Page 52 of A Raven Returns

“Oh, Greg. Do you really want daddy to know what you’ve been up to? If I understand correctly, you won’t inherit anything if you don't produce a son. I’d hate to think what might happen if he learns you’ve been committing bigamy in order to try to deceive him. That would bring scandal down on the entire barony if it got out.”

“How do you know anything about my inheritance?”

“I have people.” He gestured to the other men in the warehouse. “Now, I’m going to be really nice and give you a choice, Greg.” He spoke the words as if he were addressing a child. “Option one, you can cooperate and remove your own clothes, which means you’ll still have them intact to put back on when we’re finished here. Or option two, these men can remove your clothes for you, but I doubt there will be much left of them for you to cover yourself with after they’ve been ripped from your body.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he snarled.

“Remove the shirt.” The words were quiet and simple. Frederick squealed, and within only a few seconds, his shirt was ripped to shreds on the floor.

His body began to shake violently, his eyes wide with terror. An approving rumble vibrated in Ash’s chest. This was the fear he’d been waiting for. The horror he’d dreamt of seeing in this man’s eyes for far too long.

“Are you going to kill me?” he asked softly.

“Well, Greg, probably not today. And do you know why?”

“W-why?” he stuttered.

“Because Gwen asked me not to. You see, she seems to think that your life isn’t worth blackening my soul for.” Ash shrugged. “I tried to tell her that my soul is already damned, but she didn’t believe me.” The truth was, it never would have occurred to him tonotkill the man if it weren't for Gwen.

Frederick nodded insistently. “She wouldn’t want you to do any of this.”

Ash threw back his head and roared with laughter, all of his men laughing with him. “Well, unfortunately for you, Greg, she isn’t here. So I’ll tell you what I am going to do. I’m going to make sure that your body has more marks on it than all the marks you’ve ever given her combined.” He held up the leather strap. “And the ones I make will be permanent.”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “Please don’t do this.”

Ash gripped his chin roughly. “What did you do when she begged you not to beat her? Did you spare her?”

His eyes were wide with panic, but his only answer was a whimper.

“That’s what I thought. Now, are you going to remove your trousers, or are they going to go the same way as your shirt?” Ash unbuttoned his own waistcoat as he spoke.

The man began blubbering incoherently.

“Aw, don’t start crying already, Greg. We haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet.” He loosened his tie and handed it and the waistcoat to Fogg.

“P-p-please don’t do this.”

Ash gestured with his chin and the men reached for Frederick’s trousers. He squealed.

“No! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” The words were a high-pitched scream.

Ash held up a hand to stop them. “You’d better make it quick, Greg. Patience is not one of my stronger virtues.”

To his credit, he did make fairly quick work of getting them off along with his shoes, and then he stood, bawling, in just his underwear.

Ash raised an impatient brow. “You haven’t finished yet, Greg. Do you need more help?”

“No,” he cried as he pushed them down. When he was finally naked, he cupped his hands over his manhood. Ash allowed him that for the moment, even though he probably didn’t deserve the small amount of dignity.

“Why are you doing this?” His voice was unsteady and jerked with his sobs.

“I think we’ve already established that, Greg. These are your consequences for what you did to Gwen. For the pain and torment you caused her.” He held up the leather strap again. “Do you recognize this yet?”

He nodded shakily. “Yes.” The word came out as a desperate whisper. He seemed to hope that if he was honest, he might escape further punishment.

“Good. Then you’ll know what comes next.”

He started shaking his head frantically. “No, don’t do this.” He took a step back, but two sets of hands immediately stopped him.

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