Roxy Harte (24 page)
Authors: Sacred Revelations
“You have a lot on your mind today, Kitten.”
“Not really,” I whisper. “It’s just nice to be out.”
“Yes.” Garrett surprises me by pulling off the road and into a parking lot. I recognize the building as one that was abandoned a few years back. Once the artsy refuge of architect Lewis Rolston, the building reflects his love of the abstract. The city lost a visionary when he died and no one took over his firm. I take a double glance, reading the nondescript business sign in front of the building, The Darkness. I wonder if it has been turned into a club, maybe a competitor who has come to town. My heart pounds wildly with the thought that this could be a new play place, but then I think no, it’s very early in the day, not a nightclub.
“Do you want to go in? See your old friends?” Garrett asks, parking, opening his car door.
“My old friends?” I scrunch my forehead with confusion. “I don’t have any friends.”
Coming around the car, he opens my door. I shake my head, not wanting to find out what The Darkness is. “Not even curious, Kitten?”
“No.” I pull into myself, really, really not wanting to get out of the car. “Can we go home, Master?” I ask as he takes my hand and helps me from the car.
“Celia? Celia Brentwood is that you?” a man’s voice calls from across the parking lot, making a fast
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stride toward me.
“We should go,” I whisper, shaking, really wanting to go, stepping behind Master to hide.
“Who is he?”
“No one.”
My best friend Charlie.
He arrives and reaches his hand out to Master for him to shake it. Garrett takes his and smiles broadly.
“You must be Garrett, I’m Charlie. When Celia worked at
Inappropriate Voices
, well, we were friends—just friends.”
Garrett sidesteps to reveal me behind him.
“Hi, Charlie,” I whisper, staying beside Master, wanting so much to hug Charlie, trying desperately not to cry as all the memories of my past life race back to jar me. Who would have thought I’d actually miss
Inappropriate Voices
? God, I really do, I really, really do.
“Celia, God it’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re here! We reopen next week…new name, but I’ve managed to secure all the past advertisers and reinstated 90% of our subscribers with a free first month.”
“You are the ad guy, Charlie; you could sell anything.” I wink, smiling, glad we ran into Charlie, but then immediately ducking my head, hoping Master didn’t see the wink. What is the punishment for winking at an old friend?
“Now I know who you are.” Master laughs, ruffling my hair, not seeming mad at me. “You’re the guy who made my life a living hell, Kitten Sightings, billboard campaign. Are you responsible for the screen saver that I still haven’t been able to disconnect?”
“I can say I’m sorry if you want, but the Kitten campaign put my career on the map, so it wouldn’t be sincere. And as far as the screen saver goes, I can’t take responsibility for that.”
I close my eyes, nauseous, remembering how much I didn’t care what the punishment would be when I was trying to get his attention. I’ve never seen Master mad. That’s the problem, not that I fear him, that I just don’t know what to expect. “I did it, Master,” I admit softly. “I’m sorry, I’ll remove it.”
He pulls me into a hug, wrapping his arm around my waist. He kisses my temple. “I don’t want it removed, Kitten. I’d be very interested in how you did it though.”
“Executable file,” I admit. “Kindergarten stuff. When you opened Outlook, it downloaded.”
“You designed it?”
I nod.
“Well, I like it, but before you do anything else to my computer, run it by me first. Now let’s go inside and see the new digs. If you’ll give us a tour, Charlie.
“Excellent.” Charlie beams.
With two men pulling me, it’s hard to resist, but I do. I don’t want to go inside the new headquarters for
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the new improved lifestyle daily newspaper…even if it has a new name—
The Darkness
. I hesitate before the wide glass revolving doors, reading the name. “What kind of name is
The Darkness
?”
A large billboard covers one curved wall and is graced by the advertising copy for the new tabloid.
“
The Darkness
, an alternative lifestyle daily tabloid…formerly
Inappropriate Voices
…returns to the Bay Area. Sexier. Naughtier. More outrageous than ever. Together we embrace our Darkness.”
The sign, huge against the wall, makes me angry. Lord Fyre said to Garrett once, “She deserves to feel the darkness burning through her soul.” Since that moment, the three of us have referred to my need as the darkness. That the owner of this newspaper used the saying for ad copy, for the title…I’m annoyed—no, pissed as hell. How dare he, and how did he know? I turn to Master, my mouth open, unable to say anything, wanting to accuse. Who else would have the kind of money and the desire to recreate the alternative daily but Master?
“Happy Birthday, Kitten.”
“I don’t understand.” I say, still trying to decide if I am pissed about the newspaper’s name or flattered that Master would name his new project after my need. Then I realize what he just said to me. “How did you know it was my birthday?”
“I like to think I know everything about you, Kitten, but sometimes, you throw me a curve.” Taking my hand, he lays into my palm a key ring as he leads me to a closed door. Even facing the frosted glass and polished metal door, I don’t understand…not until I read the dark lettering on the glass. “Celia Brentwood, CEO.”
“I don’t understand.”
“This is for you. You are the owner of all that once was
Inappropriate Voices
. All of the staff who were willing to come back to the jobs they held before are in place here, and thanks to Charlie’s efforts, both subscribers and advertisers are beating down the doors to have a piece of the first issue, which is ready for your final approval and goes to press at midnight.”
I’m stunned. Worse, speechless. Master leads me around the amazing space and I am dazed. What happens now? Just what in the fuck happens now?
Sitting beside him while he drives us home, I am still dazed, managing a meek, “You bought me a newspaper? I don’t know what to say…I don’t understand…why?”
“I want you to have your career back, Kitten. You’re a journalist and you haven’t been happy being just mine, you need also to be you. It’s going to be harder, our hours won’t always match up, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make you happy.”
I close my eyes against the tears burning hotly beneath my lids. He knew I wasn’t happy, he knew I wasn’t content, and I thought I’d been faking it so well.
“He cherished the unfulfilled desires, the longings. He loved them for their own sakes and told himself that with fulfillment the best of them would be past.”
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-Thomas Mann, Death in Venice
Garrett
Last night, Kitten fell asleep in a solemn mood, and I was worried; but coming from the hot shower, I find her awake and smiling. Crossing the room to give her a kiss good morning, I am surprised that she is smiling brightly, more surprised when she pulls the damp towel from my hips and palms my soft but getting interested quickly cock in her hand. I push her down into the mattress.
“You bought me a newspaper?” She giggles, not letting go, pulling hard on my cock. She makes me rock hard instantly.
“God, Kitten, if I’d known it was going to make you this happy, I’d have bought you the newspaper ages ago.” Gripping harder, jerking harder, she lets me know that she’s figured out that I like to be played with roughly and doesn’t wait for my command or permission to use me the way I like it, hurting me just enough to make the beginnings of her hand job really interesting. I moan above her, unable to stop the sound as she pushes my cock down hard, pain shooting deep into my groin. “You’re killing me.”
“If I hurt you too much, will you spank me?” she whispers, releasing me to spring and bounce, the sensations rippling through me almost an orgasm in and of themselves.
I pull up, my weight on my knees, looking down at her. “You are so getting a spanking tonight, Kitten. I can tell it’s been too long.”
Smiling, she open-hand slaps my erection back and forth several times before grabbing me hard and fast, twisting and pulling at the same time, not hurting but close, a teasing ache. She could make me come if I weren’t so focused on not coming.
“So, if I make you come and
he
feels all better, you won’t spank me?” she asks with a pout, pumping me senseless in her silken palm.
“I didn’t say that.” I hate it that my voice sounds raspy even to me. I’m definitely losing control of my little slave girl tonight. I fall onto her, stopping her stroke, crushing her beneath the weight of my chest, pinning her arms between us and still she doesn’t release me. If anything, she is pumping me harder and faster. Rolling onto my back, I grab her wrists and pull her over on top of me so that she is the one off balance, straddling me. Holding her wrists at her sides, I take her in, the mischievous smile, the pride in her shoulders, and happiness that seems to bubble up from within her. She has blossomed over the months, so different now than the girl I bought at the auction. It makes me happy to see her so comfortable with me that she challenges me at every turn, waiting to see how I’ll react.
“I want to spank you while you ride me.” I smile, seeing her face change expression, from flippant to nervous in two seconds flat. “Mount me, Kitten, and don’t even think about using your hands to guide me into you.”
Holding her wrists, I enjoy her struggle as she wiggles and slides, trying to get the angle right. I don’t let her fall forward onto me, knowing the angle would be too easy then. I want her to struggle with the command, trying so hard to capture the tip of my penis with her pussy. After some effort, she succeeds and I am faced with her pride of accomplishment as she starts to ride me, establishing her own rhythm.
Jerking her wrists, I pull her down, crushing her breasts to my chest, changing the rhythm to the pace I prefer. I swat her hard, making her jump. My palm stings, so I know her ass flames up nicely. I swat again and then lightly rub the skin warmed by my hand. Establishing a nice easy pace, I control her ride, I
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control the thrusts, and when she relaxes in my grip, I swat her again, warming her ass very nicely. She gasps against my shoulder and I swat her hard twice more, knowing at least one of the swats will leave a mark before I unsettle her again, pushing her back, releasing her hands so quickly that she slides deeper on my cock and has to use one hand braced on my chest to keep from falling.
Looking at her, I see that there are tears on her cheeks.
“I didn’t spank you hard enough to make you cry, Kitten. What’s wrong?”
“Are you mad at me?” she whispers. “I was playing. I didn’t mean to be bad.”
I understand then, I have never given her pleasure and pain like this and her spankings have always been for punishment in the past.
I smile at her, stroking her arms reassuringly. “No, Kitten. You’ve pleased me very much. You make me very happy. Now, ride me in this position, ride me until you come, and then we will discuss whether I should spank you for real tonight for being such a naughty girl.”
“I was naughty?” She bats her eyelashes at me.
“Kitten, you are so naughty!”
* * * *
The Darkness
. I see no point in caring what other people think.
It doesn’t seem to trouble her overly much that she is the missing slave of Lewd Larry. Maybe that is what’s really eating at me. Not the part about what other people think, but the part about how I am missing her…and I’m not so sure she’s missing me. I know I’m being ridiculous and I’m trying to give her time and space, but I want Kitten back completely.
Jackie finds me sitting alone at our regular table, swirling a half-empty Scotch, Kitten nowhere to be seen.
“So, your slave is working late again tonight?”
“Don’t start, Jackie.”
“I wonder what causes people to become workaholics, is it because they really love their work that much, or are they avoiding the life they have away from work?”
“Jackie,” I growl a warning, just as I see Kitten step from the elevator. She immediately drops to her knees and starts crawling to our table. I hiss to Jackie, “Be nice.”
“Oh, baby, I’m always nice. I’m just wondering what your Kitten is doing night after night, working late.
Who’s helping her work late.”
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“Jackie,” I warn, seeing Kitten nearing the table. I pat my knee and she climbs into my lap, rubbing her face on my cheek.
“Are you hungry?”
She rubs her face on my cheek.
Yes
. When she is here with me, she is the perfect, obedient slave. When we are at home, she is devoted, loving, voracious. It seems my only complaint is the time we’re apart and, truly, it isn’t even an eight-hour workday. It just seems like forever. Jackie’s comments are unfounded. I glare at her over the top of Kitten’s head and lift my hand to order. “Are you joining us for our evening meal?”
Jackie twists her lips, looks at Bernard, and sighs. “I suppose we shall, since I haven’t had a chance to share my news.”
