Itâs still dark when I wake up. Iâve barely slept, but I never require a lot of sleep. I blame it on my childhood. I always had to be aware of what was happening in my household.
My mother had me when she was fifteen. Prostitution was how she put food on the table. When she brought her johns home, I was supposed to stay in my room. Many of them were violent, and Iâd often hear and see them beating my mother. So I never really slept well. When I got old enough to jump in and fight them off, it only pissed my mother off. She didnât like me defending her. She saw it as losing clients, which would only anger me further. It still haunts me when I think about it.
Todayâs no different. I had maybe an hour of sleep. I lay next to Blakely, turned away from her, listening to her breathe. It took her longer to fall asleep than I anticipated. When the pattern of her breaths changed, I slowly turned over and stared at her.
Itâs about a half hour before sunrise. The sky is changing into a brilliant shade of pink. I grab my phone and rearrange the sheet to showcase Blakelyâs creamy shoulders. Itâs clear sheâs naked, so I snap a few photos.
I quietly get up, go into my closet, and pull a burner phone from its box. I always have at least a dozen on hand. You never know when one might come in handy. Itâs like the collar, numerous toys, and birth control shots. While I always take those things to one of my L.A. apartments where I house my auctioned subs, for some reason, I keep my stash here.
When Blakely came on stage last night, the thought of bringing her to Malibu consumed me, just like it did on her twenty-first birthday. There was no way I could convince myself to keep her in L.A., hidden away, while I was back in Malibu. Unlike my previous subs, I want her at my beck and call all the time.
I take the phone out of the box and set up the network. Itâs a secure one that Jones created for me years ago. Iâve used it a dozen times over the past few years.
I text the picture from my cell to the burner and send it to her father with a caption.
Satisfaction fills me. I turn off the phone and hide it in my closet drawer, knowing he doesnât get up early like I do. Itâll be hours before he reads the message.
As quietly as possible, I go out of the house, naked, and grab a wetsuit in the closet near the shower. I put it on, grab my board, and go down to the water. The cool water feels refreshing as I paddle far enough out and wait for the right waves.
My adrenaline wonât stop pumping harder than normal. Since I saw Blakely on stage, itâs like itâs on overdrive. Buying her was the biggest break I could have gotten. I can destroy Hugh without her, but itâll make the process so much sweeter.
And Blakely⦠Jesus, Iâll have more fun breaking her and turning her into my pet than I ever anticipated. All the years of waiting for her and imagining her under my control were grossly underestimated. Sheâll please me more than I could have ever thought possible.
A swell of waves rolls in, and I ride several of them, but I never take my mind off Blakely. Everything about her is mysterious. It shouldnât be, Iâve watched her grow up, but thereâs so much thatâs happened over the last few years, and I donât know any of it.
Also, I know she wasnât telling the full truth last night. I plan on getting it out of her. Whatever happened, she needs to divulge it.
Several hours pass, and I ride until Iâm exhausted, catching one final wave and riding it to shore, surprised and pleased when I see Blakely sitting on the sand.
She hugs her knees to her chest, wearing one of my white button-down shirts. Her dark hair blows wild in the morning breeze, and a couple of the purple highlights glow in the morning light. None of the makeup she wore the night before can be seen, which makes me happy. Sheâs too beautiful to have that crap on her face. Her barely visible freckles dot her cheeks, which are normally covered by her foundation. The gold collar gleams around her neck.
Everything about the vision in front of me makes my dick hard. Sheâs pure perfection, and now I own her.
As much as I like her dark hair with purple highlights, Iâm still not totally used to it. I toss my board on the sand and sit next to her. I twirl a lock of purple around my finger, asking, âWhen did you change your hair?â
She shrugs. âA few years ago. Iâm kind of tired of it though. Iâve been thinking of going back to blonde.â
I make a mental note to take more pictures of her to send to Hugh before she changes it. Everything about her hair color with the purple streaks will send him into a tailspin. Heâll hate that sheâs with somebody he doesnât know, but it might bug him more how she changed her hair to something he deems inappropriate.
She takes my silence as disapproval, but her lips twitch. âIs that okay? Or do I have to get your approval to do my hair?â
I struggle with my inner demon, who wants total control of her, and the part of me that suddenly wants to see her back to her natural state. I finally reply, âYouâre beautiful either way. If you want to change it, Iâll make an appointment for you.â
She shakes her head. âThereâs no need for that. I can do it myself.â
I snort. âNo, youâre with me, Blakely. That means you get the best.â
She declares, âThatâs not necessary. Iâve learned to do a lot of things for myself. It saves money.â
I know all about scrimping and saving money. But the last thing Iâm about to do is return to that situation. I respond, âYeah, well, I have lots of it, so you donât need to worry about that.â
She hugs her knees tighter to her chest and stares at the ocean. I canât tell if my answer pissed her off, but I can see that she has a lot more questions. Instead of asking her whatâs on her mind, I decide Iâll ask later, and now is the time to push. I want answers that I didnât get last night, and sheâs going to tell me.
I turn her chin toward me, demanding, âBlakely, why were you running on the L.A. streets last night?â
She freezes, then slowly answers, âI told you, I was late to the auction. I didnât want to run in my stilettos. Theyâre not exactly easy to trot around in.â
âYou could have stepped on a needle or some other dangerous thing. Iâm not buying it, Blakely. Why were you running?â I ask again.
Nervousness fills her expression, and I know itâs true. She didnât tell me everything. Yet she also isnât ready to come clean.
I interrogate her further. âSomething happened, Blakely. I know it did. So, either tell me, or Iâll find out on my own. And if I do that, you wonât be happy with the consequences.â
She tilts her head and pins her eyebrows together. âWhat does that mean, Riggs?â
âYou donât want to find out,â I threaten.
She exhales deeply, glancing back at the water.
I repeat, âNow, tell me what happened.â
She groans, scrubbing her hands over her face, confessing, âMy fatherâs men were chasing me.â
Confused, I ask, âHe knows where youâre at?â Hugh never told me that he had any idea he knew where she was, not that I should put anything past him. Thereâs obviously a lot heâs not informing me on.
She answers, âNo, I didnât know he did. His men showed up at Cheeks the other night and followed me to my apartment. Last night, I was at work, and the new bouncer named Snake lured me outside. He claimed his friend was an agent who heard me sing over at the Lizard Lounge. When I went outside, the two men my father hired were there. They tossed me into an SUV, then got a flat tire. I jumped out of the trunk and ran when they were fixing it. Itâs why I had to take my shoes off. And thatâs how I ended up at the club.â
I remain silent, processing everything. My gut churns as I ask, âSo, you werenât on stage at the club to find a Dom? You were clueless about the auction?â
Her face turns red. She nods, admitting, âYes.â
âAnd you went with a stranger to sign a contract?â I question, getting angrier but trying to stay calm so she canât see it.
She claims, âI didnât know what to do. They know where I live. I figured I could go wherever the clubâs driver took me. The people at the club said it was a few towns over from L.A. I donâtâ¦â She glances around. âWhere are we, Riggs? I donât even know where Iâm at.â
âYouâre in Malibu,â I inform her.
She glances around again. âMalibu. Okay.â
More anger fills me, not at her, but that she was in this situation because of her father. Based on what sheâs telling me, she had no right to be on stage. I ask, âSo you were going to show up at my house, not knowing it was me, and do what, Blakely? Give yourself to some man when you didnât even know what you were getting into?â
âDonât judge me. Especially when youâre the one buying women on stage at a sex club,â she reprimands.
I take a deep breath. âIâm not judging you. Iâm trying to understand whatâs going on here.â
âThey told me that I didnât have to sign the contract. They said they would bring me back if I wanted. I figured Iâd go to wherever they were taking me to get out of L.A. Then I could figure out my next move. And I wasnât planning on signing the contract.â
This is bad. So bad. My blood pounds between my ears. I question, âBlakely, do you know what a sub is?â
Embarrassment fills her cheeks. She quietly says, âNo.â
âDo you know what a Dom is?â
âNo,â she admits again, her face turning a deeper maroon.
âYet you signed a contract with me, not knowing anything?â Iâm unsure how I feel about this. Part of me is happy because she did it because it was me. But the other part doesnât like this one bit. What Iâm into requires full consent, and if sheâs not on board, that changes the entire situation.
She declares, âIt was you. I trust you, Riggs. Iâ¦â
âYou what?â
She blurts out, âYou said youâd protect me from my father. I donât know what else Iâm supposed to do. I donât want him to⦠I donât want to return to him! Heâll make me marry some guy. I donât want to lose my life!â She blinks hard, her eyes glistening with tears.
I sternly claim, âIâm not turning you over to your father. I promised you, and nothing has changed regarding that.â
She sniffles and asks, âBut why, Riggs? Tell me what happened between you two.â
âYour father screwed me over. He doesnât know that I know. But thatâs all Iâm going to say, Blakely. So stop asking me about it,â I order.
Her eyes widen.
I add, âYou donât have to feel sorry for me. Iâm handling it.â
âHeâs a horrible person,â she softly states.
I stay quiet.
She turns back to the ocean, digs her feet in the sand, and takes a deep breath.
I inquire, âWhat did you think you were doing when you got on stage?â
She avoids looking at me, and her head bobs side to side. âI donât know. I couldnât go outside. They were waiting for me. I barely made it into the club. I just⦠I thought it was better to take this chance than to go back outside.â
My insides fill with anxiety, and the calm chaos in the water does nothing to alleviate it.
This changes everything.
I rise and pull her to her feet, announcing, âI have errands to run. Today, youâll read the contract while Iâm gone. Youâll list all your questions, and weâll discuss it over dinner tonight.â
Confusion fills her face. âAre you kicking me out?â
âNo, Iâm not kicking you out. Why would you think that?â
âI⦠I donât know. You sound upset with me.â
I sigh. âIâm not upset with you, Blakely, but you need to know what youâre getting yourself into. And for Godâs sake, I know you want to disobey your father on everything, but donât ever sign a contract again unless you read it. Thereâs a reason you read contracts,â I reprimand.
She closes her eyes, squeezing them tight. âWhy canât my father just be normal? I wouldnât have to act like I do.â
âHow do you act?â I question.
She shrugs. âNever good enough for them; him or my mother.â
I place my hands on her cheeks and tilt her head up.
She opens her eyelids.
âBlakely, youâve never done anything wrong. Your parents are who they are. Thatâs not your problem. Thatâs their problem,â I insist, She grabs my arm, pleading, âPlease donât make me return to them. Please.â
âHave you not been listening to me? I thought I made it clear thereâs no way I would ever turn you over to your father or mother.â
She nods, but something tells me she doesnât completely believe me.
I add, âI told you I would protect you. Nothing has changed, Blakely.â
She looks at me silently.
I lead her toward the house, claiming, âI have things I need to do today. Youâre not to leave the house. And you are to make sure that you read the contract. Do you understand me?â
She nods. âYes, I understand.â
âGood.â I guide her onto the deck and to the door, then add, âIâm going to get ready. Go inside and help yourself to whatever you want for breakfast.â
I go over to the shower and strip with too many emotions running through me. Never in a million years would I have thought that she would have done something like this and not had any idea what she was getting herself into.
I wish it didnât matter, but it does. This changes everything. But no matter what, sheâs going to be mine. When she reads the contract, weâll go through her questions.
I know sheâs a sub. I saw it in her last night. She can obey. But I donât know if sheâll freak after reading my contract. Knowing these new facts, everything about that makes me feel really uneasy.
And thatâs one thing I donât like in my sex lifeâwild cards. Right now, Blakelyâs in control, and I donât like it one bit.