AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He tapped a finger on the tip of my nose. Rising, he dusted the seat of his pants then helped me to my feet.
“Now, sugar pie, for your homework…” Romero shook his head at my pout. “Yes, darling, homework… you will analyze your target audience and make a list of the things that make them tick and tingle, both negative and positive. That includes the triggers and quality of their response. We will use your observations as the foundation for your new show; one that will mesmerize your audience and get them eating out of your hand.”
After training, I returned to the penthouse and headed for the kitchen. It was only a few minutes after noon and the cook would have lunch ready. I opened the door and saw my usual place all set with my plate sitting on a warmer. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how anxious I felt coming to the kitchen. Deep down, I feared Anton might have ordered the cook to put down a set of dog bowls on the floor for my food and water. Since he forbade me to remove my collar, I could only assume he wanted me in the role of a pet for the long haul.
This whole situation was so messed up, I didn’t know which way was up anymore. Although I was pretty submissive, roleplaying a pet never appealed to me. The memory of the men and women eating directly off the floor as their masters tossed food at them at Risqué made my stomach squirm. If this was Anton’s plan for me, I didn’t know how I would make it through.
The food was good but I don’t think I tasted any of it. Problem-solving had never been my forte and figuring out how to solve this particular situation used every single one of my brain cells. I washed down the braised pork with a glass of wine, put away the dirty dishes, and wandered back to Anton’s bedroom.
It was a large room with a massive Blackwood bed propped against the back wall. A small breakfast table, large enough to comfortably seat two, sat in the corner across from a floor to ceiling vidscreen. When turned off, the screen blended with the sleek, light gray walls. Anton often set it to display nature sceneries, as if it was a window onto a breathtaking outdoors view of some exotic planet. Otherwise, he would set it to news feeds. You could watch movies, but that would mean rest and relaxation, two words that didn’t fit in Anton’s vocabulary. My pet cushion lay on the other side of the bed, between the nightstand and a large Blackwood dresser. Across from the bed, a set of sliding doors gave way to a mammoth walk-in closet and a fabulous in-ground tub – more like pool – a separate shower with massaging showerheads, and a sauna.
This was another reason Anton’s behavior towards me confused me so badly. The first week, he had taken me out every night, buying me a completely new wardrobe – which occupied half of his walk-in – and ensured I got off every time we had sex.
But he stuck me on that stupid pet cushion at night.
The staff waited on me, he paid for my trainer, and I got to use his awesome bathroom and personal gym. Even now, I was sitting at the breakfast table with a state-of-the-art holographic keyboard to do research on the kick ass vidscreen. These weren’t the living conditions of someone you hated.
Maybe Romero was right. Maybe Anton just wanted me to apologize for that stupid stunt. And then, we could go back to nicer Anton. I would like that. He didn’t look down on me or talk down to me even when he gave me speeches about being lazy, my outfits or my shows. He took the time to teach and explain things to me like I was worth the effort. Hanging out with him was fun and he seemed to enjoy my company too.
Anton wasn’t pretty but he wasn’t ugly either – his face was actually growing on me. I liked pleasing him and he seemed to like caring for me too, at least that first week. It felt nice not to be treated like trash or like I was too stupid for someone like him.
I just needed Anton to like me again. I wanted him to whisper my name like he did last night when he fucked me against the wall, and hold me the way he had, as if he cared. I wanted him to flaunt me around like he did at Risqué that first time, as if I was a precious jewel – as if he was proud to be with me, to own me.
A lot of girls hated that idea of being owned, but for me, it meant I belonged. Someone cared enough to want to keep me, take care of me. Not just use me then discard me. I mean, everyone uses everyone, so what’s the problem? Marcus used me all the time to draw in crowds and keep his ‘special’ customers happy. And I used him too, in my own way. As long as I sang, showed my stuff, and did what I was told, he kept me safe, made sure I ate well and had a good place to sleep. Except for his cheating, we had a pretty good life.
But now, my life was with Anton, at least for the next five and a half months.
With a heavy sigh, I turned on the vidscreen. I navigated the menu to the entertainment library Romero recommended for my homework. The large folder contained a few hundred recordings of some of the Hive’s elite clubs’ top performances. They were sorted by Artist. Feeling petty, I skipped the entire section with Sheila’s name. I resented that her name appeared on this list. Sure she had talent, but dammit, you shouldn’t hit on a man who accompanied another woman. Anton was mine, so the bitch needed to fuck off.
Mine? Really?
Whatever… I didn’t have the energy to set the mental record straight.
I loaded the footage from one of Eliza’s shows. The controls allowed me to focus on the performance or switch between the various cameras displaying the audience, and even zoom in on them. I settled as comfortably on my chair as the butt plug allowed and started ‘analyzing’ the performance. Eliza was pretty amazing. Too amazing I suppose because I lost myself in her song and forgot to analyze the audience. When I wasn’t gaping in awe, my mind was wandering back to Anton.
Screw it.
Unable to focus, I put Eliza on full screen and curled up on my pet cushion, rocking softly to her hypnotic singing. The butt plug annoyed me, but I didn’t dare remove it. It made lying down and sitting in certain positions rather uncomfortable. In spite of that, I must have dozed off because the com startled me awake.
“Yes?” I said, answering the call groggily.
“Hi Grace, it’s Dana,” the receptionist’s voice said over the com. “You asked me to tell you when Mr. Myers returned. He’s on his way up to the penthouse as we speak.”
“Oh right,” I said, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You got it,” Dana said before hanging up.
I raced to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. Knowing Anton, he’d probably head straight to his office. I debated whether to ambush him there or give him a few minutes before we had ‘the talk.’ After fiddling and fussing over my appearance worse than when getting ready for a night out, I paced the room, trying to work up the courage to see him. I fingered my collar. I’d been doing that a lot since Anton put it on me last night.
Whatever my feelings about being collared, it was a fine piece of jewelry. Incredibly soft, and airy. At first, I feared the leather around my neck would make me sweaty and irritate my skin, but it felt like silk. Hoping to pacify Anton further, I chose a black and amber sarong that complemented the collar, echoing the gems embedded within.
Stop procrastinating and get it done already!
Taking a deep breath, I steeled myself and marched out of the room to Anton’s office. I knocked, entering when he bid me to come in. His eyes narrowed when he saw me. My stomach dropped at the dead look in his eyes. Biting my lip, I considered making a hasty retreat and trying another time. Anton gestured with his chin towards the red leather empire chair across from his desk – the same chair I sat in when I signed the contract.
I closed the door behind me and quietly sat in the chair while Anton concluded his call. His dark eyes never wavered from me the whole time he talked over the com. Unnerved, I couldn’t help fidgeting and once again considered retreating. By the time I decided to make a run for it, Anton ended the call. He leaned back in his chair, and raised an eyebrow at me.
This was such a bad idea…
