The Slavemaker

He was silent for a moment and when he spoke, it was simple. "She lied."

I was grinning, but he sounded angry. "Yup. Hey, don't worry about it. I'll get her. You've got enough to deal with and it's okay, honest."

"I can't just..."

"Let it go? Yeah, I got it, control freak. You'll get updates. I'll call you in a while."

He let me go, but he didn't want to and I had to appreciate that. When he'd first had me try out the new branch for him, he'd tried to micromanage every fucking thing. Ash was the kind of boss you hated. He was cold and emotionless, like an android that wouldn't stop asking you about every little detail, from the height of the bar cooler to the placement of a sink. He was infuriating and I'd had to swallow down many a military brat comment where I wanted my own goddamn control and could work everything better if he'd shut up and let me just do it.

I was kind of proud of him for managing to hang up the phone after one of his surefire, stable lifestyle submissives lied to both of us, like a teenager trying to sneak out of the house with a friend. And we might live in a big city, but I had some valuable resources to find her and one of them was flirting with my bartender.

"Hi, Lily." I sat down next to her, drawing her name out, and she seemed to hear something in my voice because she shifted in her chair. Jackson smirked at me. "Let's talk about Deirdre."

"Um." She shifted her eyes nervously between us. "Okay. We... we can do that."

"Why so nervous?" I flashed my teeth and she cowered. Oh, I liked Lily Lofton. "I hadn't seen her in a while and she promised to see me every now and again. I wanted to make sure she's okay, even though I know she's busy helping Ash." I said the last in a hard voice.

Lily shuddered. "Yes. Yes, she has been busy helping... helping Ash. She's just been tired, you know, with the sex toy store and whatnot."

"Uh huh. It's really nice of her to help him so much right now."

Her voice got squeakier. "It is! It is really nice. She's good like that." Yeah, she knew.

It took me thirty minutes to break her, which shocked me actually. The way she acted at first, I thought it wouldn't be so long. I kissed her head when she finally confessed Deirdre's wild spree to me, when she gave me a list of bar names she might be at, starting with the most likely. I left her with Jackson, who winked and pet her and whispered that she was helping Deirdre and it was okay.

————

Deirdre

I downed another shot of Jack Daniels at a hang out bar that was seedy as hell. It was nothing like the calm control and clarity of Sulfur's, but it worked for my purposes at the moment. God, what was wrong with me? I felt humiliated, embarrassed, like a bitch. What was more, I hadn't bowed to anyone since the light play with Christopher and my world wasn't exactly stable at the moment. It wasn't just having met him. There were other things with work, standard problems everyone deals with, and I was usually pretty good at handling them so long as I could satisfy that one cursed need. It was just part of me, my outlet and that special mindset that balanced my world.

What was worse? I didn't even have a good excuse for doing this, for acting the way I was, and for not going back to Christopher. I was just being a fucking coward, but all I could think of was how awful it had been the last time I had gotten too close to my fantasies. I moaned, placing my face in my hands before I downed another shot and, by then, I absolutely had the intention of making myself sick. Because I deserved to be sick and to go through the pain the next morning. God, really? Some reliable friend I was to people like Ash who thought so highly of me. What was wrong with me, that I needed to play those games or I lost myself in self punishment? I didn't know, but it was torture sometimes and the worst part was playing sometimes wasn't even satisfying. All it did was make me get close to that girl who dreamed of being locked in a tower by her knight. Lately, I dreamed I was Rapunzel and maybe I struggled my cage at first, but the knight in his shining armor held me safe and secure and he cherished me. He always caught me when I tried to leave my tower and he always punished me to make me feel safe all over again.

"Hey there, Hawthorne Heights. Chin up." Despite the teasing words, his voice was so gentle. Christopher Love. God, he even had the name of a knight, at least to me.

I didn't obey him. I lowered my head to the bar table and moaned. I didn't even bother to ask how he found me or what he was doing, either. I couldn't get away with lying to someone like Ash for a long amount of time. "Why am I like this? Why can't I just turn it off and be like normal people?" I went to take another drink, but he stopped me with a light hand over the shot glass.

"Hey, there, Aurora. I know it isn't much consolation right now, by the looks of things, but I think you're pretty damned wonderful the way you are. I'm really glad you're not whatever you mean by 'normal'." I finally looked up at his stupid, perfect face and gave him a pathetic gaze, so that he smiled.

I rubbed my hair, which was a mess. I was defeated as hell and he looked as put together as the night I first saw him, when he was getting his cock sucked by two slaves he didn't even have to speak to in order to command. "I hate you. How are you so fucking perfect and gorgeous?"

He grinned and paid off my tab while I was too drunk to even realize he was doing it, while I only realized it after the fact and then wanted to slap him for being the perfect goddamn prince. "There's a lot of people who'd disagree with you on that. Every slave I've ever had enjoys the fantasy play of my control for set time limits, but has always confessed, after they're done, that they wouldn't want it 24/7, for instance." He was even guiding me out the door with his hand at the small of my back and with such ease that I barely even noticed that, either. I barely even thought about the fact that I shouldn't want to go anywhere with this man.

"I hate you."

He made a low sound and I realized he was finally frustrated. "Would you tell me why, then?"

I snorted and my petty shit came up, thanks to the alcohol. My emotions were all over the goddamn place and I couldn't think in the presence of this man. "It doesn't fucking matter. Just go back to one of your perfect, gorgeous slaves and leave. Me. A-"

He cut me off in the one way I couldn't fight against. It was the same way he already knew would shut me up and make me still. With a kiss.

I moaned into his mouth, lost to his force of will because that seemed a thing alive. He was put together and commanding and he had all those perfect qualities of the master I had always dreamed of, every last bloody one. He was nurturing, hard, stern, controlling. I whined up against him, lifting when he cupped the back of my head, so turned on and so fucking needy again. He growled back against me and my whine rose to a cry of submission. If I tasted like Jack, he didn't seem to care in the slightest. His lips turned all the harder with my surrender, almost cruel, but that made me more excited, so that he chuckled wickedly, and then I realized why when he stilled my body.

Where I had been writhing in a sinuous dance against him, right in a goddamn alleyway. He finally broke away and kept his hand in my hair to hold my face up to his, so that I was forced to meet his eyes. "Jealousy does not suit you, little Aurora. It doesn't have a place for me and it for damn certain doesn't belong in our favorite fetish bar." I whimpered, not sober and so horny by how controlled his voice was where I was so weak and vulnerable against him. That voice lecturing me made me feel even hotter than some of the sex I'd had.

"Yes, sir."

It slipped from my lips as if it just belonged there, as if it was whole and right that I should look in his eyes and say it. And he reacted to it, standing taller, his hand tightening in my hair to better hold me under his control. Under his care. Under his calming will. "Good girl. Such a sweet girl you can be. You'll find I can be very kind to good girls, Deirdre."

Jesus, I didn't doubt that. I remembered the girl sucking his thumb when he fucked it between her lips even while his male slave worshiped his cock. I turned my head so that his hand was cupping my face, then nuzzled, and then I was just drunk enough to take that same finger and taste it myself. He made a low sound when I sucked it between my lips, carefully covering my teeth. I worked smoothly, nursing him with my own worship, because gods knew I could do that. I couldn't bow the ways I loved most with my forms of submission, but I could play with toys in my bed, pretending like I was serving, imagining I was an exotic princess captured by a conqueror's knight and given as a reward... And it was so easy to serve him like that when I was just inebriated enough to let go.

His breath was hot against my forehead where he exhaled with horny fervor. "Just say the word, Deirdre, and I'm all yours, if that's what you want. I'll give up my play slaves and let my pets go, but I want something in return for that. I want a relationship where you actually come and see me."

He didn't say it, but he didn't have to say it, that a relationship with him would work to the end goal of my being his slave. I thought of his pets, eagerly performing on display in their cage, thought of them dancing in their other cages, of how every single perfect motion had been to serve the eyes of anyone who watched them. Then, I thought of myself in one of those cages with no one to share the spotlight with and no one to take some of the attention with me. I thought of myself being made to dance for him. It should have terrified me. It should have made me want to leave his touch because I had felt the way that kind of training and trust could be turned around into a betrayal.

The Pleasure Garden was the name of the room he'd been in when I'd first seen him, something he'd told me when we last talked together. And for some reason, I couldn't think of the fear as well as I had been able to before. The liquor numbed out my caution and left heat and arousal. "Tell me what you want, Deirdre."

I want your collar and I want to be the only one who wears it, but I'm really, really scared of you. "I want you to take me home and fuck me until I can think straight again."

Eh. Close enough. He grinned down at me. "Yes, Mistress."

I shivered at how wrong the words sounded from his mouth and took his hand and I was too drunk to realize that he hadn't asked where I lived. Because he was taking me home. Just not to my home.

————

Christopher

I had visions of having her in my bondage bed, of riding her into the padded leather and feeling chains under my hands even if I couldn't use them with a drunk girl. Just the roughness with Deirdre's firecracker heat under me would have been enough.

She didn't allow me to do that. I opened my door to let her in, intrigued by the out of control emotions in her eyes, wondering at them. Such jealousy, from Deirdre? That was no light thing, but I meant my offer even if she wasn't sober enough to quite consider what it meant coming from me. She could have all my attention, if she asked me for it, my monogamy even if that word kind of made me want to choke. I stayed calm, keeping my voice soft, because I wanted her to be calm. "Here. Let me show you some of the house, l-"

And she shut me up with her kiss, not that I was complaining for the moment. Oh, don't get me wrong. If I could ever get her to wear my collar, I would have stopped it, even if her kisses were delicious, violent things. It sometimes sucked that you had to forego pleasures that would be fun, in favor of punishment when those pleasures were disrespectful or manipulative.

I didn't have to worry about that at the moment. Deirdre bit me, so hard I grunted with a little surprise, and she shoved me back against the wall. "Jesus Christ, everything about you is, like, the perfect D type, did you know that? Everything. You're so bad for me and I can't just make it stop. It's infuriating."

I smiled soothingly. "Master type, more than a Dom, actually, but listen. I know why you're so scared and I can help you, little Aurora-"

She shut me up again and I growled into her violent kiss, loving it. She tasted like whiskey and lust. "Stop. Calling. Me. That."

Ah, my little firecracker did have her princess fantasies. Poor Deirdre, to have been so wounded in her past. I wanted to train her with so much unconditional love that she quit being scared of the things she loved so much. I wanted to show her how wild it could be when her fantasies were made real, so much that she never wished to be vanilla again. I wanted to smooth her hair from its tousled state and teach her that not all trust was betrayed. For the moment, I just kissed her back, taking her drunk violence and returning it in the small ways I was permitted. She could take all of her pain out on me, if she needed. I could handle it. I grappled with her in my entryway, stroking my hands up to cup her tits in a fierce caress that made her gasp into my mouth. I slapped one through her t-shirt and then grinned when she moaned in greed.

Deirdre had a little bit of masochism. She raised to my violent strokes, arching her back when I milked her through her shirt. "That's it, good girl. Offer up to me when I want you."

And my voice was dark, yes, but she reacted to that too, her head falling back with this sexy cry that made me kiss her again, made me drink in those whimpers of hers. She pulled away for a second and finally seemed to come back to herself, growling like the little wildcat I had fantasized about taming. I started having dreams after I realized what she was, where I reconciled how fierce she could be with the slave I had seen. And oh, she lived up to and beyond those wicked fantasies of mine. She ripped my shirt and that was the first time I'd ever had that done to me, but it made me thrilled. What was more, she tore through the tatters to bare my torso and she seemed to like what she saw an awful lot. She traced the Roissy tattoo on my chest before she kissed me again, her tongue lashing mine while I moaned eagerly. And then I pulled away, gritting my teeth against the pain when she clawed those vicious nails of hers up my back, so hard and slow that it was torturous and I felt that tiny, itching wetness that comes from the smallest wells of blood.

When I focused on her, she was smiling as if in a kind of satisfaction and it made me laugh. "Pleased with yourself for leaving your marks like I'm your dog? Is your jealousy satisfied now, Deirdre?"

She didn't even hesitate. Her face was unapologetic when she answer. "Yes."

And that was about the moment that I realized I didn't care how and I didn't care what it cost. I wanted Deirdre, more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life. I wanted to take those sharp claws she could have and file them down with a relentless grindstone of slavery protocol. I loved Deirdre, beautiful wildcat that she was, and I wanted to tame her at the end of my whip and leash, until she performed for me. Those claws of hers were exquisite and her teeth could be fierce, too, but I wanted to love her in the safety of a cage so hard and much that she never needed teeth nor claws ever again.

Alright, so my plans of being a gentleman went out the fucking window but what the hell. It wasn't like I was ever good at being that anyway. I met Deirdre violence for violence instead, taking the chance she'd given me to just... let go, at least a little.

I decided it was pretty fun, too, especially when I managed to cup her between her legs so that she jolted in my arms. "Look at you." My voice even sounded more animal, more possessive. "Look at how greedy this little pussy is. Does it need to be fed a cock, baby?" She moaned as if she was in pain from how horny she was and I laughed at her all the harder.

She went crazy in my arms, like the most beautiful angel, even more amazing than any fucking fantasy I had ever had of her after that first night when I saw her slap someone.

--------

Deirdre

My memory wasn't as hazy as I would have expected when it came to that night. I had managed to drink a fair bit before he found me, but apparently my two weeks of abuse to my body had built a decent tolerance. I remembered all of it. The way we never even made it to his room, for instance. We tussled and switched positions in his living room floor, like two dogs in heat. Well, partially in the floor, where he let me ride him with a look of fierce possession in his eyes, smacking my ass until he got frustrated and growled, "Turn around and bend over so I can spank you better while you fuck me." And I obeyed, grabbing his knees and clawing my nails into his flesh when he made good his threat and spanked me so my ass sizzled with heat. And then that switched when he finally snarled and pushed me up and forward, so he could pull out from under me and fuck me from behind, on his knees while I was shoved forward. As soon as he thrust inside of me, I cried out and bowed low to the ground, face down and ass up for more, for deeper. "Give me your wrists," he snapped behind me.

His voice was so much like a whip crack that I whined out my answer of, "Yes, sir," and obeyed without even managing to feel a spark of anger. He held my wrists in one hand because they were so small compared to his grip, and grabbed my hair with the other, like he was holding a twisted version of reins. I choked on bliss with how helpless it made me feel, how it felt right to be bowed low and offered up for him to use because he most definitely used me like that. He thrust inside of me in a furious pace, until I was sobbing out in need and then frenzy and then rising torment. And then I finally arched and I couldn't even make a sound with the orgasm it gave me to be his plaything in his floor. He moaned behind me and I realized I'd taken him over with me, so that he was humping me, banging out his own orgasm like an animal. And thank God he had thought of condoms because I sure as shit didn't.

He wasn't even done after that. He growled and lifted me when I was still stunned with the force of pleasure, laying me on one of his chairs while I shook, but he seemed intent. He got on his knees, tugging the condom off when his cock was softening, and I didn't see what he did with it and didn't care because he lapped at me, eating my pussy and Jesus fuck, Christopher Love was an animal. He sucked between my legs, making these low growling sounds so that I shook in arousal all over again with how much fire he had, with how filthy he was. He thrust his tongue inside of me and sucked so that I grabbed his head with one hand and bit my wrist with the other. His growls only rose in volume when I pulled his hair, until he finally looked up at me and I moaned, entranced with delicious fear by how much he looked like a monster. His eyes held this ferocity that made me shake. "Harder," he snapped.

I squealed when he thrust his tongue back inside me and grabbed his hair with both hands, pulling so that he snarled in pleasure and sucked again, obscenely. I thrust my hips, holding his head and pulling him forward in a fucking motion, riding him until those waves of pleasure crashed inside me and I was writhing, drenching his chair and his face. "Christopher!" He growled at the way I said his name, then sucked hard again so that I arched, my world melting into tortured heaven.

I made to lift up when he nibbled and it felt so sensitive, but then he looked at me and pinned me back with just his gaze, as stern as it was. "No. You lay just how I've put you until I've had my fill, you bad little girl."

And then went back to eating, as if he'd never have his fill. It seemed an age until he pulled me out of his chair and by then I had no fight left. I whimpered and went where he shoved me, tugging him with me when I fell against his wall. He laughed at that and made me turn around, then spanked me, holding me with one hand at the small of my back while he slapped with the other, hard spanks. I keened in ecstasy for every one, turning my head to watch him.