《The Dragon Master's Pleasure Slave》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1 Margot


    "Margot! Finish up with thatundry! Your sister has to leave in two hours. What''s taking you so long?"


    I wince at Stepmother''s grating voice as she screams down into the basement. My hands are raw from handwashing endless amounts of fancy lingerie and overpriced clothing. I had tried to wear gloves, but Stepmother decided against it. "Margot, we spend a lot of money to put your sisters in the finest clothes money can buy to find them a husband. We cannot risk you ruining their attire with your slovenly gloves, so earn your keep."


    I wasn''t sure why she had decided against it. Until I saw a sly smile spread across her lips when she saw the cracks, the raw blisters, and the overall unbearable nature of my hands. She liked seeing me hurt, seeing me in pain.


    If I were normal, my injuries would heal quickly. But thanks to the non-removable hexed gold cuff around my wrist, I can''t ess any of my dragon''s powers.


    I don''t even know if I have a dragon because my father had the witch put it before I reached the age of being able to connect with her. Many dragon shifters don''t get their full dragons anymore because our bloodline has be so diluted. I''ll never know if my dragon blood is strong enough to afford me a dragon.


    "Do I need toe down there?" Her voice is ice.


    "No, ma''am. I will hurry."


    I gaze into the bubbly water my hands are plunged into and wonder why I had lost out on life''s luck lottery. Who is the girl gazing back at me? Round blue eyes that are dull and lifeless, high cheekbones, and a head of tangled thick blonde curls pulled away from my face beneath a rag.


    I sigh and go back to concentrating on the wash.


    My half-sisters change clothes three times a day-at least once for each meal-and every change includes a matching La Pe lingerie set. They could only wear one outfit at a time, but they insist I do the wash daily.


    How many clothes did one person need anyway? I get by in my single blue dress with an apron. Even though I should change at least three times a day given how much food they throw at me. "It''s too cold, puppy!" they''d say as they flung their tes at me.


    I scrub faster and harder as soap nips at my wounds. I''ve tried to balm them, but they''re so parched my skin is almost brittle.


    It takes about half an hour to wash and wring everything, but damp is uneptable. I pick up the hair dryer to gently dry everything when pounding footsteps make their way down the stairs. I know her steps. I know the sounds of each person in this house.


    Before I can turn around, a fist grabs a chunk of my hair and yanks my head back. The force brings me to the floor, sprawled out. Stepmother res down at me.


    She''s pretty, in her own right. A short


    bob of silver hair, sleek cheekbones,


    a stout nose, and full lips. Her eyebrows are perfectly manicured, and the re...she shouldn''t be able to wrinkle her forehead like that.


    swny


    It was time to book a Botox appointment, and I make a mental note to callter.


    "I thought I told you your sister has to leave soon." She kicks me in the ribs with a pointy-toed shoe, and a smirk presses into her lips. She enjoys it when I beg and cringe in pain. Instinctively, I curl into a ball, preparing for more kicks as I plead.


    "I''m sorry! I thought I''d have time to do everything!" I cover my head. "Tell me which dress set she wants to wear. I''ll dry and press it first."


    "She wants to have ALL of her options! Are you trying to upset me?"


    She aims another kick to my already bruised and beaten ribs. It hurts to breathe, and I''m almost certain if she continues kicking me, she''ll break them if she hasn''t already.


    The beatings are almost daily, and Stepmother always wears shoes. Those awful, awful pointed-toe


    shoes to ensure her kicks do the


    most damage. She once told me she likes to see my "polka dots," calling me her little Dalmatian.


    Sometimes they watch the Disney movie and make me yelp like a puppy. Or pose on my hands and knees like a table, so they can prop their feet up while watching the cartoon.


    "I''ll hurry, Stepmother. I''m so sorry I failed you again," I whimper. "I promise I won''t make you have to kick me anymore. It hurts so much."


    She steadies her hands, sping


    them together in front of herself, and nods. "Good! It''s supposed to. If you would just do what you''re instructed to, wouldn''t have to punish?ou for disappointing me." FindNovel


    Unfortunately, there''s nothing I can do that doesn''t disappoint her.


    "Yes, Stepmother. I''m sorry for being bad."


    "When you''re done cleaning up your mess, your father needs to speak to you, puppy."


    I freeze.


    Father never wants to speak to me. Ever. I''m a humiliating stain from his past life, and he doesn''t so much as breathe near me as I serve their dinner tes, as if I''m some disease he can catch. What can he possibly want from me?


    In his eyes, I''m as good as dead. I don''t exist other than to be at the whims of my stepmother and stepsisters.


    If he wants to speak to me, it can only mean something horrifying is in store.Content ? N?velDrama.Org.

 Chapter 2

    MargotThis is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    "You wanted to see me, Father?" I don''t dare look at him.


    He hates when I look at him because he says my eyes are too much like hers-my mother''s. And he doesn''t want to think of her.


    She vanished after a night out with my father when I was a hatchling, but I try not to think about it. Right after my mother disappeared, my stepmother and her awful daughters showed up...daughters who turned out not to be my stepsisters but my half-sisters. Who were born before me.


    While my father was married to my mother.


    Father''s office makes my throat constrict. The shelves filled with gambling books, maps of the world, dragon history, and other such assorted fare seem like the walls of a jail cell I''ll never escape. Each shelf is like a row of bars meant to keep me caged in my prison. I desperately wish I could peek inside the dragon books. To see if there is a way to connect with my dragon side or to do anything about this wretched gold cuff. But I''m not allowed to touch anything in here.


    And I don''t dare disobey him, because anything my father would do to punish me would be far, far worse than what my stepmother or half-sisters dish out.


    I stand before hisrge oak desk, trying to remain as still as possible, to not ask all of the questions swimming around my head.


    I want him to tell me what is happening, what I''ve done wrong, so I can correct it and make my way back into the basement. Instead, I take a deep breath to lessen the terror pushing in on my chest.


    I have no way out, no escape. My father is the key master, and doing just as he says is the only way to stay alive. I''ve tried to think of ways I can escape from this life, from these people, but they keep a close watch.


    I''m not allowed to leave the yard anymore. Not since I was an idiot and brought up talking to someone at the bakery once.


    I''m not supposed to speak to anyone. Ever.


    It''d cost me twentyshes with the leather strap. But honestly? It was worth it. For once, I felt in control, like I had the power.


    Though he''d taken it away from me in the next second.


    They haven''t taken my outside chores from me, but I think it''s only because no one else wants to go near the pig pens. Of course, if they knew how much I enjoy it, they''d take that from me, too.


    But the fresh air when I''m out taking care of the pigs-those simple moments of walking through the field from the house to the barn-give me hope there is more than this.


    Unfortunately, I know I''ll be trapped here forever. I blink back tears as I shift my weight. The tracker bracelet around my ankle is heavy-like a lead balloon reminding me that, no, there won''t be anything more for me. I move my focus from the dark carpeting to the hard, ck band around my ankle.


    I''ve tried so many times to get it off, but obnoxious beeping gives me away when I get too close.


    I''ve tried to cut it with a saw and hit it with a hammer, but that only resulted in more cuts and bruises. It is too tight, and every time I attempt to shove it down, I cut the back of my heel or my ankle bone.


    I''ve dislocated my thumb try to get the gold cuff off my wrist, but it''s no use either.


    Between the ankle monitor and the gold cuff, there isn''t anything else for me.


    They''ve ensured I can''t get away.


    Not until they decide to release me.


    And why would they let their servant go?


    I''ve long since given up.


    Sometimes, I sneak nces at the TV while my stepsisters are watching and I''m cleaning. I make up stories about who and where I might be in those shows.


    Does the dreaming make it worse? Maybe. I''ll take what reprieve from my life I can get, though.


    "Margot, you disgusting swine. Look at you! No wonder you''re worthless to us. Don''t you even know how to bathe?"


    Of course, I know how to bathe. I''m just never allowed to properly do so. Who can bathe with only a water bin outside a barn surrounded by pigs?


    I remember my mother bathing me


    in the luxurious bathrooms in the house before she vanished. She''d


    sing a beautiful melody about heret


    baby mine while I giggled and popped bubbles. She was always smiling,ughing, and loving life, but it''s getting harder to remember her.


    It hurts my heart and soul to think about that loss.


    Even though I''m not looking at him, the sneer on his face shes in my mind as he snarls at me. I''ve seen it enough to have it burned into my head.


    I''m sure he''s wearing one of his


    ck suits and sitting behind his desk, leaning forward, his fingers steepled together and his elbows resting on the top of the thick oak. His gray hair is probablybed and parted to the side, and his full beard and mustache neatly trimmed.


    "I''m sorry I''m so dirty, Father," I whisper.


    He snorts and lights up a cigarette.


    "You''re such an embarrassment. I''m d I have your sisters to represent me. They''re betterpany and will help provide a wonderful future when they secure husbands. Unlike you. You disgust me. But those girls, those lovely sisters of yours, they''ll redeem us."


    Half-sisters.


    If they were family, the family I long to have, they would never allow me to be treated like this.


    "Yes, Father."


    I''m not sure what else to say, but he expects everything he says to be met with acknowledgment. Since I can''t look at him and nod, I''m forced to use words.


    Dragons are supposed to be protective as well as possessive. Sure, we''re known for hoarding, but the only reason my "family" is possessive of me is because they don''t want to lose their ve.


    I like to dream about having a real family someday. A mate. Hatchlings. Love.


    Or is that too much?


    Maybe just...to not be a ve. To be able to properly bathe. To be able to eat real food.


    My grimy bare feet dig into the fibers of the dark-blue plush carpeting as he spits out his next words.


    "At least I''ll be done with you. You''re leaving tonight."

 Chapter 3

    Margot


    My head snaps up, and I wince as I meet his angry scowl.


    His face contorts in snarling disgust, and he holds a sparkling crystal tumbler of golden liquid.


    He throws it back in one loud gulp before standing up behind his desk and turning his eyes to me again.


    I look back down at the carpet, cross my arms over my chest, and grip my elbows as hard as possible.


    I hear his footsteps, the brush of his cks as he walks. Then his shadow towers over me as I swallow my fear, waiting for his hand to m into my cheek.


    My stepmother likes to kick and pull hair, but my father likes to hit or, even more humiliating, backhand. As a result, my cheek will sting for hours, and sometimes the handprint will stay for days. My scarlet letter, so to speak. "Leaving?" I ask meekly, hunching over as his six-foot-three frame swallows me.


    "Yes, leaving. I''m selling you at the auction. I can pay my gambling debts off if I sell you."


    I flinch.


    He continues. "Your mother told me you''re still a virgin, and that''s exactly what will bring me a high price for you."


    Stepmother.


    He wallops the small of my back with the side of his fist. Hard enough to jolt me into position, but not hard enough to leave a mark. "Stand up straight and look at the wall."


    I jerk upright and let my hands fall to my sides. I focus on the bookshelf behind his desk, examining the titles as if my life depends on remembering them.


    I struggle to read some of the words. They''re too long, too...educated, but I can make out a few.


    How to Win Friends and Influence People reads one title.


    He should reread it because it hadn''t worked.


    Father never let me go to school after he married my stepmother. He said I was too stupid. Besides, school is for women looking to marry up. My only hope is taking care of everything around the house so my half-sisters can do well. Father walks around me. My skin tingles in revolt as his eyes nce up and down my body. Finally, he pulls my chin up with his nicotine-stained fingers.


    "These marks on your arms look disgusting. That''s going to lower your price."


    As if it''s my fault.


    "Perhaps you should tell your wife and her daughters not to grab me so roughly."


    I choke on the words the second they leave my mouth.


    I do an excellent job tempering myself and keeping my mouth shut; it lessens the abuse. But sometimes I can''t stop myself, and the thoughts slide right out like a spewing faucet. And then I drown in a sea of my own making.


    Father grips my chin tightly and lifts his other hand to p me, rage taking over his features and reddening his face. I squeeze my eyes shut and turn my head slightly, preparing for the blow. It neveres.


    I open one eye a smidge and look at him.


    He''s breathing heavily, obviously trying to calm himself down. He lets go of my face, and his hands fist at his sides as his chest heaves.


    "You''re lucky. If I mar your face, the price will decrease even more, and I want every solitary cent I can get out of you. I''m so fucking d to be rid of you!"


    He stomps back over to his desk, yanks open a drawer, and pulls a pack of cigarettes out. He lights another one and takes a long drag before speaking again. The smell makes me woozy, and the seconds feel endless. Where am I going? Is it going to be worse than this? Can it be worse than here? Anything is possible, though, and I shudder.


    Whatever it is, I''ll survive and find a way out. I have to. I don''t have a choice. I might not be the most intelligent person, but I can be resourceful when I need to be.


    I''ll do what needs to be done, no matter how it turns my stomach.


    "Your mother will get you cleaned up before we leave. The better you look, the more money I''ll make off of you No one wants to fuck an ugly stick of a woman, even if she is a virgin. And if they''re unable to pop your cherry by some chance, I''ll kill you when you get home for making a fool of me."


    "I don''t think I can get clean out by the barn. And I don''t have any other clothes," I say as I lift the hem of my ripped and stained dress.


    He takes another drag off his


    cigarette, then hisses, "Are you fucking stupid? I said your mother was going to take care of it. Now, get out of my sight before I get sick thinking of what little I''ll get from the likes of you."


    "Yes, sir."


    I turn around and head out of his office. My stepmother is waiting for me in the hall, an amused grin shed across her face. She''s


    delighted. My half-sisters are


    standing behind her and peering


    around her shoulders with their own


    evil smirks.


    They turn up their noses and give delicate little sniffs.


    "I''m not touching that filthy bitch," Kristen says while rushing from the hall and up the stairs. Ashley follows behind her like the copycat mouse she''s always been.


    My mind is reeling. Virgin... My father said virgin. And it would pay off his debt.


    That means...


    Oh god.Exclusive ? material by N?(/v)elDrama.Org.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4 Margot


    "Hurry up. We haven''t got all night." Stepmother prods me down the hall with a jabby, almond-shaped fingernail in my back.


    "Mother, how are all the chores going to get done if the puppy is gone?" Ashley whines like the brat she is. I hold back an eye roll as she continues. "She didn''t even finish what she was supposed to do for me tonight." "You''ll have to take that up with your father. He didn''t ask my opinion before he decided to sell our little Dalmatian off."


    "How selfish of him," Kristen pouts in her high-pitched, screechy voice. "I need my room cleaned. My friends areing over tonight."


    "I''m sorry, my darling. We''ll have to get another servant just for you. Don''t you worry about it." Stepmotherforts Kristen and Ashley by bringing them into a group hug. "I would never let either of you suffer.


    "Besides, I wouldn''t be surprised if whoever buys Margot wants a refund after their drunken run with her body. Who would keep her when there are so many other options? She''s a maid, but not even a good one. I shouldn''t have kept her around all this time. Yet, my heart, it''s so kind...I took pity on the girl. Hopefully, whoever buys her takes pity, too."


    My eyes ze as my stepmother leads me into a guest bathroom. She waves her hand for me to remove my dress, then shoves me into the shower. It isn''t one of the nicer showers like some of the others. As the blistering hot water hits my skin, I yelp. Stepmother smiles and adjusts the knob.


    "Oops."


    She doesn''t mean it.


    As the water cools, the warmth feels like heaven. I can''t remember thest time I got to bathe with warm water, and I relish the moment.


    She seems irritated by my apparent happiness and snaps, "Shampoo and condition your hair, puppy. There''s a razor and soap on the ledge. Remove all hair on your body."


    "All of it?" I nce between my legs.


    She raises the corner of her upper lip. "Your father said you must remove all body hair. I would assume that indeed means all of it, idiot."


    Ither my body with the lightly vani-scented soap. I wash everything as slowly as possible without drawing attention to my dy. Next, I run my fingers through my freshly shampooed long blonde hair and work the tangles with lc-scented conditioner.


    I carefully shave my legs and armpits, taking care not to nick anything. I don''t think making myself bleed will be looked upon very highly by my stepmother, much less my father.


    She scoffs. "Aren''t you done? We haven''t got all night. You have to leave in an hour, so stop dilly dallying around."


    I finish up quickly, wrapping myself in the fluffy white towel Stepmother thrusts into my hand before stepping out of the shower. I dry off in record time.


    "Lotion everything." She points to a bottle on the counter. "We''re hiding your ws the best that we can."


    The smooth cream slides across my body, and I delight in the soft texture it leaves behind. A handful of clothing is shoved at me, and I dress as quickly as possible in the flowing white sundress. It bunches in toward my waist, and I look like a woman


    instead of a maid for once.


    I run ab through my hair as I slide my feet into the white ballet ts on the floor. I didn''t realize how tan my time with the animals made me until I see the contrast against the slippers.Exclusive ? material by N?(/v)elDrama.Org.


    Stepmother whips theb from my fingers, raps my knuckles with it for no reason, then yanks my hair with a brush as she uses the hair dryer to style it. It''s a wonder I have any hair left when she''s done.


    I almost gasp at the person staring


    back at me as I nce into the mirror. She''s...pretty? I''m so used to raggedy T-shirts and hand-me-down apron dresses. I''m shocked by the way Hook in the spaghetti strap dress, my hair clean, long, and blown out.


    Stepmother ties a pink satin ribbon into my hair, and I feel like a brand-new girl. I twirl a little, the hem of the skirt ring ever so slightly. I freeze when I notice my father in the doorway. His eyes sh with disgust and it brings me back to reality.


    I''m still...me.


    "It''s time to go," he snaps as he turns away and storms down the hall.


    I follow quickly behind, rushing to keep up with his long strides.


    When we reach the front door, Stepmother, Ashley, and Kristen are standing in the entryway. My half-sister''s have apparently gotten over the fact that they are losing their servant because they look positively gleeful.


    "Bye forever, puppy," Ashley says, sneering at me.


    Kristen can''t let it go without chiming in, too. "Hope whoever gets you breaks you in real nice, puppy."


    My stomach sinks. Either they know more details, or they are trying to scare me. I don''t want to think about the first option.


    Stepmother eyes me as my father opens the front door and walks out, not looking behind.


    I''m not prepared for her next words.


    "Like mother like daughter. Maybe you''ll see her in whatever hole you end up in."

 Chapter 5

    Margot


    "Daddy, please don''t do this."


    My father ignores my pleas and shrugs off my hand, grimacing and brushing his sleeve as if my fingers have dirtied him. The one man in my life who is supposed to love and protect me no matter what has betrayed me. Again.


    My father pushes me out of the SUV''s open door. I fall to my knees on the dirt road in front of a huge warehouse. I glimpse the busted-out, cracked windows lined with brown paper bags. My heart pounds, and my vision swims. This can''t be happening. He yanks me to my feet. "Get the fuck up."


    There''s nothing. No sign, no cars, no people. And no lights other than the full moon and a single red light above the door.


    His grip pushes the thin gold bracelet deep into my wrist. I''ve worn it for the past five years. Ever since I was thirteen-when I was supposed to get my dragon. It''s kept me from reaching her ever since. I don''t even know if I can, if I even have a dragon. I''ve read that some people born to dragon shifters never get their dragon because our genes aren''t strong enough anymore.


    "Please," I whisper. "Why does it have to be me?"


    He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me close to speak into my ear. "Keep your mouth shut."


    I already know the answer. It''s because I remind him too much of my mother. My stepmother and her daughters have taken any scraps of love my father might have had for me and used them all up. Just like they''ve used up all of his wealth. I''m not the one who''s put him in debt, but I''m the one he''s going to sell to get out of it.


    Dragons are supposed to be possessive, to protect and hoard their belongings. But it''s clear my father didn''t get that gene when it came to me.


    As soon as I turned eighteen, my father announced he was selling me.


    At the enormous metal door, he knocks. A small window slides open.


    "Name?"es a male voice from inside.


    "Winston Brummel."


    The window snaps shut, and the door opens toward us. My father yanks me in behind him.


    A skinny man with tattoos up his neck and slicked-back dark hair sits behind a podium. I catch of a glimpse of his dragon in his eyes as he looks me over and his pupils turn to vertical slits. He has a little ck notebook in his hand and turns to my father. "Item number Fifty-Two," my father says.This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    The man eyes the bruises on my arm, makes a notation in his little ck book, and motions my father to head down a long, dark hallway. It opens into arge room that takes my breath away.


    Sparkling crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and bottles of fancy-looking liquor line the mirrored back bar in the corner. Barely dressed women are making drinks for men in expensive tuxedos.


    Opposite us is arge stage in front of rows of plush loveseats, high-back chairs, and assorted couches.


    I''ve always known my father was rich-most dragons are-but this is more than I could have imagined.


    An older man walks up, leering at me as a server passes by with drinks on a ck acrylic tray. The man reaches out and grabs her ass, but she doesn''t so much as nce our way, just continues walking as if


    his assault is expected.


    He has a thin ck line of mustache and a balding head that shines under the lights. I shudder as he flicks his tongue out at me repeatedly like a snake trying to taste its prey.


    I haven''t been around humans


    much. This man looks...weak, is the


    only way I can describe him. But also like he''s used to getting whatever he wants. However he wants it. He''s wealthy, like my father,


    and the men he invites to our home.


    "I heard you were bringing a treat to the auction tonight, and you didn''t disappoint, Winston. This one looks delightful." The man licks his thin lips and scans the bruises on my arms, souvenirs from my stepmother and half-sisters. "She even looks a little broken in, too. Just like I prefer them. How do you make the marks stay, though? She is of your kind, isn''t she?"


    I don''t want this man to like me, and I try to step behind my father even though I know he''ll offer no protection. The man reaches out to stroke a chilly finger along my arm.


    Not surprisingly, Father lets him. He grins.


    "She''s definitely of my kind." He lifts my arm to show off my bracelet. "Hexed gold with a dragon yer''s blood in the core. She''s powerless to ess her dragon." us looks intrigued. "Can she remove it?"


    My father snorts. "Not a chance. It''s permanent, and I killed the witch who ced it to be doubly sure."


    us swipes his tongue over his lips. "Any restrictions on the merchandise?"


    "None. Once it''s sold, I never want to see or hear about it again. Do what you please. No returns, of course."


    "Of course," us coos. "So, I can dispose of it in any means I desire. That''s promising."


    The blood rushes out of my head, and the room starts spinning. I knew I was being auctioned off to be a rich man''s sex ve, but this is worse.


    Anyone who buys me can do whatever they want with me.


    Even kill me.


    For years, I''ve yearned to be free of my father''s rage and the abuse from his beloved second family... but not like this.


    "You never want to see it again? Did I hear you correctly, Brummel?"


    A new voice. Deep, dripping with chocte and honey and savage, almost like a growl.


    Unexpected warmth rushes through me and stirs low in my belly.


    The gold bracelet burns me. I have practice holding back my cries when I''m being hurt, but I''ve never felt a pain like this.


    This man swivels to look at the sound of my tiny whimper. His blue eyes pierce mine.


    Another slow roll of sensation centers between my thighs. Fresh pain stings me, but this time, a pleasure echoes with it. I barely suppress a moan that I can''t tell is of fear...or something else. This man is more dangerous than us.


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