Read Online Trust in Me by Skye Warren - Free Book Online Page B

happened with those girls, no matter what happened with Tyler, I wasn’t getting out of this alive.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
    Carlos was surprised to see me in his study bright and early. Most times, if I got a beating, I spent the next few days making myself scarce, slinking around like a kicked stray dog. It helped to make sure my wounds were healed before he got another go at me. And the extra time meant he could work out whatever anger was left on other people.
    But there I was, dressed in my sluttiest clothes, and that was saying something. A bikini probably would have been more conservative, but Carlos would recognize it for what it was: an apology. Groveling.
    Appreciation filled his gaze as he studied me. Not appreciation for my curves, which he’d seen clothed and naked and every which way, but for the blush of shame tinting my skin. It was a long walk from my small room to his study, and I’d passed more than a few suggestive leers and pinching fingers on the way.
    He didn’t open his arms to me or pat his knee. He didn’t even open his fly to make me suck his cock. Never a good sign.
    “What do you want?” he asked with the indulgent amusement of a man sure in his victory.
    “I’m sorry I bothered you yesterday. I want to make it up to you. Please, Carlos.” I didn’t have to make my voice sultry, it was already hoarse from screaming. I wasn’t a good enough actor to feign the fearful tremor or submissive posture, but I didn’t have to be.
    This small action, approaching Carlos this way, was about the ballsiest thing I’d ever done. Maybe no one else would see it that way, but I didn’t think too many other people had an appreciation for just how badly this could go for me. It was like approaching a rabid dog. All the caution in the world wouldn’t protect you if you stuck your hand in its mouth.
    “You want to make it up to me?” he asked.
    “Yes, Carlos.”
    “You want to be my whore?”
    “Yes, Carlos.”
    “You want to be my pet?”
    A lump caught in my throat.
    I’d told Tyler that Carlos thought of me as a dog. His pet. Tyler had thought it was an analogy, a play on words. He’d been wrong.
    About six months ago, I’d gotten the idea to leave. Well, I’d had it sooner than that, but I finally decided to act on it. I’d looked up a shelter and packed a few things. I made it a few blocks over before Leo caught up to me. Carlos had him beat the shit out of me, again and again, but that was the punishment phase. The first phase.
    Then there was atonement.
    I had to get myself out of the doghouse, figuratively and literally. He made me his puppy, his bitch. I crawled around on the hard concrete, only allowed to bark or whimper. At least he put a dog bed on the cold floor for me.
    I thought I’d ingratiated myself to Carlos within the first couple of days, but he kept me at it for almost a week just because it amused him so much. The worst part of it, to me, was that on the floor, anyone was allowed to touch me. Anyone could fuck me. Hurt me.
    Strange men, rough men, regularly came through the warehouse headquarters. I hadn’t appreciated how much Carlos protected me from them until he no longer did. They weren’t allowed to mark me, which was a relief, and they had to use protection, but nothing in the world, no leash or food bowl could put me in my place like being fucked by ten guys in a day against my will. Not that I had put up a fight, of course. I wasn’t that stupid.
    But in all, it went easier than it could have gone. Carlos had a soft touch when it came to subjugation. He latched a collar onto me. I whimpered helplessly, and already I could see him softening toward me. He spanked me. He fucked me. He told me to pee in the corner. Then he shoved my face in it. At least he didn’t make me lick it up.
    That was how I spent my day, chained to a desk. There were worse ways to spend an afternoon. At least I could look outside, enjoy the sunlight through the tinged glass