CHAPTER 6
Zaid
I rubbed my forehead. “Is it really that difficult?”
In truth, Heather had caught on quickly. It was our first day of slave training, but it had been a few days since we had made our agreement. Work had pulled me away from the house, and though Heather did not voice it, I could tell she needed a few days to process, to truly think about what we had agreed to.
And yet, she was still excellent at following high protocol. Luckily for me, the particular details of the positions were sometimes lost on her.
On the ground, she was on her knees, her palms open on the tops of her thighs. Her weight rested on her ankles, her thighs spread enough to expose her heat. I tapped the thin cane on the outside of her leg, the sting prevalent despite the tool’s size, and she pressed her legs shut.
Good.
“Sorry, sir,” she said. “I forgot.”
“Full sentences, Heather,” I said. I held out my palm, slapped the cane on it. “I may speak however I want, but you? You must use language to your advantage. Try that again.”
She gulped, afraid I might cane her ass for fucking up again. I wanted to. To see her tense, flinch, tighten everything, her ass clenching together, her hands clasped in anticipation, the flush of sweat. But she was training. She was not on display, representing me, yet. “I’m sorry for forgetting the correct positioning, sir,” she said.
“That’s better.” With two fingers spread, I motioned upwards, the silent signal for the next position. “Inspect.”
She quickly stood, her legs shoulder length apart, hands behind her head, her mouth open.
Her ass was fucking incredible in those shorts. Round. Squeezable.
I needed to move her to the right position. Unfortunately for me, I had sworn not to touch her in unnecessary ways. And unfortunately for her.
I swung the cane onto her ass. She shrieked. “Ass and breasts, Heather. Your back should arch like a cat’s.”
She adjusted herself, and her eyes met mine. I expected hatred, rage. At the very least, annoyance at what I was putting her through—but her eyes were glazed, yearning for more. Her lips wet with moisture. That round hole of a mouth.
I needed to stay focused.
“Think of this as the final event.” I walked towards the display of instruments and hung up the cane, then ran my hands along a leather flogger. “Eric has betrayed your sister, and in turn, betrayed you. We must concentrate on convincing him that you are not his slayer, but a gift.”
“I would never kill anyone,” Heather said.
I turned sharply, and those blue-green eyes gazed at me. “Sir,” she added.
She thought my harsh movements were about the missing title. But I never said she would kill him.
I turned back to the equipment. “Nonetheless, he must think you are a gift for him to use.” I signaled again, two fingers pressed together, aimed at the floor, motioning downwards. “Open.”
She kneeled again, though this time, her weight rested on her knees, spread apart, her hands linked behind her back, her eyes on the ground, her mouth wide.
I drew closer, her lips at the perfect spot. I could shove her against the wall and use that pretty little mouth. She licked her lips. Her eyes trailed up, following the legs of my pants to my cock. Aching for it.
She was missing the details again. “Eyes down, toy,” I said. She quickly averted her eyes. My cock twitched.
I needed her to leave. Now.
“That is all for today,” I said. I opened the concealed door. “You may leave.”
I grabbed a length of hemp rope from the wall and rewound it, waiting for Heather to leave. From the corner of my eye, I could see her watching me. She wanted to say something.
She shook her head and left.
I sighed. The room still smelled like vanilla and sweat. Heather’s scent.
