Page 30 of Don't Say A Word

It’s dark when I wake. Through the windows of the bar, I see it’s a far livelier place at night than it was during the day. I imagine Mia on the stage, hand wrapped around a microphone. I wish I could have heard her sing before she was taken. Before she was frightened into silence with captivity.

Feeling sober enough to drive, I start the engine and begin the trip back to the stables. Everything is dark and silent back at Silver Oaks. The jockeys and stable hands have left for the day and nothing greets me but the gentle sigh of the horses. I run my hand over the white blaze of the chestnut mare as I pass, and make my way down the steps, stopping in front of the monitors to check on Mia. She’s asleep. And this time, she’s actually in the bed. She looks peaceful. It’s almost as though there is a slight smile on her face. I wish I could see it for real. I wish she would turn those dark eyes on me, just for once, and see warmth, happiness. But that’s not going to happen. I’m here for one reason and it’s not to make her smile.

Tomorrow is a new day. I feel like some progress was made with our last training session. But then I think of the way she tasted, the way she felt, and I’m conflicted. I want to save her. Rescue her. Protect her. But I also want to slam her against the wall and devour her, plunge into her until she screams my name.

I’m no better than they are.

Marcel isn’t about, so I slip into her room, careful to make as little sound as possible and kneel beside her bed. A strand of dark hair covers her face, so I push it aside with my finger and that touch alone is enough to send tendrils of lust into my core. Her lips are full and plump and her skin is pale under the moonlight streaming through the window. Flawless. It’s a word Junior used to describe her. One that makes my insides shrink when I think of why he wants her so flawless.

Leaning forward, I brush my lips over her skin ever so softly and whisper her name. She doesn’t wake and it strikes me as insane that she can find peace here. She doesn’t grasp her situation. She doesn’t understand the danger she will be in if she doesn’t learn to obey.

Slipping quietly out of the room, I find Marcel standing in nothing but his underwear, staring at the monitors. He looks at me knowingly.

“Careful there, Romeo. Owners don’t like it when their guard dogs want to play with the other pets.”

I push past him. I’m too tired and too drunk to deal with him. I need to do a better job. I need to demand her obedience and prepare her for what’s to come.

It’s the only way to help her.

So I rise early the next morning and watch her until she wakes. I use the command phrase. I order her to crawl. I touch her, steeling myself against her appeal. I tell her she must respond to my commands with a phrase of her own. But instead of complying, I’m met with defiance again. It stirs both annoyance and admiration within me. But if she does it with Junior, he will destroy her.

“Turn around,” I command when she refuses to obey, yet again.

Something has changed. She’s less afraid of me, of her situation. Instead of glaring at me, she faces the wall, ignoring me. Testing me.

“Turn around!” I yell, and this time it’s deafening in the small space. Her shoulders are square, her chin tilted high, her ass gloriously bare. Pulling the lash from my pocket, I extend it and whip it across her flesh. A red welt appears in a perfect line across her pale cheeks. But still, she doesn’t budge. She doesn’t even flinch. Again and again I strike her. I know it stings, but she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t beg, she just stands resolutely and takes it. She’s found me out. She knows my weakness. I don’t want to hurt her. I’m not allowed to hurt her. This pain she’s experiencing now is the worst it can get while she’s under my command.

“Turn around,” I say again, and this time there’s a touch of pleading in my voice. She doesn’t know what’s at stake.

Grabbing a fistful of hair, I jerk her head backward into the crook of my neck and hiss into her ear. “Don’t be stupid. You can make this stop. All you have to do is obey.”

The way she ignores me lights a fire of desperation and I shove her into the wall. My cock hardens as my body is pressed against hers and I inwardly curse myself for my weakness.

“I will put you back in those chains.”

It’s an empty threat but she doesn’t know that and her body tightens. She doesn’t like the thought of being chained again. I twist her around to face me but she refuses to meet my eye. For some reason this enrages me more than anything else. I want to beg with her, plead with her to obey. Gripping her chin between my fingers, I force her to look at me. She closes her eyes. Her lips are right there. So inviting. So enticing. I push my mouth against hers angrily, no longer sure if I am doing it for him or for me. She lets her body go slack, slumping against the wall so I have to hold her up by digging my knee between her legs, almost as a seat. I take her mouth again, sucking on her bottom lip. I bite, hoping to elicit something, anything but this limp doll act.

Nothing.

“Please.” There’s more than just a hint of pleading this time. I’m begging. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

But she’s leaving me little choice.

I let her go and she slumps to the floor as I walk out the door. I expect Marcel to be there, watching the monitor with a smirk of triumph on his face, but he’s not. He’s in the room with the blonde girl. The one he calls Star. His back is to me but I can tell he’s suffocating her with his cock, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he forces her back and forth. I bang on the door. In the monitor, I see him rip her head away from him as she sits meekly at his feet.

“What?” he yells.

I push open the door as he shoves himself back into his pants.

“You could have waited,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.

There’s no other way to say it other than blurting it out. “I need your help.”

requestor

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

REQUESTOR

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