Page 20 of Vow of Revenge
Earlier today he gave me a present. A uniform – not just any uniform. The black silk barely covers my nipples and the skirt clings to my hips, ending just below the crease where my buttocks and thighs meet. A small white lacy apron is stitched to the front, for no purpose other than giving the fabric a title of ‘whore maid’. That’s what he called me before he dragged me outside when the other staff had finished for the evening. He ordered me to clean the study windows. That way he could watch as my nipples hardened in the cold as I steadied myself on the concrete sill.
When his venomous cock needed to be satisfied, he tapped the glass and beckoned me with a crook of his finger. He ordered my return and then slapped my face because I didn’t get back quick enough. Most of the time he’s rough with me,but sometimes he kisses me like he means it. I know it’s lie.
The dress gave him easy access. He pounded into me, pressing his fingers around my throat so tightly that I almost stopped breathing. I could feel my eyes bug as my poor lungs begged to inhale sweet precious oxygen.
I saw the look in his eyes, the control, the idea that he owned me and could do whatever the hell he wanted with no penalties. He got off on it, rising to a climax and finally releasing his fingers so I fell to the floor. He fisted his angry cock in front of my face as I gasped for air, the cum spurted over my eyes and into my mouth. A deafening roar ended his pleasure, the one moment when he was free from demons.
I know now not to ask if I can leave the house. I’ve quickly learned to stay silent unless spoken to. But I need to see my little girl. Dread weighs heavily when I let myself think about her pretty face patiently waiting for me.
The money he pays me will mean nothing to her, but it funds the waning kindness of those in the village who take her in, keeping her fed and warm.
I’m forever in their debt but eternally regretful that I met a monster like Kingston.
Sometimes he lets me leave the house, but never for too long. He doesn’t want me to run away, otherwise I pay the price in flesh and pain.
I can’t quite muster the strength to recall his endless torment. That would mean reliving the horrific events. I’m trying to forget it by thinking of her, my baby girl.
I’m a prisoner wrapped in invisible chains, held securely in place with threats from a man who will get exactly what his dead heart desires.
Present day
Wet licks dragged over my face. Soft fur nuzzled my neck.
“Ugh! Champ, what the fuck.” I swiped away slobbers with the back of my hand and rubbed my Boxer dog’s ears. “I’m guessing the housekeeper is here. Did he feed you, big guy?”
When the brindle coloured floppy face moved, I saw the room I’d spent the night in. With her. That fucking lying woman. Flicking my head left, I frowned at the heap of blankets neatly folded on the couch, minus the hot sexy body of, Freya Beaumont.
What the hell was I playing at last night.I should have sent her packing the minute she came back upstairs in the club, with her wide eyes that screamed seduction… and pain and fear that might have been real.
There was a reason I hated pills, and last night signed and sealed their fate for eternity. They messed with my head. That sex obsession for only her was all an illusion. The fact I’d been obsessed with the powerful sensation of her skin, the warmth of her smile, the fight in her soul, the tightness of her… ugh!Forget it.
The chemicals had taken a hold of my sanity, blurring the lines of my retribution in the name of my father – but today I felt fucking fantastic because she scampered away in the cloak of dawn like the best one-night fuck ever. I didn’t have to deal with her bullshit when I woke up, or even pretend like I wanted to talk to her.
Perfect.
She could teach those pathetic bat shit crazy women how to act after a good fuck, instead of lingering like a bad smell the morning after. That’s the main reason why I don’t bring them home with me, it’s better to have sex in a hotel and just leave straight away.
So why did I bring her here, to my home? Why on earth did I let her fall sleep on my couch instead of kicking her out?
I’ll put that mishap down to my drug dulled principles and stoned coma.
My heart stopped – wait, I came inside her! What the fuck? I never do that. What the hell was wrong with me. Scraping my fingers down my face, I groaned loudly. No doubt she was riddled with diseases, or heaven forbid, what if I got her pregnant? What if that was her plan all along, to get knocked up with my kid?
Marching up the stairs, feeling like a foolish asshole, I barely grunted at Luca, my housekeeper. “Feed, Champ,” I muttered.
There were a hundred things I needed to take care of today, and sorting out, Freya Beaumont, was an unnecessary complication. My office was lit up by the orange sunrise pouring in through the long bay window. I had to check the auction bids for two oil paintings I was trying to secure for a buyer in Australia. This was my life – sex, auctions, Brett and… I looked at the photo frame on my desk and smiled inwardly. The only chink in my chain.
My phone buzzed, snapping me away from the sweet happy face.
“Brett. So… you done yet?” I chuckled. “Or do you need a tag?”
“Tilly is on her way to yours. Don’t say a word, okay. She thinks I’m sorting out business stuff. I’ll make this up to you.”
“Don’t even, Brett. I’m fucked up after last night. I smell like shit and have a headache like I was hit over the skull with a mountain.”
“Just keep her occupied for a while, please?”
I sighed with force, letting it shoot down the line and blast in his fucking ear. “Fine. You owe me. Are you still with that Beaumont girl?”
