Page 9 of Master B-0361
“Stop looking at me like that. He can’t have you. I won’t let him. Not alive. Not fucking dead. If I have to kill you a million more times to keep you here with me, I will.” Still, I thrust, watching Mae come back to me. She couldn’t gasp. She couldn’t scream. Her eyes were glassing over. Her mouth was opening but only because of the pressure of my hands.
She was gone.
Dying.
Dead.
I watched through the minutes as Maggie split back and forth with Mae. Gone eyes. Empty, like me. My cock thickened and my cum shot into both of them.
Had I care that my slave was dead? No. Was I going to fuck them again as many times as I could before I grew tired of their dead body? Absolutely.
What waslove if not self-sacrificing?
I was risking my sanity talking to a corpse. Even though I knew it wasn’t Maggie, I was letting the delusions convince me otherwise. I talked. We laughed. I caressed, I made her dead hands touch me, tease me. We fucked. Then, we talked some more.
Lies had always been easier than the truth. If I wanted to be honest with myself, I’d admit I was unstable. I always had been. The fights. The quick temper. I wasn’t reserved like Elec and the rest of our circle. But I’d gotten better over the years. No…only since Maggie left. I had nothing left to fight for. I was tired of the fight. But that wasn’t just it. If I wanted to face who I truly was, I’d embrace this for what it was. I was every bit as ruthless as the River’s name. As sick as my father. As disgusting as his.
Upbringing? Maybe. I was exposed to a lot from my earliest years. But my parents had been affectionate to an extent. I wasn’t lacking in knowing they cared. I was given the best education and the most luxurious surroundings, whether that was homes or clothing. That put it down to genetics. Was I predisposed to sacrilegious acts? To fucking the dead? To loving them more than the living?
It was debatable. Or…maybe I should just peel back the layers even more and admit that it was truly simple. Desperate, even, but…not very complicated. The dead couldn’t hurt me. The dead wouldn’t leave me. They wouldn’t fuck around on me or even get attitude when I wasn’t in the mood for it.
No. It couldn’t bethatsimple. Then again, morphed with my already twisted mind, perhaps it was.
“I’m getting hungry, Mags, and I’m pretty tired. Do you think the sun has risen yet? We used to like that. Remember when we spent that one night curled up in all those blankets together in the back of Cade’s truck?” I laughed. “He was so pissed that I’d stolen it, but I hadn’t cared. It was so cold, but not to us. We barely saw the sunrise; we were so consumed with each other. I asked you to marry me that morning, right there on the water, in the back of that piece of shit truck,but you loved it.You always did love the simpler things. You always wanted to escape who we were. Jake did give you that,” I mumbled, losing myself in the other truths I didn’t want to face. “He separated you from the circle. From all of us. I used to think it was because of me, but maybe it wasn’t really him at all. Maybe it was you.”
My fingers stopped trailing along Mae’s cheek, and I stared down at the ghostly white skin beneath my touch, watching her come in clear for the first time in hours. Her lips were blue, and her eyes were open. There was no mistaking the emptiness behind the gaze. Her skin was so cool. So…dead. My lids closed, and I forced myself to stand. As I stared down at my slave’s body, sprawled out and nude, my chest cramped. The pooling of blood had long darkened the bottom edges of her body due to gravity, and I didn’t want to see it. I reached down, fixing her to lay beneath the blankets, but it truly didn’t matter as I opened her door and left her small room.
I should have cared. I should have felt something more than sadness or anger over Maggie. I didn’t. The misery ruled, but I couldn’t ignore how something was different about it too.
“Master?”
I paused on my way to my bed, glancing at my closed door. Margaret’s tone had been low. Almost inaudible through the barrier.
“Master, please.”
Two tiny knocks were followed by a louder one. I headed over, unlocking my door to pull it open.
“Oh, thank God. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to disturb you, but I have to go to the restroom. You must sleep like a rock.”
I didn’t even get to reply as she swept passed, shutting herself inside. A groan left me as I looked at the clock on my bedside table. Was it truly already almost eight in the morning?
Only then did a smile come to my face, but it was fleeting. Truth. I pushed it away, grabbing my phone instead. I dialed, turning and collapsing diagonally on my bed.
“Good morning, Master Three-sixty-one, how may I be of service to you?”
“I need a pickup and breakfast. My usual.” I paused. “Make it two usuals.”
“Absolutely, Sir. The guards will be there soon for your pickup, and we’ll have your order up as soon as it’s ready.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I hung up, dropping the phone to the comforter. The water cut off in the distance, and I lifted my head only for a moment as the slave edged out. Her movements were slow. Cautious as she waited for some sort of order.
“Breakfast is coming. There’s clothes in Mae’s room. They may be a little big or small. I don’t know. Make something work.”
The slave looked as if she wanted to say something but kept quiet as she obeyed and disappeared into the entrance. Secondspassed as I waited. A minute. Crashing in the room had me slowly lifting to a sitting position as Margaret came racing out.
“M-Master. I think—” She pointed, words nonexistent as she waved the beige dress towards the closet door.