambered off the couch, quickly tucking himself into his jeans and wrenching up his fly. “If that’s fucking Darryl, I told him tomorrow.”
I hope all your friends rot.
Master A looked over his shoulder, pointing at the wall. “Kneel. Behave.”
The doorbell rang again as he vanished from the lounge.
Fuck you.
I stuck out my tongue. It was juvenile and ridiculous, but it made my heart lighter in a teeny-tiny way.
With the small second alone, I glanced at the windows to my left. The sun had dipped below the sea, extinguishing itself in a bonfire of pinks and oranges. The view from the white monstrosity never held beauty, no matter if the sun set or rose. It was merely a vista of my prison.
I hated it.
I hated many things these days.
Tearing my eyes away from falling dusk, I crawled toward the spot he’d told me to wait.
Cradling my bandaged hand, I glanced up as Master A stalked back into the lounge. His face had lost its lust from before, replaced with stark annoyance. He threw something soft and white at my naked body.
“I fucking forgot he was coming today.”
My heart bucked like a bronco until I promised I’d wrap it in a noose to perform the gallows’ jig if it didn’t stop.
Who?
Who’s coming?
Ducking, he shoved a finger in my face. “Get dressed. Now. Keep your eyes down, obedience high, and if I fucking catch you looking at him, the past few nights will be considered preschool before heading to boot camp.” Tipping my chin with his biting finger, he kissed me hard and sloppy. “Got it? You’re mine. Not his. Mine. Now, cover yourself and don’t dare move.”
Not waiting for me to obey, he stormed toward the foyer, leaving me to stroke the white sweater dress he’d given me.
Clothes.
The last time he’d given me clothes…
Oh, my God, he’s come back.
Elder bloody Prest.
The man who’d provoked my master. The man whose fun almost cost me my life. The last few days, he’d probably counted his millions and forgotten all about me while I suffered broken bones and agony.
Now, he was back for more.
My skin broke out in fire and frost, battling for supremacy. I didn’t know why Master A wanted me covered for this guest when he allowed others to stare, but I didn’t hesitate in slipping my hands into the long sleeves and pulling the stretchy material over my head.
My shoulder blades screamed. My elbows popped. Every inch of me bellowed as I stood on my knees and shimmied into the dress. It came to my calves—not enough to hide the bruises on my lower legs, but enough to cover everything else.
He’s here.
I couldn’t soothe my heart, no matter how soft I petted or whispered for it to calm down. It no longer listened to me after I’d threatened to hang it.
Mr. Prest was just a man. A man I didn’t like. A man who brought more pain into my world simply by visiting.
But still just a man.
I’d survived living with one for this long…I could survive another.
Heavy footfalls sounded in the foyer as I sank back onto my knees and ran my good hand through my hair, deliberately shielding my face from seeing too much. He’d returned, but it didn’t mean I would look. If Master A wanted me to be invisible, listen to their business conversation, but not pay any attention to Mr. Prest, I would do every instruction.
I guess the command to obey Mr. Prest is revoked.
Resting my sore hand on my lap, I sighed into the clingy material of the given gown. Once again, claustrophobia clawed, whispering of panic attacks and weakness.
I clenched my teeth.
You’re stronger than that. You’re better than all of them.
Breathing hard through my nose, I dared believe my lies and forced my blood to calm.
The hard flooring chilled my knees as low murmurs came closer. My ears pricked as the gentle click of men’s dress shoes filled the stark space. My chin begged to rise, to give me a postcard-perfect view of Mr. Prest as his scent and presence surrounded me.
I forbid it.
Instead, I locked my gaze on the grout line between tiles, following the softer grey from the lounge rug to the dining room table.
“I trust you received payment okay?” Master A asked.
Mr. Prest’s legs came into my vision.
I dropped my head further.
He’s not here.
He’s not real.
Don’t look or listen or linger.
My heart chugged with steam and coal, but I won the war. My eyes remained steadfast on the floor.
Mr. Prest came forward a few steps, planting his long, powerful legs where I wished he wouldn’t.
Legs weren’t so bad.
I could handle his legs…ankles really.
That was fine.