Accompanying song:

 

 

 

Sebastian’s Library. Providence, Rhode Island – June 2nd, 2013

 

 

Books are always misplaced, and it is one of my biggest pet peeves. How hard is to put the book back where it belongs? It seems my customers can’t actually read the notes on the bookcases, although they do love to borrow my books. Selective reading at its finest.

Annoyed, I rearrange some books until they’re perfectly aligned and in the correct order. As I go down the ladder, fluttering pages catch my eye. Miss Carrigan is skimming through the book I gave her, her face lighting up from the pictures inside. It’s a book about traveling and photography, the two things she loves the most. I picked it for her, because I know she loves these things. But my … how I enjoy watching her when she flips through the pages. It’s like she found love again, only in the pages of a book instead of a man. It’s strange to think that I would be happy seeing her this way. I shouldn’t allow myself to feel this way, but it’s a fight I’ve already lost.

I wonder how I’m going to work my way out of this.

“Wow, look at that!” she says.

“Hmm?” I take a closer look at the picture she’s pointing at.

“There! Oh, isn’t it beautiful?”

“Bali? It sure is.”

“I want to go there.” She looks up at me with sparkling eyes, then her smile slinks as she takes on a more serious face. “Would you take me there, someday?”

I lick my lips. “Well … I could …”

“Please?” She puts up a pout that makes me laugh a little. It’s too cute, I can’t help it, and for a moment, I feel my heart warm up a bit. It scares me.

“Maybe someday,” I say with a courteous nod and a soft smile.

“Oh …” She looks back at the book, biting her lip with a frown on her face. I shouldn’t cling to her happiness so much, but it still gets to me.

“Someday could be close.” I place my hand on her shoulder. “Closer than you think.”

She gazes up at me again with a beaming smile on her face. “All right, I’ll believe you. I’ll trust you to take me there sometime.”

“Trust? That’s a first for you, Miss.”

She gapes at me, a choking sound coming from her throat before she throws her book at me. “That is not true.”

I pick up the book, which has now fallen onto the floor, and place it on the table. “You? Trusting me?” I smirk. “Prove it.”

She blows air from her mouth, rolling her eyes. “What do you want me to do then?” she scoffs.

“Get up.”

With a screeching sound, her chair is scooted back and she folds her arms while standing up.

Still defiant, after everything I’ve done to her. A tiny smile creeps onto my lips. “Close your eyes.”

“What are you―”

“Shh.” I walk circles around her. “Let your hands down and stay still.”

She does what I say, but I can tell that having her arms next to her body and having her eyes closed is making her a little unsure. She’s biting her lip and her eyebrows twitch the moment she hears the sound of my shoes on the wooden floor.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Say it like you mean it,” I growl.

“Yes, Mister Brand. I trust you.”

I stand in front of her and smile cheekily when I don’t see her brows twitch. Her breathing has changed. As if she’s anticipating something but still doesn’t know what, when, or where. And yet, she has this air of aloofness over her that I can’t grasp. It’s like she’s completely given in to whatever comes for her. Complete submission.

Beautiful.

I lean forward and part my lips, letting a streak of hot air pass through them, warming hers up. She gasps, almost breathing twice. My lips are so close that I can almost taste her.

I pull away.

Her chest heaves and she makes a face.

“Why didn’t you―”

“Ah-ah … you’re expecting. Don’t expect, experience.”

“But―”

“If you say another word, I will have to spank you, Miss Carrigan. I don’t care if this is a public place.”

She swallows as her cheeks grow rosy. I circle around her again, admiring her round ass and her perky tits that move up and down as she breathes. Even her silent, motionless body arouses me.

I stop in my tracks behind her and touch the base of her neck with my index finger. Just a single touch makes her shiver. I love the sound she makes when she skips a breath, feeling my finger trail up, setting her skin on fire. She arches her head, allowing me more access. It’s then that I lean into her, open my mouth, and sink my teeth into her flesh.

She gapes and yelps, but it sounds more like a surprised moan.

“Holy shit.”

“Hmm…” I bite down momentarily, before releasing her again. Red marks cover her skin, showing the world where my teeth have been.

“You bit me,” she says, grasping for the bite mark.

“I did.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you trust me.”

“I trusted you to treat me well.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little …”

I move to plant my lips on the bite mark and kiss her. “In a good way?”

She nods slowly.

“Then I have treated you well.” As my lips leave her skin again, I murmur, “And now the world knows you’re mine.”

Suddenly, my phone rings, and it kills the mood. I take out my cell phone and check the number. Shit. I do not want to talk to him right now, but I don’t have any other choice. I walk away from her before I pick it up, making sure she can’t hear a thing.

“Hello?”

“Sebastian?” His voice is crude.

“Yeah?”

There is a certain growling noise emanating from his sigh. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “I will meet you at the club in two hours. You have some explaining to do …”

 

 

Accompanying song:

 

 

 

Providence, Rhode Island – June 2nd, 2013, sundown

 

 

The more at ease I feel in his home, the more awkward it gets.

It’s strange, being okay with what he does. Needing something so violent, so bad. It isn’t in my nature, and yet I can’t think of being anywhere other than in his house right now. Even though I am alone, I have no desire to run. This foolishness of letting my heart be the boss of me is going to be my downfall someday.

In between flipping the page of my book, I check the clock on the wall. It’s already been three hours since Sebastian left. I wonder what he’s doing there, at the library in the meeting room. I’m always curious to find out what he’s got going on up there, but I’m not allowed to join him. Ever. He made that quite clear to me when I tried to go with him last time.

After he got some phone call in the library, he quickly brought me home and went straight back. He was in such a hurry. The unnerved look on his face and his erratic movements were so unlike him. Something must be wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me. So now I’m here, waiting in his home until he comes back.

When I notice a peculiar book lying on his desk, something inside me switches on. The innate need to pull myself back to reality. It almost feels like I’m being called, encouraged by the voice in my head to investigate.

My instinct is usually right on these things, and it tells me to pick it up, so I do. Flipping through the pages, I come across a scene that makes me stop. I read the passage in my head over and over again. A man jerks himself off in the library while a woman watches. My eyes carefully scan the words, my lips quivering as I read the exact same words Sebastian spoke to me. This book describes precisely what happened to me.

In shock, I drop the book on the floor.

A pin button that was stuck in between rolls out. It’s the pin button he always wears.

He normally never leaves this pin button home. Never.

Something’s wrong.

Shaking, I pick up the book and the pin button. The triangle and circle with the G in it always puzzled me, but now even more. From the moment I saw him wearing it, I recognized it, but I still don’t know where from. An urge to search for clues sparks in my head. I can’t ignore this buzzing feeling, so I make my way to his personal office, the one he doesn’t allow me to enter. Against the rules or not, I still go inside.

Swallowing, I turn on the light and take in the room. There are rows and rows of books and a desk at the end, facing the window. With careful steps, I tread toward it and sit down on a chair. I try not to touch anything as I put the book down on the desk and inspect the button. It’s so peculiar; I wonder what it means. I start up his computer. There is a screen that asks for a password. It takes me fifteen minutes to fill in a bunch of random things I know about him, but none of them work. His name, his surname, a bunch of titles of the books lying around here. Nothing.

Sighing, I gaze at an object that’s next to his monitor, some sort of artwork in the form of an apple. I take a chance and type in ‘apple’. It works, strangely.

I open a browser and search for the pin button.

 

‘Circle with triangle inside.’

 

The first link that pops up shocks me so much I almost fall off my chair.

 

‘Occult illuminati symbol.’

 

My heart is racing, but I can’t stop myself from investigating further. Clutching the cashmere sweater Sebastian bought for me, I read the text on the website.

 

The triangle within a circle is an occult symbol for the illuminati, dating back to ancient civilizations. There is often an ‘all-seeing eye’ portrayed inside the triangle, which represents the ability to ‘see’ everything. The symbol is also commonly associated with the freemasons.

 

I sit back in my chair and absorb everything. Jesus. I’ve heard of the illuminati and freemasons before, but I’d never really given it a lot of thought. Now that I’m holding an item in my hand that looks exactly like the descriptions, I’m a bit startled. It sure is far-fetched, but damn, what does it mean? It can’t be real … This has to be some sort of joke.

Before I have a chance to read on, something pops up onto the screen. A program saying a connection has been made to whatever device is attached to the computer. I bend sideways and gaze at the computer. On top is the camera Sebastian gave me.

With furrowed brows, I click on the program and let the files open. Pictures of me appear. The ones he took when he suspended me from the ceiling, fucking me with toys and the like. I still get a hot flash every time I think about it.

Hotness quickly turns to ice as I click through the pictures.

Horrific snapshots of a girl being beaten. Prodded with guns and knives. Cut and bruised. Her body being used like a rag doll. Men who touch her, rip her shirt apart. Tears form in my eyes as I see the pictures flash in front of me, each one worse than the one before. The girl is used and abused, in more ways than one, and it’s all on camera.

My breath falters.

This girl … it’s Ashley.

I can’t breathe.

This camera isn’t new. It was mine all along.