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I whisper outside the kitchen, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake Ursula. “This is where we took our meals, all us women together, until Master sold the others. I taught them English here. We had three meals a day, all big. Master likes his slaves to have a little flesh.”
Trap barely glances at the table. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here.”
“But we aren’t done yet,” I say.
I take him to the library. The books are on the shelves, exactly how I left them. “This is where I spent most of my time. With these books, I could travel anywhere in the world. I went to Paris. To London. To Moscow and Madrid. I lived a hundred years ago and five hundred, centuries before Master was born.”
“Let’s go, Alix,” Trap says.
“We’re almost done.” It’s sweet that he’s so upset.
I take him into Master’s study.
“This is where Master held his special meetings,” I say.
“Come on, Princess.”
“The chair’s new, of course. You saw the old one, in Master’s gallery at the freeport.”
“I think I understand now.”
“There’s the fireplace poker,” I say. “Why don’t you pick it up? Feel how heavy it is. Imagine shoving that inside me. Imagine me licking it clean, after you’re done.”
“Alix—”
“Look! There’s a letter opener. Do you think it’s sharp enough to draw blood? Why don’t you press harder? Come on! Really, really try.”
“I’m not—”
“The frame’s still here! The last time Master tied me to it, he kept me hanging for two full days. He made me drink my piss when I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”
“Okay,” Trap says. “I get it. I understand. I heard what you told me before. I listened to the words, but I didn’t realize just how sick that cocksucker was. Of course you can’t forget what happened here. I had no right to ask why you didn’t fight back at the club tonight. I was a fucking idiot to judge you.”
The words should be a balm. They should soothe me, the way arnica soothes a cane’s burning stripes. I should feel some sort of release.
But I need something else. I need something more.
I turn to Trap, pressing against him, taking him by surprise. I find his mouth with mine, and I melt the ice of his lips. My tongue tangles with his, and I breathe his breath and I know he’s breathing mine. His hand splays across the back of my head, and my fingers push into the hard muscle of his back. I’m greedy and I’m grateful and I’m drinking deeper than I can ever remember drinking before.
But that’s not it. That’s not all I need. He has to understand me. He has to know exactly what happened, here in Master’s house.
We come up for air, panting like we’ve run a marathon tied together at the knee. I rest my forehead against his. I trace the line of his jaw with my fingernail. And I whisper what I need to make it real, to take it back, to make Trap understand, once and for all and forever.
“Use me, Master. Tie me to the frame. Fuck me with the poker. Keep me hanging till I beg for mercy, and leave me for another full day. Take me down, and fuck my ass and call me Slave forever.”
34
TRAP
* * *
“Jesus Christ!” I stagger back, banging the side of my knee on the coffee table. Pain spikes up my leg, but it doesn’t matter. It’s nothing, compared to the torture this room has witnessed.
I don’t realize I pushed Alix until she catches herself against the fireplace mantel. “Please,” she says, stumbling toward me. I reach out to help her balance, but she sinks to her knees. She grasps her head with both hands, pushing her elbows back to raise her perfect tits. This is something else Herzog did to her, something he required. “Fuck me, Master,” she begs. “Fuck your helpless slave up the ass!”
I’m the one who taught her those words. She lay in my bed, blushing, whispering, and I taught her it was okay to say what she wanted. I said she could talk about her pussy, her tits, and yes, she could use the word ass.
But I never thought she’d beg for the one thing that terrifies her.
