Read Online Insurmountable (Serpentine #1) by Skye Callahan - Free Book Online
Authors: Skye Callahan
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clothes, I’d simply go downstairs and pick a girl out. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, Master.” Her voice shook and she refused to relax against me.
“I don’t think you do.”
She took a deep breath and leaned her head back against my shoulder. A small gesture, but at least she tried. “I wish I did. I wish everything didn’t….”
“Didn’t what?”
“I don’t know. I can’t make the thoughts in my head connect. Did you ever make those stupid paper houses as a kid—fold slot A into hole B? It’s like that inside my head, except I’m missing the instructions to put it together.”
“I think I get the idea, but no, we didn’t really have toys where I grew up.”
“Where was that?” she asked quietly.
“As far as I can remember, the Commons room at Boudoir Fetiche de Paris.”
“You lived with…?” she turned to me with her mouth hanging open. “You…? But you’re not—”
“I’m not a slave, no, but I lived there with my mother until she died. I don’t remember much—seeing her with different men. Seeing all the women with different men. When I was ten, my mother killed herself. I found her.”
“Is that why you decided to keep me?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “All I know is that I don’t intend to let you go.”
She let out a long sigh. “Then, I guess I need to figure out how to deal with the other slaves. I don’t want to.” She sank down into the water, finally relaxing against my chest. “I’m tired of it all.”
“I can’t take you off of laundry without making things worse.” The girls did all the laundry anyway—they were each assigned a day in the laundry room to keep them busy.
“I know. And if you track them down and punish them, they’ll blame me for tattling. Whatever happens, I lose.”
“Not anymore.” I pushed aside her hair and nudged the side of her neck. “But for now, maybe we should address your hair. The hairdresser won’t be back until Monday.”
“Don’t remind me.” She groaned. “At least I have plenty of new makeup to draw on some eyebrows with. I think I can fix my hair—not like I can make it any worse.”
I felt her take a deep breath, then tense. She turned and looked up at me with a strained expression.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanor.
She looked away just as quickly. “I forgot,” she whispered, still so tense her body shook slightly. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“What did you forget?” Judging from her reaction, I expected it to be something dire.
“My place, M—”
“Your place is where I tell you it is.” I pulled her back against my chest, nibbling at the tip of her earlobe, then kissing her neck, while my hand explored her flat stomach.
“Your place is with me,” I whispered against her neck. “And when we’re here”—I squeezed her breasts, rubbing her nipples between my fingers until she arched her back— “like this. Alone. I don’t expect you to hold your tongue or adhere to formal protocol. Understood?”
“Yes, Master,” she said on a breathy exhale.
“Then, get dried off and see what you can do with that hair.” I kissed her again. I’d find who was responsible and make them pay in kind, but I was useless in helping to fix hair, and if we didn’t show up to dinner yet again, Ross would be the one handing down insane ultimatums.
“Are you going to pick out my outfit for the night, Master?”
“Would you like that?”
‘Yes, Please.”
“We’re getting a bit formal again.”
She gave me a faint smile but kept her head down.
Maybe I kept her because I wanted someone to talk. I wanted someone to take my mind off everything else—white noise in the background of my life. Someone as fucked up as me.
* * *
I laid out a lacy, black baby doll top with a black bow just below the bust and the matching boy shorts with an attached garter belt on the bed and pulled out my own suit for the evening. I didn’t even
“Yes, Master.” Her voice shook and she refused to relax against me.
“I don’t think you do.”
She took a deep breath and leaned her head back against my shoulder. A small gesture, but at least she tried. “I wish I did. I wish everything didn’t….”
“Didn’t what?”
“I don’t know. I can’t make the thoughts in my head connect. Did you ever make those stupid paper houses as a kid—fold slot A into hole B? It’s like that inside my head, except I’m missing the instructions to put it together.”
“I think I get the idea, but no, we didn’t really have toys where I grew up.”
“Where was that?” she asked quietly.
“As far as I can remember, the Commons room at Boudoir Fetiche de Paris.”
“You lived with…?” she turned to me with her mouth hanging open. “You…? But you’re not—”
“I’m not a slave, no, but I lived there with my mother until she died. I don’t remember much—seeing her with different men. Seeing all the women with different men. When I was ten, my mother killed herself. I found her.”
“Is that why you decided to keep me?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “All I know is that I don’t intend to let you go.”
She let out a long sigh. “Then, I guess I need to figure out how to deal with the other slaves. I don’t want to.” She sank down into the water, finally relaxing against my chest. “I’m tired of it all.”
“I can’t take you off of laundry without making things worse.” The girls did all the laundry anyway—they were each assigned a day in the laundry room to keep them busy.
“I know. And if you track them down and punish them, they’ll blame me for tattling. Whatever happens, I lose.”
“Not anymore.” I pushed aside her hair and nudged the side of her neck. “But for now, maybe we should address your hair. The hairdresser won’t be back until Monday.”
“Don’t remind me.” She groaned. “At least I have plenty of new makeup to draw on some eyebrows with. I think I can fix my hair—not like I can make it any worse.”
I felt her take a deep breath, then tense. She turned and looked up at me with a strained expression.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, taken aback by the sudden change in her demeanor.
She looked away just as quickly. “I forgot,” she whispered, still so tense her body shook slightly. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“What did you forget?” Judging from her reaction, I expected it to be something dire.
“My place, M—”
“Your place is where I tell you it is.” I pulled her back against my chest, nibbling at the tip of her earlobe, then kissing her neck, while my hand explored her flat stomach.
“Your place is with me,” I whispered against her neck. “And when we’re here”—I squeezed her breasts, rubbing her nipples between my fingers until she arched her back— “like this. Alone. I don’t expect you to hold your tongue or adhere to formal protocol. Understood?”
“Yes, Master,” she said on a breathy exhale.
“Then, get dried off and see what you can do with that hair.” I kissed her again. I’d find who was responsible and make them pay in kind, but I was useless in helping to fix hair, and if we didn’t show up to dinner yet again, Ross would be the one handing down insane ultimatums.
“Are you going to pick out my outfit for the night, Master?”
“Would you like that?”
‘Yes, Please.”
“We’re getting a bit formal again.”
She gave me a faint smile but kept her head down.
Maybe I kept her because I wanted someone to talk. I wanted someone to take my mind off everything else—white noise in the background of my life. Someone as fucked up as me.
* * *
I laid out a lacy, black baby doll top with a black bow just below the bust and the matching boy shorts with an attached garter belt on the bed and pulled out my own suit for the evening. I didn’t even
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