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36
Cole
"You stupid little bitch. You stupid little bitch."
It wasn't her fault.
It was her fault.
All she had to do was as she was told. Wear the dress. Endure what I ordered her to endure. Act like the other women in the room who, offered escape, looked down at their laps and sat still as statues, lest even their hope gave them away.
"You stupid little whore."
The bed where I had taken Marilyn. Inside the playroom. A big four-poster. Perfect for tying.
She sagged in my arms. She was limp and hot and unresponsive.
She wouldn't be for long.
I snapped restraints on her arms while she lay nearly unconscious on the bed, then ripped the dress from her. One of the servants had redressed her in the chaos of the end of the dinner party. There had been raised voices and one girl soundly punished, another had her mouth washed out for daring to say she wished that Annie had made it. She was one of the blonds, the one with the whip marks across her back, new to Paul this year.
I had a feeling she wouldn't be with him much longer and despite the money he'd just paid for a night with another wife, he'd soon be selling her somewhere else and if he remained angry enough, then hopefully some of the money we raised would go to freeing her.
The men I dealt with were what Annie should be afraid of. The money I raised was going fully to fight human trafficking and sexual slavery.
What Annie was, was something else. She wouldn't understand and I couldn't explain it. When the time came, I'd give her over to Brad. But not now, and not on his demand.
"You stupid little bitch." I pulled my hand back before it stroked her hair where it had fallen free of the creation the salon worker had designed. It looked better free, Annie's dark curls wild around her face.
Her face was too white, the lipstick on her geisha like.
I pulled her body up against mine and snapped one cuff to the carabiner at the end of the rope, then leaned her against me in the other direction, attaching that wrist.
She came to as I was tying her legs to the legs of the bed and panicked. Her entire body went rigid and she threw her head around, searching for whatever she could, then striking out with her head, hoping to make contact when she realized someone was behind her.
I snarled my fist in her curls again and jerked her head back savagely. "All you had to do was play along," I snarled and bit the side of her neck hard enough to leave indents.
She screamed, short and sharp, and tried to head butt me. I dodged easily.
"That was no game," she said. Her voice was furious and nowhere near scared enough.
That would change.
"It is a game, you stupid whore. It's a game and it raises money for – "
"I heard," she said and then stopped, going still, when I put both hands around her throat and squeezed.
"You are my property. You will speak when spoken to. You will call me sir. And right now, you will scream."
"Fuck you."
"We'll see." I crossed the room in giant strides and inserted a key into one of the armoire units that stood there. I heard her intake of breath, impossible to stifle, when the doors opened and she saw the variety of canes hanging from their hooks, swinging with the opening of the door.
I chose one of the less flexible ones. It wasn't what I would have chosen to start her with but things were different now. Thick, hard, long.
The same way I felt, just anticipating the use of it on her virgin bottom.
She was babbling when I made my way back to her. Please and I won't, not ever again and Sign anything you want, as if she hadn't already. As if she wouldn't when we were finished.
"Shhh," I said, almost gently. "It's too late for that. Kiss the cane." I held it up in front of her and she jerked her head back, shaking it from side to side. As if her refusal could change anything. "Annie. This is going to happen."
She didn't break. She didn't sag. She didn't give in. She shook herself from side to side, tearing at the restrains, screaming for help she had to know wasn't coming in this house.
She fought. I was glad to see it.
It wasn't going to do her any good.
