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“That’s better,” Cosmos purrs, putting his cock away.
I do feel better. But I do not feel any more like becoming Direview’s ultimate fighter than I did before. I’m just not interested, and in spite of his insistence and punishment and pressure, it’s not going to happen.
I can still feel the ache in my ass, taste his cum in my mouth. I can feel the effects of everything he has done to me, of all his efforts to subdue me to his will. But my will remains strong.
Turning around, I look up into his eyes. “You cannot make me want to fight. You can punish me. You can lecture me. You can shame me. But you cannot change me. I will never willingly train with you. You will have to get your exercise from whipping me.”
He growls like an animal. I brace myself for a fresh onslaught of dominant discipline. But it doesn’t happen. Instead of grabbing me and beating and fucking me all over again, he looks at me and shakes his head.
“I’m going for a walk.”
11
Cosmos
I need to clear my head. My wife drives me to distraction with her native contrariness. I understand it. I even admire it. But I cannot tolerate it. She has to learn to use her gift. She just has to. Beating her isn’t convincing her and bullying her won’t work. She’s the most indomitable brat I have ever encountered. Bryn can’t help me, because Nina has a much softer, more compliant temperament. Thor might be of use, but he’s in Norway. I am left to my own devices and to the growing realization that Elise might not be breakable. She may always be precisely who she intends to be in any given moment, and that, I think, might be what I have come to love about her most.
It’s a revelation that could be truly transformative, if not for the fact that I am about to be rudely interrupted.
“Oh hello!” A broad American accent catches me off guard as I walk in Direview’s gardens. I turn around to see a forty-something-year-old woman, groomed to within an inch of her life. She has platinum blonde hair beneath a wide-brimmed Carmen Sandiego hat, she’s wearing dark sunglasses on an overcast day, and a pantsuit that would make Hillary Clinton immediately jealous. Her features are somewhat obscured by sun wear and makeup, but she seems to be pleasant enough, if not somewhat lost.
“Hello.” She smiles brightly. “I’m Katya Montaigne. I’ve a great interest in genealogy, and according to my research, some of my ancestors lived in this region over three hundred years ago, would you believe it?”
Americans love it when they find somewhere their ancestors lived. That’s what happens when there are wines that have been around longer than your country has existed. A yearning for historical relevance drives a lot of the tourists around these parts. Me, I’m comfortable barely knowing anything about my heritage and history. I look forward, not back. Whatever ancestors lie in my history are honored by my life, not my navel gazing.
“Is it at all possible to look inside? I know it is a private residence, but oh, it is so beautiful.”
“Father Bryn usually oversees any tours, or Crichton. Let me see if I can find one of them for you,” I say. I’m not in the mood to act as a tour guide. I know Elise is somewhere inside, keeping her rebellion burning at the computer. I have a feeling that today’s punishment and training will not sink in easily, and that I will have to deal her further consequences soon. If she rebels, another treatment will have to follow. If she sulks, well, I suppose I will handle it in much the same way.
“Bryn!” I shout for him from the main foyer.
“He’s probably in his…”
She’s pulled a gun.
It’s a cute little snub-nosed thing, but it will kill me the same as any other weapon would.
Bryn comes downstairs, glowering at the interruption. “Cosmos, I have a phone, or you could come up and…”
“Father Bryn,” Katya says. “So nice of you to join us. Are there any other members of the little club yet to come? No? Yes? Where is the strapping Nordic hotness?”
“Thor is in Norway.”
I have to give Bryn credit. He’s cool under pressure. Ice fucking cold. We look at one another, giving little shrugs of resignation. Hopefully, the girls have the sense to stay away from this scene.
Katya waves the tip of her gun at the pair of us, ushering us into the front drawing room. She seems to know the layout of the place, which is not impossible as the drawings of the floor plan are freely available on a wide variety of heritage sites.
“The two of you will have to do, I suppose. I’m going to banish your service demons, just for a little bit, mkay?” She pulls a crystal vial from her pocket and murmurs an incantation or three. Who is this woman who knows the deep magic?
