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“Really? I like to think I'm quite inventive.” The camera angle switched and he watched as her body shifted.
“I'm going, Anthony. I'll be back in a couple of days.” Marcus spoke from the end of the hall, and he glanced up without another word. Goodbyes were for people who thought he was human, and Marcus had lost that illusion before he was six.
It was better that Marcus was leaving. The last girl had broken so easily, and then she had cried for Marcus like he would help her just because he liked to make them orgasm. He hadn't helped her, of course, but it had been irritating all the same.
When Anthony made girls scream, he wanted them to beg him for mercy.
Even though it would never come.
2
Anthony sat at the foot of the bed, leaning back in his chair as he worked through the backlog of emails he'd been ignoring as he waited for the girl to wake up. Customers with requests, questions, and now he was able to answer them.
Yes, there was a new slave.
A new girl to watch, to bring in more customers, to feed their needs, and that always meant more money. It was nice to have a job doing something he enjoyed.
His customers were mere shadows of men who did not have the fortitude to make their wishes a reality. Too afraid of repercussions, of their own weakness. But they had always paid well for the privilege of watching him work.
The girl twitched on the bed, her legs pulling against the ropes that held her thighs wide. It was entrancing, the way the rope dug into her skin, already red and inflamed from her unconscious efforts. He wondered for a moment just how hard she’d fight them.
He thought about slapping her. As close to consciousness as she was, it would rouse her immediately — but then he wouldn’t get to watch her hope die slowly.
Better to be patient, to wait.
Something Marcus never understood, and likely never would.
There was so much more to enjoy in this process beyond the physical, and he wanted to take his time. To destroy her slowly, devour every inch of her mind. To strangle it until her awareness was focused into a pinpoint of what her Master demanded of her.
A quiet groan and the girl tried to turn, her arms and legs pulling in unison as she attempted to curl up. Finally, her eyes opened, her breath caught, and Anthony found his own breath had stilled in his lungs as he put his phone away to enjoy every minute of her devastation.
Showtime.
She gasped, her head rolling to look at the rope wrapped around her wrist, but he stayed completely still, completely silent. Enjoying the way her knees lifted from the bed as she discovered the restraints. Her breathing picked up, panic setting in as she whined and pulled harder at the ropes. When she tried to sit up the collar tethered to the headboard stopped her short, but she saw him.
More silence.
The girl was exactly what he’d needed. Blonde, toned, tanned. Practically mail order from the requests of the customers. Her brown eyes were wide, and more than anything Anthony wished he could hear the scattered thoughts tumbling through her mind.
That would be entertaining.
“Hello,” Anthony spoke, breaking the spell, and she whined louder. Her body contorted, dropping back to the bed as she twisted uselessly against the ropes. From his vantage point her struggles were quite lovely, thighs spreading, hips working at empty air, but it was her sheer panic that flavored it perfectly.
“Oh my God — this isn’t — no…” Lifting her head she looked at him, and he met her gaze calmly, leaning forward in the chair. Her ribs expanded just before her first scream ripped free. “HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE! HELP ME!”
“No one can hear you,” he told her, but his words didn’t register yet.
“PLEASE! HELP! SOMEONE!” Jerking violently off the bed, An
thony watched as her skin rubbed raw against the rope. He wasn’t concerned about her getting loose. Despite their conflicting beliefs, Marcus was excellent with knots. She wasn’t getting free.
She was never getting free — she just didn’t know it yet.
Another panicked, desperate scream sent blood rushing to his cock, but he ignored it. There was plenty of time for that.
Patience was the thing that Marcus lacked. A year of working with him and he’d yet to understand that the best tool available was the slave’s own mind. Allowing them to torture themselves before the real fun began… that was how you broke them.
The girl, Beth, sagged against the bed, breath whistling in her lungs as she turned her head and relentlessly worked at her bonds. Anthony waited for her to come to terms with her situation. Naked, tied-down, spread wide. Eventually, she lifted her head and met his eyes again. Round, brown, tear soaked orbs in her pretty face.
