Page 5 of Anchored

Daniel swallowed hard and forced himself not to hunch up further. “I don’t know, Master.”

Carl sprang from the couch and crossed the room in two large steps. He tugged the T-shirt from Daniel’s hands and tossed it on the couch, ducked his head quite conspicuously to look into Daniel’s downturned face, and demanded, “What do you mean, you don’t know? They’ve owned you twenty-five years. Surely this isn’t a first.”

Daniel swallowed. Did Carl think he was lying? Why on earth would he lie about this? “I don’t know how angry they’ll be, si—Master.” He could’ve kicked himself for the botched honorific, for the waver in his voice; it wouldn’t exactly help his cause if Carl thought he was bullshitting. He cleared his throat, tried to swallow down his fear. “Twenty with the strap, maybe; I need to be able to sit through the broadcast tomorrow night, and to—” Say it, Daniel. Don’t be a coward. “And to serve you after work, Master.”

One giant hand, easily the size of Daniel’s whole face, reached out to cup his chin. Carl’s thumb traced the line of Daniel’s cheekbone from his ear to his nose, and then settled across his lips. “Is that as painful as it sounds?”

Oh God. I was right. He doesn’t want something normal. No wonder he paid so much for me; he’s a closet sadist who can’t afford to let his secret get out and ruin his career, and who better to get his sick fucking rocks off with than the slave with the audacity to steal his audience share—

The hand on his chin tightened. “I asked you a question, Daniel.”

Daniel nodded, his skin flushing hot beneath the man’s touch. “Yes, Master, it is.” Maybe Carl would be satisfied with that. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt Daniel himself if he knew the folks at NewWorld would be doing a thorough job of it for him.

Carl dropped his hand and stepped away again, then said, “Pants.” Again, the change of subject was so abrupt it took Daniel a moment to process. Was Carl going to turn him over his knee and spank him? Fuck him? Both?

Didn’t matter. No matter how bad things were about to get, if his old mistress had taught him anything, it was that not obeying would only ever make things worse.

Jaw clenched, he peeled his jeans off.

“Put them on the couch,” Carl said. “Socks, underwear, all of it.”

Daniel complied with shaking fingers, blushing tip to toe and trembling in the cool air. His hands made a move for pockets that were no longer there, and lest his master think he was trying to hide himself, protect himself from whatever he had coming, he clasped them tightly behind his back.

Carl hovered a few feet away, his expression indecipherable—at least what Daniel could see of it through his downturned gaze. Shrouded hunger, he thought. Tamped eagerness. The face of a man finally getting the one thing he’d always wanted but completely unwilling to let on how much it meant to him.

The silence stretched, stretched some more. Neither of them moved.

Was Carl waiting for him to say something? Do something? The longer the silence, the more dire Daniel’s imaginings grew. Not just a spanking, but a belt whipping, a flogging, chains and paddles and leather. Not just a fuck, but a long and torturous run of humiliating words and actions, fingers and cock and toys and tongue and making him beg for it, making him choke, making him lick Carl clean. He’d heard the horror stories from companions back at the dorm, things that’d shocked and broken even those highly trained professionals. He knew what sick shit people were capable of. What Carl might demand of him.

At last, he could bear the waiting no longer and chanced a single word. “Master?”

“Hmm?”

“Should I— I mean, do you . . . do you want me to . . .”

Daniel had no idea how to finish that sentence, only hoped that maybe, just maybe, if he volunteered something, if he seemed eager, the night might hurt less. But Carl rescued him from his stutterings with another “Hmm,” this time more amused than questioning.

“Shower’s down the hall on the left,” Carl said. “Soap and shampoo in the stall. Fresh towels on the rack. I want you squeaky clean, understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Daniel said. He understood all too well.

The bathroom was exquisite, all marble counters and heated marble floor tiles and a marble bench in the three-headed marble shower. It was also huge: larger than the entire private dorm room he’d earned as a platinum slave at NewWorld.

Daniel washed quickly but thoroughly, even rubbing a soap-slicked finger over his hole in case his master wanted . . . well, he was trying very hard not to think about that, but better to be prepared than to disappoint the man. The hot spray eased some of the tension from his muscles, and though he longed to stay and enjoy it, stay where he wouldn’t yet have to face his new owner’s demands, he didn’t dare indulge for long. His time was not his own to spend, after all, and his body not his own to please.

He toweled off and opened the bathroom door, realizing only then that his master hadn’t left him any clothes to change into, or told him where to go when he was done. He was saved by an, “In here, Daniel,” drifting in from the adjacent room—Carl’s bedroom, he assumed.

Naked, then. Obviously the master wanted him that way.

Even though he’d been called, he knocked when he approached the open door, just to be safe. Carl waved him in.

The man was sitting up in bed against the headboard, fully—and blessedly—clothed. His appraising stare was back, a little more overtly hungry than last time, openly approving. Daniel felt himself flush, and again tried to stuff his hands into pockets that didn’t exist.

“Come here, Daniel.” Carl patted the bed.

Daniel approached slowly, trepidation in every step, trying desperately not to think about the last time he’d been bent naked over a piece of furniture. He stiffened when Carl grabbed his wrist and pulled him close, but dared offer no resistance as Carl studied his fingers, his palm, the slave cuff he wore.

“Stunning,” Carl said, one blunt finger tracing lines across his wrist. Daniel couldn’t tell if the man was referring to his hand or the bracelet until a grin spread across Carl’s face and he said, “You know, I could buy another whole slave with the hardware you’re wearing. Think NewWorld would miss them?”