She flinched when she felt his hand unexpectedly petting her hair.
“There’s a lot going on in there, isn’t there?” he said.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Everybody feels these things in the beginning. You’ll be just fine. I promise.”
Promises from a criminal––from one of a gang of criminals––weren’t as reassuring as promises from someone sane and upstanding would have been. But criminals and victims were all she was surrounded with anymore.
She felt him tugging gently at her and pulling her to her feet. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked the cuff. She stared at his big hands as they encircled her wrists. To an untrained eye, her gaze averted from his might have been seen as submission, but it was embarrassment, shame. She knew Gabe must know it. He’d seen this too many times. But he didn’t taunt her; he just inspected her wrist.
“You’re a little chafed. You must toss and turn like a madwoman in your sleep.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I’ll have someone come by to switch this out for a cuff made out of something softer with a lining, so it won’t hurt you.”
She looked up, shocked. “Thank you.” She hadn’t expected the small kindness or the concern.
He held her gaze trapped in his. “I told you, we aren’t complete monsters here. We are selling healthy, well-trained slaves to men who can afford the very best. We are not selling broken dolls no one wants to play with.” He took her hand and led her to the bathroom.
She felt herself once again falling under this bizarre seduction. The way she’d let herself go with Anton on the massage table until forced orgasms seemed like an idea she’d thought up.
And now, she felt herself being seduced once again, first by the gentle lovemaking of Annette the night before, and now by Gabe. The house must be run like a well-oiled machine. Everything so calculated. How many different trainers would she have? And would each of them possess this much self-control?
Even when Anton was angry, he’d used enough restraint to keep himself from harming her. He’d seemed upset to be causing her distress, which felt at odds with the situation. If one didn’t want to cause women distress, a great first step would be not running a training camp for sex slaves out of your mansion.
Vivian wondered if Anton could truly care for Annette. Had they forged a bond stronger than the kind of puppies and kittens love she’d had beaten into her brain by fairy tales and Disney movies? Could she have the same? Did she want the same?
She watched as Gabe stripped off his clothes and started the water in the shower. His tan highlighted muscles he’d obviously worked hard for. She wanted so badly to ask why he, Lindsay, Anton . . . why any of them would take a job like this or start a business like this. They could have anyone they wanted.
Vivian took his offered hand and let him guide her into the shower, let him position her, and place her hands flat against the tile. She listened to the click of the shower gel lid popping open and then the squirt as he squeezed some onto a loofah.
He lathered her body while his back took the hot, pounding of the spray, then he put the loofah aside and used his hands to massage each inch of her, kneading her flesh and turning bathing into foreplay. His hands played over her breasts, tweaking her nipples, then plunged between her legs and the cleft between her cheeks. He was more gentle as his hands moved over the bruises Anton had given her.
He bent next to her ear, his voice low. “Last night, we had a contest. Whoever could jerk themselves off the fastest while watching you and Annette going at it, would win the right to bathe you every morning until you’re sold.”
She felt her knees start to give out, not wanting to support her weight anymore, but a strong arm gripped her around the waist and held her steady. She couldn’t stop the desperate little sound that left her mouth.
“I feel much the same way, lover,” he growled in her ear. “And of course, that was only one half of the prize. The other half, is that I get to have you bathe me.”
His fingers slipped between her legs, stroking her. “If you get close, you ask me to come. If you come without my permission, you will be punished.”
She bit her lip and nodded. He continued the teasing torment but didn’t let her get close enough; he wanted her on the edge, and she knew it. He wanted her so horny she’d do whatever he asked, so lost in the haze of unrestrained arousal, she wouldn’t have time to analyze it and feel ashamed or traumatized.
He moved her under the water to rinse her, then placed the loofah in her hands. “Lavender is a bit girlie. I’ll bring my own tomorrow. Today, I don’t mind smelling like my newest toy.”
Being called his toy should have pissed her off. It should have hurt her. But all it did was start that mindless hum between her legs. The feeling was so strong she started to rub herself against his thigh.
“Don’t be naughty, Vivian. Touch me. Wash me.”
He switched places so she was under the water and positioned his hands on the wall, spreading his legs so she had full access.
She lathered him using the loofah as he had done, then switched to massaging. He let out a hiss of air when her hands were on him. Vivian felt a surge of feminine pride that she affected him so strongly with a simple touch.
Her hands slid over his broad chest, his back, his neck and shoulders, his legs. She rubbed and stroked everything but the one thing he wanted stroked. He let her play and tease at first, but then his voice came out hard.
“Your hands. On my cock. Now.”
“Yes, Sir.” As the words fell from her mouth, they sounded husky. Was she flirting with him? She was undeniably attracted, but if there was a rulebook out there with behavior tips for captivity, flirting with one of your captors was probably on the don’t do this list.
But she couldn’t help it. He was right. She wanted him. She wanted Anton. She wanted Lindsay. If that made her a slut, fuck it. If that made her a whore, who cared? It wasn’t as if she were being given a choice in this charade to begin with. Clearly she’d been wired all wrong, but if that would protect her, why not embrace it?
A throat cleared. “Vivian?”
Had she really just gone off on a mental vacation and forgotten the impressive cock in her hand? “I’m sorry, Sir.”
“I think you want to be punished,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.
She didn’t reply to that, mainly because she wasn’t sure which answer would be the lie. And she didn’t feel like exploring it when she had something much more interesting to explore.
He was thick and hot in her hand, and she could barely wrap her fingers around him as she started to jerk him off. His hips began bucking against her as she found a rhythm.
“Vivian, look at me. Look in my eyes.”
Please, no. She wanted to hide. She’d become an expert at the art. Don’t make this more real. Not yet, she silently pleaded, still staring at his cock bulging in her grip.
“I won’t keep giving you warnings and second chances. Look in my eyes, and don’t look away.”
Vivian obeyed. His eyes were wild and lust-filled. She wasn’t sure what hers held, but she didn’t want him looking that far into her soul to see the jumble of conflicted emotions.
Their gaze was locked for what felt like hours, but was probably only a couple of minutes. His eyes said, Accept this.