I gather her into my arms, holding her shivering form against my chest. She nuzzles into my neck, her breath hot against my skin.
“Mmmaster,” she slurs, her voice thick with exhaustion and submission.
“I know,” I whisper, kissing her hair. “I know. You’ve done well. A few more lessons, and you’ll be perfect.”
She whimpers at those words, as if she thinks a few hours is enough to do it, but what I want is her complete and total surrender. She has to give me not just her body, but her fear, her pain, her pleasure, and her mind. She has to give me everything.
And that kind of submission doesn’t come with questions. That kind of submission doesn’t come with thoughts of her own.
Iwalk through the manicured gardens and the silence is so profound, only broken by my own footsteps on the gravel path.
I left my Pet tied up, strapped up, being simultaneously stretched and fucked by a machine while I see to Brethren business. It’s been three hours already, three hours of educating her, and she’ll do a lot more before I get back home.
I bet she’s a quivering mess already, I bet she’ll have an entire pool of her own come beneath her by the time I check this evening.
I smirk, shifting my belt, fixing my cock. I’ll have her suck me off as a thank you. Have her milk me dry while I eat my dinner. She’ll be exhausted by then, she’ll be an emotional wreck, but that’s okay. I like her tears, and I especially like them when my cock is down her throat.
At the entrance, I nod to the guards and then pause.Who the fuck are these men?I don’t recognise them. My eyes narrow and I open my mouth to speak, but a sound stops me in my tracks; it’s a woman’s scream.
A raw, primal sound of pure terror, abruptly cut off. My hand instinctively moves towards the inside of my jacket, my senses snapping to a razor’s edge.What the fuck is going on here?
This is not part of the script. Konstantine is meant to be here with a skeleton crew of trusted, vetted staff. There should be no one here capable of making such a sound.
“Antonio.”
I spin around, seeing him halfway down a corridor and then I realise it’s not him, not Konstantine, but his brother.
“Lazarus.” I say quietly. “What…”
He shakes his head slightly and glances at the walls as if they suddenly have ears, and that makes me frown even more.
In quick strides he walks up to me. “He’s not right in the head.” He murmurs.
“Who?” I reply though in truth, there’s only one person he’s talking about.
“You’re not a fool, Antonio.” He continues, “You know what he’s done. What he has created…”
Created? What the fuck is he talking about?
“Who are those guards? Who was that woman? What the fuck is going on here?” It’s hard to keep my voice calm, to be calm.
Lazarus doesn’t even flinch as he looks back at me. “The guards are my men. We had to replace them. There was evidence that one of them was Esau, and we didn’t want to take any risks…”
“What evidence?” I snap. This is the first I’ve heard of it. Why the fuck has no one told me this before?
“It’s in hand.” Lazarus says in a tone meant to be reassuring. “Both of us have my brother’s best interests at heart. We know what his death would mean. That’s why I had to act quickly.”
“You do not get to make changes without consulting me.” I bark. Have I not kept his brother safe, have I not literally ensured his and the entire Brethren’s survival?
Something flashes across his eyes and then his shoulders slump and he sighs, like he too has been carrying the weight of the world. “Point made.” He murmurs. “I didn’t think, I just did what I felt was best. From now on, any changes will go through you.”
Like they should have to begin with. I go to voice that and then realise Konstantine, the real Konstantine is standing there watching us.
The Grand Master gestures for me to follow him, and I walk out to the terrace with Lazarus echoing my steps. The sun is at the wrong angle, casting long, distorted shadows across the veranda. But in the deep shade between a marble column and the wall, I see it. The shadow of a woman pressed flat against the stone, as if trying to make herself disappear.
It’s not the cowering posture of a scolded servant. It is the terrified, frozen stance of prey.
I turn back to Konstantine. “Who else is here? I was under the impression you were alone, beyond the necessary staff.”
