A Scotch for the Road - Part 10

[flighty_dreams]

TITLE: A Scotch for the Road - Part 10
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: Slavefic. NC-17.  F/m, Femdom.
WORD COUNT: 2,866 (this chapter)/ story so far (over 30K)
SUMMARY: A slave enduring a party encounters more than he bargained for.
NOTES: Thanks to aurila for her assistance.
FEEDBACK: Always welcome, even if it's just to say that you read it.

 

Part Ten

 

 

His heart light, Brett stirred the food.

Jenna wanted to wash her hair before work the next day, and he’d offered to make dinner in the meantime. It was a bit late to eat, but they’d worked up enough of an appetite, he thought with a smile.

They’d spent most of the day at the villa. After pleasuring her in the pool earlier, she’d returned the favor, leaving him more than satisfied. Between the pleasure and the comfort, his fears had faded to the back of his mind, and it had been the best day he could remember. Content in the secluded villa, he’d been reluctant to leave and make the three hour drive to his mistress’ home in the city.

Putting the lid over the pot to let the stew simmer for a while, he stepped back from the stove. The day isn’t over yet, he reminded himself.

This apartment was bigger than the condo they’d lived in before. Four bedrooms instead of two, and with a balcony twice as large as the room he’d shared with his mother as a small boy. The biggest bedroom was Jenna’s of course, and the others were used as an office, an exercise room and a guest bedroom.  Huge and well-located in Elina, an affluent neighborhood in the center of the city, he was afraid to ask her how much this place cost. Not that money was ever an issue for any member of her family, but it was an extravagance he hadn’t expected from her. This building even had a communal slave apartment on each floor so that the residents wouldn’t have to suffer ‘the help’ living with them. Before she’d avoided places with such a snobby attitude whenever she could.

Not that he’d feared she’d make him stay in the slave quarters. He knew her too well for that. She’d even told him to bring his things into her room, insisting she’d make space in her closet for him. Considering her closet was almost as big as the balcony, he hadn’t protested. There was more than enough room.

Glancing around the kitchen now, he had to admit he loved it. The stainless steel appliances were state-of-the-art, and the room was well laid out. There was plenty of counter space, and the large pantry and fridge were well stocked. It had everything he could want, being organized, spacious and aesthetically pleasing.

Walking out of the kitchen, he paused in the hallway, hearing the water of the shower running still. Confident that he would be unobserved, he began exploring the apartment more closely, starting with the living room. A few pieces of furniture he remembered from her last home, and he passed a hand over a few of them as if they were old friends. In a way they were, reminding him of happy times.

Overall what struck him was how different this place was from the apartment he’d known. Freshly graduated, Jenna’s old home had still contained many of her things from college life. Her family hadn’t given her hand-me-downs of course; they could afford whatever she liked, but they had been simple things, functional rather than fancy. Most of that was gone, replaced by expensive or antique furniture that he hadn’t thought fit her taste. He’d been to her parents’ mansion a few times—an uncomfortable visit every time, to be sure—and he remembered her mother talking about the decorator she had hired. Recalling the polished, impersonal feel of the rooms, he felt that same sense here, even though it wasn’t necessarily the same person who had done it, if a decorator had even been hired. There was just little of Jenna here—or at least who she had been four years ago. Only the handful of familiar furniture pieces remained to tie any of the old home here. And of the rest, only the coffee table broke from the sterile perfection, being a different style from the rest of the heavy living room pieces. At least the sofa had been chosen for comfort as well as style.

Besides the new furniture, gone were the posters and the photos of college events. Those he could understand; college was years behind her now, and she’d become a respected businesswoman. Jenna had grown up and put away childish things, as the saying went.

The bedroom and office were better than the rest of the apartment, looking more lived in. The former had cosmetics clustered at her dresser and books left on the nightstand. The office walls displayed her diploma and some of the old college paraphernalia he’d thought gone, while the desk had papers scattered across its surface that his hands itched to straighten. He wouldn’t dare touch them without permission though, afraid of messing up some convoluted system. Instead he returned to the living room, ignoring the bookshelves along the back wall for now.

The elegantly framed paintings on her walls he gave no more than a passing glance. They were just pictures to him; as a slave he knew he had no eye for quality. For most of his life he’d been too busy worrying about things more basic and important, like avoiding punishment or having warm enough clothes.

The photos he studied with more interest. Although he didn’t know some of the people in them, various family members he recognized, such as Jenna’s parents and her siblings. There was a group picture, and he picked Derrick and his mother out of the gathering too. He paused on a photo of Jenna’s parents, staring at her mother, who’d often come by years ago to lecture her daughter on doing something productive with her life. Brett wondered if she still came by now that Jenna was doing her part in the family business. Probably, he decided. The subject matter may have changed, but the lectures still happened, likely including his mistress’s unmarried state.

And, he noted unhappily, even if they had stopped, they’d start again once her mother found out Jenna had bought him. The woman would not be pleased to hear the news.

Finishing with the last of the photographs, he frowned. He shouldn’t let it bother him, but there were pictures missing. Not that he’d ever liked having his picture taken, but it wasn’t as if he would refuse her. She’d printed two of them, insisting on it despite his protests. Young and headstrong as she was then, she’d still been wise enough to agree they were better off affixed to the vanity mirror in her bedroom rather than framed in the living room where her mother would see them every time she visited, along with whoever else stopped by. But the fact that she’d put them up at all had been enough to outrage her mother, who’d given her a lecture on not letting slaves get too full of themselves. One of them, a close-up of his face that hadn’t shown his collar, had particularly drawn her offense.

No, they aren’t here, he observed sadly. It was odd, considering how embarrassed and uncomfortable he’d felt about her putting them up before, that he would feel so disappointed now. Maybe she had them in her room again, and he had missed them. One thing he was sure of, recalling how continually she’d touched him all weekend, as if needing the constant reassurance that he was really there: she had not thrown the photos away.

Thinking of how happy she was to have him back, and the misery in her eyes as she apologized for what she’d done, he realized why they were hidden. She hadn’t been able to bear seeing them every day. If he’d had a photo of her these past four years, he couldn’t have endured looking at it daily either.

Not wanting to dwell on unpleasant things, he focused on the present rather than the past. He’d done enough brooding these past years; the last thing he needed was more of it.

Even morose thoughts couldn’t dissolve the happy mood he’d been in all day. It was hard to feel sad when he and Jenna had reunited. Several times. The thought made him smile, a warm feeling growing in his chest, and he wondered if his mistress would mind if he joined her in the shower. Somehow he didn’t think she would protest, he thought, grinning. They’d already showered together once today, after their swim. And the subsequent activity it had led to had prevented her from styling her hair.

The phone rang then, interrupting his pleasant thoughts. The drone of the hair dryer told him Jenna was still occupied, and he didn’t want to disturb her with this. In the absence of updated instructions, he did what he would’ve done four years ago.

“Jenna Vanlean-Warren’s residence.”

There was a pause as the caller hesitated. Then he spoke, his accent cultured. “I’d like to speak with Jenna. Is she around?”

Something about his tone made Brett bristle. Normally he would’ve thrown in a ‘sir’ to alert the caller that he was speaking to a slave, but he found himself leaving it out. “She’s busy at the moment, but I can let her know you called.”

“All right,” the caller said, sounding a bit disgruntled. “Tell her Jason called.”

“I will.”

“Thanks,” the stranger said briskly, hanging up.

Brett put the phone down slowly, frowning. Why had he done that? The caller hadn’t done anything wrong or displayed any rudeness, but Brett had felt hostile towards him anyway. His confusion faded when his eyes settled on the photos on the wall across from him.

He’d not been in denial; he knew Jenna had family and friends. And that was her right of course. It would be stupid and petty to resent her for having other people in her life. But he’d wanted some time alone with her before the outside world intruded. His enmity towards the caller had just been his subconscious realization that their private respite was over.

He’d gotten two days, he reminded himself. And when he was trapped in Donovan’s basement, how much would he have endured for one more day with her? As a slave, you learned to be thankful for whatever scraps you got.

It was all a matter of perspective.

The balcony looked out over the city, providing a spectacular view. He walked out onto it, wanting some fresh air. Skyscrapers of varying heights surrounded him, many of them rising far above Jenna’s 22^nd story apartment. In the distance, between some of the buildings, he could see the river in the fading twilight. As the day died away, the lights of the city grew.

Setis was a huge metropolis, its population numbering in the millions. Although not the capital, it was Cartay’s largest city and the second biggest hub for commerce in the world. It was no surprise it housed the headquarters of a multitude of companies, including Vanlean International.

Her bare feet were so quiet that he didn’t sense her, not until she stepped up next to him, resting her arms on the rail of the balcony. He jumped, jarred out of his thoughts.

A hand touched his arm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

He turned his head to look down at her in her black silk robe, giving her a soft smile. Apologies had always been a rare gift.

She smiled back, the glow she’d had all day still flaring. But as she got a closer look at him it dimmed, to his regret. “Is something wrong?”

She’d noticed that his own giddy glow was gone. “No, Mistress,” he said, shaking his head.

Her hands went to her hips. “Brett,” she said, “don’t lie to me.”

He bit his lip. “It’s not worth mentioning, Mistress.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s worth mentioning.”

He didn’t agree with that, but she was in charge, not him. Struggling to decide how much to say, he was glad she gave him time to plan his words.

“I guess I wanted to pretend it was just us for a while.”

“Me too,” she said, voice soft. Her nose wrinkled. “Did something happen?”

“There was a phone call, Mistress.”

“Ugh. Let me guess. My mother?”

He shook his head, relieved it hadn’t been her.

“Probably Jason then.”

Brett’s brows rose. “Yes, he called, Mistress.”

Her expression was wry. “He calls a lot,” she said, confirming his suspicions.

Quizzical, he looked at her, tamping down his unease.

“He’s been friends with my brother since they were eight. They always spent a lot of time together, especially over at our house, so he’s practically family. You never met him, did you?”

“No, Mistress.” But her explanation had sparked his memory. Jason had been mentioned by her family in conversation several times.

“He was away at school back then, with Victor.”

If he was the same age as Jenna’s brother Victor, that made Jason two years younger than her. Brett had only seen her brother once, when he was visiting his parents’ house for the weekend. He wondered briefly if this Jason was in any of the photos. But his most obvious question was, if this Jason was Victor’s friend, why was he calling Jenna so much?

She twined her arm with his. “After they finished college, the two of them weren’t as close anymore. They’re still good friends, but they used to be inseparable. I got into a conversation about it with him one day at my parents’ house, and after that we ended up spending more time together. That was three years ago. I guess we were both lonely.”

Brett couldn’t help wondering just how close they’d become, even though he knew it was wrong of him.

Thankfully, Jenna hadn’t noticed his discomfort. “He’s not a snob like most people from the Families. He’s a nice guy.”

“That’s good,” Brett said, because some response seemed expected. Meanwhile, the shameless green beast inside him rumbled.

 “Kind of amazing he turned out that way, after being friends with my brother for so long.” Her mouth quirked, and she paused before adding, “He must’ve been shocked to hear you pick up.”

“Yes, he was,” Brett replied, taking petty pleasure in that now.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you were unavailable, Mistress.”

“No, I mean does he know who you are?” When he shook his head, she continued, “Then I’ll let him wonder for a while longer. Get some peace while we can, before my mother finds out you’re back.”

Brett shuddered, not wanting to deal with the woman. “I shouldn’t have answered the phone then.”

“It’s all right. But in the meantime, don’t answer it anymore. It’s only a matter of time before the news comes out, but no need to rush it. There’s no such thing as privacy where she’s concerned.” She shivered against him, and he realized she was cold out here in just her robe.

“Would you like to go inside, Mistress?” She allowed him to escort her in, their arms still tucked together.

“I should call Jason.” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I wouldn’t want him calling Victor later to ask who I might’ve met this weekend.”

Yes, that would hasten her mother learning of his return. He’d be happy if the woman died of old age without ever hearing of it.

She picked up the phone and then gestured for him to sit on the couch. Straddling him, she kissed him briefly while one hand played with his hair. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her close. If amidst his pleasure and contentment there was a slender thread of possessiveness, he kept it to himself.

Dialing the number, she leaned back on her heels, one hand still touching him, stirring his desire.

“Hi, Jason. You were trying to reach me?”

Brett could hear the voice through the receiver, but the words were muffled. His hands brushed her sides before rubbing her stomach through the silk.

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I had a nice time. The weather was beautiful.” Brett slipped one hand inside her robe, stroking her as she continued talking to Jason for a few minutes.

At another muffled question she said, “Just a friend. I should get back to him. Don’t want to be rude.”

Brett pinched her nipple, and her face flushed. Eyes flashing in warning, she tugged his hand out of her robe. Into the phone she said, “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Jason.”

Her call finished, she tossed the phone onto the couch beside them. Then she poked Brett in the chest. “You are so bad.”

It was true, he was. He’d fallen into old habit without thinking; years ago he’d often distracted her while she was on the phone. But now wasn’t then, and he wasn’t sure if it was okay anymore, he realized, sobering.

“No, don’t do that. I’m not mad,” she said hastily. When he relaxed she grinned wickedly and took up the old game. “You’ll just have to make it up to me.”

“I made dinner, Mistress,” he offered, her playful tone reassuring him.

Her lips brushed his before moving to his ear, and her hot breath and husky words made him harden. “That’s a start.”

 Part Eleven