Page 102 of Ashes of Sin and Stardust

Chapter 26

When I began my trainingas a submissive, I started to see things differently. It was difficult for me to submit because it reminded me of the time I’d spent being bullied by my father, but it was also healing in a way, because I had trust in my Master. He respected my boundaries, called me out on toxic behavior, and guided me with a strong hand that led me towards being abetterperson, not being alesserperson. I began to grow in the desire to serve him better, because I appreciated the lessons he taught me. I wanted to be the same kind of Master he was, one that could be trusted and respected, who deserved the submission that was given to them.

In the midst of my lifestyle training, I noticed other areas of my life changing. People began to respect me more simply because of the way I had learned to speak and stand. I took over a management position at the steakhouse, and then bought into the franchise. By the time I was thirty, I owned three steakhouses of my own, and was training other people to run them with excellence.

When Anthony Mack uncollared me and let me begin training Sanaii, things were different. The Beast inside was still there, but I had control over him. Sanaii loved the Beast, and I loved her for loving him. She was a strong, bright girl, with ebony skin, tight curls, and a mischievous smile. She was a masochist and a rope bunny, and I enjoyed our time together.

Twice a week I would come to Anthony’s house while he watched and guided me as I worked with the young girl, planning our scenes and observing our playtime. She wasn’t really mine, but she was beautiful, and she loved the pain I gave her.

She wasn’t what I wanted, though. I still missed what I’d had with Savannah, even though I felt guilty about it. I tried to explain it to Anthony one day, and he didn’t have an answer for me. It was the brokenness I found beautiful, but I didn’t want Sanaii to be broken. I wanted the sacrifice of taking what I gave her even though she hated it, and the shame and embarrassment of wanting it.

I found what I was looking for one evening by the dumpster of my newest steakhouse. After a successful grand opening and a long night, most of my employees had gone home. I sent home the last few and finished taking out the trash when I saw a young skinny girl standing on her tiptoes, digging in one of the bags I’d just taken out.

She ducked her head in humiliation, and my heart broke. She walked with a limp, and her hands shook. She was tall, scrawny, with blotchy pink skin, ratty black hair, and looked sick. She tried to run away when I approached her, nearly tripping on her own injured foot as she attempted to run.

I sped up and caught her wrist before she could run away, and she shook at my touch, but almost immediately gave herself up as caught. She wouldn’t look me in the eye.

She was the thing I was looking for. I knew I needed to help her.

I called Anthony and let him know what I was doing. He told me I was being stupid for bringing home a drug addicted prostitute who probably had more diseases than a street rat, but I told him if he couldn’t respect my conscience, we were through.

He chose to respect it. And I chose to step back from my training as a Dom, and focus on the street rat I’d found in the garbage. Because I knew she was meant to be something amazing.

At home, I gave her a shower and a clean clothes to wear, and then some fresh food to eat. She knelt at my feet and attempted to service me, but I stopped her. She laid her head down, setting her arms above her head, presenting her back and her ass to me, as if requesting a beating.

But there was nothing in her face as she did so, and it made me sick. I wasn’t sure what it was about her that made me feel alive. She looked so apathetic, so broken. I wanted to see the fight in her. I realized the thing I missed was thecraving. I wanted to see the need for my abuse. After my time spent with Anthony and the others at The Underground, I wanted to see her choose to sit at my feet because she trusted me, not because she was afraid, hungry, and in need of her next fix. My entire perspective had shifted drastically.

“Tell me your name,” I said.

“Whatever you want it to be, sir,” she said in a cold monotone.

“No. I want you to tell meyourname.” I reached out and took her chin in my hand, finally forcing her to look me in the eye.

Bright amber eyes met mine, and I saw a glimmer of that fight I craved.

She stammered and forced herself to say, “I-I... don’t remember.”

When she began to shakefrom her drug withdrawals, I tied her wrists and ankles down so she couldn’t run away or hurt herself, and I sat by her while she struggled through the worst of it. I fed her, bathed her, and took her with me to work in the afternoons, giving her simple tasks to do like sweeping the floors and folding napkins. Some of my employees weren’t thrilled to have her around, but I didn’t care.

Anthony was surprised at what I chose to do, but he respected it. He asked if I wanted to continue my training, and I said I did, but I needed to focus on my slave girl. So instead of me training other girls with him him, he taught me to serve her as her caregiver.

I served her in the role of her Master. She seemed to be stuck in the mindset that she was an object to be used and tossed around, blindly following whatever order I gave her. If I’d asked her to cut off her hand, she would have done it without hesitation. I gave her tasks around my house and around my restaurants, mostly so she’d have something to do, but also so I could thank her and congratulate her for her efforts, because she seemed to crave the validation. Slowly, over time, she began to come out of herself a little more. She began to stand up straight, to look me in the eye when she spoke, and to speak more freely. She finally confessed her name, long buried like a treasure she had been afraid to give away to just anyone.

Watching her come out of herself was the most exciting thing I’d ever seen. It wasn’t sexually arousing, but it was mentally stimulating. Who was this girl, what had she been through, and what would she be like when she became herself again?

I took her to The Underground one day, and she clung to my side the entire time. She watched in shock as men were flogged and women were bound. She looked at me with fear in her eyes, wondering if this was where the ball would drop.

“Master, is this what you wish of me?”

“That’s not how we do things here. Is this what you wish for yourself?” I asked back. “Answer me honestly.”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“Then you’ll sit with me and talk with my friends, and that’s all. Is that alright?”

She nodded, and I watched as a weight seemed to lift from her.

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