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I think both of us had forgotten the whole danger, Satanic rites theory. Or we forgot until we entered the bedroom.
The doctor was seated in an armchair reading a book. He eyed us over the top of the book, like a father springing a couple of teenagers he’d caught sneaking in after curfew.
“Greetings, both of you. Charity, you’re to come with me to the library.”
I opened my mouth to suggest a shower first.
“The Inner Sanctum, now. Even if,” finally, he seemed to realize my state, “you’re covered in Cassius jizz.”
I huffed and was sure I could smell sex on myself—and of course, I could. “Yes, sir.”
As long as this was not me being sacrificed to Satan, I could hope for an orgasm. Of course, I’d never been close to anyone who wanted to do the Satan worshipping thing, so how would I tell?
He isn’t a Satan worshipper. He can’t be.
All the way up the stairs to the library then through the door and up more stairs, I was trying to think of reasons why he might be one. Or not.
In the diary there had been sections about strange religions and sacrifice.
When I stepped into the Inner Sanctum, alone with the doctor, my nipples were tight, and it was not due to arousal.
24
CHARITY
The doctor walked to the two aqua-colored armchairs, picked one up, and turned it to face the desk where I had left the laptop. He’d already removed that, and he gestured at the desk.
“Take off all your clothes, Charity. Stand there, please.”
Saying no was never on the cards, but I must have looked nervous as I fumbled for the hem of the dress. Standing before a dominant who simply wanted to punish you could be nerve-wracking, but this was not that. Those diary mentions of sacrifices had been trampling circles through my head ever since I recalled them. The doctor was an opaque sort of man, and I couldn’t read him.
Why did he have this island, and where did he get the money for everything, were my newer questions to place on top of my question pile.
I stood there, naked, with the table at my back, and hugged myself across my breasts, trying not to shiver.
The doctor sat on the wide, padded arm of the chair. His lips twitched and I thought…just thought, I detected a modicum of kindness.
“This is nothing horrendous, Charity. I can see you’re worried.”
“Oh.”
“Is it punishment?” He mildly rocked his head. “Yes. But that’s my main pleasure in this. I love punishing you, so even if Inigo had not told me you’re doing some dangerous-looking dives where I told you not to…” He leaned over the side of the armchair, and when he righted himself, he held a cane. “I would still be tempted to cane you. The bruises have faded. You need more.”
Oh my, that lethal stare. A familiar chill fluttered through me, possibly making my nipples even harder. I swallowed. The arousal from earlier was stirring.
A memory returned to me of that first day, of him promising not to cut out my heart and eat it. Fuck me, though, that had been such a specific promise. No. Nope, not doing this now. Forget that. I swept away my suspicions.
Still, I kinda wanted to say:so I’m not being sacrificed to a horned god tonight? Being that flippant might be a very bad move.
I pinched my lips together. “Okay. Thank you. I think.”
He chuckled. “There is more, of course. I’ve been deficient since I returned. Important issues, that are possibly life-threatening ones, were occupying me.”
“Oh.” I had to say something, dying as I was for more info. “Do I get to know what those are?”
He shook his head, swished the cane, idly. “No. Not…yet. Before we progress to more interesting things, like making your ass black and blue, have you figured out anything more about the document?”
“Black and blue?” I shifted on my feet. I liked red. I loved being given a red ass, but not black and blue. I squeezed myself tighter. “Blue isn’t my favorite color. Can we negotiate for red?”
