Tender Mercies

Seven


Grace tried to get comfortable, but she couldn’t. The cold, damp stone of the cell made it impossible, and the holes in the blanket kept her from being able to get warm. The faucet over by the wall wouldn’t stop its incessant prattle. Drip. Drip. Drip. The dog whined and scratched at the cell door. She could hear him sniffing from behind the thick, weathered wood. Her blood ran cold.

Not again.

The door opened and Lucas stood there with an evil gleam in his eyes as the dog started sniffing his way over to her like a bloodhound. Then he was trying to get at her naked skin with his tongue through the holes in the blanket. It wasn’t the dog’s fault. Lucas had trained him that way.

Her master just laughed. She’d long ago stopped seeing Lucas as handsome. The permanent coldness in his dark eyes made it impossible to remember what she’d found attractive about him at all.

His features had a statuesque perfection, and that was what he reminded her of. A statue. Cold, emotionless marble that she was incapable of moving toward a humane action with even her most desperate pleas or cries for mercy. He moved with purpose, his heavy shoes thudding over the stone.

Then hands were on her, shaking her. “Wake up.”

The nonsensical words coming out of his mouth, and the even more nonsensical concern in his tone, jolted her out of the dream. Grace looked frantically around her, but she wasn’t in the dungeon. She was in Asher’s bedroom. In Asher’s bed. The bedside lamp was on.

For one terrifying slice of time, she’d thought Asher had been the dream, that she’d woken there, returned back to her real reality. But it had only been a nightmare.

She remembered now how she’d gotten here. After the garden and walking down to the ocean, they’d had dinner on the terrace. When it was time for bed, she’d gone to her room, thinking she’d sleep on the sofa, but he’d guided her to his room instead.

“You sleep with me,” he’d said, his tone possessive.

So that was why she hadn’t had a bed. She should have thought of that option, but the idea he’d actually allow his slave to share his bed had seemed so ludicrous, she hadn’t seriously entertained it. The thrill and novelty of sleeping in a bed with her new master, of this being the permanent plan, had been almost more than she could process. But he hadn’t moved to touch her, and she’d drifted into a troubled sleep, worried she’d said or done something wrong, that he was somehow displeased with her. Those fears had translated into other, more awful things in sleep. Even though he swore he’d never return her to Lucas, the fear still lingered that she might prove a large enough disappointment in the end to get taken back.

“Grace, are you all right? Your cries woke me.” In the darkness she couldn’t see his face to gauge if he was angry or irritated with her for waking him.

“This . . . I . . . I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry.” Having just come out of the nightmare, she was still on the defensive. She held her hands up protectively, though she knew it was a weak and pointless attempt.

He gathered her in his arms. “Shhhh. You can’t help what you do in your sleep.” Then he chuckled. “Though if you make it a habit to hit me at night while pretending you were dreaming, we’ll have an issue.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. “I . . . I hit you?”

“You’ve got quite a right hook.”

She flinched and tried to pull away.

“Stop struggling, kitten.” His voice was low, the tone she was starting to think of as his master voice, the tone that meant business and instantly brought her compliance. She went slack in his arms, listening to her heart still pounding too fast in her chest, as if it were claustrophobic right now, too.

His hand went to her hair, petting her as if she actually were a kitten. “Was the nightmare about Lucas?”

“Yes, Master.”

He cursed.

“Please don’t make me tell you. It was bad enough dreaming it.”

He’d pulled her down next to him, pressing his warm body against hers, spooning her. His erection pressed against her back.

A terrifying thought stole into her mind. Surely if he were decent, if he were the good master she’d invented in her head, he wouldn’t have a hard-on right now. Even if he’d woken with one, seeing her in so much pain and distress should have made him go limp. Shouldn’t it? She shuddered against him, and then she asked the question out loud, afraid to hear the answer, and equally afraid she’d be punished for asking it, but unable to stop herself.

“Does my fear turn you on?”

His mouth was next to her ear, his voice a low growl. “It does. That scares you more, doesn’t it?”

The only answer she could manage was a whimper.

“Don’t worry. That’s not the only thing about you that turns me on. Your delicate features and long golden hair turn me on. Feeling your naked body pressed against mine turns me on. Your vulnerability. Your desperation to please me. Your quick obedience. Your gratitude for the things I give you. You don’t have to worry your fear is my only trigger. It isn’t.”

But it is a trigger, she thought, trying not to hyperventilate in his embrace.

Her question seemed to have only aroused him more. She tensed for a moment when his mouth found the pulse in her throat and he started to suck and nibble on the tender flesh there.

“We can deny what we are, but it won’t go away. No matter what happens, your body responds to what it responds to. As does mine.”

He wasn’t wrong. If her fear turned him on, maybe, as wrong as it was, it turned her on a little as well, because her body was begging for his to come fill her. Her moisture was dripping out of her, and with the way they were cuddled and wrapped together, she knew in a few moments he would know as well.

Asher’s hand moved around the front of her, dipping between her legs. Without conscious thought, she opened for him, giving him the access to her body that he wanted.

“You and I are both going to come tonight. I’m going to be kind. You can decide whether it’s mouths, hands, toys, or my cock inside you that gets the job done.”

She bit her lip as his fingers continued to massage and rub the folds of her sex, avoiding her * until he was ready to give her more. She tried to think. Even though her body wanted him, everything was scary right now. But hands, they’d been there already. At least for her.

“Hands,” she whispered. He was silent for a moment, and immediately she regretted the choice. Maybe he was disappointed in her and had expected some greater effort on her part. Something more imaginative. But surely he must understand, even being able to stand being touched by anyone was a huge feat, given that twenty-four hours ago she’d still been living the nightmare with Lucas.

“Fortune favors the brave, my dear. I suppose you’ll have to wait to learn what my tongue can do.”

She shivered at his words. He was disappointed. Well, what did he expect? Did he really expect her to be excited and eager after what she’d been through? She was grateful to him and wanted to please him, but too much of her was at war. She was afraid she’d never be able to fully give him what he wanted. And she really did want to give him everything. Between Lucas and her lingering fears about Asher and what kind of temper he might unleash on her, she just froze up.

He stopped touching between her legs when she went stiff. His hand instead went to stroking her belly. “Grace, listen to me. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to feel any particular thing about any of this. So stop fighting with yourself. All of this is out of your control. I am taking what’s mine, but you can keep your heart. For now. You don’t have to give me everything, just your body. When your body trusts me, your mind will follow. Now, open.”

When his hand had moved away from her p-ssy, she’d closed her legs back together, as if in doing so she could protect those parts of herself from further exploration. Now, on his command, she opened them again, her body even more excited than before, and her brain more confused and upset by that fact. But he wasn’t asking for her brain, just the part that had betrayed her in its willingness to comply.

She thought about all those times she’d wanted to separate and hover above while Lucas did the things he did, and now she wished she could do it for a different reason. She was scared of feeling too much pleasure with Asher, in coming to count on it and believe in it. She knew he was right. Once her body belonged fully to him, her soul, heart, mind . . . they would obediently follow behind like little soldiers. And what if it was a bad choice again? But she didn’t have a choice here. He’d spelled that out clearly. Whatever happened, it wouldn’t be her fault.

She hadn’t hopped on a plane to go to Asher’s home voluntarily. She’d been bought and brought here. Her choices were only to obey or be punished. It didn’t make her bad if she wanted pleasure instead of pain, right? Her body lurched when two fingers tunneled inside her. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts and rationalizations that he’d taken her by surprise. His other hand was busy memorizing her body, running the planes of her face, over her hair, her breasts, her belly, her thighs. The fingers inside her started to pump in and out with greater intensity.

“You’re so responsive. I like that.”

His voice was so musical, like the pied piper leading her over a cliff. There was a time when, if she could have pictured this scene and all the horror of the past few months, she would have imagined fighting back, not just giving in like this. What he was doing to her body, however, felt so good. After feeling so bad for so long, she greedily lapped up the pleasure that was on offer. Never had a tactical invasion of fingers felt so comforting and welcome, and never had a sexual advance created so much turmoil and confusion.

“This body knows who your master is,” he growled in her ear, which only made her wetter. He sat in front of her, the fingers of one hand still moving inside her while the palm of his other pressed against her *, grinding against the swollen bit of flesh that was so hungry to be touched, harder, faster, forever.

“Be a good little slut and come for me now.”

That word. Slut. It should have killed her response, but rolling off his tongue, the word only excited her more. It wasn’t abuse. It was endearment. Though she was still afraid, he was taking control of her and taking away bits of uncertainty with each small demand. She fell back into the pattern she’d learned over eight months. Obedience without thought. Her body opened further to him, her cunt clenching around his fingers as she came.

She was panting, trying to come back to earth when his voice once again pierced the silence of the room. “Good girl. Now return the favor.”

Asher’s cock was the hardest she’d seen it. His hand moved possessively around the back of her neck, forcing her head up so her eyes met his. “You see, your fear isn’t the only thing that makes me hard. Touch me.”

Her tongue darted out to slide over her lower lip in an unconscious, nervous gesture. She reached tentatively to stroke the soft flesh, not at all sure about hands. Lucas had used her cunt, her mouth, and her ass, but he’d never had the patience for hand jobs. She wasn’t sure if she was bad at it, or if he just hadn’t liked them in general. But now she was paranoid it was the former.

She leaned forward, her hair falling across him as her mouth got closer to his cock.

“Now, kitten, let’s not change the rules of the game midstream. That’s very unfair. You said hands. I followed the rules. So will you.”

Her eyes shot up to his, afraid to see anger, but instead finding mirth. She let out the breath she’d been holding and wrapped her hand around him and started pumping. Don’t be so stupid. You’ve given a hand job before.

Asher leaned against the pillows and let out a hiss. “Exactly like that. Harder.”

He seemed so close already that she didn’t bother teasing, afraid he’d find it more annoying than pleasurable right now. A few minutes later he released over her hand and his stomach. She stared at it for a moment, unsure.

“Well? What do kittens do with cream?”

Her eyes widened for a split second before she licked her hand clean. Then she turned her attention to his belly and lapped up the warm, salty liquid from his toned stomach. He stroked her hair while she ran her tongue over him.

When she’d finished, he flicked the lamp off and went back to petting her hair as he held her against his chest. “Go back to sleep now.”

Within minutes she drifted off. The rest of the night, her dreams were unmolested by Lucas and instead filled with her master’s voice and hands. And images of playing kittens.

***

Asher woke to find Grace still lying across him, just as she’d been the night before. He’d assumed they both would have tossed and turned in their sleep, but if they had, they’d ended up together again by morning. Her hair splayed across him, and he found himself wanting to run his fingers through it again, but he resisted the urge. She looked so peaceful, he didn’t want to wake her.

He carefully shifted her to the pillows and put a robe on, then slipped from the room. When he reached the kitchen, William had already started breakfast. The butler glared up at him.

“Oh, God, William. Are we back to that again? I thought we’d had this discussion.”

William turned away and went back to scrambling the eggs and flipping the bacon. “Will Grace be dining with us?”

“She’s still sleeping. And she won’t be eating at the table. I’m starting her training today.”

The butler started scrambling the eggs more vigorously. Finally, his ability to hold his tongue broke. “With all due respect, sir, I don’t believe it’s wise to train her like Darcy.”

“Why not?”

“Treating her like an animal after what she’s been through is just––”

“Stop right there. You say it like I’m going to keep her chained up and in a little crate. She’s going to be treated more like a beloved pet. And it won’t be all the time, anyway. Not like I’m going to make her meow or never let her do human things. She’s going to garden and cook. Do cats do those things? Besides, I’m curious to see how this will go. With Darcy it was all a game. A fun game, most definitely, but Grace brings a different . . . flavor to things.”

William scraped the eggs onto the plate, added bacon, and poured a glass of juice. He placed the food on the table and left the room, his final opinion on the matter delivered without words. Asher sighed. William had always been so loyal, and now it was a constant struggle with him. Apparently this house couldn’t be run without at least one mouthy brat in it.

His cock twitched in his pants as he thought about Grace lying in his bed upstairs. His frightened little kitten. He was still appalled by the things Lucas had done to her, and yet the resulting effect was nothing less than spectacular.

He tried to ignore the voice in his head that told him he never could have trained a woman to be this way himself. He wasn’t a hard enough master, although he found himself being more firm with Grace. She called something deep inside him that even he hadn’t been aware of. He’d always known his own nature, but the nuance his newest slave called forth was at times both baffling and scary.

It was hard not to compare the two women. They were so different. One dark. One fair. One playful and disrespectful, the other so utterly broken that it caused both his chest and his pants to tighten for contradictory reasons.

Each time he found a way in which Darcy was lacking but Grace excelled, he felt guiltier. As if he were betraying his former pet’s memory. He’d loved Darcy. More than life. Yet Grace stirred him out of his preoccupations with the past.

He finished his breakfast and made a list of exactly what he wanted to do with his pet for the day. Her first day had gone better than he’d expected. He’d decided being weak with her would be a greater mistake than being weak with Darcy had been. He was sure at least this time it wouldn’t end in anyone’s death.

Asher let her sleep for a couple more hours then climbed the stairs, wondering where she was. He found her in his bed, sitting against the headboard.

“How long have you been awake?”

“An hour,” she said. She’d wrapped herself in the blankets, shielding her nudity.

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“Yes, Master.”

It hurt his heart to think she’d been sitting in his room, scared to leave or do anything without direct permission. If he’d just left her to come downstairs when she felt like it, she might have spent the whole day in the room. Though at some point William or he would have sought her out and at least fed her.

“You’re allowed to leave this room, kitten. No one is locking you in. You need to stay on the property so someone doesn’t try to run off with you, but you can go outside and down to the beach or the garden. And in a few days I’ll take you out somewhere.”

She tensed at that, and he remembered. The only times she’d been out with her former master had been when he’d paraded her around naked at those showings or when he just wanted to go to a club and show her off.

Asher opened the drawer in the bedside table and retrieved a platinum collar. The collar had Property of Asher Collins engraved in heavy block letters around it. He locked it around her throat.

***

Grace sat perfectly still, barely breathing as he slipped the collar around her neck and the lock clicked into place. She’d caught a glimpse of the engraved letters. She’d never had a real collar before. She hadn’t known she was missing something until she’d seen other slaves wearing them when Lucas took her out. Sometimes he’d put a collar on her simply so he could attach a leash, but it had been black leather and buckled in place. It didn’t lock. Not like this one.

Other girls had platinum bands locked around their throats, and Grace had felt somehow that, right or wrong, not having one of those platinum bands with her owner’s name engraved on it was some sort of mark of shame, telling the world she was bad. As if Lucas didn’t want to truly lay claim to her and didn’t want others to know who she belonged to.

That desire had been mutual. She had never been proud to be owned by Lucas. She’d mostly just been afraid and hoping for it to somehow end, but still, she’d looked at those other slaves with their expensive collars and she felt they must have something better. Something she didn’t have and would never have.

Now one of those collars was locked securely around her neck with Asher’s name on it. Her fingers moved tentatively to run over the smooth metal and engraved lettering. “Thank you, Master.”

“I should have put it on you yesterday, but there were so many other things going on. Would you like to talk to your friend before breakfast?”

She looked up at him. Did he mean Lainey?

“The one you spoke with yesterday on the computer.”

Grace wasn’t sure if she wanted to talk to Lainey or not. She felt bad that her friend had worried and mourned, but all further communication would bring were questions and more questions. Questions she didn’t want to answer now. Or ever. Like what Lucas had done to her. And questions she didn’t yet know how to answer. Like was Asher good to her.

He was good to her right now, but it had only been twenty-four hours. She couldn’t bring herself to be that stupid, naïve girl again. Yet, at the same time, she wanted to lap up every good thing he gave her in case it all disappeared.

She flushed, thinking of the night before, waking from the nightmare and then what had happened after. Her p-ssy ached as she thought about his hands and what they could make her feel. How they could help her lose herself.

“Grace, I asked you a question. Would you like to speak with Lainey?”

She shook her head. “No, Master.”

“Why not?”

“Too many questions.”

He nodded with an understanding look on his face, and she thought the matter was dropped. But it wasn’t. He pulled out his phone. “I want you to call her. What’s the number?”

Grace shook her head furiously, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t make me call her. I can’t. Please . . . I don’t want to . . .”

“This house is not a democracy. What’s the number?”

She recited the numbers, resenting him as each word passed through her lips. Why was he doing this to her? If he was really good and she wanted space and to be left alone, then why . . .

His eyes narrowed as if he could read the thoughts playing through her mind. “After you get through, we’re going to talk. Here, it’s ringing.” He passed the phone to her.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Lainey?”

“Grace! Is that really you?” Her friend practically shrieked over the phone. “I wasn’t totally sure it was you on the computer. I mean he could have had your account information and logged on for some reason and . . .”

Grace just listened as the babbling on the other end of the phone continued, the tears streaming down her face.

“Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you really okay? I don’t like that you’re there.”

“Just stop. Please. Jesus. I’ve been through hell and here you are babbling on and on. I know it was hard on you, but shit. It was harder on me. You have no idea what I’ve been through. You’ll never know or be able to understand. Talking to you is like talking to a stranger.”

“Then why the f*ck did you call?”

“He made me.” She looked up to see Asher leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, not looking happy at all. She closed the phone, unable to take it any longer. His glare on her and Lainey’s voice in her ear. She just wanted to go into a dark, quiet, place. Even Lucas’s dungeon––without him in it––seemed better than this, where there was too much attention and too many demands.

Asher pushed himself off the wall and came toward her. Immediately instinct kicked in and she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Why did you hang up on her?”

“Please, Master. This slave . . . she can’t . . . she can’t . . .” So stupid. Why did I do that? It was just a phone call. It wasn’t one of the hundreds of awful things Lucas had done to her. How could she have been so stupid? And now what? From the anger radiating off him, she just knew his mercy was at an end. How could she allow herself to disappoint him so much in the space of only a day?

He must be regretting buying her. That thought made the bottom of her stomach drop out. He’d been so . . . decent to her. And she was throwing tantrums? It was just too much. Surely he must understand. If he knew what she’d been through, even a little of it, he had to understand. But she’d never done this shit with Lucas. Not once. She was too terrified of him to do anything but beg and obey. Somehow Asher deserved less than Lucas now?

“Don’t move.” He left and she stayed where she was, imagining all the horrible things that could happen next. If it had been Lucas, her thoughts would have been only about what she would have to endure. But with Asher, the biggest thought on her mind was how she’d disappointed him. And how much she wanted to obey. He returned several minutes later.

“Master, I’m sorry. I’m trying. I’m a bad slave, you must be so disappointed. I don’t know why I can’t . . .”

“Shhh.” He sat on the floor beside her and lifted her chin. “Sit up. I want you to eat something.” He gave her a banana and a hard-boiled egg that must have been sitting in the fridge overnight. And some juice.

“I don’t deserve . . . ”

“I take care of what’s mine. Remember? I’m not having you missing meals. You’ll get sick. Eat.” When she started to eat, he got up and crossed the hall to her room. She looked up when he came back to see he had a brush in his hand. Grace couldn’t stop the little shudder, as if he might beat her with it. Instead he sat behind her and brushed her hair while she ate.

“I understand this is all hard for you. Whatever I tell you to do, I expect you to do. I will punish you, and eventually punishments will involve a cane. But not today. Don’t try my patience, Grace. I won’t ever allow myself to be weak with you. If you start to view my mercy as weakness, then we’re going to have a serious problem. And I don’t want to cause you further damage, do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” Every time he said something like this she just felt worse. Like such an ingrate. If this was real . . . if she could manage not to do anything to sway him away from the way he was being with her, she owed him everything. And she was disobeying him left and right already.

“I know I’m pushing hard with your friend, but I want you to have your friendship back. I insist on it.”

By this time she’d finished her breakfast and he’d stopped brushing. “Go stand in the corner.”

He helped her to her feet and she moved to where he’d pointed, fighting the tremble in her body as she went, wondering what was coming next. She stood, tensed for a few minutes, waiting for . . . something. But whatever she’d thought was coming never arrived.

“Don’t move from that spot. I want you to spend this time thinking. I’ll come get you when it’s time for lunch. We’ll talk further about the rules in this house at that time.”