Pennies (Dollar 1)

“Oh, Piiiimmm.” Master A’s taunt rang out behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

My back straightened even as adrenaline shot down my legs. Every instinct screamed for me to run. Run and hide and get as far away as possible.

But I wouldn’t run.

I never ran.

Because running was a weakness, and I was many things, but I refused to be that.

Cocking my chin, I gave him a look and continued my trajectory toward the corridor. The sound of his shoes on tiles sent carving knives flaying my spine.

“You know not to turn your back on me, Pimlico.”

Just keep going.

A few more feet.

My left hand splayed out to touch the doorframe as I left the lounge and took a shaky breath. One step, two, three. My bare toes touched the first stair; my racing heart made me shudder as I clutched the polished banister.

“Come back here.” Master A picked up his pace, appearing a few metres behind me. He cracked his knuckles, tilting his head in a well-known threat. “You didn’t think you’d get off so easily, did you? You know you fucked up tonight.”

His teeth shone savagely white. “You sat at my fucking table, you bitch. You ate my food. You enticed my guest. You were rude to me, and you know what that means.”

Every step he took toward me, my cells bellowed louder to bolt.

It was so hard to ignore. So hard, I had to clutch the banister to keep myself in place; my poor knuckles popped with pressure.

But I didn’t increase my speed.

No matter he stood like a gun ready to fire, just waiting for me to fly away, I climbed the steps slowly, regally, with my head held high and silence draped like a glittering gown around me.

I’d let myself down once tonight with my panic attack. The undermining terror that I couldn’t control struck my fragile power at the worst possible time. To think the stranger had seen me that way. Heard me breathless and blue.

Oh, God.

The embarrassment was new. I’d had no reason to value what another thought of me for so long…until him.

But it didn’t matter. He’d left. I’d never see him again. After what Master A would do to me tonight…who knew if I’d ever see anyone again.

Seven steps, eight, nine.

Twenty-seven more to go and I’d be in my room, my jail. If I could get there, perhaps Master A would remember that I was his not Mr. Prest’s. Another man could touch me, use me at the discretion of my owner, but they would never take me away.

Only I could do that by taking my life or his.

My spine crawled with imaginary cockroaches, scurrying faster and faster.

Master A ascended the stairs soundlessly behind me. My ears strained, waiting for him to charge and pounce. But he never increased his speed, content to stalk me up the stairs, happy to see what I would do.

He wasn’t in a rush to chastise me. We both knew no other alternative existed for tonight.

He felt as if I’d disobeyed him.

I didn’t agree.

The pain would be the same.

“Are you ready for another anniversary present, my dear?” His chuckle was rancid with malicious intent. “I think you’re the one who owes me a present after I let you sit on my couch. Don’t want you believing you’re worth more than you are.”

The landing was so close. My speed increased just a little.

He growled as my feet grazed the top step. “Running won’t change what I’m about to do to you, Pim.”

His oath shoved me forward like a phantom hand between my shoulder blades. It was no longer a battle between slow and quick, strong or weak, brave or meek. I was a warrior who faced combat head-on. But I was also a defeated soldier who wanted to sprint from enemy lines.

Go!

Instinct made me do it. The animalistic need to hide gave no room to argue. I couldn’t stop my legs from breaking into a scurry, just like I couldn’t stop my heart from tearing through my kick-bruised chest.

I shouldn’t.

I’d be punished.

I should fight my terror and drop to my knees. Like always.

But I couldn’t. Not this time.

I bolted.

“Pim!” He chased me. Just like I knew he would.

My brittle legs hurtled my skinny body from the corridor into my room. There were no doors to slam, no locks to secure. Even my ensuite had no barricade—no privacy offered at any time.

I supposed I was lucky to have my own space, but it was just another element to Master A’s board game of pain. No matter where I ran, no matter where I hid, he found me. Because he was god in this house, and I was merely his whore.

My mouth parted with a silent scream as he appeared in the doorway, panting with angry-sharp eyes. “I thought we’d taught the lesson of no running a few weeks into your stay?” Storming toward me, he growled, “Did that fucking prick somehow undo all my teachings the second he touched you? Did he? Answer me!”