Chapter 3: What the Master Desires

DOMINIQUE’S POV

I sighed in pleasure and wrapped myself in a robe. I’d just finished luxuriating in the first real bath I’d had since my capture, and was just starting to relax a little, when there was another knock at my door. What was it this time, I wondered, glancing at the time. It was midnight. Didn’t anybody ever sleep around here?

"It’s Collins Ma’am, may I come in," he asked, tentatively, "I need to give you a message."

I sighed, and pulled my new robe more tightly around me. It was, I reflected, a lovely garment. Black silk embroidered with tiny white butterflies. I’d had one similar to it at home, before everything happened. The memory sparked a sharp pang of grief within me, and I shed a tear, unbidden, at the reminder of my old life. I would never survive this if I allowed myself to dwell on the past, I thought, just keep going. Do what you have to do to get out of here. And besides, I thought, if I was going to be kept prisoner, at least I was going to do it in style.

"Yes, of course," I replied, once I’d wiped my eyes and pulled myself together, "Come in, Collins."

Collins entered, and lowered his eyes respectfully when he realized what I was wearing. It was a sweet, gentlemanly gesture and it made me smile in spite of the situation.

"It’s ok Collins, I’m not worried," I assured him gently, adding to myself, at least, I’m not worried about you. The Master, or whoever he is, might be a different story, "Come on in. You said that you had a message for me?"

"Yes, it’s Master Griffin," he replied, still avoiding eye contact, "He would like to have a word with you in his study. It’s important, he says, or I would not have disturbed you while you are…" Poor Collins struggled to describe what I was doing. Again, it made me think well of him.

"Getting ready?" I suggested, giving him a smile, "No worries Collins, you’re just doing your job, I understand. Let’s do this. Take me to your boss." I might as well get this over with, I thought, ignoring the way my heart pounded in fear.

I steeled myself. I had been dreading this the moment my captors had placed me on the auction block. But it was time to face facts. If it was sex he was expecting, then so be it. I had never been with a man before. The closest I had ever come to actual physical intimacy with anyone, ever, was a kiss at my sweet sixteen party with a boy whose name I couldn’t even remember. The kiss was ok. Unremarkable. But if sleeping with the Master was what I had to do to stay alive, then that’s what I would do. I was going to survive this, one way or another.

"Are you sure you don’t want to, err, change," Collins asked, seemingly surprised at my willingness to go immediately, "Perhaps you would be more comfortable in something else?"

I could see why he was surprised. Truthfully, I had surprised myself. If anyone had told me a month ago, when my parents were alive and I was still a princess, that I would be getting ready to offer myself to a man I’d never met before in order to keep breathing, I would have told them that they were crazy. But things had changed. I was already a different person than I was a month ago. Maybe that was a good thing. I was still here, and that had to count for something.

"I am, but I thank you for your kindness," I replied with a smile, "I’m ready. Let’s go see what the Master desires of me."Collins blushed, which made me realize my unintended double entendre, but I let the statement stand. I felt unexpectedly bold in the wake of my decision.

As we walked down the long hallway toward what I could only assume was the study Collins referenced, I felt as if I was heading toward the gallows. My heart plummeted to my feet, and I could feel my breathing quicken. I forced myself to take slow, deep breaths. This would not kill me, I silently told myself, you can do this. You are strong. You have survived worse.

Collins rapped on the door, and without waiting for a response, opened it and ushered me in. I entered a room that, to my surprise, could be described as cozy. The room was in darkness, except for the fire that burned in the stone hearth, flames casting a warm glow around the space. The walls were lined with books, stretching all the way to the cathedral ceiling. It was a library of sorts. There was even an old fashioned ladder just like those used at my school for reaching the highest texts.

"Welcome," a voice called from an armchair beside the fire, "Come in, have a seat." The owner of the voice had his back to me, and if I was to see who the voice belonged to, I had to obey. I walked slowly toward the fireplace, my heels making clicking noises on the hardwood floors. Those damned heeled boots were the only footwear I had brought with me, and Collins was still working on getting me more options. They were also the least of my problems, I thought, somewhat frantically.

"Hello," I replied, still trying to make out who I was actually speaking with, "So, it’s nice to meet you?" I didn’t mean to phrase it as a question, but, my nerves got the better of me. My heart began to flutter again, fearing what offending this person, the "Master", might mean. But as I drew closer, I could begin to make out his features in the shadows. And I thought I saw the slightest hint of a smile.

"And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well," he responded, with surprising warmth to his tone, "I’m Griffin. Welcome to my home." He stood, and I finally got a good look at the "Master". My new Alpha. He was tall, standing over six feet. His dark hair combed back revealed his deep emerald eyes, which seemed to glow in the flickering light of the fire. Logically, I thought it must be a trick of the light, but I found myself struck by their intensity nonetheless. I shook my head to clear it. I was there to bargain for my life, I couldn’t afford to get distracted.

"Thank you," I replied, and automatically reached out to shake his hand. As soon as I did it, I blushed, realizing the absurdity of the gesture. I was his slave, not his business associate. I wasn’t even sure what the protocol for that sort of thing might be. But he reached out anyway, and took my hand in his. I was surprised by the flush of warmth I felt at the contact. It was as if every nerve ending in my body, for some reason, came alive at his touch. He broke the contact quickly, as if he had been scalded. I wondered, did he feel something as well?

"Have a seat, please," he said, clearing his throat and gesturing to the chair across from his own, "Would you like a drink? We have wine, vodka, and bourbon. Or I can send Collins out for whatever you prefer."

Ok, I thought, so we were pretending that we were friends. I could do that. And a drink sounded pretty good to me, under the circumstances.

"Whatever you’re having would be great, thank you," I replied, and gestured to the crystal tumbler on the side table next to him, "If it isn’t too much trouble."

He nodded and poured me two fingers of bourbon into a glass, added ice, and passed it to me, carefully avoiding touching me again. I sipped the liquid slowly, enjoying the slow burn, and I wondered idly if that meant I was right, that he had felt what I had felt. Strange. All of this was strange.

'Thank you," I said, and set the glass down on the table, "So, I think it’s best if we get right down to business." There was no point in prolonging this further, I thought. I would give him what he came for, and figure out how to escape later. I stood up, stepped in front of him, and allowed my robe to fall to the floor. I stood naked before him, apart from those wretched stiletto boots, and waited. This was it, I thought, this was what I had to do.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" he growled, reached down to pick up my discarded robe, and roughly draped it over me, "Put this on! What’s the matter with you?"

***

GRIFFIN’S POV

There was only so much temptation a man could withstand. Why on EARTH would she do that, I wondered. Seeing her, alabaster skin glowing, her gorgeous body on display before me, nearly broke my composure entirely.

I had to have her. My body demanded it. I felt myself grow hard, immediately. I wanted to make her c*m. I wanted to f*ck her until she was satiated, limp and satisfied in my arms. My head spun. What was she trying to do to me? It was bad enough that the electricity that seemed to pass between us when I shook her hand had made every nerve ending in my body come alive. I could handle that. I had to handle that. But seeing her, in all of her perfection, naked before me? How was I supposed to be a good man, to protect her, to control myself?

"But I don’t understand," she replied, brow furrowed in confusion, "I mean, you bought me. I’m your slave. I assumed that…" By the Goddess, she assumed that I had bought her to be my sex slave! That thought had never crossed my mind. But it made sense. Of course she thought that. The way they had made her dress. That repulsive auctioneer. She was only doing it because she thought she had to. She thought I was a monster, just like those who had taken her. The thought filled me with horror.

"No, no, not at all," I replied, trying to control the rage I felt at the position she thought she was in, "No, you misunderstand, I didn’t buy you for that. I need… an employee." That sounded weak, even to my own ears, but it was the best I could come up with at the time. I couldn’t tell her that I needed to protect her for reasons even I didn’t understand.

"An employee," she replied incredulously, and looked at me as if I was insane, "So, to recap, you don’t want me for sex. You want me to join your staff?"

"Yes, yes, exactly," I muttered, thinking fast, "I brought you here to ask you, what are your skills? What are you comfortable doing? Can you cook? Sew? Anything like that?" What was wrong with me, I wondered, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen strips naked, offers herself to me, and I turn it into a job interview. Perhaps I was losing my mind. It certainly felt like it.

"I can’t cook," she said slowly, tying the robe around herself and sitting back down, "I never learned how to sew either. I’m well educated, though. I went to some good schools. Maybe I could tutor? Or be a secretary?"

"That might work," I replied brusquely, taking a sip of my drink, "I’ll figure something out. Sounds good. Ok then, we’ll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep, and we’ll find a task for you in the morning. Have a good night." I couldn’t risk being alone with her for a moment longer. The more I spoke the more ridiculous I sounded. At least she would leave knowing that I wasn’t going to force myself on her. That had to be enough for the time being. I would figure the rest out later.