Page 43 of His Property

“I want real food,” I say without hesitation. “At least two meals a day.”

“Is that all?”

Should I be asking for more?

I try to think quickly, but Victor speaks, and I lose my chance. “I’ll let you take food down to the basement, and I can guarantee you one meal. I don’t cook, and sometimes I’m gone a big chunk of the day. I should be around for the next few, though.”

I let him sweat for a few moments, then I nod. “Okay.”

He wastes no time undoing his belt and lifting his hips so I can yank down his jeans and boxers.

My pussy clenches when I take his length in my hand, getting a good look at it for the first time. It throbs in my grasp when I lick my lips.

Power surges through me, and I breathe it in. I have the same effect on him as he does on me. That’s part of the reason my body responds to him the way it does. We complement each other so well, at least in the bedroom, and I can’t convince my carnal side that he isn’t exactly what I want.

He threads his fingers through my hair as I take him into my mouth. I cup his balls with one hand and grip the base of him with my other while he moves my head to guide me.

I’m lost in lust as I suck him, and my clit throbs as my desire builds. I let go of his length and smooth my hand down his thighs, intent on continuing to my clit, but I hit a rough patch of skin and pause.

I look at Victor to see his eyes closed and his chest expanding. He’s lost in this, and at this point, he’s doing most of the work. I let him guide me, but his hips pump enough that he’s basically fucking my mouth.

I graze my thumb over the circular patch, then smooth my hands over his thigh and find several other spots just like it.

My curiosity puts a damper on my desire, but Victor is too caught up to notice. He tenses and grunts as he comes inside my mouth, and I close my eyes and focus on swallowing him. I lift to look at his thighs, my eyes narrowing in confusion as I do.

The patches are dark red and nearly perfect circles. I wish I could say I didn’t recognize them, but three years ago I had a student that sported the same scarring on his forearm, and a conversation with him about it led to a call to DHS. Victor’s scars are more faded than my student’s, so it’s probably been years since he got them, but the resemblance is there.

They’re cigarette burns.

“Fuck, that was good,” Victor says, pulling my gaze to his face. He runs his hand through his sweat-slicked hair and sighs.

“Glad you liked it.” I wink and smile as playfully as I can, but my mind is on the scars, and I remember earlier today when he didn’t want me to take his shirt off.

What’s underneath it?

Victor drags me up to his chest, and I rest my head on him. He grabs the hem of his boxers and pants and pulls them up. I try to turn my thoughts in another direction instead of analyzing, but I can’t. Not until Victor flips me onto my back and starts kissing my neck.

I close my eyes and slip into a hazy bliss as he kisses down my body and spreads my legs. He looks up at me with his face inches from my pussy and smiles.

“Your turn.”

13

VICTOR

Istop at a red light in a part of Vegas called Naked City, only a few miles from where I live.

Emily is beside me droning on about something I’ve been half-listening to, and I nod when I catch her glance out of my periphery.

We just finished a job, and I’m taking her back to her car that’s parked at a diner a mile from my home. She’s never been to my place before, although she knows I live in Naked City. Otherwise, she could’ve parked her car there. We’re friends, but it takes more than a year of friendship before I invite someone fully into my personal life. Mae is the only exception.

“Wow, that’s crazy,” I say when Emily pauses her rambling for a moment.

I take advantage of the red light and pull out my phone. I bring up the security footage, my eyes gluing to the screen. Mae is exactly the way I left her, which immediately puts me at ease because I’ve been a little worried she’d knock the step stool I positioned her on and be hanging from a beam in excruciating pain. She’s still balancing though, a box tie securing her arms behind her back. I attached the rope to chains on the ceiling, and I’ve been questioning the decision since I left.

I’m not so much worried about her arms being strained if she fell off the stool, but an anal hook is inserted, and any movement causes discomfort, which is the point of it. It’s basically a butt plug that hooks out of her ass and is tied to a rope that then ties to her braided hair. I get a hard on seeing her hold as still as she can, wishing she could squirm with discomfort, but now I’m wishing I hadn’t left the house with her like that.

Mae has been at my place for four days, and I’m finding myself becoming a bigger pussy each day. I’m getting worried about pushing too far or seriously injuring her with our games. I find myselfwantingher trust, wanting her to give herself to me instead of me taking.

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