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She wasn’t sure she was prepared to see her pussy in oversized high definition and wondered if she could get away with keeping her eyes closed for this.
“Would you like to know how much of your debt you paid off tonight?”
Admittedly, she’d been curious about how much money had gone into that glass jar. She hadn’t been able to help thinking about it every time someone new took a turn with the toys.
“Yes, Master.”
“A little over twenty-five thousand. I’ve already made a note of it in the ledger. That’s not bad. At this rate, you may live to be debt free.”
“And then what happens?”
He couldn’t release her even if she managed to buy her way out of this slavery. It wasn’t as if any of this was legal. She had so much on him, it was amazing he didn’t keep her chained down 24/7, lest she somehow escape and make it to the proper authorities with a laundry list of felonies to charge him with.
And anyway, Quill was the one setting the prices. If she got close to paying him back, he could simply lower the amount he charged for access to her body. It was all a game to him. A never ending pit of debt. He would arrange it so she could never climb out and was always reaching up to him from the dark hole he’d tossed her down.
“Of course, interest accrues daily.”
Of course.
“But, in the unlikely event you ever paid off your debt, I would allow you your freedom if you still wanted it by that point.”
How magnanimous of him.
“You aren’t worried I’d report you?”
He chuckled. “No. I know you won’t report me for the same reason you were so torn up over stealing from me. Because you know who I am. Because you can’t bear the thought of hurting Joseph Quill. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Joseph Quill was a lie. The art was real, but everything else around him was carefully crafted artifice, yet she still fell for the illusion.
Saskia wanted him to be wrong. Desperately. There had to be something he could do, some line he could cross that she couldn’t forgive. There had to be a level of depravity he could take her to, a place so dark that could erase any feelings of reverence she had toward the artist. But so far, her tolerance for his whims seemed bottomless.
Quill stripped off his clothing and draped it across the couch then joined Saskia in the bed. He pulled her against him, holding her close.
She barely breathed. She could hardly believe they were wrapped up in his bed, skin pressed against skin in something that almost looked like an affectionate embrace. Marcus was kind to her. Why was it so important to her to have Quill’s affection as well?
So he was a great artist. So what? There were a lot of great artists. He was an arrogant rich asshole who wasn’t worth the tears she’d shed for him or the admiration she’d felt, but as he held her, Saskia was sure there must be something deeper in this man worth knowing and being connected to.
He pressed the button on the remote, and the screen came to life with footage from the party.
It was jolting to see herself this way—as disconnected pieces rather than a whole. At the same time, not having to watch her own facial expressions allowed her the distance she needed from it. It was like watching porn with decent dialogue. As long as she didn’t think too hard about who all of this was being done to, it was as exciting watching it as it had been experiencing it.
“We’ll fast-forward to the best parts, but even during the fast forwarding, you will count every orgasm.”
“But if we’re skimming through part of it, how will I know?”
“Trust me, you’ll know.”
He was right. Shedidknow. Even while moving fast, she started to see a small jerk she always made to the right. Like a poker tell. She hadn’t realized she did that. She wondered if she’d done it with all her lovers in the past.
He slowed the footage and pressed play to let her see the part with Nolan.
Quill’s hand slipped between her legs. Saskia tried to scoot away, but there was nowhere to go.
“I knew you liked him,” he said.
She tensed, waiting for that to turn into an issue, but it didn’t.
Quill skimmed through most of the film, stopping for each turn Nolan had taken. He’d drilled her with various toys a total of five times. Each of those times, he’d dropped more money into the glass jar. How much would he pay for a private session with her be? Would he pay more so Quill could maintain a defense of his territory, or would he get the friends and family discount?
