Pet: A Dark Menage Romance Read online

  “Are you going to…” she whispered, and I smoothed my hands over her ass before smacking it, hard. She yelped. “Please, I…”

  “Shut up, Pet,” I warned her, and she retreated into a place inside her, her body shaking. She didn’t object and she didn’t move away. I pressed my cock at her entrance and she kept so fucking still I thought she’d passed out.

  “Ask for it,” I told her gently, my hands smoothing circles into her ass.

  She wouldn’t.

  “Fuck, Pet,” I growled. “Don’t make me go hard on your ass.”

  I pressed my thumb to her tight hole, rubbed my spit in.

  But she didn’t move. She didn’t say a word.

  My cock was throbbing, and I stroked it in long, jerking motions as her body waited beneath mine. I could’ve done anything to her in that moment and yet there was something missing. Something was wrong.

  She was frozen to the spot. Paralyzed by something I didn’t understand.

  “Hold yourself open for me,” I told her, and she let out a single sob, so desperate it made me want to force her to tell me what this was doing to her.

  I zipped my cock back in my pants, even though it was throbbing. She didn’t move an inch from that table. She was so fucking still.

  I had no idea what had changed for her; what this was doing to her. But I needed to understand.

  “Come off the table, Pet,” I told her. “Let’s go sit down.”

  Nothing. Not a word. Not the slightest of movements. She wasn’t even there anymore.

  I pulled her up by her hair and she didn’t even react to the pain. When I stood her up, she crumpled, and I had to catch her in my arms so she wouldn’t crash to the floor. My heart was pounding. I could only imagine how she felt. Something was so very fucking wrong.

  She wouldn’t move, so I made her.

  She wouldn’t walk, so I took her in my arms.

  She wouldn’t make a sound, so I filled the silence for her, talking about nonsensical things that had never mattered less.

  I carried her into the bedroom and arranged the covers around her on the bed. I lay down next to her and she was on me in a second, holding me so close it was like she needed my body to live.

  “Tell me,” I said, and she shook her head no. “You have to.”

  “I won’t,” she whispered, and I pulled her hair and made her look at me.

  “You will,” I told her. “Fucking shit, Pet, tell me right the fuck now.”

  Her bottom lip was trembling and she tried to get the words out one by fucking one.

  “I…”

  I wanted to shake her. I wanted to make her explain so I could get rid of the problem. So I could punish her like she deserved and give her the aftercare she so badly needed. It was eye-opening. She was a girl. A fucking little girl in my bed, with my bruises on her, with my marks all over her skin. I hated myself.

  “Say it,” I said, and she shook her head.

  I felt rage boiling inside me, not for Pet, but for whatever the fuck she was hiding from me. Because it must be really, really bad.

  I pulled her on my lap and she clutched me tightly.

  “Pet,” I said, and I hated the gentleness of my own voice. “You need to tell me what that did to you. I need to understand where you went. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

  “You don’t need to help me,” she said softly against my chest.

  “Fuck that,” I growled, holding her dainty little wrists in my hands, and jerking her up so she was forced to look at me. “Tell me, Pet.”

  “It’s all over now,” she said, and my blood boiled some more.

  “What’s over? Stop talking in fucking riddles, you’re driving me fucking insane,” I said. “Tell me why you spaced out, or I’ll beat the shit of everyone you know until I find out what happened to you.”

  She straddled my lap. She looked so small.

  “There was a man,” she said. “I won’t tell you who.”

  “Okay,” I got out through gritted teeth.

  “When I was younger,” she went on, toying with a stray strand of her hair, twirling and twirling it in loops around her finger. “He found me when I was really young, I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing now?” I asked.

  “I was rubbing on the carpet,” she said. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to do that. I was too young.”

  “Okay,” I said. “And did he tell you that you weren’t supposed to?”

  “He…” She swallowed. Her eyes were darting here and there without really looking at anything. “He did.”

  “And did you stop?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she nodded. Her eyes were filled with tears that she wouldn’t let out. “I… He made me.”

  “How?” My hands were in fists and my stomach was in knots.

  “He said he was going to teach me a lesson,” she whispered. “That he was going to punish me. That he was going to teach me some manners.”

  My own words echoed back at me and I hated myself like never before.

  “He made me pull my butt open,” she went on, her voice calm now, like she wasn’t even talking about herself. “He didn’t spit on me. He went in dry, and he held my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound.”

  I stared at her. Name. I needed a fucking name.

  “He said he’d have to keep doing it,” she said. “Or I’d go bad again. That he had to remind me.”

  “How many times?” I interrupted her.

  She pulled on a lock of pretty blonde hair.

  “Seventeen,” she said, reaching for my fingers. She brought my hand back, placing it on her neck. She moved her hair out of the way and pressed my fingertips to her skin. “Right there.”

  I felt the ridges in her skin. Tiny, deep little cuts. I didn’t need to count them to know how many there were.

  “Did you hurt yourself?” I asked her. It was hard to keep my shit together.

  She nodded.

  “Only on your neck?”

  A shake of her head.

  “But only those matter,” she said. “The rest were for my parents and my teachers and my friends. These were just for me. So I wouldn’t forget.”

  I took up her body and slammed it down on the mattress. Her chest was heaving and she wouldn’t look at me. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t even there with me, not really.

  “How old were you?”

  Her eyes zeroed in on mine and my heart beat a single time.

  “I was five,” she said. “And six. And seven. He stopped after that. He said I was…”

  She choked back a sob and I stared at her, a fucking broken mess of a girl that I wanted to avenge.

  “He said after that, I was too bad,” she went on. “And he couldn’t help me anymore. I was too dirty.”

  I lay on top of her and she sighed with relief when she felt my weight sink against her. She kissed my collarbone and I screamed against her skin because I was so fucking angry. She licked at my flesh with her little tongue and I cursed into her mouth.

  “I’m going to fucking kill him,” I told her.

  “I know,” she said. “That’s why I’m not telling you who it was.”

  “But I… I fingered your ass.” I remembered the sweet sounds she made, the way she resisted but loved it at the same time. I didn’t know. I didn’t fucking know.

  “I know,” she whispered. “I liked it…”

  “What happened today?” I asked her. “Please, tell me.”

  “You…” Our eyes connected and she whispered her answer against my lips. “You were trying to punish me…”

  Like him. She didn’t need to say it.

  I got up from the bed and slammed my fist into the wall. My knuckles opened up and blood spilled down my hand. She was next to me in a second. She was still naked, and my blood left gruesome marks all over her lithe body as she guided me to the bathroom.

  She patched me up and I sat there lik
e a fucking moron, plotting how I was going to kill this guy, whoever the fuck he was.

  I could tell she needed it, needed to feel like she was helping someone after what she’d told me. But when she was done bandaging me up, I grasped her hand and pulled her between my legs.

  “I’m so sorry,” I told her. “I’ll never do that again, Sapphire.”

  Her face paled and she evaded my eyes.

  “Please, look at me.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she said, and her hands slid around my neck.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s not who I am anymore,” she whispered against my throat, licking a line up to my Adam’s apple. “I’m Pet…”

  Eleven

  Pet

  The apartment was a safe place. A good place. A home.

  I didn’t like leaving it anymore, unless it was with him. He took me out after that conversation, bought me tons upon tons of clothes, shoes, and makeup. I didn’t protest. It felt good to be pampered, and from what I’d seen he had more than enough money to splurge on me. I let him pick out everything, too, mostly because I was curious to see what he’d want me dressed in.

  He didn’t like trousers, or God forbid, jeans. He didn’t buy me a single thing without a skirt. Some of it tight, some of it nipped in at the waist and going out into a flowing shape. Always showing off something – my legs, my cleavage, my arms, or my back. Sometimes more than one thing. The shoes were all heels. Tall, in a rainbow of colors. Always with a strap around the ankle. Always tall enough so I could reach his lips in them. And the lingerie. Bras, thongs, stockings, garter belts. So much lingerie I couldn’t have worn it all in a single lifetime. He liked that the most, I think.

  He touched me carefully now. Soft caresses that made it obvious how hard he was holding back, his fingers rigid as they slid along my skin. I let him be gentle, because we both needed it. But I knew he would break eventually, and I couldn’t wait for the moment he’d finally fuck me again.

  He never touched my asshole. It had been two weeks and he hadn’t done it. My pussy, my mouth, my hands, my tits. Never my ass. It was for the better, I guess. I wasn’t sure it was helping anyone though.

  With a full closet of new clothes, he took me to the hairdresser. He actually came with me and practically threatened the girl cutting it, telling her to keep it long. I giggled at the memory, how fucking intense he was being about an inch of hair. He didn’t let them color it, either. Just cut it a little and make it glossy and pin-straight. And then came my nails, and my toes, and the Brazilian wax he insisted on even though he knew I shaved every day.

  “It’s not about that,” he’d told me.

  “What is it about, then?” I asked him, feeling angry. “You just want to control everything, old man.”

  “Of course I do,” he smiled at me, and left the room.

  The wax fucking hurt, and I made him aware of that as he made love to me that night, his fingers trailing lines down my smooth, waxed pussy. I scratched his back until it made me scream in frustration because he only laughed when my nails broke his skin.

  He pampered and groomed me until he thought I was perfect. He primed and probed and coiffed and glossed me over until I looked like an elevated version of myself. But he still wasn’t satisfied.

  He circled me in his bedroom, and I felt exposed even though I was wearing lingerie and heels. A low growl escaped his lips as he stalked around the room.

  “You’re being weird,” I said. “I look fucking amazing.”

  “That’s not it,” he said. “It’s you… it’s your attitude.”

  “What’s wrong with my attitude?” I put a hand on my hip and glared at him, and he laughed at me.

  “That. Just that, Pet.”

  He smoothed my now perfectly glossy hair and my cherry-red lips parted for him.

  “You’re disobedient,” he said, and I giggled. “You fucking are. And I let you do it.”

  “Why?”

  He wouldn’t answer, just turned around and took something out of that chest of drawers he liked so much. Truth be told, I thought it was the ugliest fucking thing in the house.

  He came back and my eyes zeroed in on what was in his hands. Just a phone. He put it in his pocket and tipped my chin back, making me look at him.

  “Do you remember Angel?” he asked me, and I nearly spat in his face.

  Bitch.

  Bitch.

  Fucking bitch.

  “Yes,” I hissed, and he laughed at me.

  “I want her to come over tonight.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Who asked you?”

  “Don’t,” I said, and hated the way my bottom lip trembled. “Don’t bring her here. We don’t need her.”

  “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” he said, and I hated him more than ever. “And you’ll be a good girl and take it, and do what I fucking tell you to do. Isn’t that right, Pet?”

  I looked away, my face burning.

  “She’ll be here in twenty minutes. Do you want to have some fun before she arrives?”

  “No,” I snapped.

  “I think you’re lying,” he said, his hands running down my cheeks. “I really think you are, Pet.”

  I jerked against his touch and he smiled at me as he ran his fingers along my jaw, down my neck and over my tits.

  “Why won’t you trust me?” he asked.

  Because you’ve fucked her before.

  Because you want to hurt me.

  Because you will fuck her again.

  I didn’t answer, instead I just looked away, and he sighed in response.

  I heard the sound of his belt being undone, and my eyes found his. He stared at me as he took his belt off and moved behind me. I didn’t know why, but I let him take my hands and wrap the belt around my wrists, tying them firmly in place. My chest heaved as he came to my front and made me look at him, not by moving my head, but by staring at me until I returned his gaze.

  “You need to trust me, Pet,” he said, his voice almost gentle. “I do everything for a reason.”

  Those fucking words again. Stupid fucking words.

  He tugged on the belt and walked me over to the room we hadn’t spent that much time in, the room where he made me watch him fuck Angel. I hated going there and I hated the memories it brought on. He didn’t give me a choice.

  As soon as we walked in, my eyes darted to the chair he’d had me sit on the last time. If he did that again, I swore to myself I’d fucking bite him.

  But he led me to the bed instead, and bent me over unceremoniously with my ass up and my hands twitching helplessly behind my back. He placed the phone he’d gotten earlier in front of my face. I saw the camera recording.

  I heard him getting naked, his clothes falling to the floor. Next thing I knew, he ripped the expensive lingerie off me, but I only regretted the loss of it for a second before his cock was pushing its way inside me.

  “P-please,” I managed to get out, my hands struggling against the belt. “Please, don’t fuck me in here.”

  “No?” he teased, his cock sliding all the way inside. A single thrust was enough to make me moan out loud, and within the next few, I was whimpering his name. King. My King.

  He fucked me slowly, but his thrusts were powerful. It was a terrible combination. I would’ve hated him if my pussy wasn’t throbbing with the need to make him go just a little bit faster.

  “Changed your mind?” he asked, and I begged so pathetically I knew I’d feel ashamed of myself in the morning.

  He did that for so long it felt like days. Painfully deep, painfully slow thrusts that made my head spin. The sounds I made were making him groan out loud, and he gathered my mane of hair in both hands as he fucked me. I didn’t understand how he was staying so calm, how he didn’t just take advantage of the situation.

  “You don’t like me,” I whispered through the moans. “You don’t even like me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” His voice was low and guttural.
br />   “You… You’re holding back,” I whimpered. He slammed inside me and I cried out. “Fuck… You wouldn’t be able to hold back like that if you liked me better…”

  He leaned against me, my hair still in his hand and his cock twitching so deep inside me I thought I would soon come from it.

  “You’re never going to break me, Pet,” he promised me. “I don’t fuck for hours, I fuck for nights. And you, I’m going to fuck for a lifetime.”

  The doorbell rang and he pulled out of me, making me cry out so pathetically tears sprang from my eyes.

  “Be a good girl and wait for your master,” he said, put on a robe, and left the room.

  I knew she was going to be with him when he came back and I hated them both for it.

  I didn’t hear a single sound this time. No conversation or laughter, nothing.

  They walked back into the room. She didn’t look as good as last time and it gave me a weird burst of energy.

  She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, simple sneakers on her feet. She looked dazed. Like she was on something. I had to do a double take to make sure it was the same girl.

  King made her sit down on the bed with her eyes on me. I seethed but I didn’t make a move. The phone was blinking at me.

  “Angel is feeling upset today, Pet,” he told me as he took off his robe. I heard her little gasp when she saw him and I fucking hated the bitch for it.

  “I don’t care,” I told them both.

  “I do,” he said, his hands sliding down my ass. “So we’re going to make her feel better, okay?”

  “No,” I hissed.

  “Yes.”

  I heard him jerking his cock and then he pushed it inside me. So fast this time, no teasing, no foreplay, just all the way in until his balls slapped against me. Despite wanting to resist it, I heard myself cry out for him.

  “Look at her,” he said, and my eyes focused on the bitch.

  She looked younger now. Still older than me, but more vulnerable than the last time she was here. No makeup, her face blotchy from crying. She was very pretty. But she didn’t have him. I did.

  She looked frail and broken. Good. She deserved it.