Sedition (24 page)

“Don’t touch me.” It comes out as a whisper, but it’s somewhere between an order and a plea.

I’m jerked up to a sitting position, turned roughly so that I’m facing my master, who keeps a firm grip on my shoulders.

“Do you get to tell me not to touch you?”

His voice sounds so dangerous. I reply automatically, the trembling starting even before I notice it. “No, master.” My voice is as dead as I feel.

He shakes me, and I figure it’s my punishment for denying him before I hear him speak.

“Wrong.”

Another shake. I don’t know how to respond, so I just sag in his arms.

“I’ve told you from the start that you can tell me when you don’t want to fuck, haven’t I?” he asks, his voice still dangerous, but with a tone of something underneath. I can’t figure out what that something is, no matter how hard I try.

“Yes, master.” I do recall that conversation, multiple times, actually. “But… but I’m…”

“You’re what, Sascha?” his voice is softer now. “Hurt? Scared? Confused? Talk to me, you’re worrying me.”

“A dirty whore.” The words slip out of my mouth without a conscious thought; I’ve been told that so many times today, and it’s true. I’ve been one for years. But today has made me feel it. I’m not smart or special; just because my master treats me nicely, I’m still a dirty whore to be used and fucked and humiliated. I shouldn’t have ever forgotten it.

“You were doing what you had to do,” my master tries to convince me. “Making a sacrifice. For me, for the project… for whatever noble reasons you might come up with to do something like this. You’re strong, Sascha. Brave.”

I shake my head. “I did things… I’m dirty. Don’t spoil yourself by touching me.”

My master glares at me, and all I can think is how much I want him to take his hands off my shoulders so I can curl up in misery, so he can stop pretending I’m not different. I fucked up, went too far, and I’m not coming back.

“Sascha, if you keep talking like this I’m going to slap the shit out of you, is that clear?”

The threat cuts through in a way that the gentleness doesn’t. Cash isn’t gentle, and the fact that he tried to be threw me. It registered as a lie, but the threat makes sense. “You wouldn’t,” I challenge, not entirely sure if he’d really spend the effort or not.

“I promise, I will get out of this bed, grab a belt or a clothes hanger out of my closet, and come back and beat you with it if you don’t knock off this attitude.”

I’ve never felt so comforted by a threat, especially not one that I’m pretty sure is real, but it’s familiar, it’s what I expect. I breathe a small sigh of relief as the part of my brain that has been holding on to terror is convinced that this is actually Cash, not some pale imitation of a white knight that my torture-addled brain has thought up.

“I still feel dirty,” I mutter, keeping my head down while glancing up to gauge his reaction.

He doesn’t let me down; before I can protest, one hand has dropped from my shoulder and smacked me in the leg. It probably wouldn’t hurt, except for the bruises. I yelp, as much in pain as surprise.

“Should I get the belt, then?” his tone is light, conversational. But the look in his eyes says he’s serious.

I shake my head. “No, master. I just thought…” I stop myself before earning another smack.

He sighs. “You just thought that some of the awful things Torenze did to you would put me off from you? That I would knowingly send you into a situation where someone would make you undesirable, even though that’s not possible?”

I shrug. It does sound silly, looking at it that way. “I didn’t think it would affect me this much.”

My master raises an eyebrow. “You think that after all you’ve been through, being dropped off for a day of nonstop torture and humiliation wouldn’t affect you?”

I glare at him. He always goes for the logic.

“You’re not stupid and neither am I. Between what that woman allowed to be done to you at the brothel and what I allowed Torenze to do to you today, it’s fortunate you’re not a shriveled mess right now.”

I wonder if I’m so far from it. I struggle between wanting to push off my master’s touch and wanting to collapse into his arms, never to surface. Shriveled mess does sound about right.

“So, for the record, in case it isn’t crystal clear, I do not think that you’re dirty, or worthless, or trashy, or a whore, or any of the other things you might have been called today,” Cash says firmly. “What you are is a very brave, reckless young man who just spent twelve hours in the home of a well-known torturer and slave-breaker.”

I glance up at him at the last few words.

“Yes. When he started out at my mother’s company, that was his role. He rose in ranks quickly, due to his skills.”

“You don’t think any of what he said is true?” I ask him, uncertain. He might not, but I sure as hell do. “I couldn’t fight it. Not even for a few hours.”

He shakes his head. “We needed him, and you were the bait to bring him in. It worked without complication.”

I’ve noticed how ruthless my master can be before, but damn, do I forget it easily.

“You need to know that nothing he did to you or made you do could make me think any less of you,” Cashiel says, his voice carrying a promise. “If anything, it makes me think that much more of you.”

I let the words sink in for a minute, reminding myself that this man has no reason to lie to me, he never has. Finally, I relax a little, letting myself sink into his grip. “It was really bad,” I manage, unable to put it all into words. “I didn’t think he’d be able to break me so quickly.”

Cash nods. “I didn’t know how to warn you. So I just didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t have believed you anyway,” I point out, finally starting to relax and appreciate the way he’s holding me.

He studies me for a few moments before speaking again. “Are you still set on not touching? Because I think a little something to chase out the bad memories might be in order.”

I smile at him weakly.

“Of course, if you’re really not up to it, you can have your space; I won’t force you. I just wasn’t about to let you keep thinking that I didn’t want you.”

I reach out, daring to grip his forearms even as he’s still holding me tight by my shoulders. I understand. He’s not going to let me wallow in misery without making it perfectly clear that he doesn’t care about any of the lies Torenze told me. I’ve rarely felt more attracted to anyone. “Fuck me, Cash,” I whisper, begging him with my tone as much as with my eyes.

He smiles, bitterly. “Sorry, but no can do.”

I’m thrown for a second, pulling back, and the look on my face must give it away, because my master rushes to correct himself.

“I know you like pain, but I am not adding to the mess that monster made of you,” he points out, reminding me of the brutal fuckings I endured today. “You’re barely past bleeding as it is, and I want you healed up so you can enjoy me fucking you.”

I know he’s being kind, but the tears jump to my eyes anyway. I try to tell myself he really does have my best interests at heart, that he isn’t just disgusted to fuck me after another man has used me all day and let his slave use me. I’m not very convincing. “Please?” I whimper, half from sexual need and half from a need to be validated. “You always told me I got to choose!”

I’m suddenly grabbed by the hair and jerked close. I gasp as I feel my master kissing me roughly and violently, abrading the spot where my lip was split open earlier. I’m breathless by the time he pushes me back.

“You
do
get to choose, but so do I,” Cash reminds me. “I’m not going to take part in hurting you like that. We can play tonight, but there’s no way I’m fucking you until you’re healed up, is that clear?”

Jesus Christ, he’s hot when he’s forceful. “Yes, master,” the words come out of my mouth without a thought.

He pins me down suddenly, carefully, avoiding hurting me more than necessary.

“What did I tell you about calling me ‘master’ when we’re in bed?” he demands, but the slight smirk indicates that he’s teasing.

“Yes, Cash,” I amend, smiling back at him.

“Smartass,” he replies, kissing me gentler this time.

I don’t say anything. I’m busy enjoying the feeling of his hands as they move across my body, taking possession of what Torenze tried so hard to destroy. Cash’s touch is strong and sure, and it reminds me that I belong to him. My body is his to use, but not in the awful way that Torenze made me feel. With Torenze, I felt like an object, a useless, second-hand animal with scars and trauma and a bad attitude. With Cash, I feel like the most valuable, wonderful thing ever, the most valuable, wonderful
person
ever. I can’t help but lean into his touch.

“Do you know why you’re not worthless, Sascha?” he asks, his mouth pausing from the reveling it’s doing on my body.

I could guess, but I know it’s not what he wants. “Why?” I play along.

“Because you’re mine.”

His words are simple, hitting me hard in a way that makes me ache for him. I reach up to pull him close, ignoring the burn of the various welts on my skin as he presses down onto me. He could have used any of a hundred logical arguments to convince me that I wasn’t worthless, but instead he went straight for the thing that I was most likely to believe in this state. I’m certain he did it intentionally. I melt into him as he fucks me without ever entering me, taking me into his mouth, his hands, and his possession completely.

I’m spent quickly, too exhausted to even consider reciprocating, and he doesn’t demand it. He lies next to me, stroking gently across my skin, standing guard over me as I sleep, as nightmares jerk me awake again and again.

They don’t all make sense, especially not the one where I hear him say he loves me, and I think I ask him what he said, and he just shakes his head and kisses me. But that dream was better than a nightmare, and after that one, I sleep dreamlessly.

Chapter 20
Promises

I wake the next morning, eager to find out if Sascha is all right. I’m prepared to take him to the hospital if need be, but he doesn’t want to go.

“Please, Cash, I’m fine,” he mumbles. “I’m just sore. You checked me out well enough last night that there’s nothing left for a doctor to find.”

I frown at him. I should demand that he go; he is my property. But the begging wins me over, and I rest beside him in bed. “All right,” I concede. “But let me bring you something to eat and drink. You need the nutrients.”

Sascha nods, drooping back down into bed. I go to the kitchen and attempt to put together a sort of breakfast, some tea and toast and the chocolate spread I know he likes. A voice in my head berates me for coddling a slave, but the voice sounds like my mother, so I ignore it.

I’m on the way to bring it back to the room when I hear loud knocking at my door, and the sound of one of my security alarms being activated.

I set the food down on an end table and glance at my wristband, which is alerting me of the presence of someone at my house. It also informs me that there has been a formal complaint lodged against me, although I don’t bother to read it before making my way to the door. My mother told me just last week that Lisa had called to complain about my ability to manage my slave, and I’m fully prepared to destroy Lisa and her whole family, no matter how much it will hurt Sascha to see his brother go down with her.

What I’m not prepared for is the appearance of my mother along with an armed officer in uniform.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand, taking the officer by surprise. He looks from me to my mother, waiting for either of us to explain my outburst.

“Following up on the quality of my services,” she replies, a dangerous smile on her face. “Ms. Dover-Gabbamonte filed a complaint against you, but her complaint reflected poorly on my re-education centers. I discussed it with the district judge, and he was more than happy to accept my services in this investigation. After all, I may be nothing but the face of a corporation to you, Mr. Michaud, but to those who matter, I’m a valuable asset. It’s a pity we aren’t working toward the same goals.”

I hear her throwing my own words back at me and I want to reach out and slap her like she used to slap me as a child. Only the thought of leaving Sascha alone while I am inevitably taken to jail makes me hold my temper.

“My services will ensure that my re-education centers are providing top-notch training, but will also represent the Miller System’s ongoing commitment to civic responsibility,” she explains. “And, of course, if there are any problems, Officer Eisen will be more than happy to assist. I’m sure you’ll be willing to cooperate, won’t you, Mr. Michaud?”

She’s pretending she doesn’t know me, that we don’t have history. The officer is clueless, and looking down at me like I’m some sort of scum. His hand is grazing over his gun and I can only imagine what he’ll do if I don’t cooperate. My mother shouldn’t have any legal authority, but with the legal system wrapped around her evil little finger she has plenty. She wields the officer like a trained dog.

“Of course I’ll cooperate,” I answer, forcing my voice to be calm. “As the saying goes, my house is your house.”

My mother almost snarls at me before remembering we aren’t supposed to have history.

“Officer, please accompany this man to retrieve his slave,” she orders, and the officer glues himself to my side.

I make my way to the bedroom, where I find Sascha sitting up in bed, clearly listening to the conversation from down the hall. Good, it means he knows what we’re up against. I don’t mind that he still displays lingering bruises from his time with Oliver. If anything, it makes our case stronger. Good masters discipline their slaves. I trust him to behave; he knows the stakes, and he’s as invested in the success as I am.

“This officer is here with Kristine Miller, of the Miller System, to investigate my house,” I tell him. “You will cooperate with any and all requests.”

“Yes, master,” he replies instantly, getting out of bed and trying to hide the look on his face.

I hand him a robe, because we had been sleeping naked, and he doesn’t need to be any more exposed. He puts it on and takes his place by my side as the officer escorts us back out to the living room, where my mother is already peeking around.