Bianca
“What I shall be doing?’ I echoed stupidly.
His eyes gleamed hazel in the lighting, the clever lighting which made me feel that the eyes were promising me so much…
I bite my lip nervously.
What did I really know about these two men to whom I had sold my body for a year?
Liam O’Grady was charming and handsome, clever and dangerously wicked and a man with a huge sexual appetite. I guessed that, despite being a virgin, when I felt his eyes on me. He was a man who would not take no for an answer. A man who would go after what he wanted, who would not hesitate to claim with his fists.
But this man? Finn St Just was equally unpredictable. Beneath that suave, sophisticated mask, I sensed something lurking; a man who would not be easily crossed. They were like the Yin and Yang to each other.
Deadly together. For O’Grady was a fighter while St Just was the cool, calm but equally fearsome counterpart…
Looking up, I saw a deep flush dusting the cheeks of the man in front of me; his wide, almost boyish mouth was set in a hungry, most tortured line as he looked at me. I sat up straighter, gripping my hands together in my lap. I noticed the way his large hand flexed as he laid it across the armrest of his chair, his eyes fixed on me, opaque now.
I felt a hot rush of blood flooding me and I looked at him, openly bewildered, pleading, unable to comprehend what was happening to me.
For a brief second, St Just closed his eyes. It looked to me like he was fighting for control and I sat bolt upright, watching him nervously. When he opened his tawny eyes again, he was back to being the distant stranger, the little scornful twist to his lips as he sized me up; indifferent, uncaring.
“What did you think you were going to do all day, then, pretty pet?’ he drawled, mocking me and my face burned with humiliation. Then he went on, conversationally, taunting me,
“We have many .. uh…businesses to run. Although we would be f*cking you several times a day.”
His jeering tone made me sit up proudly and I said in a husky whisper,
“I …didn’t think…”
*
He slammed the tumbler of whiskey so violently that some of it spilt onto the glass top.
Almost jumping up, I stared at him, wild-eyed, alarmed. What had happened to the man who had been entertaining and almost kind to me a while ago?
He rose to his feet, towering over me and I stood up too, shakily. Finn St Just gripped my chin painfully as he said coldly,
” We are going to be your Masters, little Pet, not your friends, do you understand? You are not here for any fancy love story with a Happily-Ever -After.”
Making a superhuman effort, I held my tears at bay.
“Yes Sir,” I mumbled.
He gripped a handful of my hair and I gasped in pain as he forced me to look up at him fully.
“Loud. I did not hear you, slave,” he growled and for the first time, I felt real fear.
“Yes Sir,” I said, loudly, willing my voice to be strong and steady.
He smiled, a nasty smile and I felt my body become still.
*
“I like pain. I like inflicting pain on my pets,” he said and I shrank.
The image of a large paddle or a boat oar popped up in my mind. But he still held me gripped in his arm.
“Time you became exposed to it, eh Pet?” he said and I looked at him, petrified.
“Time to learn about your new Master’s fetish,” he snarled and settled down on the couch, his back to the board, legs stretched wide. I blinked, fidgeting with my hands, unsure of what he wanted me to do.
“Lay over my lap,” growled St Just and I looked up at him, mouth falling open.
“Excuse me?” I began but he sat up, thundering, tearing off his jacket, as he yelled,
‘I said, get over her, girl. Lift your dress and drape yourself over my legs.”
I felt my eyes fill with tears. I just wanted to turn and run.
But run where? Asked a voice in my head.
*
Slowly, one step at a time, the dull ache in my heart, in the center of my stomach growing with each step, I moved forward.
Kicking off my pretty shoes, I scrambled over his lap awkwardly; and gulped. I could feel St Just now. There was an unmistakable length of hard male arousal under my hip and I buried my face in the cushion he had placed beneath my head, my fists clenched, my breath coming in shallow, frightened gasps.
*
I have never been spanked in my life: Dad was a gentle soul who never raised a hand on us. My mother, Sophia was spirited and fiery but I was so young when she passed, I don’t remember much.
As for poor dreamy Heather, we made the rules for Her, not the other way round.
I kept thinking about all this as St Just ran his hand over my soft bottom, squeezing a cheek once, painfully and I gasped, arching.
“No moving Pet. Or I shall spank you more…” he growled warningly.
“Ye…yes Sir…” I whispered, my lips thick with terror.
The sound of a car driving up was low and distant. Neither of us heard it; or paid much attention to it.
We were so absorbed in this little by-play.
*
I was terrified by what lay ahead for I had an instinctive feeling that St Just would not be cruel; no, his plan was something else altogether.
As for the man himself, he was breathing harshly now and I could smell his spicy aftershave, his manly musk. I trembled and he gave a low laugh.
Tugging my panties down, despite my squirming and whimper of protest, he grunted.
“Ah. Wet already, eh?”
I did not say anything. I was more ashamed of myself, for I knew that I was exposed, my parted legs were splayed across his lap and I was almost face down on the couch.
I was completely helpless, at his mercy.
“We’ll start with five, right?” he said briskly and I thought absurdly, that he sounded like a Maths teacher.
“Answer me, Pet!” he snarled.
“Yes Sir, “I nodded breathlessly.
I heard the sound of the door opening, heard O’Grady’s sharp breath and then, Finn St Just hit me on my poor a*se cheek so hard, I screamed out, sobbing in pain, shock and terror, my body arching in shock and terror.
He gripped me and I heard O’Grady’s feet approach, his breathing harsh as he said in a hoarse voice, thick with passion,
“So you began the training without me, huh?”
I struggled,
“Please Sir…”
*
But then, the next crack on the other cheek landed, a hard hand on the small of my back holding me in position.
I flailed wildly, shaking my head, screaming,
“NO! NO! PLEASE STOP!”
Abruptly, I felt a pair of arms scoop me up and I wept.
O’Grady had lifted me and he carried me easily over to the other couch.
“Shhh…hey baby, hey Pet. Bianca, sweetheart, stop it. You’re safe now…” He said it over and over again, and then St Just was kneeling beside us, his golden eyes creased in anxiety.
I shuddered and buried my face in O’Grady’s neck.
“Ple…Please…don’t beat me…” I sobbed and I felt the arms of the big, muscular man holding me, tighten around me, protectively.
‘Saint,’ growled O’Grady and the note of deep fury underlying his voice made me tremble. He cupped me to his muscular body, as he went on, with a snarl,
‘You’re not going to be touching this little Pet. Not in that way. Is that clear?”
With a heavy sigh, St Just rose to his feet.
“I suspected as much,” he said softly,” I was just testing her.”