Marigold, page 8
She lifted her gaze to meet Damon’s. “You want to know how fucked up my head is?”
He took a breath. “You can say anything to me, Gemma. Anything. I want to know all your thoughts, baby.”
“I’m afraid I’m dreaming, but if I pinch myself and find out I’m still in Master J’s estate, I’ll be punished for marring my skin.”
Damon’s breath hitched. “You mentioned Master J last night. Is that what he calls himself?”
She blinked as she realized what she’d said. “We aren’t permitted to talk about him or his training center.”
Damon scooted closer so his knees were almost brushing her legs. “He will never get his hands on you again, baby. You’re mine now, for however long you’ll have me. If you want to leave my property, I’ll hire bodyguards to keep you safe.”
She jerked back, hitting her head on the cabinet door behind her. “I had dozens of bodyguards protecting me at my father’s compound, including you. And still, I was taken. You can’t protect me.”
Damon swallowed and glanced down. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll regret that I wasn’t there to protect you myself for the rest of my life. I shouldn’t make that kind of promise now either. I can’t predict the future, but for now, I don’t think Master J knows who bought you, nor do I expect him to want you back. He got what he wanted.”
“Revenge against my father? Money for selling me?” She’d wondered about Master J’s motives for years. Why her? She’d wondered if the man had raided her father’s compound with the specific intent of kidnapping her or if she’d simply been a bonus.
Damon set his hands on her forearms, which were hugging her legs. “I don’t know, baby. Perhaps both. I don’t know who Master J is yet. I hope one day I will track him down and extinguish him from the earth. Maybe, I’ll get answers then.”
She gasped and shook her head. “You can’t. Damon, you can’t. Please don’t try to find him.”
Damon gripped her fingers. “Let’s not worry about the future, okay? One day at a time. One hour. Right now, I need you to eat.” He glanced to the side. “Why did you take your shirt off? Were you going to get in the shower?”
She shook her head. “It…felt weird.” But sitting there naked suddenly felt weirder.
“Okay, I’d like you to come downstairs to the kitchen so you can eat. If you’re more comfortable naked, I won’t complain.” He shot her a grin. “However, eventually you might want to start wearing clothes again,” he suggested. “We’ll order you some things online after breakfast. Okay?”
She glanced at herself and back up at him. “I should wear clothes.”
“Yes. Eventually. I gave my staff a few weeks off, so no one will see you in the house, but you’ll need to cover yourself when they come back.”
“You don’t want them to see me naked?” Her lip was trembling. Is he embarrassed by me? Am I not attractive? She’d seen herself in the mirror. She looked…wrong. Off. Maybe he thought so, too. But that was her face. Her hair. Her eyes. She didn’t think her body was different.
He tugged her hand free from her shin and held it, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb. “I’d rather be the only person who sees you naked, baby. Every inch of you is gorgeous and sexy and perfect, but I don’t want to share you with anyone else. Can you do that for me?”
She stared at their combined hands. His was so much larger than hers. She liked the look of him touching her. She also liked the way it felt.
Memorized words flowed from her lips. He didn’t seem to know the rules. “Slaves are to remain naked and available for their Master’s use at all times. The Master may share the slave with anyone he chooses.”
The words grew softer as she spoke. They sounded hollow and oddly absurd. She didn’t want to be naked in front of people. It was humiliating and degrading. She’d forgotten that fact.
Suddenly, she jerked her hand free of his and snatched the T-shirt up, covering herself with it.
Damon tipped her chin up. “Eyes on mine, baby.”
She met his gaze. It centered her every time. It was weird to look him in the eye. She hadn’t looked at anyone’s face for so long she’d forgotten how much could be gleaned from an expression.
Damon had so many emotions on his face. Kindness, fear, sorrow, dominance, love, anger… “You’re not a slave.”
The reminder made her flinch, and she nodded. “I’m not a slave.”
He smiled. “That’s right. Your name is Gemma, and you’re a human being with free will. No one can tell you what to do without your permission.” He lifted a brow.
“But you have rules,” she pointed out. “You said I can’t call you Master.”
“That’s right. You may not call me Master. That implies I own you, and I don’t.”
“You’ll spank me if I do,” she murmured, remembering his rule.
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was frustrated.
“I’m sorry, Sir.” She trembled, hating that she’d said something that upset him.
“I’m winging it here, Gemma. Trying to figure out what’s best for you and what you need to heal. I feel like you need some rules and structure to help you climb out of the hole you’re in. You’re used to rules. It’s all you know. Technically, I would need your permission to dominate you in any way. I need your consent. But frankly, you aren’t in the right frame of mind to consent to anything. In order to help you make different choices and remember who you are and what your rights are, I believe you’ll benefit from rules and repercussions. Spanking seems appropriate. I will never strike you hard enough to injure you or leave lasting marks. But I will swat your bottom every time you forget who you are to help you remember.”
“Okay.” She was trying to keep up. It was hard. She could tell he wasn’t sure what to do with her, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Can you repeat back to me what you understood, baby?”
“You’ll make rules for me. If I’m bad, you’ll spank me.”
He shook his head. “You’re not bad, Gemma. You’re relearning. How about mischievous or naughty.” He smiled and then winked. He’d called her naughty last night. Apparently, it wasn’t a horrible term. He was grinning.
“Naughty.” She grinned for some reason. It sounded funny.
He smiled broader. “Did I hurt you when I spanked you?”
She shook her head and shifted her weight as she remembered what had happened when he’d spanked her last night. She’d liked it. It had made her wet.
“Would you like me to spank you again, baby?”
She straightened her spine. “Now?”
“Not now. When you forget the rules.” He leaned closer, holding her gaze. “Do I have your permission to spank you when you break my rules, Gemma?”
She nodded. Her mouth was dry.
“See? That’s consent.”
Consent… No one had asked for her consent for three years. She’d forgotten it was an option.
He took the T-shirt from her and shook it out. “Lift your arms, baby.”
She lowered her knees and did as he told her. The cotton didn’t feel as abrasive this time. It was actually soft, and it smelled like him.
“Better?” he asked as he helped her stand.
She glanced at the mirror. “I don’t look like me.”
He set his hands on her shoulders and faced the mirror with her. “You’re so beautiful, baby. Every inch of you. I’m glad he didn’t injure you on the outside even though we have a lot of work to do on the inside.”
She took a deep breath. The girl in the mirror was all wrong. “I don’t remember me.”
“Probably because you always wore perfect makeup and had your hair styled.” He lifted a heavy section of her hair. “It hasn’t been cut in three years,” he pointed out. “When you’re ready, I’ll have a stylist come to the house if you want. A cut and style will make you feel better. And we can order whatever kind of makeup you want.”
“I don’t remember how to put it on,” she whispered.
“It will come back to you.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Let’s get food in you and then you can soak in the bath for a while.”
She glanced at the tub, longingly. Suddenly, she felt like her skin was crawling from her captivity. “Damon…”
“What?”
“Could I…” She jerked her gaze back, remembering her place. “Never mind.”
He spun her around to face him. “Finish your question.”
She swallowed. “I shouldn’t have been so insolent. I’ll do whatever you want.”
He shook his head. “Having your own opinions and desires isn’t insolence, Gemma. It’s independence. Tell me what you were going to say.”
She started trembling. What if he told her no? Maybe eating first was a rule…
“Gemma, I know what you’re thinking. Though, I’d rather you verbalize it. You need to learn to speak up.”
She cleared her throat. He won’t hurt me. No matter what, she knew that, and that was all that mattered. “Please, may I take a bath first?” she asked, her voice wobbling.
“Absolutely.” He smiled. “See? Easy.” He reached over and turned on the water, feeling it with his hand and adjusting it before putting the stopper in. “I don’t have bubbles. If you like those, we’ll have to order them. But I do have jets.”
She stared at the filling tub, salivating. “I haven’t had a bath in three years,” she murmured.
He flinched. “You may take as many as you’d like. Sit in here all day if you want. I do have an amazing shower, too.” He pointed at it. “Jets coming from all sides and the ceiling. You can set it up however you’d like.”
She looked around the glass encloser as he spoke. “I haven’t had a shower either.” Words kept tumbling out of her mouth. She couldn’t stop them.
Damon ran a hand down his face. She hated the way he stiffened and looked like he was going to break something every time she gave him another detail. She needed to keep her mouth shut.
He tipped his head toward the ceiling and took a deep breath, his hands fisted at his sides. Finally, he lowered his gaze. “How did you…” His question died on his lips as if he couldn’t think of what to ask.
She shivered and turned her attention back to the tub, watching it fill.
“Gemma…” His voice was calmer, but he still wanted her to answer him.
She looked at his face again. It was beyond awkward meeting his gaze. He’d insisted, but it didn’t come naturally. Would it ever? “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He took her shoulders. “Eventually, I want you to tell me every detail. For one thing, it will help you heal to purge things. For another thing, it will help me know who kidnapped you.”
She pursed her lips. She didn’t want him to know who’d kidnapped her. Even the few things she’d told him had sent him into a rage he could hardly contain. If he had any idea what she’d been through, he would tear the city to shreds. That’s how pissed he’d looked.
She didn’t want him to risk his life any more than he already had for her. She didn’t want to lose him. If he found Master J, the man would kill him, and where would that leave her?
Damon pulled her into his arms, holding her against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry, baby. I know you hate it when I get angry. I’m trying not to react so violently to everything you say.”
She wrapped her arms around his middle. It felt good to hug him. His body was warm, and she loved the way he smelled. His cologne filled her nostrils, and she inhaled it deeply. It calmed her.
When he eased his grip and tipped her back, he spoke again. “I want to know everything, baby. Not all at once, but gradually.”
“You can’t go after him, Damon.”
“You let me worry about that, okay?”
She shook her head. Tears welled up and tumbled down her cheeks. “I can’t lose you. I just got you.”
He gripped her tighter. “You won’t. I promise.”
Tears fell. She shook her head. “Don’t look for him. Please.”
His hands slid up to her face, and he held her. “I won’t do anything without informing you first, baby. I promise. But eventually, I will find him. He has to be stopped. You don’t want him to continue kidnapping and selling girls, do you?”
She cringed. She hadn’t thought of that. “No.”
“Then he has to be stopped.”
She nodded slowly. “Let someone else do it.”
He set his forehead against hers. “I don’t want you to worry about that asshole right now. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Okay,” she murmured, trying to calm her racing heart. She could argue with him about this again later. It felt weird arguing. She hadn’t done it with anyone in so long. It felt…natural. She used to argue with her father all the time. It felt nice to be able to make demands, even if Damon had no intention of granting them. Neither had her father.
Damon leaned down and turned off the water. The tub was full. He came right back to face her. “Answer my question. How did you bathe, Gemma?”
She lowered her head. Might as well tell him. He was obstinate and persistent. He wouldn’t stop until she told him. “He used a hose.”
Damon flinched. “Outside? It’s fucking cold outside most of the year.”
She shook her head. “In the basement. Over the drain.” But it had been just as cold. There had been no temperature control on the hose. He’d made the slaves stand over the drain, wrists restrained to the ceiling.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let the memory flood back in. She’d hated the days he’d bathed them. He’d used some sort of liquid soap and his bare hands, running them all over her body before hosing her down with a common garden hose.
It had been cold and humiliating. Over time, she’d forgotten what it was like to wear clothes, so she’d stopped trying to cover her nudity, but wash days had made her want to scream. There’d been something infinitely more violating about having Master J or one of his employees fondle her body. They’d always lingered too long over her breasts and pussy, making her hate them even more.
She was glad Damon didn’t ask for more details. She knew he would later, but she didn’t have the strength right now.
“Let’s get you in the tub,” he murmured, his voice low and sad. He lifted his shirt back over her head, took her hand, and helped steady her as she stepped in.
She moaned as she slid under the water. Nothing had ever felt so good in her life. Not that she could remember. Except maybe the orgasm he’d given her last night. That had been pretty damn amazing.
“Do you mind if I stay, baby?” he asked, his voice calm and pleading.
“I don’t mind, Sir.” She winced. “Damon.” She tipped back her head to meet his gaze. It seemed like he trusted her sincerity more when she looked him in the eye. “I like it when you’re nearby. It calms me. I start to panic when you’re not in the room,” she admitted.
He gave a nod. “I prefer to be nearby, too. I’m worried about you.” He picked up a bottle of shampoo. “This isn’t anything fancy, but it will do. We can order something floral. You always smelled like coconut. Do you still like that scent?”
She hadn’t remembered that until he mentioned it. “I don’t know.”
“We’ll order a few scents, and you can choose.” He poured shampoo onto his palm. “Would you like me to wash your hair?”
She nodded. She wanted him to erase the other people. Maybe he could if she let him touch her. “Please.”
He looked so pleased when he smiled. “Tip your head back to get it wet.”
She eased her head into the water, sinking all the way under before rising back out.
He chuckled. “I think you’re wet now.” He came to the other end of the tub, sat on the wide edge, and gently set his hands on her head.
She closed her eyes and luxuriated in the feel of his kind fingers rubbing her scalp.
“I can do this all day if you want, baby.”
“Mmmm. I’m not going to stop you.”
He took his time. With each passing minute, she relaxed further. Maybe she was safe. She wanted to believe it.
When he finally finished and helped her ease back to rinse off the bubbles, she stared at him. “Did you really look for me for three years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He helped her sit back upright. “I was half in love with you, Gemma. And you didn’t deserve whatever was happening to you. I couldn’t sleep or eat or even sit still for months. I pulled my hair out by the roots in a total panic. I searched for you because you’re a human being who needed rescue. But I also searched for you because I selfishly wanted you for myself.”
She licked her lips. Her heart beat faster.
He tipped her chin back. “You’re not obligated to return my affections. I hope you know that. I want to help you get your life back. You’re free to leave at any time though. You owe me nothing.”
“How much did you pay for me?” Why did such odd questions fall out of her mouth all the time?
“Doesn’t matter. I would have given my life for you.”
“Damon, how much?”
He grabbed the bath soap and held it out. “Would you like to wash yourself?”
She shook her head. “No. I want you to do it.” It felt good to be able to speak her mind, but she owed him an explanation. “I haven’t washed myself in three years. Other men ran their hands over me. It was humiliating. I want you to replace those memories with your hands.”
He swallowed hard but somehow managed to not show as much anger as earlier. He surely knew it stressed her out.
“Okay, baby.” He picked up a wash cloth, but when she shook her head, he set it back down and poured the soap onto his palms. After building up a lather, he started with her arms, massaging her fingers one by one and working his way to her elbow and then her shoulder.
He took his time, touching every inch of her as if he understood her need for him to wash away the previous men and replace their touch with his own.
It was exactly what she needed, and she couldn’t thank him enough for giving her this. Maybe she should have insisted no one ever wash her again, but she wanted Damon’s hands on her. She wanted to close her eyes and memorize his touch. He was gentle and careful. Not groping like an animal. Not cackling while he touched her. Not treating her like she wasn’t a human being.
