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The houses here look nothing like where we live. Huge beach mansions, private properties with their own access to the ocean. It’s windy, and despite the morning light, the sun isn’t with us today. The wind slaps the February rain against the windshield, the wipers going at the same rapid rhythm as my heart.
“We’re almost there,” Ethan says quietly, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. As I check the GPS, a small smile tips the corner of my mouth.
See you in three minutes, Jade. I can’t wait for you to come home with us.
3
JADE
Trouble - Adam Jensen
A noise in the ensuite bathroom wakes me up. Stan is shaving. I recognize the taps of the razor against the sink when he tries to get rid of the hair stuck in the blades. Every morning, he showers then shaves meticulously. He leaves the bedroom in nothing but a towel around his waist, showing his beautiful abs, and heads for his walk-in wardrobe. There, he chooses an expensive suit and slowly gets dressed. Then cufflinks. Then a tie. Finally come the shoes.
When he’s done getting ready, he heads for the kitchen and makes himself an espresso.
It’s only once he’s fully awake and ready that he calls for me.
That’s his routine. Every single day that he is here, that is. Sometimes he disappears for weeks at a time, and I get the house to myself. I’m not allowed to leave, but I appreciate the peace I get without him. He might be on work trips, or maybe on vacation. Probably in his main house with a wife and kids. I don’t want to know.
I must have fallen back asleep, because the next thing that awakes me is a bell ringing from the kitchen. My cue to get out of bed.
I fucking hate that man.
After a quick shower, I go to his closet to check the outfit he chose for me today.
“Oh, come on,” I grunt. I hate when he wants me to dress like this. It’s not actual clothes. Never.
Yesterday was a skimpy schoolgirl uniform. Today is his favorite, and the one I hate the most.
I slip on the bright pink cotton panties and the knee-high white socks. Next comes the see-through pink lace bra. I dread the last item, but I know I’ll end up wearing it anyway. Whether I choose to put it on myself, or he forces it on me after a harsh spanking.
With a sigh, I open my mouth, sliding the pacifier labeledDaddy’s Girlbetween my lips. Grabbing the two straps, I wrap them around my head before buckling the gag tightly.
I make my way down the grand staircase and to the dining room. He’s sitting at the end of a white marble table, the little bell in his hand and the espresso cup set in front of him. When he sees me, his eyes light up.
“Mm, my pretty girl,” he says lowly. “Come here, baby.” He slides the chair back and spreads his leg, snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor in front of him. Knowing my place, I get on my hands and knees and crawl to him. I settle between him and the table and look up.
“Good morning, puppet.”
I nod to acknowledge him and suck dramatically on the pacifier to make sure he notices.
“Good girl.” His hand comes to my cheek, and he caresses my skin. “My baby likes to suck, doesn’t she?”
I nod again, doing my best to fake a plea with my eyes, pretending I’m desperate to suck on his dick.
I’ve spent two years being at this man’s mercy. I know exactly what he wants, when, and how. There is nothing his body can hide from me. I know his deepest and darkest desires. I’ve experienced all of them. And I chose to stay.
First, it was for my mom. Because he was the one taking care of her. He paid for everything. He put her in the best hospitals with the best doctors. And when none of that worked, when the cancer got the best of her…I stayed because I had nothing else.
I have nothing. Nowhere to go, no one to call. I have no place to go back to. Stan stopped paying the rent on my mother’s studio apartment as soon as she died. Not that I could go back to the North Shore. I have no money, because I can only use what he gives me, and he makes sure to drip feed it.
Leaving is something I stopped thinking about a while ago anyway because that’s not what Stan wants. Stan wants me here. He wants the whore he saved from her poor town, and what he wants, he gets.
We fought once. The stupid kind. I still thought he’d listen to me back then. I wanted him to take me on a date. Anywhere but this house. When he said no, I left and slammed the door. Took one of his cars and drove.
I didn’t even make it out of Long Island before one of his security guards brought me back, kicking and screaming. That’s the day I learned he had security guards who didn’t live with him, but who he could call whenever he wanted. That’s also the day I learned Stanislav isn’t just a filthy rich man. He’s a filthy richBratvaman. The Wolves, to be exact. The same organization who owns the Kings. That’s no surprise since I met him on the North Shore.
I pay you. I own you. Period.That’s all he said when they brought me back and he tied me to his bed. Then he shoved a dildo so far down my throat, I couldn’t talk for days.
