My Shy Teen Slave Ch 04

A.N. This really doesn't have anything graphic in it except language. I tried adding the sex scene but it was just too long. But that chapter will hopefully be up near the same time as this one. Thanks for reading and commenting.

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She wasn't kidding, she really did roll around in her sleep. About ten minutes after she had fallen asleep, she had changed positions, moving away from me. And she kept doing it, no matter how many times I rolled over, too, so I could keep up. I eventually fell into a rhythm, so I was moving with her. It was nice to get some rest; I really was exhausted. I had been working for most of the previous night and had most likely lost ten percent of my thick black hair from pulling at it so much in frustration. But she made it better.

I wondered how much she trusted me. She was such a timid thing, and honestly she had just slightly warmed up to me since she came here. For the first few days I honestly thought she couldn't speak, except for that one question she asked me the day I met her. She was such a good girl, too. She did question me, but had never refused before. She wanted to please me. She wanted me to be happy with her, just like she was taught in the slave trade. And I always was happy with her.

As she slept, finally staying still as she laid head on my chest, she was calm. She was nearly affectionate, occasionally sighing in her sleep and smiling, smiles I wasn't used to seeing. When she nuzzled into me, I had to close my eyes to savor the moment. Maybe, subconsciously, she wasn't so scared of me.

I woke up possibly a minute before her, and spent that time just enjoying her form in my arms. Slowly, impossibly slow, a pink lips pursed and her eyes shut harder before her eyelashes fluttered open.

"Hey, little girl," I greeted her groggily. "Time to get up."

She yawned and leaned back into me.

I chuckled and kissed the top of her hair. I let her sleep for a few more minutes. I liked her like this, happy and relaxed. She rarely was.

"Don't you want to go to the library?" I asked.

Her head perked up, and she smiled and nodded.

"Well, go get ready."

Eyes bright, she kissed me on the cheek before she climbed off of me and scampered to her bedroom.

I grinned, the place her lips touched heating. I would've have done anything for her then. One friendly kiss and that little bitch had me wrapped around her finger. We both knew I was the one controlling everything, but she had a hold on me that I don't think she'd ever realize.

It took me a few minutes to get out of bed, and I found luxury in putting on jeans and a t-shirt, attire I don't don often. When I saw that tuft of black hair in the back of my head standing up straight, I felt surprisingly normal. Like I was a college student, staying at my parent's mansion with my girlfriend. Sometimes I got so caught up in being an adult that I forgot I was only twenty three. I wondered if when we were out, people thought we were siblings. We did have a few of the same features, the dark hair, blue eyes, thin frame. No, people could tell by the way I acted around her that we weren't related. Besides, her body was skinnier, more delicate. You could see her collar bones and wrist bones just a little more clearly. And I was normal, just with a more athletic build that I had to work surprisingly hard to maintain. And I was a different skin tone than her. That had to count for something.

When I walked into her room, she was wearing a simple sundress that I had ordered somewhere off line when she first came. She was sitting on the stool at her vanity, brushing her hair with that plain wooden hair brush even though there was a more expensive, silver one right next to it. The wooden one was honestly the one I imagined spanking her with if we were in her room and I felt like it. And even though there was makeup in one of the drawers, I had no idea what girls used, so I just ordered a set from one of those over priced brands on a website, she only wore what looked like lip balm. She didn't need makeup anyways, she was just a naturally beautiful girl.

"All set?" I asked, leaning on her door frame.

She turned to me and smiled, setting the hairbrush down with a click. I really needed to spank her with that. I had never spanked her before. How would she react to that?

She picked up my shirt and handed it to me.

I shrugged. "Just keep it. I have a million."

She looked hesitant for a moment, then folded it quickly and set it on the bed.

We walked into my endless garage and I showed her my motorcycle, expecting her to be scared or intimidated. Surprisingly, she wasn't.

"You're wearing shorts under your dress, right?" I joked.

She nodded. I tossed her a helmet which she caught with ease.

"Have you ever been on one before?"

She gave me a little half smile, her eyes mischievous. That was a look I loved and at the same time wanted to fuck out of her.

"I used to ride one."

I raised my eyebrows. "You used to ride a motorcycle?"

She shrugged.

"No." I shook my head. "You did not."

She laughed a little and shook her head.

"Unbelievable." I jokingly chastised.

I couldn't see her as we rode through town, but I could feel her arms around me, never tightening as I sped up. I could envision her, looking around at all the stores and cars and people, awestruck.

I parked my bike a little far from the library so she and I could walk through town together. It was about four in the afternoon now, and the sun had come out, bright but not beating down on us.

I picked a flower from one of the countless gardens in this part of town and gave it to her. She smiled at me and squeezed my hand, putting the flower behind her ear.

"So," I asked casually. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Freesias." She responded, her voice soft and delicate.

I honestly had no idea what those were.

"Lovely," I noted. "Like you."

She laughed and shook her head, the flower moving, but not falling.

In this town, any couple except a same race, straight, attractive couple was frowned at. And it seemed like the more the older people pushed this, the more the youths retaliated. So, the two of us received many approving nods from the elderly taking afternoon nods. How wrong they were, thinking of us as their definition of normal.

We walked past a small, family run flower shop who's owner's grandson went to grade school with me. Mr. Williams, the shop keeper, came outside to greet us.

"Clark, son!" He greeted, patting me on the back. "How've you been?"

Juliet's grip on my hand tightened before she let go. She started to dig her left foot into the ground, a nervous habit she has.

"Just fine, sir." I patted him back. "And you?"

"Busy as ever. I barely ever see you 'round here no more."

I shrugged. "Busy as ever, sir."

He turned to Juliet and gave her one of those gum-smiles, adjusting his bifocals.

"And who's this pretty lady?"

I put a hand on her back and could feel the way she was tensing.

"This is Juliet, Juliet this is Mr. Williams."

"Well hello there, Jul'yet." He jutted his hand out friendlily.

She hesitantly shook it, giving him a polite smile.

"I've been waitin' for you to finally be takin' to a girl."

I loosely draped my arm around her shoulders. "I was showing her around town. She just moved here."

"Ah," He said, turning to Juliet again. "Where'd ya move from?"

She looked up at me, and I knew she couldn't say anything, not even to a neighborly old man.

"She's from farther south." I answered for her without missing a beat.

He looked at me funny for a second.

"Doesn't talk much." I explained.

"You a shy one?" He asked her.

She made a face and nodded a little.

He smiled at her and clamped a hand on her shoulder.

"Well, little miss, I got to say I like that in a woman. My own wife won't never shut up."

We all laughed. Well, Juliet smiled. I told the man goodbye and he wished me luck with my business, though he still didn't know or care to know what it was. To him, I wasn't Mr. Rich Guy. I was still just another lovable, idiot kid running around near his shop.

By the time we started walking again she had turned back into the girl she was when I first met her.

"Hey," I pulled her aside when we were far enough away from the shop. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. I hugged her tightly.

"You need to get used to meeting new people. A lot of people know me, and they'll want to know you, too."

"I'm sorry..." She whispered.

I kissed the top of her hair.

"What are we going to do when there are events? You know I have to bring you with me."

She sighed, the most miserable look in her eyes.

"Don't worry about it, Love." I said, rubbing my thumb across her cheek. "They'll probably just think it's endearing, like Mr. Williams did."

She pulled away, but held on to my hand.

"Come on, let's go to the library." I said, smiling.

She smiled back, this time less forced.

Juliet looked at books the way you would look at birds.

She went through every interesting title in the historical realistic fiction section of the library, chose a book, would flip through a few pages, and probably put it back. It was fun to watch, and honestly never got boring. Her eyes were so expressional, and I wanted to learn every one of those expressions. The bookshelves were high, and when she couldn't reach a book, I would come behind her and either get it for her, or if I didn't know which one she wanted, I would just hold her waist and lift her up so she could get it herself, always making her blush and giggle nervously and hide her face and god she was so beautiful.

"You're so beautiful." I whispered to her. We were in a faraway corner with no one around us, but I whispered anyways. She liked whispering.

She tilted her head to the side.

"Just wanted you to know."

She smiled and reached down to squeeze my hand.

I picked a few titles that I probably wouldn't enjoy reading but thought would make me look smarter to her. I was more math centered, everything I did centered on economics, after all. But I wanted her to think I could be deep, too, like I knew she was under all that timidity and mystery.

I got all seven books with my library card and received a white bag to carry them in. Because I was trying to be a gentlemen, I held the bag the entire time. Her books were bigger. And fucking heavy.

When six o'clock rolled by, the two of us were sitting outside at a small restaurant downtown, drinking coffee and eating sandwiches. She wasn't a conversationalist, but I still enjoyed talking to her. In a way, she did talk a lot, when it was strictly just the two of us. Actually she never shut up. She just didn't use words.

"So," I started. "Where'd you come from? What state?"

She waited a moment before answering.

"Kentucky, Tennessee, I moved around."

"Which did you like better?"

"Kentucky. Everyone knew everyone in my hometown."

"Were you always so shy?"

She made her face, which was impossible to describe except for her shy, I-don't-know face.

Like she was shrugging, but with her eyes.

I waited until the silence grew comfortable.

"Do you still get nervous around me?"

She played with her fork, answering my question.

"That's okay. I get nervous around you, too."

She looked up questioningly.

"A different kind of nervous, though."

She smiled near politely and looked down again.

I continued with the casual questions, just making conversation. Sometimes she'd answer by blushing, or smiling, or fiddling with her food. She rarely answered with words. But that was okay. I was learning to read her. At six thirty I gave her the pill I had been keeping in a Ziploc bag in my pocket, and she wordlessly took it with her coffee, looking slightly distraught.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She played with the hem of her skirt under the table.

"Why do I...?" She took her bottom lip into her mouth.

"Why do you what?"

She shifted, waiting.

"Why do I have to take the pill?" She asked, her voice quiet.

I took a sip of coffee, contemplating my answer.

I smiled and reached across the table to hold her hand.

"Because I like it when you're aroused."

Her hand was a cold, like they always were when she was nervous.

"But why?"

"Well, for starters, you're self-control is amazing. It is incredibly impressive."

Her eyes widened and she glanced around. No one was near us and if they were, they weren't listening. She didn't see it that way.

She looked down, biting her lip. "But... What's actually in it?" She asked nervously.

By then I knew she had figured it out. When she saw me hesitate, I saw a smile play on the corners of her mouth.

"You little minx! You knew all along!" I accused.

"Not all along, only for a week."

I wanted to be upset, but I was, in a way, proud of her for figuring it out.

"Why didn't you stop me sooner? You must think I'm such an idiot!"

"I don't." She said, giggling. "But how long did you think it'd take for me to notice?"

I was dumb struck, a stupid smile on my face.

"It doesn't look like a regular sugar pill, I really thought I was being sly."

She just shook her head. I resisted the urge to tell her why I was so happy. She knew she wasn't being drugged, and yet she was still always so wet for me.

We were fine after that, talking about books and the weather and little things both of us liked. I hung on to her words, trying to memorize them, repeating them back in my head, enjoying the soft twang of her southern drawl.

"When was the last time you've been penetrated? With more than a few fingers, I mean." I asked casually.

She gave me an incredulous smile and was half laughing from shock.

"I'm serious, answer me."

She was blushing, and giggling a bit apprehensively. She hated questions, and hated when I talked to her about fucking. So she really hated my demand, laid back or not, for her to answer.

"A while. Six months maybe."

My eyes widened. "Six months? You haven't been fucked in half a year?"

She made her face again and tried to pull her hand away, which was burning by now.

"Stop squeezing your legs together." I said without looking under the table, my voice more stern now as I slipped more firmly into my role as her master.

She made a questioning face, and I nudged her legs apart with my foot. She complied.

"I know talking about it gets you wet, and I want you to feel the breeze under your dress and know that that's the only relief you're going to get when it's not from me."

I stroked the top of her hand with my thumb, soothing her with a smile.

"Hey," I said softly, trying not to scare her. "I'm not that bad."

Her knowing Mona Lisa smile was an answer within itself.

When we got back home, I let her set her books down and even start reading one before I bothered her again.

"Hey, Love," I leaned against her doorway.

She smiled.

"Do you want to come outside with me? You can bring a book if you want to read out there later, but it's going to be storming this next week and I've been wanting to show you the gardens before then."

She didn't respond, but stood and laid her book on the seat by her window.

She did love flowers. She looked at them the same way she looked at books. I felt better when I saw her smile at them. I had previously felt nearly guilty about her catching me in the lie that she was taking an aphrodisiac, but I knew she had lied this morning when she was telling me about how it was the pill that made her so horny. So I guess we were both hiding behind the façade of some kind of magical aphrodisiac.

The garden was large, stretching around the back of the house, full of steps and well-kept vines. She took her time walking through it, holding on to my arm. There was now a slight breeze, and her skirt was starting to pick up, giving me little flashes of the upper part of her legs, which I've seen a million times, but it was sexier when she didn't know I was looking.

"Freesia," She said as we stopped by a row of flowers growing in a large brick square about hip level to her.

I had never matched the flower to the name before. They were white, with thick petals that still had dew on them from the April rain this morning. There was a bit of yellow closer to the center, the pale color of her dress. Feeling romantic, I plucked one and gave it to her. There were enough to spare.

She smiled and put it behind her ear. This flower was bigger than the other, so it likely wouldn't fall out so easily. She plucked another one and put it behind my ear.

I laughed, surprised.

"I'm a man." I said.

She raised her eyebrows cheekily.

"Flowers go in the girl's hair."

"You look nice with flowers." She said simply. "Now we match."

I wasn't used to getting full sentences out of her. I wanted to reward her somehow.

"We can bring some to your room later. I probably have a vase somewhere." I offered.

She didn't respond. She didn't need to.

As we walked through the garden, I felt like we had gone back in time. I wasn't some big shot CEO, stock manager, business producing asshole. I was a teenager, and I felt like one, too. When I was a teenager, I had always felt like an adult. Like everyone in my school was so stupid, slutty, or just immature. It wasn't that I was passed all that. I had just never gotten into it. But with Juliet, I almost felt like I was flirting. Even though she was a foot away, I was chasing her. And the chase was always my favorite part. She didn't play with words, though. She flirted with her actions. The almost audacious smile, subdued of course. The twirling of that long dark hair between her long pale fingers. The hiding behind her eyelashes and barely looking at me. The way she gently touched my arm. The clouds were already starting to roll back in, but with her, it was still sunny.

I tried to stay on her level, sticking to the sly brushing of hands just to get a little contact, or holding her arm just to make sure she wouldn't trip on a broken stone. We were obvious, but I was determined to, for lack of a better word, woo her. She was playful now like she had been in the shower this morning, and I loved it when she was playful. And every time she would sink back into her shy shell, I would have an overwhelming need to bring it back.

We finally reached a fountain that had been installed when the house was being built, and I had never really paid much attention to it until now. It was simple, two tiered and elegant, surrounded with different flowers. The groundskeepers must hate me for not taking notice in it before, they had kept it so pristine.

"Darling," Juliet noted, her eyes bright and awed.

At first I had thought she was calling me, and I was surprised, but then I realized that she was just using it as an adjective to describe the fountain because she never uses complete sentences. Either way it was sweet.

As she admired it, I had immersed myself into the character of a normal fifteen year old boy who had always been scared of pretty girls, and right here, acknowledging my garden, was not a pretty girl, but a completely ethereal, angelic, gorgeous one.

I counted to three, gathering my nerve, and pushed her hair back. She looked up at me, surprised but not scared.

"Can I kiss you?" I asked.

She smiled and lifted herself on her toes, brushing her lips to mine. I felt her plush, soft lips and sparks hit the back of my eyes. I carefully placed my hands on her waist, and she put hers on my shoulders. It was like we were dancing, softly and slowly. And then I felt the first drop of water hit my back. It was startling, but not unwelcome. She was smiling through the kiss, and I couldn't help to, either.