Naked Nights Read online

  “Please, oh, please.”

  “Please what? Oh, I know. You’re saying you want more.”

  She froze at the thought that the vibrator might have an even higher speed, but that wasn’t what he had in mind. As he drew the beast out of her, her inner walls stopped screaming. Instead of relief, however, she felt lonely.

  He pulled her breasts down then up, twisted the chain so they were drawn together.

  “Please, Master. I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can. It’ll be worth it.”

  She’d opened her mouth, maybe to beg some more, when he pressed the vibrator against her clit. Just like that she climaxed.

  A climax? No, a series of sensual peaks that kept going higher. Wonderful as they felt, she was becoming more incredibly sensitive there. Her clit burned and throbbed. Her mind splintered.

  Garbled sounds burst from her. Sweat streamed. She started to drool.

  “Dance for me, slave. Understand.”

  Understand what? The only thing she knew was that she was exploding. Falling apart.

  “I won’t need to break you because you’re doing it to yourself. Go on.” The vibrations ended only to start again. “Try to convince me I don’t own you.”

  He did and would continue to. She couldn’t go anywhere, couldn’t protect herself from the now awful climaxes. Barely aware of what she was doing, she stared slack-jawed at her captor while her body continued to jerk.

  He stared back, his gaze intense, as if he was trying to read her mind.

  Chapter Nine

  “That’s one way of doing it,” Robert said. “I must say it was entertaining.”

  Tray turned from the video they’d been watching so he could study Robert’s expression. He felt as if he’d just played a double overtime game, spent. Even though Robert continued to lightly hold the glass of expensive scotch, his jaw muscles occasionally clenched.

  “Entertaining you wasn’t why I did what I did.”

  “What was your motivation?” Robert went back to watching Marina, who now lay on her side on the bed, restrained only by the chain on her left ankle. “What do you want to ultimately accomplish?”

  Tray sipped on his drink, hoping liquor would calm his libido, which remained as high as it had been when he’d been working the slave. “I intend to turn her into a moneymaker for both Carnal and me.”

  “Is that all?”

  Determined not to fall into a trap, if that was Robert’s intention, he shrugged. When the two of them had started watching the slave, she’d looked as if she was out of it, but she’d started moving her arms and legs. How much of what he’d put her through did she remember? It couldn’t be as much as he did.

  “Why don’t you tell me what you think my motivation is?”

  Robert chuckled. “Good response. You’re proving that not all jocks are dumb. I’m asking questions I don’t believe you can answer at this point. Don’t worry about it. Most new trainers go through a period of self-assessment. We expect it. What I want you to consider is whether you get more out of seeing her suffer or watching her climax.”

  He hadn’t expected the question but now that it had been asked, he took it seriously. As he mulled over what he’d experienced during her first session, he kept his attention fixed on the female who was on her way to becoming a slave. She sat up and started fingering the chain anchoring her to the bed.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve never experienced either so—”

  “Oh, I’m certain you’ve given pleasure to a lot of women.”

  He hoped he had. Most of them had acted like it. “Those times weren’t in the same universe as what happened today.”

  “You didn’t have any sex partners who wanted to fool around with bondage play?”

  If Robert’s intention was to goad him, he was getting into dangerous territory. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you should know it. There’s a big difference between the kind of play I’ve done and forcing something inside someone who can’t stop me.”

  “Yes, there is. So back to my question, what turned you on the most, experimenting with the nipple clamps or hearing her scream in pleasure?”

  His trainee stood and walked as far from the bed as she could. Judging by the way she was looking at the bathroom, he figured she either had to pee or was wishing she could take a shower. After tugging on the chain, she sat on the side of the bed and started running her palms over her breasts. Indentations from the clamps still showed and she was probably working circulation back into her boobs.

  “Are you surprised by what you’re seeing?” Robert asked. “Maybe you thought she wouldn’t have recovered so soon.”

  It depended on what Robert meant by recover. He debated pointing out that she was barely touching herself, but that might lead to a discussion of semantics, something he wasn’t interested in. Besides, he didn’t dare forget that Robert’s job was to judge his competency as a slave trainer. Hell, maybe he should ask, because he sure as hell couldn’t figure himself out.

  “I was turned on,” he admitted. And sometimes disgusted with myself. “There’s something about being able to do anything I want to a subject as long as I don’t damage her.”

  “I’m glad you made that clarification. Damaged goods are worthless to Carnal. Go on.”

  Marina, his slave in training, had slumped over. Wondering if she might be on the brink of passing out, he frowned. Then her right hand left her breast and settled between her legs.

  “I didn’t expect that,” he muttered.

  “Why not?”

  She started to stroke herself, her fingers barely touching still-swollen flesh. “I guess I thought she’d be so disgusted by what I put her through she’d be trying to pretend that part of her didn’t exist.”

  Robert chuckled and sipped. “Long as I’ve been at this job, you’d think I’d understand what makes females tick, but I don’t have a pussy. My conclusion, their brains and clits get all mixed up.”

  Earlier he’d hinted he’d make it impossible for her to differentiate between pain and pleasure. Maybe he should have added that she’d also be unable to distinguish between what her mind needed and her clit wanted and therein lay his greatest power.

  “I don’t think there is a difference in what I experienced during the first session,” he told Robert as he stood up. “I got off on everything I did to her.” Liar.

  The older man smiled. For the first time, his eyes sparkled. “That’s what I wanted to hear. So what’s up next?”

  Once again his attention shifted to the video, where his captive still lightly stroked her sex. Self-doubt no longer concerned him. “Lesson number two.”

  “Pleasure and pain?”

  Think. What’s expected? “Maybe more discomfort and less relief.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “So she understands who’s in charge.” He didn’t add that seeing her pleasuring herself instead of him doing it to her didn’t feel right. She was his. No way did or would she ever have any influence over him.

  She was property, a project, a future paycheck. Hopefully.

  Chapter Ten

  Marina started at the sound of the door opening. When the big man in black entered, she jerked on the ankle chain, followed by cursing herself for letting him see her try to escape. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d watched her, but after what she’d been through, she had to determine if everything down there was still intact. To her surprise, she’d been able to stimulate herself when she thought her sex would be done in. Maybe she could keep her unexpected responsiveness private. That could become her secret, one of very few things he didn’t know about her.

  Maybe.

  “On your knees,” he ordered from his position by the door. “From now on that’s the position you’ll assume every time you see me.”

  Like hell.

  But she was helpless, she reluctantly admitted as she got off the bed. For the time being she had no choice but to submit to his stupid need to dominate her. Then she
allowed herself to acknowledge the paper bag in one hand, a water bottle in the other. Did that mean he’d brought her something to eat?

  “You shouldn’t have taken so long. You’ve left me with no choice. On your knees, slave.”

  Her hackles lifted at the command and she glared at him until she faced facts. What did she think she was going to accomplish without a stitch on and no way of leaving the room? Maybe more to the point, he could starve her.

  Hating herself and him, she sank to her knees on the hard floor.

  “That’s a piss-poor start. Head down with your ass in the air.”

  No way! She was a human being, not some whipped dog.

  “You’re going to regret this.”

  As he walked over to the dresser, she fought the impulse to beg him to forgive her, but pride kept her head up. He deposited the bag and water on the top of the dresser, opened a drawer and selected something. The sight of another leather strap like the one he’d used last night dried her throat and she started to lower her head.

  He slapped the leather against his thigh. “Too late. Get up.”

  Confused, she hurried to her feet. Placing her hands over her crotch did nothing to hide herself from him, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  His mouth twitched and the sober look had returned. “Hands out with the insides of your wrists together.”

  She started shaking as she complied. As he tightened the strap around her wrists and fastened it so her inner wrists touched, she reminded herself that he’d given her the most mind-shattering climax of her life. For several minutes afterward she’d been unaware of the nipple clamps and had barely noticed the rush of circulation when he’d taken them off. He was capable of kindness. He had no intention of damaging her.

  Didn’t he?

  “I haven’t yet spelled out what constitutes acceptable behavior on your part,” he said after letting her arms drop, “but that was on purpose because it’s my responsibility to see if you’d learned anything from our first session.”

  “I did, Master.” Her throat snagged at the last word. “You taught me a great deal.”

  “You aren’t acting like it.” He crouched and unlocked the chain from the bed. “You need to be a quick study.” He straightened, grabbed her forced-together hands and pulled her to the middle of the room. “Maybe because I let you get off you think I’m going to cater to you, but you couldn’t be more wrong.”

  “Master, I understand.”

  When he looked up, she did the same. A chain with a hook at the end hung from the ceiling directly above her. She’d already noted the ring imbedded in the strap. It wouldn’t take any effort on his part to slide the hook through the ring.

  “Master, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to displease you. That wasn’t—”

  “Unfortunately, it’s too late. Lift your arms.”

  Please don’t make me do this. A stern glare from him reinforced what she already knew. Begging for forgiveness wouldn’t get her out of this mess. As, shaking again, she did as he’d commanded, her gaze fixed on the out-of-reach water bottle. Thirst seized her and it was all she could do not to beg.

  Once she was on her toes with her arms stretched overhead, he grabbed them and lifted her off her feet. He hung her from the chain and let go. She dropped just enough that her toes scraped the floor.

  “Master, Master, what are—”

  “No questions. If you want sympathy from me you’d better stop whining.”

  The strain in her arms made her sick to her stomach. He stepped behind her and pushed. Knocked off her feet, she swung out only to swing back toward him. He held her against him with his breath on the back of her neck, then made her swing again.

  “Not a word out of you, understand?” He sounded as if he’d memorized the words. “I’m not angry, but neither am I satisfied with your behavior. If you have any hope of pleasing me, you need to take your punishment.”

  This wasn’t happening. No way could she be here, swaying back and forth with her toes dragging and Master’s hands against her back keeping her going. She was losing feeling in her wrists.

  Fortunately, before long, he left her and turned a lever on the nearest wall. The chain started creaking. She was terrified he intended to hang her even higher. Instead, she settled onto the balls of her feet.

  He returned to her and stroked her back. “What do you say?”

  “Thank you, Master.” The words rasped in her throat.

  Head cocked, he looked at her. “Say it again.”

  Caught between gratitude and the desire to bury her nails in his flesh, she repeated herself.

  “Good,” he said and headed for the dresser again.

  She came close to crying when he returned with the water bottle, and after he’d he removed the lid and held it to her mouth, she swallowed as fast as she could. Master controlled everything about her world.

  “Master, thank you,” she muttered.

  “You’re welcome,” he whispered. “I wish I could believe you understand the meaning of the word ‘master’.”

  Something about his tone caught her attention, but because he was already returning to the dresser she couldn’t see his expression. The room was full of traps and she was a mouse with no way out. Anything she said or did might be wrong. She wouldn’t know until it was too late.

  As Master returned to her with a sandwich he’d taken out of the bag, fresh proof of his power slammed into her. She hated having her arms over her head but at least she could feel her fingers again and stand flat-footed. If that was what he wanted, she had no choice but to stay like this indefinitely. As unsettling as the possibility was, it paled next to knowing she couldn’t do something as basic as feed herself.

  “Let me guess.” He tore off a piece and held it a few inches from her face so she had to lean toward the first food she’d had in more than twenty-four hours. “Right now you want me dead. If you could, you’d take great pleasure in doing it yourself.”

  The thought of him bleeding to death made her shudder. He hadn’t given her permission to speak. Besides, all she cared about was the taste of peanut butter and jelly.

  He waved another piece out of reach. “How would you do it? You grabbed a knife so I’m guessing knives are your weapons of choice. That was a mistake.” He tapped his chest. “Maybe you’re fantasizing about putting a bullet there.” He touched the middle of his forehead. “Or here. Blow out my brains.”

  “No.” She gasped. “I’d never—”

  He held up his hand. “I don’t want you lying to me.”

  “I’m not.” She meant it. “All life has value.”

  He frowned and placed a piece in her mouth. “Even mine?”

  Yes, she nearly told him, but it was too complicated. She chewed and swallowed. “My mother died shortly before I turned three. I have no memory of her. It shouldn’t be like that for anyone.”

  She’d again forgotten to call him master, but judging by his expression, that wasn’t what he was thinking about. If a private detective had been looking into her life, surely Tray knew her father had raised her. Maybe he hadn’t considered that information important enough to hang on to.

  Did he have a family? Maybe a wife and children somewhere?

  No, she told herself as she waited for another bite. This man wouldn’t be here if he was a father. Having children changed people, her father had told her. Babies taught adults the reward of selflessness.

  The longer Tray remained silent, the less sure she was of what he was thinking. She’d be crazy to think he cared about her except in a master-slave way. Just because she couldn’t imagine killing him didn’t mean she wanted anything to do with him—not that she had a choice.

  He finished feeding her in silence then ran his hands all over her, starting with her forearms and ending at her knees. He paid as much attention to her back as he did to her breasts and didn’t make her spread her legs. Maybe he was checking her for injuries, but maybe he intended to keep her off-balance.

 
His touch did things to her she didn’t understand. Of course she wanted to be left alone, to have back ownership of her body. At the same time the enforced intimacy reached her lonely heart. Losing her only parent so young had thrust her into the adult world before she’d been ready. Maybe she could have presented herself to the authorities and gone into foster care, but Dad had been a self-employed ranch hand and she’d been determined to honor his memory. When the couple Dad had been working for had offered her a job, she’d jumped at it. She’d slept in a room in the barn, shared meals with her employers and driven herself to school in Dad’s pickup years before she had a driver’s license. She’d had a few friends and several boyfriends, none of whom had known about her living situation. It hadn’t taken long for her to accept that she was a loner. If that meant spending her life without a partner, so be it. Once she was settled financially she’d find a sperm donor and become a single parent.

  Now, against her will, a man had taken over everything.

  “You need cleaning up,” he announced. He ran his fingers into her pubic hair. “And this gone.”

  She tried to look down at herself, but her breasts were in the way. Wondering how he intended to accomplish that tore her from unimportant thoughts, and she again stared at the man who’d claimed her.

  “Shaved pussies are standard operating procedure around here,” he continued. “Owners insist on being able to see the goods.”

  Again she berated herself for letting her mind get between her and survival. She’d ignored the all-knowing cameras while Master had fed her but as he unhooked her, she wondered who was watching and what those people thought of what was happening. The nudity that made her feel so vulnerable meant nothing to them. She was simply flesh, a marketable product. Not human.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tray lifted his trainee onto a high bathroom counter and reached for the straps below it. He hadn’t removed her wrist restraints, but she tried to cover her pubic area. He spread her legs as wide as they’d go and closed the restraints around her ankles. If he’d wanted, he could have anchored her arms, but it wasn’t as if she was going anywhere.