Page 7 of Corruption
“No.”
“Tonight—”
“Is that another question?” I interrupted once more.
“I…” she trailed off, uncertainty evident in her voice as she struggled to complete her sentence. I maintained my grip on her chin until she finally sighed and nodded. “Understood, Master.”
“Good girl,” I praised her, seeing a hint of anger flash in her eyes. Alison was slowly emerging from her dazed state, and her resistance was returning. It was reassuring to see her in this state. It was the only version of her that I knew how to handle. Her fearful or oddly concerned demeanor was too perplexing for me to deal with.
“Must you treat me like a pet?” she groaned, displaying her defiance.
“Who says I only call my pets good girls?” I taunted, observing her eyes widen. I took hold of her arm, guiding her with me.
“Is this…?” she began.
“Alison, before you speak, ask yourself if a question is about to leave your lips,” I growled softly as I led her toward the massive double doors.
“Fine!” she snapped quietly. “You can’t afford this.”
“Who says it’s mine?” I countered, a mischievous smile crossing my face. I noticed how she was attempting to extract an answer from me. She was challenging me, and I relished her return to her typically provocative self.
I grasped the door handle and opened one of the doors. I pushed Alison in front of me, then closed the door behind us. Alison slowly surveyed the grand entrance, complete with a massive chandelier overhead. However, there was an eerie ambiance about the place, not because it felt unsafe, but because it reminded me of the houses in horror movies where the spirits of past residents lingered. I appreciated the atmosphere. It was preferable to real-life monsters haunting me, but I noticed Alison taking a small step back. I came up behind her, and her back met my front. She turned her head, her eyes still wide with curiosity.
“What is this place?” she inquired.
“You’re not very good at following a simple command,” I reprimanded her.
“But how can I not ask?”
“Because good sluts don’t question their master. They listen when he tells them to do something, and they accept that they aren’t even worthy enough to know everything.”
“You didn’t used to kill people when we were in high school!” she growled softly.
“No, I taught him that.”
Alison whipped her head around, spotting Vince at the top of the staircase. He wore a slight smile as he observed us. Slowly, he looked Alison up and down, his gaze lingering on her body before returning to me.
“I see you got to her in time,” he remarked.
“Just barely. Next time, give me a heads up,” I snapped, still annoyed with Vince for dragging me into this mess. I sincerely hoped he was already taking steps to fix it.
“I really thought you would bring her. She is yours for a month, isn’t she?” he pointed out.
“Unfortunately for her,” I mumbled, seizing Alison’s arm once more and leading her up the stairs. As we drew closer, I observed Alison scrutinizing Vince in the same way he was examining her. Both were searching for clues, weaknesses, sizing each other up.
“Who—” she began.
“That’s another question,” I reminded her as we passed by Vince.
“You’re not going to allow me to meet her?” Vince laughed from behind me.
I halted, considering whether to introduce the two of them, but I knew the closer I allowed Alison to delve into my past, or even my present because Vince wasn’t a relic from my past like my father and my bullies, the more power she would hold over me. Vince was the sole anchor in my life, and I didn’t want her to ruin that.
“She isn’t worth it,” I told him. “Just a toy for me to use.”
I heard a small gasp escape from Alison, but she was well aware of what this contract had transformed her into. Yet something churned within my chest, something I steadfastly avoided analyzing even for a moment. The fear from earlier somehow still lingered, and Vince’s interest in Alison only served to tighten my grip on her arm. Vince didn’t press the issue. He allowed me to lead Alison away, guiding her up the next flight of stairs, down a hallway, and eventually to the end where I opened the door to my old bedroom. I ushered Alison inside, and she surveyed the spacious room. She took a few steps forward as I closed the door, locked it, and placed the bag on a nearby couch. Alison’s gaze settled on a photo farther away, one of the very few in the room. She picked it up, tracing the frame with a single finger before turning to me.
“This can’t be your room.”
