Anton cleared his throat. She startled and looked up, but Gabe’s hand was still buried between her legs.
“This is what you do when you’re in charge?” Anton asked.
Gabe continued to stroke her, and she couldn’t help the way her body arched into his touch.
“Yeah,” Gabe said. Finally he withdrew his hand leaving her unsatisfied and frustrated.
Annette waited to see if she’d somehow be in trouble for this, but Anton made no further comment. Instead he placed a lingerie bag on the floor. She recognized it from the bedroom closet.
“Go put this on and bring us some coffee and some of those pastries Phyllis was icing,” Anton said.
“Yes, Master.”
She took the bag and left the game room. She scurried down the hallway to the spa and shut the door behind her. She was still excited from Gabe touching her. Annette shut and locked the door of one of the treatment rooms then she lay down on the massage table, spread her legs and stroked herself. She closed her eyes and thought about Gabe touching her and imagined Anton watching.
She bit back a moan and let out a long shuddering breath. She got off the table on shaky legs, feeling strangely guilty doing this in secret. Already this felt like something that should only happen if Anton allowed it.
Annette sat up and took a look around the room. It was a nice little room with light gray walls and a table full of candles. And a vase filled with flowers. She wondered who kept the flowers changed. She’d never noticed anyone doing that before, but it had to be one of the guys. None of them seemed the type to really be into plants.
Annette dumped the contents of the lingerie bag out on the massage table. Wow. Classy. It wasn’t at all what she’d expected. She’d expected some humiliating costume that revealed far more than it concealed, but instead, what she found was a long black satin nightgown with thin corded straps.
The gown fit like a glove and had high side slits on each side. There was also a pair of black heels.
She put the shoes on and tossed the bag in a garbage can at the edge of the room. On her way out, she stopped in front of a full length mirror.
“Wow,” she murmured. She’d never owned something this smooth and elegant before. She ran her hands over the soft slippery fabric. The thin leather collar somehow worked with it.
Annette knew a normal person would be horrified by all of this, but all she could do was stare at herself in the mirror, twisting this way and that. Some dark part of her thrilled at the idea of belonging to Anton.
Phyllis was cleaning up the kitchen when she walked in.
“Where are those pastries you were icing? Anton wants me to bring some and some coffee.”
The older woman motioned to a far counter where the pastries sat on a wire cooling rack. “Coffee isn’t made. It’ll take a few minutes.” Then she disappeared into a side pantry.
She reappeared a little while later with a rolling cart, a coffee pot, cups and saucers, and little plates to put the pastries on.
“Put the pastries on the plates, and I’ll make the coffee. Forks are in the drawer at the end of that counter.”
Annette went and got the pastries ready while Phyllis made coffee. She could tell the woman wanted to say something to her, but she kept her mouth shut. It was really starting to bug Annette.
“He’s not hurting me,” she heard herself say. Was that true? She wasn’t entirely sure.
“You tell yourself whatever you need to sleep at night,” Phyllis said.
Annette took the forks out of the drawer and slammed it. “So you would rather I be traumatized and crying myself to sleep? Isn’t it better that I’m not?”
“Coffee’s ready. I’m sure you know how to transfer it to the pot. I’m going to bed.” With that, Phyllis draped a towel over the counter and left Annette alone in the kitchen.
She tried not to let it bother her. The only other female in this place was impossible to get along with. It would have been nice to have somebody to talk to—maybe a friend or an ally, but it seemed Phyllis would never be any of those things. Annette found herself surprised the woman hadn’t poisoned them all already.
53
Annette stretched and rolled over in bed. Sunlight was just beginning to come into the window. Somehow she’d settled into Anton’s twisted routine. It had been six weeks. A memory stole into her mind from early in their training.
“Each morning, you will wake me with a blow job. Then when you’ve finished with that, you will go downstairs and make my coffee. You’ll bring it up to me along with my paper. Then you’ll take a shower and put on the pineapple body cream and return to me for further training.”
Anton still slept beside to her. She’d thought when he’d first made this demand that he was kidding. And what about on days when he woke up first? But nope. He hadn’t been kidding, and the man could sleep through anything. Anything except her mouth on him.
She slipped back underneath the covers and ran first her fingers, then her tongue over the shaft of his cock. He shifted in sleep. She smiled to herself and tried again, taking him fully into her mouth this time.
He moaned in response, his hand straying under the blankets, to stroke her hair. “Morning, kiska. Did you sleep well?”
She crawled up his body and kissed the side of his throat. “Yes, Master.”
“Hey! Finish your job!”
She giggled, and moved the blankets out of their way and went back to work. His fingers threaded through her hair again, petting her as she sucked him. He groaned in pleasure every few moments, urging her on.
She’d gotten quite good at this.
She sucked harder, then pulled away to lick and tease and caress as goosebumps broke out over his thighs. She might belong to him every other moment of the day, but in the first few minutes, he belonged to her.
Annette went back to her earlier rhythm. It didn’t take long for him to come.
“I think that’s my record,” she said.
“You are far too satisfied with yourself, pet. I should wipe that smirk off your face.”
“Promise?”
He smacked her across the ass. “Go. Be a good girl.”
She got up and put on a robe and went downstairs to make his coffee, humming to herself.
Phyllis was already in the kitchen making biscuits and gravy. “Why are you so perky? Is slavery still everything you thought it would be?”
Annette shot her a dirty look and went to get the cart and the morning paper. If she acted like anything but a beaten dog, Phyllis started in on her. Why shouldn’t she enjoy the beautiful man upstairs in bed? He’d been kind to her. The pleasure was off the charts. She thought she might be starting to fall in love with him, even. But she would never say it. She was still too afraid if she did, it would all somehow disappear.
She put the coffee and a cup and saucer on the cart, grabbed a pastry Phyllis had already made off the counter for herself, and went to the elevator.
When she returned, Anton was still in bed, reading email on his laptop. She loved when he wore those glasses. She rolled the cart over, poured his coffee, and placed it on the bedside table next to him along with his paper.
He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Good girl.”
She felt the flush move up her body and into her face before she looked away. She’d become such a girl with him. Every time he touched her now, it sent a flutter of pleasure through her stomach. Even when it wasn’t sexual. Sometimes especially when it wasn’t sexual. These small tender moments were the thing that had changed everything.