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“Hurry up. I hurt and I want to get clean.”
One arm was straighter than the other. I tried to ignore it as I grabbed the hem of the shirt and lifted. Any other time, I would have seen full, beautiful breasts peeking through the nude lace bra. Not tonight. The large bruising over her ribs took over my sight, my focus, hell…my fucking world.I did that by not being there to protect her. This was partly my fault.
I reached, curling my fingers as I jerked my hands away so I wouldn’t get in more trouble for touching her. I spun to put my back to her so she couldn’t see my fury. I cursed. All I could do was close my eyes as I faced away from her to try to calm this beast who rattled my insides. Who the hell was this person taking over me? He wasn’t obedient. Not really, but he needed to be.
“What?Slave, if you don’t—Oh…God.”
I did turn then. Charlotte’s eyes were round as she headed for the mirror and continued to look down and hold her injury. The damn bruise had to have been a good five inches long. And thick, too. Fist? I didn’t think so. Kick?
There was nothing I could do but stare at her and wait. Wait for a lie. An excuse. She didn’t give me either as the shock melted away and was replaced by nothingness.
“Slave, get my phone from my purse.”
Calm. Eerily so. She was a good actress. Turning, I obeyed. The moment she had it in her hand, I watched her transform. The strong Mistress had returned, not the scared woman I’d seen moments before.
“Main Master, this is Mistress B-Three, I’m calling in regard to your lack of security in the outside city.” She got quiet. “Yeah, somethingdidhappen; I was attacked by one of your Masters. Master seventy-one to be exact, Norman Free. Which shouldn’t surprise me since we’ve already had a run-in here before.” Again, she got quiet. “I’ll tell you exactly what it was over. The first time he saw me, he recognized who I was. He started naming movies I was in. In short, I told him I wasn’t her down here, and not to pretend to know me on the outside world. I was pissed. Apparently, he was too. He kept saying something about Whitlock. About how Mistresses shouldn’t be down here. He’s wrong. I belong here just as much as him. What pisses me off even more was how it even happened to begin with. This was uncalled for. Everywhere else in the Gardens you have more security than Washington D.C. That attack should have never happened. If you have a facility of both genders, you better pray like fucking hell you can keep both sides safe. This incident outside was a disaster; a failure in your security protocols.” Another pause. “No, I don’t need to go to the hospital. I’m not dying, just beat to hell. Damn right. It was outside a place called Penski’s or Pentski. I don’t know. A fucking bar or something. No, I don’t need you to come over. Yes, I’ll send pictures. Okay.”
She hung up, handing me the phone.
“Not one more outburst as I take off these pants. You have no emotion, slave. You’re here to observe at the moment and take pictures, and that’s it.”
Was there more bruising?
“Next time—”
“No,” she snapped, cutting me off. “I will not be shielded by a man just to walk down the fucking street. You’re missing the point here, slave. This place has an obligation to protect the people who pay for it. Am I expecting it to be run flawlessly? No. Instances will occur. I get that, but they should be far and few between. If I don’t make a stand right now, it will never change. Someone has to advocate or wolves and lions wage war. I will not live in fear of having to watch my back, and I will not solely rely on you to take me somewhere I want to go. The Main Master will fix this, or I will bug the shit out of him until he does.”
She had a point. One I should have understood before she even spoke. I didn’t forget her identity, but I should have taken into account what it was outside of this place. Charlotte was big into taking a stand. She led and was the face of programs that focused on protecting those who needed it. She was strength, power. This was who she was, but it stemmed from something. As I looked at her, I was sure I knew all too well what that was.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Take off your pants. I’ll get the pictures.”
And I did, of all four bruises on her legs. One big baseball size one on her upper thigh. Three small quarter-sized ones under that. They were there, but not too dark yet. And they didn’t seem to be affecting her too badly.
As my Mistress stood facing the mirror, texting the pictures, I reached up, unhooking her bra. Flattening my hands on her back, I rubbed up the skin, pushing the material up over her shoulders. The softness tightened underneath me, drawing up in goosebumps. They brought my eyes up to the back of her neck that was exposed from her hair being over one shoulder. I glanced at the mirror, spinning to turn on the shower before I caused her to get even angrier.
Charlotte put the phone on the counter and faced me as I pulled back to get out of the spray. Her bra was sitting on the floor and her panties were still on. Nude lace, just like her bra had been. Their cut was arched high, accentuating her curvy hips.
“Are you going to stare or come finish undressing me?”
Heading forward, I lowered, kneeling level with the one thing I wanted more than anything. My fingers hooked in the panties, and I slowly peeled them down, soaking in the smooth folds of her pussy. Would she allow me to taste her? Touch her. Fuck her? God, I would have done anything to feel her around my cock.
“You want it so bad you can’t stand it.” She stepped high, removing one of her legs from the lace and then the other. She left me there, crouched, level with her ass as it swayed with her advance to the shower.
Charlotte pulled open the door, turning to throw me a look.
“I don’t have all night for you to take your turn. I told you I’m tired. Get undressed and get in. You can wash me quicker that way anyway.”
My shirt tore from over my head at my impatient pull. I jerked at the button of my jeans, pushing them and my briefs down. This was a first. A first of many to come? God, I could only dream.
I headed forward, opening the door and joining my Mistress. Burning slightly pulled at my neck, and I trailed my fingers over the medical-grade plastic covering me.
“The tattoo artist said it should be okay to get wet. The water won’t get through. I’ll look over it when we finish, just in case, and make sure everything’s okay.”
Nodding, I wasn’t sure I could keep the anticipation off my face. For her to care for me, touch me…God, I needed it. I could touch her all day long, but it wasn’t the same from her doing it of her own free will.
I stepped in as water bounced out from Charlotte’s wet hair. It was so long when it was wet. Inches from her ass. It swayed at her movements, darkening to a jet black. With her eyes closed, mine ate every inch of her alive. Her breasts were full. Round. Definitely natural which was surprising with her being from Hollywood. I wasn’t ever sure. Outside of bathing suit shots from paparazzi, she’d never done a movie topless. Come to think of it, she never really showed much cleavage as well. She was perfect. Gorgeous. And she was getting closer which only meant one thing: she caught me.
My gaze tore itself from her as I spun for the shampoo, pouring a generous amount in my palm. Charlotte was more out of the water waiting for me as I turned and reached up to lather the soap in her hair. Pressure around my hard cock had me squeezing my fists in the long locks. A sound left me, and I tried to concentrate enough to keep massaging the soap into her scalp.
