Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Where am I?” I ask, looking around.
Along one of the four walls there’s a boarded-up window and it’s either nighttime or we’re underground because there isn’t a break in it. Not a single crack that lets in the dimmest light. On another, there’s a huge, heavy wooden door.
I know we must be in some sort of basement from the smell. Dark and dank, the scent overwhelming.
“What did you do to me?” My head is throbbing and when I reach up to touch it, I realize I’m naked. “Where’s Sebastian?”
“You still want him after what he did to you? How he lied to you?”
“Where is he?”
“What a stupid girl.”
“Where am I, Lucinda?”
I hug my arms to myself, trying not to show my panic, shivering. It is so cold here, so opposite the heat of the sun on the island.
“You’re not far from the island, don’t worry. We’ll see how long it takes my stepson to find you.”
“You set me up. You lied to me.”
“I told you I was helping myself.”
“What do you want with me?”
“Not what I want. I made a deal with Sebastian. But I don’t like his terms so I’m adjusting them.”
“What do you mean? What deal?”
“Ethan, go get me my cane,” she says, keeping her eyes on me.
His grin is wicked as he sets the bucket down and leaves the room, the heavy door creaking behind him.
Lucinda steps toward me.
“Sebastian claims to want to protect his brother, but he chooses you over him, so I’m going to make sure my son gets what he’s owed before I comply with Sebastian’s terms.”
“What are you talking about? What terms?”
“I’m taking Ethan away, like he wants.”
“What?”
“But he’ll have his turn first. You won’t beat me, Willow Girl.”
Ethan returns. He hands the cane to Lucinda.
“Do you know this is one of the canes I used to discipline Sebastian?”
I don’t answer but watch her as she walks a circle around the cot.
“It was easier when he was younger, but as he got older, he grew more and more defiant. His father allowed it, though, and if he wouldn’t submit to me, Joshua would make him.”
“You’re going to get it, Willow Girl,” Ethan chimes in from behind her.
I shift my eyes to him only momentarily, still following Lucinda as she runs the length of the cane through the palm of her hand.
“It wasn’t until his father had died that he attacked me.”
“Attacked you? You beat him.”
She stops, leans in toward me. “Disciplined, girl. Disciplined. Like I did your aunt.”
“You’re disgusting.”
Her lip curls. “You want to see disgusting?” she asks.
I don’t reply before she starts to undo the top buttons of her dress and turns so her back is to me. She pushes the dress off one shoulder and I gasp at the deep scars there. Like my aunt’s.
“That’s what Scafoni men do to their women. And you still call for him to come to your rescue.”
“Sebastian didn’t do that to you.”
“No, he didn’t. But he did take a turn.” She turns to face me again, buttons her dress back up. “Now get on your hands and knees, Willow Girl.”
I shake my head, glancing from the cane to Ethan. “If you hurt me, Sebastian will kill you.”
“Ethan,” she calls out.
Ethan steps toward us.
“Make her.”
But at that, he hesitates, looks at me, then at her, confused.
“He said I can’t touch her again.”
Sebastian.
He’s talking about Sebastian.
Lucinda looks at him, rage in her eyes. “Make her, Ethan.”
He’s shaking his head, fear in his eyes. “He said no. He said I can’t touch her.”
“And I say you can. She’s yours too. You have a right. Take what’s yours.”
“Don’t, Ethan. He’ll be mad at you,” I say, desperate to buy time.
But the instant I do, I feel the sharp pain of the cane across my middle. I double over, clutching my belly, the line hot to the touch.
“You stupid whore. You think you’ll turn my son against me?” She strikes again, landing a stroke on my side. I turn away from her, try to protect my face, my belly, and she uses it to her advantage, laying three strokes across my shoulders, making me scream.
She fists a handful of my hair and tugs my head backward. Her face is an inch from mine when she spits her order.
“Lie down and take it or I swear I will break your back.”
She pushes me forward and I don’t doubt she will do what she says. I lie down on the decrepit mattress and grip the edges of the cot as she rains down stroke after stroke on my back, ass and thighs, each one harder than the last, until I’m sure I’ll pass out from the pain.
I feel the warmth of piss between my legs. I’ve lost control of my bladder and she’s still beating me, and I think I’m going to die.