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Master A-0011

N o name. Why didn’t she want me to know or call her by her name? It made no sense, but did it need to? I kept thinking about it in regards to myself. Her request wasn’t about me, it was about her, and it was obvious that she wasn’t holding on to her past. Why would she after whatever she’d gone through? It was obvious something traumatic happened. It didn’t matter if it was done purposefully or by accident, the scars within my slave ran deeper than her skin. It was in the way she shook like a beaten puppy and hid her face. In the way she was so quick to apologize or obey. She jumped at my commands. That was about to come to a crashing halt, and I felt no pleasure in the thought of punishing her. It had to be done. My new slave was about to see her new life wasn’t going to be any better than her last, and before it was over with, her name was going to be the last thing she’d want to forget.

“Master, your knife.”

Different layers of frizzy curls bounced as she slowed to a stop. From her chin to just above her shoulders, the ringlets were just as wild as her eyes. But neither were that way by choice. It was the environment. My slave was scared and on edge despite her need to please, and it was showing as she let the mass amount of her curls hang forward from her tilted head.

“If you want to be on my good side, you’ll stop hiding your face from me. Sit down like you were before.”

Without hesitation, she took her place.

“Let me see.”

Slowly, she lifted the large butcher knife. My brow crinkled as I took it in.

“That’s the one you decided on?”

Her eyes jerked over to the large blade.

“I…I wasn’t sure which to grab. I figured if you’re going to hurt someone, you’d need a large knife.”

My head shook, and I tightened my hold on the brunette, hooking my legs around hers as she fought harder. Her feet were planted down, and she pushed me back long enough for my own foot to sweep her legs out from under her and lock her in again.

“The size of the blade makes no difference. It’s what you do with it and where you stick it that denotes the damage. What you’re going to do won’t need a blade that big, but since you chose that particular one, I’m going to make you use it.”

Color drained from her face.

“ Me? ”

“She wasn’t hurting my feelings. It was you she was talking about, so it’ll be you that teaches her a lesson.”

“But.” Her gaze went to the woman’s, only to return to mine. “What do you want me to do?”

I searched her eyes, holding the brunette against me with one arm as I gestured for her to come closer with my free hand. My slave leaned in, but I could see her hesitancy.

“I want you to be strong. How well do you know your scars?”

Her gaze dropped. Seconds passed. When she lifted back up to meet me, the gray of her eyes had brightened to a vivid blue with the welling tears.

“I know them better than I know myself. They’ve defined me for as long as I can remember. They are me.”

I could have argued that. I could have tried to convince her otherwise. Thing was…scars didn’t have to be physical to cause pain. Most of the scars I held, the outside world couldn’t see. They were mental scars—traumatizing moments that carved hollow holes in my humanity. My slave may have held the proof of her past on her body, but we were both maimed from conditions beyond our control. I killed the cause of mine. Could I get her to kill too?

“Shh.” I said, holding the dark-haired slave against me so tightly she couldn’t move. “It’s useless fighting me. Embrace your ego. It got you right where you are. No point in having regrets now.”

“I said I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.”

“I’m not. You’d already be dead if it wasn’t for your rude comments. I would have killed you in that shower. At least now my night won’t be as insignificant as it appeared only moments ago.”

“Please. Please, Master. Ethan, please .”

“Slave.” Big eyes were wide as my girl rose to her knees. “Give her your scars. Every single one of them. Do not go easy. Do not stop when she begs you for mercy. You get one chance. Show me you have what it takes to obey.”

Long lashes fluttered as if she were trying to push away thoughts she didn’t want to see. As if there was a hell I couldn’t imagine behind that dazed stare. The blade rose and so did the dark-haired woman’s screams as she put everything she could into the fight. Not once did my slave stop as she neared. Her hand was trembling convulsively, but she didn’t pause to connect the tip to the woman’s temple. My slave’s brow creased. Perfect, white teeth bit into a full lower lip. Lids narrowed. The pitch of the yell shifted to a higher tone, and blood raced and dripped from the woman’s jaw onto my forearm as my slave drug the sharp edge around and down towards her cheekbone. I could see the movement in my peripheral, and I couldn’t stand it.

Had I been holding my breath? Transfixed with concentration? In awe of emotions I couldn’t begin to fathom? They played over her face in a flicker of micro-expressions and broken-up breaths, but I needed more. I needed to see all of it.

“Stop.”

Pants were starting to leave me, and I couldn’t begin to explain it. I couldn’t even understand why my cock was throbbing because of some twisted fucked-up relief for justice for a woman I didn’t know.

“I’m sorry, Master. Did I do something wrong? Was it not deep enough? I’m pretty sure I scraped bone.”

My eyes searched the room, and I pushed to my feet, dragging the flailing woman up with me.

“You did great. I….” My eyes locked on the shut bathroom door. “We’re moving.” I swallowed hard. “We’re not stopping at this, and I have cuffs in a special shower off from my own. I want to watch. I want to see everything .”

The slave didn’t get a chance to stand before I was barging through the bathroom door. Without a lock, the other woman’s weight pushing against it was nothing. She flew back, racing from the door the moment I was inside. The b I held to was going crazy in my arms, tearing at my suit’s jacket as I walked to the far side and jerked back the curtain. Just seeing the marble, hoist, and the cuffs and chains had my pulse beating against me. Movement behind me had me turning to take in the woman who barely came to the middle of my chest. Whether she held horror or curiosity, I wasn’t sure. All I could see was how scars twisted with a beauty that would have rivaled any of the women who walked the stage. And maybe it wasn’t even the stereotypical attractiveness, but there was…something. A lure of forbidden madness tweaking my thoughts, calling my attention to them as my new d walked forward with the bloody knife.

“Cuffs for the feet and arms? A strap to position and hold her head? That’s.” She stopped talking as she headed closer. “All those cuffs. It’s like a clock against the back of the wall. They’re at every position. A death clock. What do you do in here? Is it just to kill them?”

“Later.” I gripped around the b , crushing her to me as I led us forward. My d was so innocent and soft-spoken. So different than the women I was used to being around. “How should I put her? What would work best for you?”

Full lips parted and the black see-through robe she wore stole my attention as her bare feet stepped to the edge of the shower. If I had thought to try to ignore her and keep her separate from this life, I was a fool. Housekeeper. Cook. Seeing the curves of her body had me cursing myself for even letting my gaze linger. To even let my mind go to fucking this woman was dangerous for both of us. I needed her to live for my own stability.

“If we’re speaking in terms of a clock then ten and two is where I need her arms. Seven and five for her ankles.”

I didn’t answer, and I didn’t miss how much her voice was trembling. Although intrigued by my setup, she didn’t want to do this. She wanted no part of this horror show I was craving to watch. If I knew anything about the sound of voices, she was trying to please me, but my slave was on the verge of crying and breaking completely. Did that make me stop so I could try to salvage her sanity and bring her into my life in an easier way? No. I wrestled the woman in my arms, slamming her into the wall so hard she nearly passed out from the force. She could barely even fight back as I lifted, fastened her into her deathbed. As I strapped her head to the wall, I couldn’t contain the excitement. This wasn’t going to stop at a few deep lacerations. My slave had a job after she finished, and there was no sugarcoating her purpose.

“I’m s-sorry. I’ll do anything. Help! Please. Slave. D-Don’t… Please .” The b could barely speak she was crying so hard.

One step. Two.

I quickly grabbed a stepping stool, sliding it over so my slave wouldn’t have to an issue with height. Even as I moved it in, her gaze never wavered from the b . It had my lips parting as I lifted the top of my body and watched with a longing awe as she got closer.

“You really are beautiful.” She stepped onto the stool. Her shaky hand lifted just above the woman’s jawline, and she swallowed hard. “It’s heartbreaking for me to do this to you. Sad, really. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, but I guess you’re dead anyway.” She took a shuttering breath, her hand inching closer. “You can’t see this one anymore, but I assure you the scar was there. Here,” she said, pushing in the tip of the blade a good half an inch below the b’s ear until the skin split and blood beaded. It ran faster as she added pressure, working her way just above the jawbone. “Just like that. It wasn’t as long as most, and it was rather shallow. Just a brush with the blade.” She stopped as she neared the area below her lips. “That was the first scar we were able to get rid of, but not the only one.”

Had I not been so focused on watching my own slave’s mouth move, I would have missed what she’d said. The screams were deafening. The pleas as the gorgeous woman broke were…satisfying.

“No m-more. I’m beg-ging you. Please! ”

My slave inched back on the stool, sucking in a deep breath as she swayed.

“Master, I…May I please have some water?”

“Water’s for the weak.” My body was humming with more sensations than I could process as I put myself behind her and moved her closer. This wasn’t normal. Nothing about what was happening was routine, and I lived for structure. A slave doing my work? Something I craved more than anything? And I was letting her? I couldn’t even wrap myself around the realization as I grabbed the hand clutching the knife in mine, holding the back of it as I lifted it back to the b . “Where else?”

She collided against me as she tried to step back, but there was nowhere for her to go as I molded my body against hers.

“Where next?”

“I…Master—I”

“Where. Else?”

“Here.” The word was barely existent as she led our hands over the brunette’s trapezius muscle, close to her neck. “I couldn’t possibly cut her like I was. I’ve had multiple surgeries to correct mine. My entire shoulder…I was lucky to keep my arm. I?—”

Reaching over, I grabbed a hatchet, switching out the weapons in her hands.

“Allow me to help.”

I didn’t give her time to process my words. I placed my hand back over hers, lifting the hatchet and slamming our hands forward, slicing through muscle and embedding in bone. The b gasped, not able to scream through the shock. Blood sprayed all over me and my new slave. And she was gone…My slave’s legs gave out, and I barely managed to catch her as her body went limp and she passed out.

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