Page 28 of Cruel Master

It took some getting used to, but every time the word left my lips, I couldn’t deny the tingle it gave me, like a rush or a thrill that echoed deep in my core. Even, hours later, as I lay on the no longer bare mattress in the room I saw only as my prison cell, the reminder of it on my tongue made me think of him.

Footsteps stopped outside the locked door. I didn’t even bother looking up until the sound of a key scratching in the hole on the other side alerted me to an intruder. I stood up as the door cracked open and instead of Gaven, as I’d come to expect, an older woman came in. Her gray hair was pulled back into a severe bun at the back of her head, and her simple black dress covered her from her collar to her thighs. If the long matching white apron wrapped around her waist hadn’t told me that she was a maid, then the sensible and no-nonsense expression on her face would have.

She didn’t blink at my nakedness and I didn’t even remember the fact until she was already halfway into the room with the door shut once more. A flush stole over my cheeks and I crossed my arms over my breasts. Embarrassment rode me hard, but the woman didn’t even bother to glance my way as she bustled into the room with a long white bag in hand—a hanger sticking out of the top side.

The older woman strode right past me and only stopped when she got to the bed and laid out the bag in her hands. As her wrinkled fingers moved for the zipper at the top of the bag, I edged towards her.

I contemplated asking her questions. Where was I? Were we still in New York? Somewhere else? How many men worked here? There was very little I’d managed to glean from the singular window the room boasted—just that we were far from any other buildings and that my room was high up—surrounded by trees.

As I approached, however, my gaze flickered to the cameras. It would be smarter to just let this woman do her job. There was no telling what kind of trouble I could get her into if I tried pulling her into my mess. So, instead, I diverted to the chair on the side and grabbed the single nightgown I’d been given. It wasn’t much, but at least I could feel somewhat respectful of the older woman currently straightening the sheets around the bag she set down.

The woman didn’t speak. Her eyes cut to me as I stepped up to her side and stared down at the bag’s contents before she returned to her task. With deft movements, she yanked the zipper down and extracted a gown before laying it next to the bag on the bed. My eyes widened.

“Holy shit…” I murmured. Growing up as Raffaello Price’s daughter, I’d been allowed more than my fair share of luxuries. I wasn’t unaccustomed to priceless brand-name clothing and jewelry, but this gown was on another level. It looked like something that should have graced the body of a model strutting down a runway in fashion week.

The entire gown, from chest to hem was made up of a shimmering midnight blue fabric that glittered. It looked like diamonds had been crushed up and sewn into every inch of the surface and when I reached out and touched it, I found that it was as soft as silk, but didn’t cling to the skin of my palm the same way silk would have.

I was so focused on the dress that I hardly noticed the maid turning for the door until the sound of it opening snagged my attention. Flipping around, I gaped as she bustled quickly out of the room and then returned a split second later, with several boxes stacked in her arms. The door shut behind her, and out of habit—I eyed it.

Soon,I promised myself silently. Soon, I’d escape, but first I had to glean some information from Gaven. I had to make him think that I’d fallen into his trap and given up my freedom. He was still too suspicious. Even if his hands had become more gentle when he touched me, I had no doubt that it was all due to my seeming lack of resistance.

The woman grunted as she moved past me once more and dumped the boxes on the bed next to the dress she’d revealed. The labels on the tops of them made me wonder what the hell Gaven had planned for tonight. It was obviously something important if the evening gown, the Tiffany jewelry, and the Louboutin boxes were anything to go by.

She flipped it open, revealing striking,red-bottomed black heels. Wrinkled fingers flipped the flimsy white pages of packaging paper out of the way before retrieving the shoes and setting them next to the dress. Still, the woman didn’t speak. Her lips remained firmly shut as she bustled about the bed and removed smaller jewelry boxes from on top of the larger ones. My mind spun.

I took a step back and then another and another until the backs of my legs hit the chair I’d pulled my nightdress from and I sank into it with a palm to my forehead. The woman worked with dizzying speed, setting all of the pieces I was to wear tonight out on the bed before grabbing up the now empty dress bag and the empty boxes and carting them out of the room.

There was little point in me trying to gain any information from this woman. She was obviously well-trained and had very little interest in me as she worked diligently. As she finished her job—several long minutes later—in setting out the gifts from my husband, she nodded my way and then disappeared the same way she’d come—right out the door.

When I was once again alone, I finally stood and moved back over to the bed to peruse the items I’d been given. The dress was alone—a clear indication that it wasn’t a choice—but there were multiples of the other items. There were more shoes than the original pair I’d seen the maid pull out. Multiple pairs of Louboutin’s, Manolo Blahniks, and more. There were boxes from Tiffany & Co., Cartier, and Harry Winston.

“Where the fuck is he taking me?” I wondered aloud.

The age-old adage ‘curiosity killed the cat’ repeated in my mind even as I spotted a white envelope that had been left behind. I picked it up and turned it over to find my name—Angel Price—written on the unmarred surface. I noticed that it had been written by hand rather than printed. Ripping the back open, I pulled the letter inside free and unfolded it.

They were instructions.

Put on the dress.Choose your accessories. Neutral makeup. I’ll pick you up at 7 p.m.

— Master

He’d even signedthe instructions with his title versus his name. For some reason, that made me smile. I set the envelope and letter of instruction back on the bed and reached for the dress. There was still no indication, however, ofwherewe would be going, but that didn’t stop the burst of excitement at the idea of getting out of this room, even if it was only for a single night.

I touched the fabric of the dress again, lifting it away from the bed and holding it in front of me. It was a deep-cut neckline with the sides cut out as well so that the length of the dress would sit upon my hips. I twisted and turned it, noticing the strips that were meant to hold it up at the back and nothing more. There was no bra or underwear set to go with it. Not shocking. I was coming to learn that Gaven Belmonte was even more of a pervert than I’d known him to be.

With a sigh, I slipped the nightgown over my head and went about pulling the dress on. The bottom half of the gown fell into place easily enough once it was over me, but the top sagged forward as I fumbled and struggled to weave the strips around my back to the front to keep it up. After several frustrating attempts and subsequent failures, I finally gave up and just tied the strings around my neck to keep it from falling down.

Gaven’s request for neutral makeup was heeded—not that I really could do anything else with what I’d been given. There was a single palette of makeup was prepared amongst the boxes along with all of the tools necessary to do a full face. Normally, I’d prefer not to put on such makeup while wearing an obviously priceless dress for fear that I’d ruin it with some of the fallout, but unless I wanted to stand in the bathroom with my tits out then this was as good as it was going to get. Being forced to remain naked for so long certainly made me appreciate clothes more than I thought it would.

Standing in front of the mirror, I was reminded of what Gaven had done to me mere hours before. I shivered at the memory, a wash of both humiliation and arousal pooling low in my stomach. My ass felt strange now, after several days of stimulation. I’d never considered whether or not I’d like it back there, but after what Gaven had put me through—I knew one thing for certain.

I was just as much of a pervert as he was.

I finished preparing for Gaven’s arrival in record time, and at 7 p.m. sharp, the doorknob turned and he appeared. My breath stopped. My heart leapt into my throat and I was frozen at the sight of him—dressed impeccably in a tailored black-on-black suit. He wore no tie, but he did wear a set of rings I’d never seen on him before—four of them across the knuckles of his right hand. The chunky silver caught my attention, distracting me briefly as he entered the room and came to stand before me.

“You look breathtaking.” Gaven’s words brought me back to reality and I jerked my gaze up to meet his as he stared back at me, his eyes shadowed with something surprising. Amusement. “Although…” His hand came up and he fingered where I’d tied the strings of fabric at the back of the dress around my neck. “I don’t think this is how it’s meant to be worn.” He undid the knot easily and the fabric covering my breasts fell forward.

My heart dropped away from my throat back into its place and began to pick up its pace, pounding against the inside of my chest as my nipples pebbled beneath his heated gaze.

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