Brian was running on the treadmill when Mina entered the gym. She wore the same gym shorts and t-shirt the other girls wore for workouts and lounging around the house. When their eyes met, she looked away quickly, and he knew it wasn’t just a submissive reflex. Shannon had probably given her an earful in the spa. Good.
He stepped off the machine and intercepted her near the door. The others watched. Half the girls seemed to be waiting to witness Mina punished for something, and the other half appeared jealous he’d give attention to anyone that wasn’t filled with rage.
“Come with me.” He guided her to the gym’s dressing room. “Clear out!” he shouted. “Now!”
The girls—all in various states of undress—scattered out into the main gym. Brian put a chair in front of the door.
“Show me.”
Mina pretended confusion, but she knew what he wanted to see. He raised a brow and sat on a bench.
“Show me,” he repeated.
He watched as she let the shorts and her panties fall to the floor.
“Lift the shirt.”
She did, revealing a smooth curve of skin.
“Hmmm,” he said, watching her squirm. “I need a better look. Sit and spread your legs wide for me.”
A lovely blush crept up her neck as she stepped fully out of the shorts and sat, spreading her legs. She wanted to obey him. He saw it in her eyes. She wanted to give him everything.
“Did it hurt?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I’m sorry.”
Weirdly, in a way, he was. The waxing was for his personal aesthetic and the joy of running his tongue over smooth bare flesh with no obstruction to her enjoyment or his. The pain was an incidental cost, not the point of the exercise. “Did you make another appointment?”
“Yes, Master. In five weeks.”
“Good. You’ll get waxed regularly for me. You will never miss an appointment.”
“Master?”
“Yes?” His gaze was still riveted to the space between her legs, staring at it like he’d just seen his first cunt.
“Shannon said you left those scars on her.”
His eyes snapped to her face. “And?” he challenged. This was exactly the kind of bullshit he’d feared—that he might be coaxed to care what another being thought about him or his actions, that the one freedom he’d had in his life… the freedom of just not giving a shit, could be so easily torn from him. If it could, he was no better than the sniveling boy he once was, crying and cowering locked under the stairs. The only freedom was not giving a shit. And yet, Mina made him care about something beyond his own sadism. Fuck her for that. But even as the anger welled up, it turned his stomach again and then quieted down.
“N-nothing, Master.”
“Nothing is right. You do not question me or my actions. You are not in a position to judge me or control my behavior. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
She started to cry. Brian stood and closed the distance between them. He carefully ran his tongue over the tears on her cheek. He needed to taste her pain. Then he held her close.
“Mina, you didn’t choose this. You didn’t choose me. This isn’t your fault. You are just a puppet on my stage, and when I say dance, you’ll dance.”
He pressed two fingers inside her and reveled in her exquisite wetness, then he knelt between her legs and licked the smooth, freshly waxed skin until he felt her succumb to him. Her fingers threaded in his hair, and she moaned.
“Louder,” he said. “I want them all to hear you surrender to me.”
Her whimpers and groans grew more intense until he was sure there could be no doubt what was happening in the dressing room. When she finally shuddered and came, he stood smoothly.
“Get dressed, and get on the treadmill. I want a thirty minute run out of you, then we’ll hit the weights.”
He left the dressing room to let her get herself together. The girls in the gym gaped at him, but as he met each of their eyes, they turned quickly away. The bitter hatred was painted starkly across their faces. He could practically hear the thoughts in their heads: Why is Mina so special?
He wanted to take them to his dungeon for private one-on-one sessions until they each admitted they were filthy entitled trash just like his stepmother, until they begged him to forgive them for daring to think they were worth his protection or care.
25
The music’s too loud. It was the signal things were about to go bad. It meant they were all downstairs waiting for her. Jason and his friends. Would it be less horrible if it was only him? She should have left already. But now, she was trapped at least for the night. They’d take her and tie her down. There would be no going anywhere until they’d each had their turn.
“Mina,” Jason called her. “Come out come out wherever you are.”
His voice drew closer. God, why hadn’t she left this afternoon while he was out? And go where? And do what?
She was running out of places to hide in his house. He always found her.
The closet door opened and coats were shoved back. He dragged her out as she held on to the door frame, her fingernails digging into the wall.
“Don’t be a tease.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it against the front of his pants. “Don’t you feel what you do to me? This is what you do to all of us. We’re all hard and ready for you. We need you. You know you want to be our good little whore.”
“No, no no no. Please stop. Please,” she sobbed, knowing Jason wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop talking or dragging her down the stairs to the other waiting men. He liked the tears. And the begging. It turned him on.
“Shhhh shhhhh. It’s just a dream.”
The arms that had felt restraining were more gentle now. Brian. He’d woken her from the dream, rescued her from Jason. But what good would that rescue be if he simply dragged her farther into a different nightmare?
Jason had taken her from herself, but now she was with a bigger monster. There was no question Brian was the bigger monster. But he was holding her and rocking her and kissing her hair, whispering “shhhhh”… soothing her. As if she could be soothed anymore. As if there were any pieces of her that could ever fit back together again.
It was a lie. It had to be a lie. It had to be the game they all played to make her trust before they pulled it all away. But she couldn’t help melting further into his arms, sagging against him, releasing the heavy weight she carried even for just a minute until reality sharpened in front of her—the reality that Brian didn’t have the capacity to save anyone. She’d seen it in his hard flat stare. He was stone in there. Why did she keep looking for someone to save her? To protect her? To dominate her in some fantasy gentle way that if it existed could never exist for her?
Brian steadied her as her breath moved back to a normal cadence and her tears began to dry. Slowly his hold on her loosened, and he untangled himself from the sheets. She tried not to look at him, tried not to want him. He’d wreck her worse than Jason. He put on sweatpants and tennis shoes. Then he dropped a t-shirt, gym shorts, and shoes on the bed for her.
“Get dressed.”
“W-what? Why?”
“Why, Master.”