Indulgence (354 page)

There were fewer men, but now I was completely naked.
Exposed for them to do as they pleased. A new wave of nausea pounded at my gut
and it took some effort to swallow it down. Pulling myself back to my knees, I
grasped at Kirk’s leg.

Just take me back in the apartment. Please
. My mind
begged, shouting the words, that wouldn’t break free from my mouth.

A foot against my ass knocked me forward into Kirk’s legs.

They snickered and jeered as I tried to regain my balance.

I was nothing to them.

Just a toy, like Suit said. And they were like a bunch of
bratty rich kids who knew that every toy was replaceable.

My sobs vibrated through my chest, but not a single tear
came. My gaze fluttered up to meet Kirk’s.

“Please,” I whispered through my tight throat.

As I pulled myself to my knees, the muscular arm of the man
behind me tightened around my throat again, pulling me backward as he lowered
his mouth to my ear. “I think you’ll have to do better than that if you want
your
Master
to keep you. But if you like, we can find you different
accommodations.”

He pinched my nipple, then rubbed his palm over it and gave
my breast a hard squeeze. The blond who’d been waiting for a turn cleared his
throat, and Kirk shot him a scowling glance waving him off.

It was my first bit of hope. Maybe Kirk wouldn’t throw me to
any of the others.

“I am sorry,” my voice cracked.

The arm tightened around my neck, then released again. It
couldn’t have been a coincidence that the man holding me had stepped off the
elevator while I was in the hallway and proceeded to play into Kirk’s interest.

“I’m sorry, M-Master.” I was on my knees begging the man who
saved me from the kidnappers to
keep
me captive. My brain tried futilely
to come up with another solution, weighing how many people in this building
could be like Kirk, against how many could be like Gabe. “Please, let me stay
with you, Master.”

Kirk flipped his hand at the man behind me, and I was
released. Not even my pulse pounding through my veins was enough to make me
feel alive. I was a pile of flesh and bone that happened to have a heartbeat.

Kirk pulled me to my feet then shoved me through the open
door to his apartment. I landed on my hands and knees, adding another set of
carpet burns to my list of injuries. Then, a stinging impact came across my
ass. I bit my bottom lip to keep in the scream and scurried farther into the
apartment.

After a second, the door slammed behind me and an arm came
around my stomach lifting me up and carrying me under his arm into the bathroom.
“I don’t have time for this shit. If you want to live, don’t be an idiot and
we’ll get along fine.”

He turned on the shower then dropped me to my feet and with
the sudden impact, my stomach decided that it had enough.

“I’m gonna puke,” I slapped my hand over my mouth and rushed
to the toilet, heaving a few times before my nerves calmed enough for my
stomach to settle. My body shook as I lay back against the cold porcelain tile.

Kirk handed me a small paper cup full of water, and I took a
few sips, hoping it didn’t set off the same reaction again.

After a few moments—as long as I dared to take, I climbed to
my feet and Kirk gestured for me to get in the shower.

I stepped over the tub wall into the hot water that beat
down on my head and chest. I closed my eyes, emerging myself in the cleansing
stream. Kirk handed in a wash cloth and a white bar of soap, so I scrubbed
everywhere, concentrating on every inch of flesh the men had touched.

“What am I supposed to call you?” I finally got up the nerve
to ask over the sound of the falling water.

“Master,” he answered without a hint of emotion. “Everyone
else calls me Kirk—that bit of information might be useful if you don’t want
everyone thinking you’re a total idiot.”

I peeked around the edge of the curtain to see him emptying
the contents of the black bag and setting them out on the counter. Two butt
plugs, lube, what appeared to be two wrist cuffs and a collar, and a few items
I didn’t recognize.

Ducking my face under the stream to hide the tears I feared
would finally break, I wished the water was hotter. That it might sear away
everything or at least distract my mind from the train wreck happening in my
neurons.

After I washed out my hair, and rinsed all of the soap from
my body, Kirk reached in and turned off the shower, handing me a towel.

“Get dried off then lean against the counter.”

Oh god, what now?
I rubbed the towel against my skin,
weighing my fear of having him snap at me against my fear of whatever he had in
mind next.

He stood, arms crossed, leaning against the counter. For
someone who wanted me as a sex slave, he didn’t actually seem the least bit
interested in me standing naked in front of him.

I tried to convince myself that was a good thing. If he had
no interest in me, then…. Then, it was more likely he’d pass me off to someone
else. Why couldn’t one thing lead to a positive scenario?

I dropped the towel and moved slowly toward the counter.

“Lean forward, rest your forearms on the counter,” he said,
pressing his hand against my back between my shoulder blades. I stiffened,
trying to stay straight, but he slammed me forward, and pinned my legs with his
knee.

With his hands on me, it all sank in. Sex slave. My insides
coiled and then stretched out again. The heat of embarrassment twisted in my
stomach and burned my face. Kirk pressed my butt cheeks apart and I dropped my
forehead to the counter to absorb its coolness, as I watched him pick up a
bottle of lube.

“You’re staying here while I take care of a few things
before dinner. Don’t cause trouble unless you want me to recruit a babysitter
for you.” As he spoke, he casually slipped a lubed finger inside of me and I
shoved my head into my hands. He was gentle, and the fact that it didn’t hurt
made it all the more humiliating.

“Understand?” he asked while pushing his finger as deep as
it would go.

I heard his words, and understood the question clearly, but
my mind was elsewhere. Flashes of the people I’d never see again—if I survived
this and made it out, I wondered if I’d ever want to see them again. How long
could I stay here and still face reality?

“Answer,” Kirk growled, pulling my wet hair down my back
until my back arched and I had to face him in the mirror.

“I understand.”

His finger slipped out of my ass and was replaced with
something cold, smooth, and much larger. He pressed and the deeper it went, the
larger it became, stretching me until my body rebelled. I jerked—as if there
was anywhere I could retreat. My scalp ached as he pulled my hair keeping me in
place, and my ass burned, stretched, and throbbed, refusing to yield.

I knew he was going to have his way, but my body had yet to
get the memo.

“Relax,” he instructed as if the tip would help.

Oh, yeah, sure
. Inside my head, the snarky reactions
wouldn’t stop, but I attempted to catch them before they slipped out of my
mouth and doomed me to another burst of Kirk’s temper.

Master’s temper. I tried the title out in my head and it
sounded just as ridiculous as when he’d said it.

He released my hair, and I slumped forward until my forehead
touched the marble counter top.
One breath… two…
I kept counting,
concentrating on numbers and breaths, trying to push the pain and tension to
another place.

He pressed the plug deeper again, until I involuntarily
tightened. My hands fisted, digging my nails into my palms. My hips dug against
the edge of the counter and I barely managed to keep myself from squeaking in
pain. I wished he would just get it over with, but he waited again.

Five breaths before he moved again.

He pulled the plug out then, pressed a bit more and the
stretching was replaced with more pain. The newest jolt stayed with me, even
after he drew back the plug. Throbbing, aching, I wished the counter top was
soft so I could dig my fingers into it.

Kirk’s other hand slipped between my legs and my knees
buckled against the cabinet as he found my clit. I gasped, pressing my forehead
harder into the counter.

I needed some kind of escape—an impossible escape. Anywhere
to hide.

One, two,
I started counting again. I had no idea
where my last count had left off. I had to get away, to find somewhere safe
where my body wasn’t being used and I wasn’t being humiliated.

The pressure in my ass grew then suddenly eased, and my eyes
popped open.

I could still feel it, the uncomfortable pressure. The
sensation wreaked havoc on my nervous system. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t
entirely painful anymore either.

“Stand up,” he said, washing his hands from touching me.

I watched him in the mirror, not daring to look at him
directly, but he barely looked at me. I felt like nothing to him—a dirty toy
that he didn’t really want but felt obliged to care for anyway.

He picked up the silver set of cuffs that he’d laid out on
the counter, each wrapped in bands of gold like elegant bracelets. He secured
one around each of my wrists with a silver lock. Next, he secured the matching
collar around my neck. They were cold and unforgiving, but loose and skinny
enough to be tolerable.

“There’s a tracker inside each one. So even if you managed
to get past everyone in the building, an alarm would sound as soon as you hit
the perimeter, and the guards would track you down before you made it much
farther than that.”

I stared down at the silver shackles. Slowly, my hope was
fading.

“Come on,” he said, pulling me along and slipping his index
finger into a hook on the collar as he grabbed the black bag.

He led me out of the bathroom and through the next door into
his bedroom. A large oak bed frame—at least a king size bed, possibly
larger—dominated the room. He dropped the bag on the foot of the bed and pulled
out a long length of chain.

My stomach twisted, and I went weak, slamming into his chest
as I fell.

Kirk laid me on the bed and rolled a blanket up to raise my
feet. I was moderately aware as events passed, but it seemed more like a waking
dream where only bits of reality filtered in around the foggy and warped edges.
The effects weren’t as extreme as what I had experienced in the infirmary, but
I still felt lightheaded and disconnected.

“You get these spells often?”

I shook my head.

“How do you feel now?”

“What do you care?” I scoffed, rubbing my hands over my
face.

Kirk picked up my wrist and felt for my pulse. “I can’t have
any fun with you fainting all the time.”

Well, then
, I thought,
maybe I should have said
that it happens all the time
. But even if he didn’t want an unconscious
woman, something told me the others would have no qualms with taking advantage.

Kirk took a deep breath. Although he was acting concerned,
his lips sat firm in that straight line they’d been in all along. He knelt next
to the bed, then rose and attached the end of the chain to my wrist.

“Was lunch yesterday the last time you remember eating?”

I almost smarted off again—
that’s what I said earlier
.
At least I was fairly positive that we’d already had a conversation about what
I remembered. “Aside from what you’ve fed me, yes, that’s all I remember.”

“Are you allergic to anything other than latex?”

“Rabbits and ragweed.”

He pressed his lips together, obviously not impressed with
answers that meant nothing in his world. Without another word, he disappeared
through the door.

“What if I have to use the bathroom?”

“Hold it until I get back,” he yelled back.

I tried to sit up to take a small drink, but the butt plug
shifted with every small motion, filling me with sensations that balanced on
the border between pain and pleasure.

Kirk stopped at the doorway and looked back, “Don’t even
consider taking out the plug, or the next one will be much bigger, and I’ll
make sure you can’t move at all.”

I nodded, but Kirk remained in the doorway like a statue
while I pulled the blanket around myself, and laid out the food beside me.
Then, he closed his eyes, exhaled, and pushed away from the doorway,
approaching the bed again. I stiffened, pressing my head into the headboard.

Kirk touched my skin, directing my gaze to meet his. “Yes,
Master. Thank you, Master.”

“Yes, Master.” I had to swallow my pride to force it out,
reminding myself he’d saved me from a worse fate. “Thank you, Master.”

*****

After he left, I had nothing better to do than stare at the
ceiling. My joints were swollen from the abuse. My ribs and stomach ached, and
every time I moved to relieve them, the plug shifted and pressed against a new
set of nerves.

It gave me a firsthand understanding of why uptight,
condescending people were described as having sticks up their asses—it was
fucking miserable and they needed someone to take it out on.

I rubbed my hands over my face. Even after the shower, I
felt dirty and violated. If I could have scrubbed off my first layer of skin, I
would have, and the plug only served as a constant reminder of how far a person
could fall in a single day.

“I’m never apologizing to her. It’s not my fault she
can’t keep her damn pants on.”
The last words I had uttered to my mother
two weeks earlier ran through my head.

“Do you two even remember why you’re fighting?” she’d
replied.

I did. Even eight months after she packed up and moved out,
I remembered exactly why we were fighting—because after she squandered half of
her rent money to go out and get drunk with her ex, I told her to grow up and
stop acting like an idiot teenager or move out.