Two weeks after Carter’s departure, I can’t handle it anymore. I spend Saturday afternoon and evening in a swanky hotel suite, tied to an ottoman and getting used by over a dozen men, sometimes several at a time. The new guy, beta, the pet she brought in and placed over me and who triggered Carter’s departure, is the one who takes me to the hotel. He opens the door for arrivals, accepts their cash, sits watching in the corner during the entire event, and then unties me at the end, leaving me there without a word. Presumably taking the envelope of cash with him to give to Elsa.
He got to wear street clothes the whole time and wasn’t required to do anything else.
No comfort offered during any of the few idle moments.
No “good boys.”
No comforting hand gently massaging my head.
No forehead nuzzles.
No “you made me proud.”
Nothing.
This is my rock bottom, apparently, and yet still not enough to make me swear Elsa off for good. I stumble into the suite’s bathroom, where I sit in the shower and numbly let the water wash away the cum and spit and whatever else was on me.
I lose track of time, my body on autopilot and my mind huddled somewhere deep in my skull to protect me. When I snap back into my body to find myself standing in front of Carter’s door around midnight, my hand’s already reaching up to lightly tap so no one else hears me.
When he opens it, his eyes widen and he reaches for me, pulls me in, and I spend the next hour or so on his bed with him, curled up and sobbing in his lap while he whispers all the comfort and praise to me that my soul desperately hungers for.
I can’t tell him what’s happened. I don’t dare. I suspect he will confront Elsa if I do.
Maybe this will be okay, though. I feel a thousand times better now that I’ve had my Carter fix, and that fearful, nervous part of me terrified to walk away from Elsa tries to convince me I can have it both ways.
Serving my Mistress, and then getting my aftercare from Carter.
That’s workable, right?
That’s what I tell myself as I report to Elsa’s the next morning as she orders.
There, she gives me a cold, wicked smile that does nothing to warm me like it used to. She even brushes a kiss across my lips. “Beta said you obeyed me yesterday,” she says, and I shiver.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Excellent. Because I have another task for you today.”
* * * *
That night, it’s around ten thirty when I seek comfort from Carter. He doesn’t ask me what happened, or why I’m upset. He just tells me what Ihaveto hear to survive this—that I’m a good boy, that he’s proud of me.
That I’m His.
Unspoken, I know if I walked away from Elsa now that Carter would absolutely stake an unbreakable claim on me, mind, body, and soul.
And I’m terrified that I would let him do just that, a prospect that could ruin both of us and our future careers.
It’s a risk I cannot push myself to take, unfortunately.
The only reason I know Carter has rejected the colonel’s side offer is because Colonel Coltrane Cunningham himself tells me all about it one Wednesday evening while I stand at attention in front of his desk. I’d been called in there earlier that morning and put on my knees to give him what turned out to be a rushed and angry blowjob before he sent me out and I passed Carter on the way.
Then, I’m called back to his office later.
“I’ve struck a new deal with Elsa,” he tells me. “Until she can find me a suitable replacement, you’re exclusive with me. Understand?”
I swallow hard and nod. “Yes, sir.” There’s a stinging pain there, the rejection already in place, simply waiting for another twist of fate to sweep me out of the way.
I know he’s not that fond of me, the way he was Carter, but I guess any ass in a storm,amiright?
