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Withdrawing the knife with the careful, measured pace he seemed to do everything except fucking, she watched it until he held it above her. Only then did she gasp air into burning lungs, licking her lips, too terrified to move. “Now that you understand, it’s time for your punishment.”
6
Scrolling through her medical file on his phone, Anthony stood next to the cart as other shoppers moved past him. Some glared at him, one woman looked him over, but it was all white noise. The haze of humans existing, the metallic clatter of carts, the beeping of registers. So much white noise. It made it somewhat difficult to focus on the small device in his hands, but then he found what he was looking for.
Memorizing the brand of birth control, he verified that it was monophasic, and then sent the order in. Computers were so much easier than people. Just zeros and ones, and once you understood them, you could make them do what you wanted. No need to threaten them or slide a knife into their proverbial mouths. They just worked. Every time.
Tucking his phone into his pocket he walked down the aisle, adding items to his cart from the list in his mind. Food for him, and food for her. She wouldn’t actually need to eat for a while, but hunger was an excellent motivator. Still, when he fed her, it would not be from his plate.
That was Marcus’ fetish.
Of course, Marcus had the culinary palate of a street dog. He would eat well when he thought about it, but he’d also seen his brother eat a package of beef jerky with the same satisfaction as filet mignon with béarnaise sauce.
His phone buzzed repeatedly in his pocket and he answered without looking at the screen. Only one person had this number. “Yes?”
“You started with the cattle prod?” Marcus didn’t even bother with a hello, knowing it was pointless, but his tone was still challenging to dissect. Without other cues to help him along, Anthony couldn’t tell if the intent of the question was positive or negative. Delight or disgust. Yet another reason he avoided the phone.
“I did,” he confirmed needlessly. Clearly, his brother had been watching the recording of the live stream and already knew the answer.
“You haven’t even had her a whole day.”
Glancing at his watch, he noted it had only been about fourteen hours. “Correct.”
“You should’ve let me have her first, this is going to make her more challenging.” A growl and a curse punctuated his statement.
Definitely a negative response.
“How will it be more challenging? Enlighten me.” Coddling Marcus was an exhausting exercise, but one that was required to keep him engaged and productive. Without the opportunity to vent his silly frustrations, his brother’s work quality plummeted. He could sulk like a child for days.
“You started out too strong. All pain, no pleasure. What incentive does she have to respond to you now?”
“Avoiding it,” he clipped, looking around at the milling cattle with their rickety carts creating so much noise that it was unlikely anyone could even hear him. Regardless, it was always wise to be cautious.
“Did she even come when you fucked her?”
“No, but that is where you always make your mistakes. It is not about them, they are nothing.” Anthony sighed when Marcus muttered on the other end of the phone. Worse than having to listen to him speak was having to listen to him when he was incoherent.
At least when the slaves were incoherent, they were usually making pleasant sounds.
“She bled.”
“Yes, I’ve already received several emails asking me to do it again, and in other ways.” Anthony wondered if she would scream as he took her ass. There was a good chance no one had ever fucked her there — such a treat to be the first.
“We don’t make them bleed,” Marcus stated it like there was some book of rules to which they were both held. As if every rule he made Marcus follow was not written by his own hand.
Even the rules on the wall were his.
Everything was, but Marcus forgot that sometimes.
“Sometimes we do. You have become overzealous in the past and done the same.”
“Is that what you were? Overzealous?” His brother tried to mock his tone, mimic him, but there was too much emotion in Marcus to ever succeed in that.
“That is ridiculous and you know it. Did you want to have a conversation or were you simply calling to replay the events of last night for me?” Bored already with Marcus’ antics, Anthony smiled when he saw the artisan cheese counter was open. At least there was one benefit to shopping on a Saturday morning when people crowded the store.
“I want to talk to you about not fucking up this slave! This is why it takes you almost three fucking months to get anywhere with—” Marcus continued to rant as Anthony held the phone down to his side and approached the counter.
“Hello, sir. Are you interested in trying one of our aged Goudas?” The smiling woman was wearing a black apron, her auburn hair pulled into a high ponytail at the back of her head. Her nametag read: Amanda.
