Page 107 of Cruel Master
I tap her clit once more, just to see her wriggle toward the toy, then relent and press it right where she needs it. “Go on, then. Make it quick.”
Her face screws into the serious expression she makes when she needs to orgasm under difficult circumstances. It’s adorable, and I watch her brows pinch as she grinds against the toy. She’s almost there. Three, two…
She cries out, body spasming as much as it can whilst arched. She clamps her thighs together, strong muscles squeezing my hand as she rides it out. It lasts a long time, and by the glazed look in her eyes once her body finally relaxes, it must have been intense.
I kiss her forehead—I couldn’t do that as Saldar, and now I do it every single day—and carefully release her from the contraption I locked her in. I enjoy this part almost as much as tormenting her. When she’s sleepy, satisfied, and ready to doze off in my arms.
Sadly, we don’t have that luxury today.
Once Juliet’s brain comes back online, she glances at the clock and gasps. “Oh. Shit. You really are running late.”
I sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to go. It’s…”
What words are there to describe a woman being offered up at auction? Sometimes, Brothers nominate another Brother to take on their Ward after they die, but it’s usually once they’re ancient and more in the name of companionship. Brothers and Wards live a long time thanks to our medical care. Young Wards ending up without a Patron is rare.
There are a number of older Brothers without Wards, but how many will be interested in Dimitry’s Ward? Kendrick has kept everything quiet so far, and the woman herself hasn’t been seen at all around the Compound.
Jacob thinks Kendrick is hoping no one will step forward to take the poor woman and she can live out her days in peace.
Juliet’s eyes harden. “No. I’m glad you’re going. This is gross, and everyone should see it. I don’t understand why this has to go ahead. Hasn’t she been through enough?”
As the captive of a serial killer, probably.
“It was Dimitry’s final wish. The Brotherhood takes it seriously. I agree, it’s nasty. I think that’s why Kendrick is insisting everyone go. If he makes it enough of a spectacle, no one will want to step forward.”
“I hope so. Ophelia tried to visit her to see if she was okay, but she wouldn’t open the door. The other Wards don’t know her at all. They thought she was shy and liked to keep to herself, but maybe she wasn’t allowed to socialize.”
A grim thought, and it follows me as I kiss Juliet goodbye and make my way to the meeting hall. It’s packed when I arrive, but Jacob catches my eye and waves me into a spare seat next to him. He’s been friendly since Candice came back online and even apologized, in his gruff way, for thinking I was crazy.
I fucked up, mate. No two ways about it. Now let's grab a beer.
After that, we seemed to be friends.
Gabriel and Sebastian are present, too, and they greet me with tense nods as I take my seat. The mood is grim, and even normally chatty Sebastian doesn’t have anything to say as he stares at the stage.
I’ve spent the past few days trying to work out why everyone is so upset about this. We take women captive. What is so terrible about this in particular? But then I remembered how good most people are at lying to themselves. Myself included.
What I have with Juliet is special. It’s different. I’m not really holding her captive. I’m making her happy.
I’m sure eighty percent of the men in here tell themselves the same kind of story, and the remaining twenty percent don’t give a shit.
But this auction? It lays the barbarity of the Compound wide open. There’s no special relationship here, no carefully chosen Ward. Just a woman who has probably already been through hell passed off to a stranger against her will.
Jacob breaks the silence. “Good to see you, mate. Quinn never shuts the fuck up about the game she’s making with Juliet. If I have to hear about it one more time, I swear I’ll fucking lose it.”
He rolls his eyes, but the affection in his words takes all the sting out. He hated seeing Quinn broken after I shut down Candice. He might like to complain, as all British people seem to, but he’s happy she’s back to her old, annoying self. And so am I.
Before I can reply, Kendrick steps on stage. The few conversations that were going on die out quickly, and he starts to speak. “Welcome, Brothers. We’re here to honor the final wishes of our Brother Dimitry, following his execution. He left instructions that his Ward be sold at auction, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
He makes no effort to hide his distaste. By all accounts, Kendrick loved his Ward and was heartbroken when she died. He really believes the Brotherhood’s spiel about Wards and Patrons having a sacred bond. Doing this must be painful for him.
A single chair sits in the center of the stage. It’s reminiscent of the initiation ceremony setup, but this isn’t the throne-like seat I’ll have to sit on in a couple of months’ time. It’s just a plain wooden chair, and there’s something sad about it.
Are we really no better than this?
Kendrick walks off stage and returns a moment later leading a woman by the arm. I get my first look at Dimitry’s Ward, and my heart twists.
A long curtain of dark hair frames her pretty, heart-shaped face. She’s small, and the long white dress she wears sets off the slight tan of her skin. Her dark eyes are cast down at the ground, and she looks as though she’s trying not to cry.
