Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What the fuck had I agreed to? I asked myself for the thousandth time since Scar had made her request. Three days had passed since then, and I felt no better about it now than I had then. She’d said it was what she needed, but could I do it? I’d told her I would do whatever it took for her to heal, but could I go through with this?

The most fucked up part of it was I knew the answer. As much as I hated myself for it, I knew. I would never stop hungering for it—for her. I craved her submission like an addict. Scar, offering herself up—it was the most potent drug on earth.

I crossed lanes and took the exit off the highway. Twenty-three minutes—less than half an hour, and I’ve had to make good on my agreement. Already I’d noticed a change in her. She’d still slept a lot the past three days, but when she was awake, it was as if more of her was awake than had been before. She was still content to lay in my arms as I rambled on about shit—most of which I’d never told another living soul—but she asked questions now and then, and even injected a few thoughts of her own.

When I’d found her in that basement, I’d feared that even if she healed physically, she would never fully come back from the dark place those fuckers had taken her. But I’d known she was strong, that she would find a way. I’d just never imagined this would be the way.

I glanced over at her sleeping form, her lips slightly parted and her features relaxed. Inside and out, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever known. I would never stop craving her, but right now, after all, that had happened to her, what I was about to do was going to be the most difficult thing I’d ever done. Difficult, not only because of what they’d done to her but because part of me was going to enjoy it.

The streets flew by without my notice. I was on auto-pilot. It had been months since I’d been back here, but I would have been able to make the trip with my eyes closed. It was home, far-removed from everything else in the world. No one else had ever been there because I hadn’t wanted them to taint it. But Scar, she belonged there. Our home.

Fuck, that was some sappy shit, but there it was.

I made a quick stop at the post office and then, precisely twenty-three minutes after pulling off the highway, I slowed as I approached the gates. A retinal scan and 12-digit code later, the gate opened and I put my hand on Scar’s shoulder to wake her.

Her eyes fluttered open and then went wide in fear, but she became aware faster than before and she turned to look at me. I smiled and then nodded ahead of us, then drove slowly up the winding drive. Her eyes went wide in astonishment, not fear this time, and I bit back a grin. Yeah, she was impressed. Two storeys of stone and glass—a five-thousand square foot escape from my everyday life. It was small in comparison to Marcos’ home, but it was perfect for me.

We reached the top of the drive, and she was still staring wide-eyed at the house. The property surrounding it wasn’t much to look at—rock and stone and self-sustaining shrubs. Allowing no one else here meant I didn’t employ landscapers, and I wasn’t exactly the gardener type. It was tidy though and serene.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed finally.

“It’s ours…unless you want to tear it down and build something from scratch.” It seemed like a waste of a house, but if that’s what it took for her to feel comfortable here, I’d do it.

“Of course not,” she said, though her countenance had changed.

She was nervous. A new place. More unknowns. Maybe I should have insisted we stay at the hotel longer. Since it was too late for that, I slid out of the car and came around to help her out. Her ribs were healing, but the seats were lower than the bed height she’d had to manage at the hotel.

She wrapped her arms around me as I slid my hands beneath her arms to help her up, but once on her feet, she didn’t let go. She was breathing faster and I could feel the pounding of her heart against my chest.

“I know it’s ridiculous, it’s just…” she started to explain.

“It’s new and different, and it’s already hard enough to deal with things you are accustomed to,” I finished for her. She knew my history now. She didn’t have to wonder how I could relate.

She nodded against my chest, and it only took a minute for her breathing to return to normal. When it did, I took her hand and led her up the front steps. She was intrigued by the retinal and fingerprint security checks at the door, and hopefully, it would help to reassure her nothing was getting in without my permission.

And then we were inside, and I was closing the door and re-engaging the security system. Clutching tight to my hand, she gazed around in wonder. Marble and granite, leather and crystal, the décor were extravagant, and the open floor plan, even more of a wonder to behold—not nearly as magnificent as the woman standing next to me though.

This was it. She was here—in a place I could never have imagined she would be a few short months ago. But I knew what came next—what I’d agreed would come once we were here. A part of me hoped she’d forgotten or changed her mind. Another part of me very much hoped she hadn’t.

“I know what I asked, but I don’t know how…or what I should do.”

Well, she hadn’t forgotten.

This part should have been simple. A master controls while a submissive submits. I wasn’t exactly unfamiliar with the premise. But I’d had some time to think this over the past three days, and if I was going to go through with this, I wanted a few modifications to the typical structure—whether she liked it or not.

“I’m going to take you on a tour of the house, and then we’re going to discuss the ground rules.”

“Rules?”

“Tour first, then rules.”

I kept the tour brief—she’d have plenty of time to get acquainted with the house—and I deliberately concluded the tour in the sunken den at the far side of the house.

“All right, Scar, this room is my first ground rule. And it’s non-negotiable. In this room, you’re Scarlett Donovan. You say what you think and you do only what you want. Understand?”

“I don’t…”

“Consider it a rhetorical question, Pet. Like I said, it’s not negotiable. You will spend time in this room every day. When and how much time is up to me.”

She nodded, though her teeth had clasped onto her bottom lip and she worried the plush flesh.

“Outside this room, you will make every effort to obey me. Until your ribs have healed, you will inform me if you are physically not able to comply.”

She didn’t even try to argue me this time. She nodded and continued to toy with her lip.

That was it. There was just one more thing.

“This is what you want, Scar?” I needed to hear her say it.

“Yes, this is my choice.”

There was no more putting this off unless I intended to back out like a pussy—and that wasn’t what Scar needed.

“Do you remember the way to the master bedroom?”

She nodded, and I waited patiently for her to remember her training and answer me verbally. “Yes, I do, M-master,” she whispered.

“I want you to walk there now. Sit down on the edge of the bed and wait for me.” I had packages to collect from the car, and a chance to collect my thoughts wasn’t the worst idea.

When I opened the bedroom door a few minutes later, she was sitting perched t the edge of the bed like I’d told her. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. She looked up at me uncertainly, then to the ground in front of her, and back up at me.

Fuck. She was trying to figure out whether she should kneel, and the heat that shot through me had no business being there. This was for her—I wasn’t fucking supposed to be getting off on it.

I walked to the bed and deposited the parcels and bag on the floor before pulling out the tube of cream. Whatever the hell it was, the cream was amazing. After just a few days, the wound on her cheek had gotten smaller and the edges were beginning to resemble the smooth skin on the rest of her face. She’d be beautiful no matter what, but I was glad she wouldn’t be left with permanent scars as a constant reminder.

“Take off your clothes and lay down on your stomach, Pet.” This was a good place to start. She’d gotten accustomed to me touching her to apply the cream, and though I’d never made her strip down for it, she hadn’t objected to me helping her to shower. I ignored the way my cock twitched when she stood to obey me.

I watched as she stripped. Her fingers shook almost imperceptibly, but she didn’t hesitate. The war in my head surged out of control as she exposed creamy flesh. She was too thin. She’d only gained back a small portion of the weight she’d lost and I could see every rib. But I could also see perfectly shaped breasts, curvy hips and long, lithe legs. All of her perfection was marred by fading bruises and cuts, but perfect nonetheless.

Without looking at me, she climbed up on the bed and laid down on her stomach. I started at her feet, gazing upward over calves and thighs, the rounded curve of her ass. I wanted to fuck her, and I wanted to beat the shit out of me for wanting it. The proof of what she’d been through was right there, so how the hell could looking at her still be making me hard as rock?

Feeling like scum, I sat down beside her and started at her neck, rubbing the cream like she was used to me doing. Her muscles relaxed beneath my fingers but as I rubbed the cream into the deep lash marks where the curve of her ass met her thighs, her muscles began to tense. I’d been applying the cream between her legs at the hotel, but always under the covers. She knew I would see her now and it was already making her breathing come quicker, in panic, not in the anticipation of pleasure.

“Open your legs,” I said because the asshole in me knew she needed to push past this. She wanted to submit—it had been her choice—and that meant offering up every part of her, knowing that it pleased her master—that she was pleasing to her master.

She hesitated this time, but slowly she complied, and when she did, I knew I had to pull myself together. The war in my head—wanting her desperately while hating myself for it—was going to fuck this up. She wanted this, and I’d agreed to it. It was time to man the fuck up and do this right—either all the way or not at all.

“Wider, Pet. I want to see your beautiful pussy.”

Without a sound, she obeyed, though her breathing was still coming too fast.

Blocking out the image of the last time she’d been open to me on Vicente’s god damn exam table, I looked at her. The wounds had almost completely healed. She was…beautiful. Perfect. And so fucking sexy. I rubbed the cream along her slit where it was needed, but damn, I was loath to stop.

So, I didn’t. I ran my fingers along her soft lips and brushed across her clit. Her body jerked in response as a tiny moan escaped her, and it was all I could do to not bury myself balls-deep inside her. Patience was a virtue I was short on at the moment, but I’d wait. For now. I would have her again though—and soon.

“I’m going to make us lunch.” And maybe grab an ice cold shower. “I want you to look through the top box in the stack I’ve brought and choose something to wear. You’re to be on your knees at the end of the bed by the time I return, Pet. Use a pillow for cushioning.”

“Yes, Master,” she breathed and rolled onto her side to get up.

I left then and hightailed it to the kitchen. There were only non-perishable foods in the house at the moment, but that would do for now. And really, who could give a fuck about food when there was a woman like Scar on her knees in the bedroom upstairs?

And when I returned to the room ten minutes later, that was precisely the sight that greeted me. I’d ordered several nightgowns the day I’d agreed to this arrangement, and the one she wore now was semi-transparent. It scooped low in the front but sat high on her back, and came to just above mid-thigh. With her on her knees now, thighs parted, the see-through fabric draped like a veil over her pussy. Her head was tilted down and her hands rested on her thighs. The perfect submissive pose. Damn.

Arousal, rage, need and anguish coursed through me, but in that second when they all collided, it struck me all at once and Scar suddenly made sense. I’d been struggling to understand why she’d asked me for this—how she could possibly want this. Looking at her kneeling so perfectly, I finally got it.

My time with her before had shown me clearly that—at least sexually—she was a submissive. It hadn’t been just an act to avoid punishment. She wanted to be dominated, maybe even needed it as much as I needed to dominate. Those needs were in our blood, no matter what fucked up shit life dealt us. She also liked the way pain enhanced her pleasure.

After the hell she’d been through though, she needed this. Not just new memories to drown out the old, but the chance to reaffirm for herself through what happened here that the things that brought her pleasure were OK. And it would all be by her own choosing this time.

This had been her choice, but now it was mine, too. She was mine. Now. Forever. Mine.

“Touch yourself, Pet,” I said as I put the tray I’d brought down on the bed.

Her eyes peered up through her lashes, but she kept her head tilted down at the floor, and her small hand came up to cup her breast. The firm flesh spilt over her fingers, making my fingers itch to cup her in my own hands where she fit so well.

It took a minute, but eventually, she relaxed enough to graze her thumb over her nipple. It pebbled beneath her touch, and her lips parted on a sigh as she moved her thumb back and forth.

“Use your other hand on your pussy. Lean back against the bed if it puts too much strain on your ribs.”

Her obedience came quicker this time, though her hands still trembled. I unzipped my fly as her fingers slipped through her silken folds. By the time she settled over her clit, I had my cock out. I pumped it slowly, a foot away from her face. I could see her trying to peak up at me through her lashes, but she kept her head tilted down like she knew she was supposed to. Her fingers moved slowly, rubbing in a circular motion while her other hand continued to knead one breast and then the other.

It was clear by the flush of her skin and the quiet sounds she made, she was aroused, but it was coming slower than it used to for her.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Pet.”

“I’m thinking this is different, Master. That I want this, but…”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and I could feel what it was she needed. It was strange to be so in tune with another person. It was a master’s responsibility to know a slave well, but this was different. It was more. And it was how I knew she needed more of her senses engaged to get higher, to get to the place where her body would take over.

“Look at me,” I demanded.

Heat flared in her eyes as her gaze traveled upward, lingering briefly on my cock, inches from her lips.

“Breathe in deep. What do you smell?”

She breathed in obediently, and the heat in her eyes grew a little brighter. “I smell you, Masterman, and musk, and…salt. And…and me.”

I leaned down and slipped my middle finger inside her, but I withdrew and stood a second later. With my index finger, I gathered the drop of precum that beaded on the tip of my cock, and then slid both fingers into her mouth. She sucked them in deeper and I could feel her tongue licking us off of me. I stifled a grown.

Her fingers had picked up their pace on her clit by the time I withdrew and a moan escaped her lips.

“What do you taste?”

“Sex, Master. Lust. Us.”

Fuck, even her word choices were sexy. I gripped my cock and thrust into my hand. It was a poor substitute for the tight sheath I wanted wrapped around me, but this was as far as it would go today. Yet, there was something seductively kinky about the current scene. I’d never masturbated in front of a woman while watching her bring herself to orgasm.

Her lips were parted as if she was waiting, ready for me to shove my cock between them and pry them open further. So fucking tempting, and I imagined her lips wrapping around me as I thrust into my hand.

Her eyes were alight now, and I could see the fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Her breasts rose and fell with every heavy breath, and her quiet, breathy moans had grown louder, reverberating inside my head and shooting pulses of heat to the base of my spine.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Pet.”

“I want your cock, Master. I want to taste you, and feel you inside me.”

It had been stupid of me to ask because it was just too fucking much. Thank fuck she was almost there. Her pace was frantic, and her fingers weren’t just grazing her nipple now; they were pinching, squeezing harder every second. Her back arched and her whole body tensed as she cried out. It sent me over the edge fast, and I groaned through my own orgasm as I spurted white ribbons of cum across her satin-covered tits.

As I tucked myself back into my pants, I kept my eyes on her—not for any particular reason other than I didn’t want to stop looking at her. Her skin still flushed from her orgasm, and her lips still slightly parted as her breathing slowed to something that resembled normal—I could look at her forever.

Unfortunately, she was due for medicine, and it only seemed polite to help her into another nightgown after coming all over the one she had on.

“Stand up.”

She rose to her feet slowly. Her movements were still stilted and she clutched the end of the bed to keep pressure off her ribs, but she didn’t grimace in pain.

Since the nightgown had some stretch to it, I slipped the straps off her shoulders and then kissed a trail down the valley of her breasts as I slid it down below them. Pulling the fabric down lower, I followed it down her ribs and abdomen. Her breathing sped up again, but as I slid the gown over her lips and it fell to the floor, I veered off on a path to her hip and she let out a tiny, frustrated grown.

“Something wrong, Pet?”

“N-no, Master,” she replied, but I could see her fingers flexing at her sides. She was itching to try to move me back where she wanted me.

“Good then,” I said, springing to my feet with a cocky grin. Tease and frustrate—I was good at that game.

I helped her into a fresh nightgown and then retrieved the pills and a bottle of water from the untouched tray. “You need your medicine.”

“I…” she started, but then stopped.

“What is it?”

“I don’t want them, Master. They make my head cloudy.”

“And is it up to you whether you swallow this?” I held one out in my hand.

“No, Master.”

I didn’t want her to be in pain, but I could well remember my own aversion to the painkillers. They’d made my head feel like it was stuffed full of fucking cotton balls.

“You will tell me if the pain increases enough that you become more than uncomfortable.”

“Yes, Master.”

I dropped the pill back in the bottle and set them on the night table. I’d kept them hidden at first, afraid she’d be tempted to down a whole bottle during those first few days. I didn’t worry about that now.

“Sit on the bed with your back against the headboard. You need to eat, but I don’t want you getting up and down more than necessary yet.”

There’s no way to explain what it’s like to feed someone—to hold their very sustenance in your hands. It was enough to make me heady as I slipped the food between her lips and she pulled it off gently, careful not to dig in or scrape me with her teeth. This wasn’t something I would be able to do with Scar forever. Soon, she wouldn’t need me as her master to make her way in the world. Where the fuck I fit in once that happened, I had no idea. But for now, I savored her lips taking the food from my fingers. Hell, I fucking loved it.