Page 22 of His Property

I glance down at the top sheet beneath me and shift to tuck myself under it, pulling the satin up to my shoulders. The mattress is the comfiest I’ve ever been on, and I can tell everything about the bed set is high quality. Almost in a weird way with how it contrasts with the rest of the red room.

I’ve thought about being in one of these so many times, but in my fantasies it’s a hell of a lot more plush, and I’m in it under very different circumstances.

Muffled laughs sound above me, and I tilt my head toward the ceiling and listen closely. I don’t think it was a person who laughed. Not one present. It was a roar in unison that sounded like the fake laugh reels on sitcoms. Faint voices sound next, and now I’m positive it’s a TV.

I don’t have long to adjust to my new home because a door creaks open. It clicks shut a moment later, and the wooden steps groan as someone comes down them.

Victor enters my line of sight, an ice pack and a piece of paper in his hand. There’s a slight smile on his face, and he has this skip in his step that doesn’t sit right with me. My eyes dart to the bed, and my heart rate picks up. Warmth floods my cheeks as my mind goes to last night. I’ve never come so hard in my life, and my greatest wish at this moment is that he doesn’t know it.

“Good morning, Mouse.”

I don’t respond, not that it would do any good anyway with the gag, and I don’t look at him. I wrap my arms around my knees tighter and try to be perfectly still, like he won’t see me if I don’t move. He comes and sits on the bed, and I wince when he reaches out and rests his hand on my knee.

“Do you like the accommodations?”

He’s gentle when he takes my jaw, but it still makes me whimper. I don’t trust his tender touch. I know it’s fake.

He moves my head so I’ll look at him, flashing me his teeth with a wide smile, and he roams his eyes over my face like he’s admiring something. He did this last night too.

“Do you like the accommodations?” he repeats, this time gesturing around the room.

Is he serious?

I nod because I have no idea what would happen if I told him I didn’t.

“Yeah?” he asks like he’s skeptical. “Everything you hoped it would be?”

I glance around the room just to get a break from looking at him.

No, it isn’t what Ihopedit would be. What the fuck does that even mean?

“Mae?”

I meet his eyes and shrink when I see the seriousness in his expression.

“When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it. Don’t be rude.”

I blink at him, and he raises a brow.

Hesitantly, I shake my head.

His smile returns. “Good… I don’t want you to get too comfortable. You’ve already made me feel like a softy, and it’s been less than a day.”

Asofty?

“Now…” He waves the piece of paper he brought with him. “We have some signing to do.” He hands me the paper then digs a pen from his pocket and passes it to me.

I scan the few typed paragraphs, filling only half the page.

It’s a contract. A very condensed version of one, but a contract, nonetheless. The gist of it is: Victor can do whatever the fuck he wants to me for two weeks, starting today. I’m to be compensated five thousand dollars for my time, and of course, that takes care of the debt I owe him. Down at the bottom are two lines where one of them is already filled in with Victor’s signature.

I rest the paper in my lap and touch the gag, my eyes imploring Victor.

He looks at the ceiling and seems to consider it. His eyes meet mine, and he gestures for me to turn around.

I twist to give him access to the gag, and sure enough, he has to insert a key to take it off. As soon as it drops to the pillow, my hand flies to my aching jaw, and I flex to ease some of the pain.

“Yes?” Victor asks, sounding a little impatient. When he glances toward the ceiling again, I follow his gaze. I lower my head and spot his fingers drumming on his knee. Is he nervous for me to have the gag off?

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