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“And the others?”
“Blowjobs. Not many, but I don’t remember the exact number. It was only when I couldn’t avoid them. Usually at small parties where I couldn’t just blend in the background or when a slave was offered to me by a business ally.”
“Mm.” I pick some imaginary fuzzies off the blanket. What kind of blowjobs? Did he face fuck them? Let them take the reins? Would he choke them a little? Choke them until they passed out? Come down their throats? Come all over their faces and call them filthy fucking sluts? “So, you expect me to believe that you made it ten whole years without anyone getting suspicious that you never fuck anyone and you barely ever get blowjobs?”
“Oh, I fucked plenty of slaves as far as they’re concerned. I just took them to my room.” He shrugs. “I’m not an exhibitionist. There are quite a few of us here who don’t like to partake in the common areas. I’d make a little bit of a show before bringing them to my room to enjoy in private. I liked to pick the ones that looked like they needed a break the most.”
“And you’d do what with them?”
“Honestly?” Jake lifts a shoulder. “I would drug them.”
My throat once again burns with bile. I’ve been drugged before. Plenty of times. Ones that paralyzed my body, keeping me awake and aware, but motionless. Ones that made me hallucinate nightmares. Ones that made me so horny I’d willingly hump the floor for their entertainment. Ones that made fire burn through my veins until I begged for death.
“I’d make them eat a meal bar so they didn’t have an empty stomach. Then I’d give them a bottle of water that’s spiked with sleeping drugs. While they slept, I’d assess their injuries, dress any wounds they’d have, and clean them up. Sometimes I gave them IV fluids or antibiotics. Then I’d sit in that chair right there and watch over them all night. I’d go to breakfast exhausted and satisfied, and they’d be disoriented and a little anxious about not remembering the night before. Everyone bought it easily.” He shrugs. “I hate that the victims probably think I fucked them when they slept. I hate that they probably hated not knowing what had happened to them, hated not having control, but it was the best I could do.”
I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that. It’s the best option. Of course it is. But it still hurts, in a certain way. And I’m ashamed to realize it’s mostly because no one ever did that for me. I didn’t get to have a Jake, at least not until he bought me. And even then, he just did the same thing with me as he did with all the others. I wasn’t any different. I wasn’t special. I was just another slave that was broken and in need of fixing.
Yeah, that definitely hurts.
I know one thing though. “I’m sorry.”
“Why in the fuck are you sorry?” he asks incredulously.
“For the second - just a fucking second - where I let myself believe you could ever be anything like… them.”
His lips twist into a rueful smile. “I’m a lot more like them than I’d like to be. And after tomorrow night, I’ll be even worse.”
“It’s different.” I push off the bed, grabbing my discarded sweater from earlier and pulling it on before approaching him. He’s shaking again. “Breathe, Jake. It’ll be okay.”
“Will it?” He laughs humorlessly, taking a step back from me like he’s trying to escape. “If tomorrow night goes wrong, Maison could accidentally end up dead. It’s up to me to keep him alive. Up to me to know exactly where the line is and to stop them all from crossing it. It’s up to me to make sure the party gets planned correctly. That the right people come. That they all bring their slaves. It’s up to me to make sure Carter and Travis can keep it the fuck together through it all, because Carter is going to get extremely upset about Maison, and Travis is an unpredictable mess anytime Carter’s upset. It’s up to me to make sure the backup teams are in place, that the party goes off smoothly, that no slaves get hurt throughout the night. It’s up to me to-”
“Breathe,” I tell him again, closing the gap between us before he can move away. Fear lingers in the back of my mind, but I shove it down and ignore it as I place my hand on his bare chest. I can feel his heart pounding. “It’s not just up to you, Jake. It’s up to the four of us. I don’t care how stupidly in love with Carter Travis is, you need to tell him to get his shit together and keep it that way. Tell him to tell Carter the same. Tomorrow night is going to fucking suck, but I’ll be here before, and I’ll be here after, and it’ll be worth it, okay? When everyone makes it to the safehouse, this will all have been worth it.”
He takes a shaky breath, resting a hand over mine. “Will it?”
“Honestly, I have no fucking idea.” I give him my best attempt at a smile. “But it sounded good, yeah?”
He laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, it did.”
“I’ll be with you. If Travis and Carter are going to be all wrapped up in each other, then I’ll be the one to have your back and you’ll have mine, okay?”
His expression softens. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. But you can't be with me all the time. Just in here.”
“No. I’ll come with you tomorrow. Until Maison gets here.”
“Casey, no.”
“Yes. You’re not the boss of me. You’re not my master. I want to do this. I’m going to be your slave tomorrow. You can focus on me instead of watching the clock and agonizing all day. Every time you look down at me, you’ll remember that it’s going to be okay. That me and you are going to get through this.”
He still doesn't seem happy about it, but he nods. “Okay.”
“And promise me that you’ll get through the part after. That you’ll survive what happens to Maison and you’ll come back to this room and let me help you once it's over.”
“Okay.”
I shake my head. “No. Promise.”
He smiles, just a little, and lifts his hand that’s not pressed against mine to grip the side of my neck. It’s a warm, heavy weight that feels nothing but calming and safe. “I promise. And I never break a promise.”
