Bought (His For A Week)
“There’s water, tea—”
“You her fuckin’ waiter?” Jake sneered.
Going to the kitchen, Ben poured a glass of water and set it before Claire. She gave him a look of gratitude.
“You’re not trying to starve your slave?”
“Hey, you worry about your slut, I’ll worry about mine.”
“I’d want to make sure mine had enough stamina.”
“You gotta teach them their place first.”
Ben walked over to the table but stood before the windows. “Is that why you have them sleeping in the basement?”
“You got it. Where’s Slut #2?”
“Taking a nap in my room.”
Jake shook his head. “You’re starting off on the wrong foot. Better to be hard on them at the beginning, then they appreciate it when you’re kind. You start off wussy, they won’t learn proper submission.”
“You don’t have to be an asswipe about it.”
Jake bristled. “You got your way, I’ve got mine. Besides, women want this. They want a man to totally dominate them and tell them what to do. I’m just giving them what they want.”
“How come they didn’t come with anything?”
“No time to pack, but it’s not like they’re going to need clothes here.”
“They look tired.”
Jake slowed his chewing as he stared at Ben. “What’s it to you?”
“What do you know about these women?”
“All I need to know. The Scarlet Auction takes care of testing them for STDs, and the women fill out questionnaires about what they like and shit.”
“You get to see the questionnaires?”
“Yep. I only go for women that are game for just about anything. Your slut, for example, indicated she’s into hardcore BDSM.”
Ben felt his pulse quicken at the prospect, but he wasn’t ready to take anything Jake said at face value. “Do you have the questionnaire for Montana?”
“Who? Oh, you mean Slut #2. Nah, I left the printouts at the auction.”
Ben half suspected Jake hadn’t read any of it. “What do the women get to know about you?”
“Nothing. It’s an auction, not a matchmaking service.”
“What happens if they decide they don’t want to go through with something?”
Jake shrugged. “They can call it quits, but they won’t get their money then.”
Jake crumpled up his sandwich wrapper and tossed it at the wastebasket with a pretty good hook shot.
“Tyrell call you back?” Ben asked.
“Nope.”