B0114

Ihad seen the city during my tour. I’d even ventured into it with Pistol when he’d brought me out to a restaurant the other night for dinner. It was packed then, but it wasn’t this bad. With the late hour came the real crowds. The rowdier ones. It had to be close to midnight. Laughter and cries rang out from the shadows, and mostly men took up almost every inch of room in the street between the buildings. Pistol’s hand stayed at my back, but I didn’t have to worry too much about anyone getting close. His presence alone was like a shield. People could feel his energy long before he got close, and maybe that’s because his darkness was growing. I could feel it with every touch. Every possessive hold. People stared. Some Masters nodded or smiled. They knew him, and I couldn’t help the intrigue of wanting to know him too. Not the Master, but the man he was on the outside world that had captured the attention of people so sinister.

Did he behave the same? Did he carry himself as he did now…as a killer? Perhaps. I didn’t think Pistol was one to hide his true nature. Wasn’t death tattooed on most of his body in one way or another? It was a beacon of warning. A plea for braver, unstable minds looking for a fight. I should have stayed scared being so close to him, and I was, but I was also intrigued by his change in personality. My Master hurt me, but he held back too, where he didn’t with the other slave. That left me asking questions I couldn’t begin to make sense of. It was like he was hiding something. Almost as if…he was embracing the thought of us for reasons I didn’t understand. Was it chemistry? Was it because we’d both lived hard lives? Was it more? It was all so soon, but he’d changed in the last few days into someone almost…decent. Caring.

“Your eyes are all over the place. Don’t look so worried, Miss Perfect. No one’s going to hurt you.”

That was debatable, but I nodded, knowing so long as I was with him, he was right. It still didn’t put me at ease as men’s eyes raked over my body. New clothes didn’t change their mindset. Not even pulling my hair back in a bun seemed to work.

“Master, do you think it’ll always be so packed like this?”

Pistol’s arm went around me, his hand resting on my far shoulder as he threw a glare to a group of men off to the side. I only caught it for a moment before he leaned back in to talk over the loud voices and music starting up from the pub across the street.

“Probably not. Last time I talked to the Main Master, he said it should thin out after opening week. That’s over now.” He steered us toward one of the side roads, holding me even closer as he led me to the opposite side of the street. “I know you’ve told me a little here and there, but I want to hear more about Kyle. What sort of things does your son like?”

For a moment I couldn’t speak. The pain came back a million-fold and the yearning was unbearable. How much had he grown in the months I’d been gone? More than I could probably imagine.

“He…” I stopped and Pistol slowed us, grabbing us a seat at a small bistro table outside of a cafe. There were a good five tables resting outside the packed interior, with decorated lantern-style lights that hung above each of them. Only one Master sat at a table at the far end of the dimly lit place, and I shifted in my seat as I thought over the question. “I’m not sure I should keep talking about this.”

“I want you to. Tell me about him.”

My arms wrapped around my stomach as I forced myself to speak. To remember. “Kyle never cared much for cartoons or games. He loves being outside and riding his balance bike. When I first bought it for him, he didn’t want to have much to do with it.” I smiled, wiping the tear at the overwhelming memories. “It wasn’t until he came across a dirt bike race on TV that he sort of fell in love with the idea of riding. He’d bring his little bike inside and sit on it, not turning away until the race was over. He was barely three, but he seemed to know what he liked. Loved, even, I guess. I wonder if he still watches or if my mom has gotten him a bigger bike now. He’d need a bigger one. He.” I couldn’t continue. If I didn’t stop, I was going to slip into a place I couldn’t afford to. One so dark, I may never surface again. Kyle was fine. My mom was taking care of him. She loved him as much as me.

“Dirt bikes.” Pistol smiled. “There was a track down the road from the house I grew up in. I used to go and watch the riders to kill time.” He grew quiet, his face changing through different emotions. “What does he look like? Not the bastard father.”

My head shook, not missing the anger. “Thankfully not so much. Light hair, like mine, but green eyes.” I sniffled. “Maybe my nose. It’s hard to tell this young but.’ I smiled. “He’s a good-looking boy. Sweet. Such a big heart. He was my helper. It took a lot to.” Again, I stopped, trying to stop the shaking that rattled me. “I almost didn’t keep him but—”

“He’s yours. You had to.”

I nodded. The dimness was nice as I fought for my slave mindset. It didn’t want to come, but it did as I thought of Kyle. He needed me to make this work. He needed me strong.

“What else besides bikes?”

A slave waiter came out and Pistol ordered us sodas and nachos.

“I know you don’t want to talk about this, but what else?”

“He sings.” I smiled as I looked down. “He’s always singing. Sometimes it doesn’t even make sense, but it sounds so cute. He likes to draw and be read to. He’s so smart.”

“He sings?”

My eyes rose from the table, taking in my Master’s guarded expression. His features were hard, but his voice was anything but.

“All the time. If he’s not singing, he’s humming.”

“Singing is good. And coloring. Bikes. Reading. Got it. What about food? What does he like? Dislike?”

It took me a moment to stop the violation into my private life. I didn’t like these questions. I didn’t want to talk about Kyle at all.

“The typical stuff. He loves chicken nuggets. He hates vegetables. He does love fruit though.” I paused as the waiter put down the drinks. “Master, can we talk about something else?”

The distraction was obvious as he nodded and picked up his glass, bringing the straw to his mouth.

“Do I get to know more about you?”

Light brown eyes rose.

“I…sing too. And play the guitar. I have a band. They’re awesome, although Anthem drives me crazy most of the time. He’s my best friend. My family. Let me see. Never married. No kids. I have five motorcycles, two sports bikes, three cars. A yacht. A house in LA and Miami.” His lids lowered as his head shook. “I think I’m going to sell most of that and start new. Somewhere…good. Private. I don’t need so much stuff. I need to direct my focus on the future. To more important things.” He stopped. “I don’t like talking about me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I let my gaze be pulled further down where people were leaving and walking into the bars and shops. The buzz was worse towards the main road. I was glad we’d distanced ourselves from most of the commotion. It wasn’t so congested this far out. In truth, there weren’t many people at all.

“Ashlee.”

My head gave a hard shake at the name that grated my ears. I wasn’t her anymore. I couldn’t be.

“Slave is fine, Master.”

“I can call you whatever the hell I want. Stop getting all mopey over your son. I told you he’d be fine.”

I could have argued back. I sure wanted to, but I stayed quiet. The waiter brought out the large tray of nachos, and I picked at the cheese covered chips, barely tasting anything at all as I tried to adjust to this new life. To this Master I didn’t quite understand. Minutes went by, but still I was so confused by everything that had transpired.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? That’s it? Watch it, slave. It’s ‘yes, Master’. Cheer the fuck up.”

He threw down cash, grabbing my bicep as he led us deeper down the dim road. Where we should have gone right, we went left, away from the center of town. Did I say something to let him know? Yeah, right. Pistol wasn’t an idiot. He had a reason for heading towards the orchard, and I wasn’t sure that was good news for me. He’d been angry at my slip up. Not…overly, but what did I know?

One shop. Three. Closer we came to the pitch black nestled between the outline of trees. Fingers flexed against me, and I managed to jerk my bicep free, wrapping my arms just above Pistol’s elbow. I even lowered my head against his shoulder, staying close. So what if my fear shone through. I did not want to go in those trees. If he planned beating or killing me for not listening, I’d give him reason to do it in the light.

“What are you doing? Slave.”

Stopping at the last door, he pried me off him.

“I don’t want to go in there.”

“In the store?”

“In the trees.”

“Why the fuck would I take you in the trees? We’re going here,” he said, pointing to the boutique. “They needed more time. Only half your order was finished when I did the pickup. You need clothes, don’t you?”

My pause was obvious as I tried to make sense of the words. Clothes, not a beating. Not murdered. Clothes.

“Yes, Master.”

“I told you to stop worrying.”

“I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

And I was, but it wasn’t easy with him mentioning Kyle all the time now. I just needed to push through. Once Pistol got the curiosity of my son out of his system, he’d never mention him again. Then I could get back to normal and put my focus on being the best slave I could be.

“There’s a look I haven’t seen before. That’s pure panic if I ever saw it. You don’t like talking about Kyle with me.”

“At all,” I forced out. “It’s too hard.”

“But you’re tough. Come here.” Large hands settled on my hips, drawing me in. Pistol stared into my eyes, raising one of his eyebrows until I forced a grin. It immediately made him mirror me and my smile grew, becoming genuine as he gave me time to adjust. I calmed, nodding as an indication to him that I was better. It also just brought in more questions concerning his change. Aside from asking about Kyle, he was watching me close the last few days. Waiting…Almost concerned. It was nice, but a part of me knew it may not be permanent.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Touching you isn’t easy. I’m not sure I want to stop now.” His hands slid up, easing under my shirt to make a path up my ribs. Just before he got to my breasts, he paused. I held my breath, nearly moaning as he went higher so that one of his thumbs could circle my nipple. The sensations were all so new. I liked them. Maybe a little more than I wanted to admit.

“People will see.”

He scanned the area, a smile pulling back half his mouth as he leaned in wickedly. “No one is looking but I could care less if they were. You’re mine. I can touch you whenever I want.” He bit his bottom lip, cupping my breast as he rolled the hard nub between his finger and thumb. “I could turn you around and take you right here. Maybe I will. Would you still make those cute little sounds if you were being fucked out in the open? Whisper ‘Master’ as you started to come? I love when you do that.”

I gripped to his shirt as his hand dropped and pushed past my jeans and panties. When his finger traced my slit, he moaned at the wetness. My mouth flew open, and I cried out as his shoulder dipped and he eased his finger inside me. Pleasure burst through, making me once again wrap my arms around him. This time it was his neck as I buried my face against his throat. The urge to kiss was automatic. Although the slave within warned me not to do it, I put my lips to his skin, pressing, sucking, even gently biting as the thrusts increased the ecstasy. For the life of me, I couldn’t stop moving against him.

“Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. I’ve been waiting to be back in this pussy all day.” He turned to face me, his nose nuzzling into mine. I didn’t hold back as I hungrily met his lips. “Jesus. God. This is…fuck.”

My cry echoed from the buildings as another of his fingers stretched me. Pistol was kissing me harder, more desperately as he moved us closer to the side of the building. It was getting darker, hiding us from anyone randomly heading into the stores. It was the first time I wasn’t worried about being in the shadows.

“This is not forced on your part. You want me too, and it has nothing to do with your duty as a slave. You want me. Say it.”

“I.” I took in his silhouette. Heavy breaths left us, and my lips were tingling from the bruising force we were both guilty of. “I…do. I want this. I like it…You’re different than before.”

Pistol didn’t say a word. He pulled his hand free of my pants, scooping me around the waist to carry me to the other side of the building like a sack of potatoes. When my feet hit the ground, he tugged, pulling my jeans open. “Different doesn’t always mean good, slave.” He spun me, ripping my pants down. My hands shot up to the building for balance and within seconds pressure fitted against my entrance, easing inside of me inch-by-inch.

“I think a part of you is good.”

One of my Master’s arms wrapped around my hips while the other barred between my breasts, holding tightly to my shoulder. I was on my tiptoes, barely able to stand as he withdrew, surging deeper, and burying himself.

“Good, bad. You can’t have one without the other. Let’s be honest. Beneath it all, we’re both fucked up. The night we met, I bounced a dead slave’s head right off your chest. Minutes from now, you’re going to be begging me to fuck you harder. How’s that for good?”

I didn’t answer as Pistol withdrew only to pound back into me. There was nothing gentle about what was happening. Each slam nearly stole my air. My palms stayed flattened to the building, my nails digging into the hard surface as my orgasm built.

“Master.”

His arm dropped from my chest, lowering so that he teased my clit. The hold to my hip tightened and I cried out through the pleasurable burn I’d been craving for hours. It was like I was addicted to this new act. Pistol had opened some sort of door, and all I could think about was when we could do it again.

“Yes. Master. Like that. Like…Please. Please.” My mouth shot open, and my body jerked through the spasms. His fingers added more pressure, moving back and forth even faster over the top of my slit, prolonging the orgasm until I was nearly screaming. Teeth sunk into my shoulder hard and hot cum shot into me repeatedly as my cry echoed from the buildings.

“Son of a bitch.” He gasped, trying to catch his breath as he jerked repeatedly from his own release. “I wasn’t going to come in you but…fuck. That’s so much hotter. Let’s get your damn clothes. I want to get you home. We’re going again.”