Chapter Nine

 

“You know I don’t like that word here, Tamara.”

Heller leaned against the front of his desk, a cut tumbler with a couple of fingers of single malt swirling within it, his fingertips dangling the glass between his thighs by the rim only.

“I know, sir. But… I can’t.”

“You know I’m going to ask you why. I’d ask even if I wasn’t inclined to deny your request.”

I looked up at him from my customary position, on my knees before his great desk. His height was almost Olympian from that perspective, something I had no doubt the stern man took great pleasure in.

“I-I don’t think he needs a guide anymore. He’s been here before. He knows his way around — right?”

Heller’s dark brow arched. “I don’t know. Does he? That was supposed to be your job to ensure he does, wasn’t it?”

My pulse picked up on the gathering menace in the man’s deep voice. I had to be careful here. Outright disobedience was never something tolerated lightly — or at all, really — at the Farm.

“I — why does it need to be me?”

“Who else would you suggest?” He sipped from his glass, both of us knowing the question had no answer.

“He… I don’t know, sir. I just… I don’t think I’m right for this.”

“A minute ago you told me it was because he didn’t need your help. Now, it’s that you’re not right for this?” He stood then, a hand thrust casually into the pocket of his dark, tailored slacks, the other waving his glass at me. “Which is it, girl? Or maybe you’re just yanking my chain? Is that it?”

“No, sir!”

Heller was not one who took well to having his time wasted, or his judgment questioned. I knew I was running a risk here, but I had to try.

“Then I suggest you decide which one it is, my dear. With your story changing by the moment, I might start to wonder about your sincerity.”

I swallowed, trying to conjure up some saliva for my suddenly dry-as-a-desert mouth. Still, I dared to meet his gaze. He was irritated, and I knew my window for possibly influencing him was closing rapidly.

“Sir, you don’t need to question my… sincerity.”

Heller set his glass down, and sauntered around the wide perimeter of his desk, the cushions sighing as he dropped his long, lanky frame into his chair. He placed an elbow on one of the armrests, leaning to one side, an almost casual affect. But the light in his eyes gave lie to all of it, a calculating coldness there now.

“Do you know that Aaron DeWinter offered to buy you from me? Actually buy you?”

My stomach dropped, even though I knew it was just like something my former Master would try. He didn’t like to be deprived of his toys, and he was prepared to pay dearly to retain them. Some things never changed.

“When you came to me, with no other options, with your hare-brained scheme to find refuge at the one place in the Trust open to practically everyone — including your erstwhile owners — I entertained the idea. Insane though it may have been.” His long finger tapped the leather of his chair. “But it wasn’t out of the kindness of my own heart. You and I both know I don’t have to shoulder such a burden as a heart. Have you ever wondered why though? Why I agreed to it?”

“I assumed…” Though I tried to resist it, I couldn’t help but glance over at the low marble table, the scene of so many debasing sessions for more than one woman at the Farm.

Heller’s wolfen smile beamed. “Your duty, your yield, yes. As sweet as that may be, do you think that would be nearly enough to offset the risks I ran harboring you?”

I looked at the floor, my pulse beginning to pick up pace. Where was he going with this?

“Answer me, woman.”

My gaze snapped up to his, my heart in my throat. “I… no.” I looked away again, the taste of the truth — and a surprising surge of guilt, of the weight of being a burden to him — bitter indeed. “No, it’s not. Sir.”

“I’m sure the bastard never told you this, but you weren’t his first paramour.”

I couldn’t help the tiny stab of confusing jealousy I felt at those words.

“Oh no, you weren’t the first bauble Mister DeWinter coveted. She was a stunning blonde, as brilliant as she was beautiful. But she had a weakness — and that weakness was a certain type of man. You see she was a ballbuster, a bitch, an alpha female through and through. She was strong, but her weakness was hard men who weren’t afraid to show her there were tougher things in this world than her. The sort of men like your Aaron DeWinter.”

My former master was hard — and heartless. Just like another certain acquaintance of mine.

I knew that particular moment probably wasn’t the time to remind Heller that he had a lot more in common with DeWinter than he might want to admit.

He continued. “Her name was Kathryn Connor. DeWinter chased her, claimed her — but in the end, lost her. As I’m sure you know, DeWinter doesn’t take losing well. Another man stole her away from him, and she ultimately married that man. She took her new husband’s name, and Connor… became Forster.”

Oh my God.

“Mrs. Blaine Forster. Do you begin to see now?”

“Y-yes, sir,” I whispered, not quite believing what I was hearing. Blaine Forster had visited the Farm before, and though everyone knew who he was, he never seemed to show it — at least not with me. He was kind, the sort of kindness that put me at ease. And gave me hope. But I hadn’t known all of it. I should have realized that in the Trust everyone — absolutely everyone — had ulterior motives.

I knew that truth once perhaps, but in my desperation to flee, I’d ignored it. With time, in my isolated, but safe harbor in the twisted environs of the Farm, I’d forgotten it.

Heller drained the last of the whiskey from his glass. “DeWinter offered me one million dollars. Cash. For you. And I told him to go fuck himself.”

What?

“I don’t… but he works for Corddray.”

I’d met the fearsome Grayson Corddray only once, a seemingly impromptu meeting between my Master and his employer at DeWinter’s house. My house. I’d been forced to suck my Master, kneeling there under his desk while the two men talked above me. I’d hoped Corddray hadn’t realized I was there as I carried out my required duty. Corddray’s comment as he finally left the room snuffed out any hope on that front.

“Your whore makes too much fucking noise when she has a cock in her mouth.”

My cheeks still burned even at the memory of that little humiliation.

“Despite the fact you’re intelligent, charming, and you have a refreshing eagerness to please. Despite the fact that — against my better judgment — I actually like you… well, a million dollars is a million dollars.” Heller’s eyes glinted. “Fortunately for you, Blaine’s interests happened to align with mine.”

“I don’t understand, sir. What other interests? The Farm is… yours, isn’t it? You didn’t have reason to do this.” I sighed, shaking my head. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Heller was silent for a moment, pursing his lips. “No, I shouldn’t have.”

“Then why?”

“You really don’t know? What’s happened?”

“No, sir.”

It was as if Heller weighed whether or not he should proceed, then he shrugged slightly. “The Trust is tearing itself to pieces. There’s been a… rift, I guess you’d call it. Corddray and Trask, with Blaine caught in the middle, so to speak. But when he had the chance to stick it to DeWinter, Blaine seems to have decided which side he’s aligning with. Maybe he’s thinking with his dick, or his male pride. Who knows?”

“That’s why you barred my Mas — DeWinter — from setting foot here anymore.”

I sat back on my heels, stunned. Now, at least that tiny bit made sense.

“I needed to protect you. Once I gave my word, I had to. But I knew it would alienate certain… factions. Powerful factions. DeWinter was counting on that, even after I rebuffed his coarse proposal.” Heller grinned, shaking his head as he gazed out the window. “I never liked that asshole anyway.”

“Why did you tell me all of this? Are you trying to make me feel guilty? If so… you succeeded.”

His gaze turned hard once again as he looked at me. “I risked a lot to keep you here. Dr. Forster is one of the few people on this earth I consider to be a friend. Helping Dr. Forster’s brother means Corddray now considers me the enemy too. He’ll think I’m supporting George Trask. That’s not true, of course; I have no intention of getting in the middle of that caliber of pissing contest. But it doesn’t matter if it’s true. Once Corddray thinks such a thing, it might as well be the truth. I’m dead to him now — and so is this place.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I… didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t. But now you do. And now you need to do as you’re fucking told, and stick with Eldon. Put this ridiculous idea of running away again out of your mind. Because if I have to let you go… that million dollars I gave up is going to suddenly seem a lot more attractive.”

The message was loud and clear, and though it chilled me to the bone, I didn’t blame the man. I’d brought more trouble here than I’d ever imagined. Much as I hated to admit it, the man was right, too. I was the only person who could do what Heller needed me to do. My unique status at the installation ensured it.

And it was both my source of greatest joy, and the cause of my deepest despair.

* * *

 

 

I came to both dread and anticipate Saturday mornings, even though it always meant, as sure as the sun rises, a trying visit from both of… them.

Their berating, their threats, their implied promises, no matter how frightening they could sometimes be — and not just because a part of me deep inside still responded in an animalistic way to such treatment — was all worth it, for that one moment.

The instant Nathan’s big Hummer came crunching up the driveway to deposit the tall drink of water medical assistant back in my lap for another weekend sojourn.

The rounds of the farm had become more or less routine, though I never, ever, grew tired of the wide-eyed shock he couldn’t help but express at the numerous and innumerably diverse tableau life on the farm was capable of demonstrating. As the weeks passed, he’d grown ever more familiar with both the inmates and their demanding masters — and grown more adept at fielding even the most intimate of questions and problems.

From the owner who asked if his slave’s period influenced the quantity and quality of her milk, to the numerous times Eldon was offered the casual use of one of the debased, lactating females — inevitably followed by Eldon’s increasingly hesitant refusals — he’d adapted, as much as a kind, decent man could to life in that den of depravity, vice, and punishment.

I could tell he’d learned to take a sort of pleasure in seeing to the various aches and pains and complaints that were part and parcel of his purpose there at the installation.

But it was the evenings that we both grew to savor.

For that first night, had set the pattern.

After he’d showered and dressed, his feet often bare upon the carpet as he sprawled across the couch with a drink in his hand, he did what we’d both come to eagerly anticipate.

He made me answer questions.

It could be anything from politics, to the inner workings of the farm, to what those poor women were thinking as the cups drained away their precious milk, their eager, aroused owners and husbands always waiting with stinging whips, and sharp tongues, and hard cocks. He’d made me tell him of my first love, and he’d told me of his.

He’d confessed that he looked forward to seeing me more than he wanted to admit. More than it was safe to admit.

And all the while he did this, I would kneel for him, and he’d order me — at random times — to take this or that off. Soon enough, I would be naked, save for my collar, cuffs and chains, the man looking at me from all angles, taking in my debased — but freely offered — nudity. I could always see how hard he’d get, the blatant bulge at his crotch.

He sometimes paced behind me, the weight of his gaze on my bottom, posed as it was primly upon my bare heels. How I wanted to lift it to him, to cry out as he thrust deep inside my cunt. I knew I would offer everything to him, ask him to make it hurt — just the way I’d dreamed.

But it was that desire that I knew burned within both of us, and one that we both knew we could not — should not — act upon that had driven me to Heller’s office that day, begging, pleading for him to let me off this duty.

For though it was the sweetest duty I had ever experienced, watching that Hummer drive down the road the next morning, its very special, decent, and kind cargo in the backseat, it was also the hardest, most bitter pill to swallow. My heart ached, a little of it dying each time I watched him go.

So it was that I knew what must inevitably be done, even if it would break my heart to do it.