Page 2 of Taken By Aries

I nod, and say, “Yes.” My throat is dry and my head spins. Maybe I’ve had too much scotch. Or maybe it’s the completely surreal situation I’ve signed myself up to.

“You have signed the pact as a sacrifice for this eve?”

The word sacrifice doesn’t sound good spoken out loud, although it seemed reasonable, if a little old-fashioned, in the contract. Now it makes it sound like I’ve signed up to be slaughtered.

“Yes.” My voice sounds breathy in my ears.

I’m painfully aware of how little I know about this man, and about the organization I signed my body away to tonight. Was my situation so desperate that I would put myself here? I think about my mum’s tiny flat again - about the lumpy double mattress she hasn’t been able to afford to replace since I was a kid thanks to a series of bad decisions in both life and love.

The abject despair I felt when Dave took off wasn’t just about his betrayal - it was about my fear of making the same mistakes I’d seen my mother make over and over again with men. That’s what I’m here for, I remember. Giving away my body, to secure my future, and protect my heart. I just need to get through tonight.

“Yes, I signed.” I say again, more firmly.

“You must call me your Lord tonight, Tamara. Now disrobe,” he says. He sounds like a man used to being obeyed. I’m grateful for it. Following instructions will make tonight easier. I reach for the belt at my waist and my fingers feel clumsy as I unwrap myself. The jacket falls to the floor.

I’m gratified by the audible inhalation when he sees my naked body. “Magnificent,” he says. “You are a rare beauty indeed.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” I say. It should feel weird to use the honorary, but it doesn’t. I feel completely vulnerable, and the words are somehow comforting. They somehow remind me of the contract between us - the money, and my safety.

My body is grateful for the reminder. I’m overly sensitized by the chill in the air from when the door was open and the heat of this man on the other side of me. With the blindfold on, I can’t tell when he’ll touch me.

I thought this would feel like a night at the club. This is nothing like that. I have no sight, and I have no control. My stomach churns a little. I’m determined to stay, but my anxiety is hard to control.

“Calm, Tamara. I can smell your fear. No harm will come to you tonight. We have an agreement. You are in a treasured role this evening.” His words settle me, until he says, “Now put your hands behind your back.”

“Yes, my Lord,” I say, and do as he says, trying not to tremble.

I expect the first of the degradations of the evening, and I’m surprised instead when I feel his lips press against mine.

There is no sweaty impatience, or clumsy ineptitude, in his kiss. There is no uncertainty. He takes my mouth like it is his right, but not roughly. Softly, like he will take his time, cupping my face. Gently, as he knows he has all night.

His lips feel strange - pillowy, but wider than I’m used to. And his tongue is huge. Perhaps he’s disfigured. Maybe that’s his reason for tonight, and the reason for my blindfold. It’s a romantic notion, but I don’t dismiss it immediately.

He kisses and licks at my mouth with slow attention until my lips part and a stirring starts low in my belly. His tongue entwines with mine, not demanding, but teasing, and soon I’m gladly returning his kiss.

He steps further into me until my neck is thrown back. The bulk of him presses against me now. What feels like his bare, hairy chest presses into me. I didn’t hear him take a coat off, but he must have, because it’s freezing outside.

Our kiss intensifies, and I’m surprised at how much I enjoy it. I feel taken, yes, but also cared for, caressed, treasured. Hope swells in me. Perhaps this night will be okay.

And his scent - that earthy, musky scent - fills the room and makes me dizzy.

I’m not completely innocent, despite my virginity. I’d given my ex Dave head, and he’d occasionally returned the favor. This man’s slow kisses make me wonder what it would be like to have his hot tongue elsewhere.

“Thank you, my Lord,” I say, when we break away. I’m definitely breathy now.

He chuckles. “Good girl. Now you’ve had a taste of me, the night will go more smoothly.”

I feel his hand on my throat and alarms ring in my head. Disappointment sinks like a stone in my belly. I should have known it was too good to be true. This is when it gets hard. This is where I earn my money.

But his hand doesn’t tighten painfully. Instead, he gently pushes my body back, and licks and sucks slowly at my nipples.

Dave rarely did this - and never with this level of finesse. His lips are soft when they suck on me.

Before long, my sex is dripping, and my hope returns. He’s bothered to get me ready - that’s way more than I was hoping for. If things turn bad now, at least there were some good parts. And the edge of my fear has faded. The heat of him, the smell of him, and the taste of him, have calmed me, along with the pleasure he’s offering.

“Ah, you smell delicious,” he says, and I hear the growling edge of need in his voice now. “And it has been far too long for me. But I intend to make tonight last. And so, I have a request to ask of you, Tamara Sanders, remembering that you are contracted as mine for this evening.”

“Yes, my Lord,” I say, my arms still obediently behind my back. I’m no longer trembling in fear, but I’m still very aware of being at his mercy. The contract said I wouldn’t be harmed, but he may have a different definition of harm.