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I’d felt as if I’d won a victory too, in making him so happy. Being face fucked had blissed me out for a while.
I sighed. Clearly I was sunstruck. Or lovestruck. Life was just fucking wonderful when you were fangirling your captor. My Dom. Because, really, that’s what he’d be if he wasn’t my abductor.
The man should be in prison.
My heart did a fancy dub, dub as if it knew something I didn’t. I loved being at his feet and I was beginning to see that if I was anywhere else I’d be miserable. If I was back home right now I’d be pining for him.
That simple. That crazy.
“Here.”
As if by magic, Sir’s hand appeared holding a glass of milk and his other hand rubbed my back.
“Drink. I’ll get you food soon. You’re pleasing me.”
I’d had water already but I was starving too. After I drank, he took the glass, gave my butt a pat, and walked away.
The wall was hard against my head. My interlaced fingers were wet from the condensation on the glass, and I was about to cry. Not from being tired. No. It was because his praise had sunken in and made me glow with warmth.
I was indeed losing it.
*****
“What are you going to do with her now?” Glass was next to me at the table. He stuck another piece of steak in his mouth. “I mean I know you’re going to fuck her silly later, ’cause who wouldn’t. I mean now, what now? She’s still trying to get away?”
I stared at her – all mute and meek, hands at her back like I told her to.
“I’ll be training her still. Be good and don’t distract her too much. No touching her.” I nodded at Jurgen, who was leaning back in his chair, with his head twisted around so he could eye her. The man had enough tattoos on him to give him ink poisoning, enough piercings to make a surgeon jealous, many of which were self-inflicted, and a libido any other pushing fifty-year-old man would envy. “No touching, Jurgen.”
Unless I said he could. It was a possibility I’d considered, sharing her just to imprint on her how much I owned her.
Only that idea gave me such a twisted-up gut I doubted it would work.
“Sure.” He wiped his nose with the back of his fork carrying hand then rubbed the same hand through the dark stubble on his scalp. “Cute one though. I’m fokken fascinated.” He sat up and leaned on the table, coming in close. The corrugations on his forehead said he was serious. “If you’ve pulled this off with a woman like this, from what I’ve heard of her background... A journalist with awards and all. Kudos.”
“Pulled it off.” Was that really a compliment? I sucked on the inside of my cheek while looking at Jazmine. “She’s not fully my slave yet.”
“You’re closer than you think.”
Glass nodded then added quietly. “I agree. She’s close. You just don’t see it. The change since you left here is enormous. Another few weeks of whatever you’re doing to her and you’re set.”
Were they right? She hadn’t moved an inch.
I decided. “One month from now let’s have another dinner. A special one. Unless I don’t think she’s ready. I’ll need a few things. I need to see if you can do something to her, for me. Piercings.”
“Yeah. No problem. Can I do her nipples?” He chuckled. “I won’t even charge for those.”
“I bet you wouldn’t. No.” I checked her out again, the little wriggle she did every so often, when she adjusted the position of her feet, and that white lacy underwear, it made me yearn to drag her upstairs immediately. “What I want you to do, you might have to pay me for the privilege.”
What I wanted from him was maybe too personal for me to let him.
I thought through it. I’d enjoy it. So why not do it myself? It wasn’t as if the government had legislated that owners of slaves couldn’t fuck with their bodies.
“What if I asked you to teach me how instead?” I raised a brow at Jurgen.
He sniffed. “Damn. Meaning I miss out?” His shrug was accompanied by a grin that said he knew why I wanted this.
“Pieter.”
