Broken Princess: Ruthless Rulers Book 3

by Hart, Stella

  He let out another sigh. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to help you, Willow?”

  “No, I can’t see that at all.”

  “If we don’t show you how to behave up on that stage—and for your new master—you won't last long. The buyer will grow tired of you very fast, and if you aren’t killed, you’ll be returned to us. We don’t want to issue a hundred million dollar refund, and we don’t want to try and resell you after you’ve been used and abused and covered in scars. You’ll fetch a much lower price then, regardless of your identity.”

  “It sounds like you’re helping yourselves, not me,” I said, glaring up at him.

  “There’s no reason it can’t be both.”

  “Well, you can do whatever you want to me,” I said flatly, getting back up. “You can make me scream and cry all you want, but I won’t break.”

  “If you say so.” Jamie smiled and turned to one of the drawers on his left. “It’s a shame we only have a few days before the auction. It’s really not enough time. I suppose I’ll just have to do my best,” he went on, sliding some items out of the top drawer. He blew out a short, frustrated breath. “It’s also a shame that I can’t leave any marks. A spiked bullwhip would get you in line quickly enough.”

  I gulped. “Why can’t you leave any marks?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, turning back to me. “The buyers don’t want a broken doll. Physically, I mean. The slaves have to be in good condition when they go on the auction block.”

  “You just slapped me hard enough to bruise me,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Doesn’t that count as a mark?”

  He laughed. “Stop exaggerating. I barely touched you.”

  I turned my face to the left, showing him the burning spot on my right cheek. “You did. See?”

  “It’ll be fine in a few days,” he said with a brief shrug. He turned back to the drawer and picked up a long black tool with two small silver points on one end. “Now, let’s begin.”

  I shrank back. “What the hell is that?”

  Jamie’s lips twisted in a cruel smile. “I might not be able to leave a permanent mark on you, but I still have options,” he said, lifting the tool. “This is a cattle prod. It should do the job well enough, and it won’t leave a single cut or bruise.”

  Without warning, he held it to my left side and flicked a button on the end. I screamed as a violent current of electricity pulsed through me, and my body jolted so far back that I almost fell over.

  “Good. It’s working,” Jamie said, still smiling. “Now tell me: at this moment in time, who owns you?”

  I gritted my teeth and rubbed my side. “No one,” I muttered.

  “Wrong.” He zapped me again, making me shriek and stumble backward. “Let’s try that again. Who owns you?”

  I drew in a shaky breath. “No one except myself.”

  “Wrong again.” With a short sigh, he put the prod down and picked up a pair of black earmuffs. He put them on his head and pressed a button on the underside of the closest bench.

  A high-pitched, ear-splitting sound filled the space. Even though it was just noise, it knocked me right to the ground, making me feel as if my ears were bleeding and my skull was about to explode. I screamed and screamed and screamed, unable to think or process anything but the terrible shrill screech.

  Jamie finally turned it off and watched me calmly as I gasped and struggled back to my feet. “Not very pleasant, is it?” he said. “Let’s try another question. When are you going to give up?”

  I took a deep breath. “Never.”

  He zapped me with the cattle prod and brought back the horrible sound at the same time. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe through the agony, wishing I could send my mind elsewhere while my body endured everything he threw at me.

  Finally, mercifully, he stopped.

  “I think I know what’s going on,” he said, tilting his chin to one side. “This is about Logan, isn’t it? You’re hoping he’ll swoop in and save the day.”

  I swallowed hard. “No,” I whispered. “I know he isn’t coming.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Part of you hasn’t accepted it yet. I can see it in your eyes,” he said, brows furrowing. “But you need to accept it, Willow. He isn’t coming. He has no idea where you are. No idea why you’ve gone. All he knows is whatever lie he’s been fed to explain your sudden disappearance.”

  I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I knew Jamie was trying to weaken my resolve, but his words had actually brought me a sliver of hope and peace, because now I knew for sure that Logan wasn’t in any trouble with Q or the rest of the Order. None of them had any idea that he’d been investigating them alongside me. They thought it was just me, because of the way I approached Jamie the other week.

  That meant Logan was safe, unless he came looking for me.

  “Are you smiling?” Jamie asked in an incredulous tone.

  I lowered my gaze to the floor. “Haven’t you ever heard of a grimace?” I muttered, hoping he’d buy the lie. I hadn’t even realized I was smiling until he brought it up.

  “Hm.” He dragged me to my feet, tipped my chin back, and stared into my eyes. “Now that you know Logan isn’t coming, are you ready to give in?”

  “No,” I said, defiantly glaring back at him.

  He rolled his eyes and shoved me to the ground again. “You need to do it. Give up,” he snarled.

  “No,” I repeated.

  “Christ,” he said, rubbing his chin. “What’s it going to take for you to give in, Willow?”

  “I already told you. Nothing.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he said, eyes narrowing. “We’re going to try something else now. Stand up and strip.”

  My stomach lurched, and I wrapped my arms around myself and took a shaky step back.

  “I’m not going to fuck you,” Jamie said. “Q didn’t give me permission to touch you like that. I just need to check how ready you are.”

  I haltingly removed my new white clothing, assuming he meant he wanted to look over my body and make sure it was up to whatever standard they had in place here.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong if I tried.

  Jamie’s eyes gleamed as he spotted my piercings, and he let out a low whistle. “Wow. I should really call Logan to thank him.”

  “Why?”

  He motioned toward my golden nipple bars. “These will come in handy.”

  “With what?”

  “Your sale,” he said. “You might have the attitude of a wildcat, but piercings like that make you appear submissive. Every little bit helps.”

  “Great,” I murmured.

  He slapped me again, hard. “You really need to lose the sarcasm,” he said, voice dripping with venom. “Now… go over to that seat.”

  With my cheek smarting again, I grudgingly walked over to a large metal chair on the right. Red ropes hung loosely off the back, arms, and legs.

  Jamie followed me over and directed me to sit down. He used the ropes on the arms to fasten my wrists to the cold metal, and then he headed back over to the drawers. He returned with an enormous black double-ended dildo and a bottle of lubricant.

  “After you’re purchased, you’re going to be fucked every single day,” he said, holding up the toy. “Your new owner won’t be gentle, so you should be thankful I’m using lube to ensure your readiness. He won’t show you the same kindness.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “I’m not a virgin,” I said in a low voice.

  “I know. But Logan never made you take anything this big, did he?”

  I shook my head.

  “Didn’t think so. Your new owner will want to dominate and humiliate you as much as possible, so he’ll probably force you to take things like this inside you all the time. Every single hole you have will be stretched, especially your ass. We need to prepare you for that. It’s for your own good.” He stepped closer, tipping lube on both ends of the dildo. “Try to lift yourself off the chair.”

  I clos
ed my eyes and took a deep breath. If I thought about Logan and pretended I was at a wild sex party with him, I could handle this. I just needed to mentally prepare myself. Pretend I was turned on and desperately craving something inside me.

  Jamie yanked on my hair, making my eyes water as pain raced across my scalp. “I told you to lift yourself off the fucking chair.”

  I strained my legs as I followed his order, hovering above the seat with gritted teeth. Jamie placed the toy beneath me, smiling as the cool tips brushed against my pussy and ass. “Sit on it,” he commanded. “I know you can do it.”

  I whimpered as I tried to sit down, slowly forcing the enormous pieces of silicon inside me. I felt like I was splitting apart, tearing right open.

  Oh, fuck.

  I was wrong a moment ago. No amount of picturing Logan and pretending I wanted this was going to help.

  “Please,” I gasped out. “Untie my hands.”

  Jamie frowned. “Why?”

  “I… I want to touch myself.”

  I needed some pressure on my clit. Now that my fantasies weren’t working, it was the only thing that would make this experience slightly bearable.

  Logan always knew how to do that to me; how to blend the pain with pleasure so I could take it all and enjoy every moment. This was different. It was pure agony without an ounce of pleasure, and I felt as if I would lose my mind if it didn’t stop.

  “No,” Jamie said, folding his arms across his chest. “You need to get used to this. Like I said, it’s for your own good.”

  I fought the restraints as much as possible. “Please!” I said, tears rolling down my stinging cheeks. “It’s too much.”

  He smirked. “Sounds like it’s exactly what you need.”

  All of a sudden, he turned and strode away. I shrieked after him. “Where are you going?”

  “I’m leaving you alone for now, so you can think about what I’ve said.” He reached into his pocket and pressed something. The toy in my pussy and ass started buzzing intensely, doubling the pain.

  “No!” I begged. “Please… turn it off!”

  “Not until you’re ready to listen and behave properly.”

  With that, he turned the light off, stepped out of the torture chamber, and slammed the door behind him.

  My body shook on the chair, pain spiking at every nerve ending as the toy kept pulsing inside me. I sobbed and moaned and whimpered, desperately wishing I could get used to the horrible sensation for just a few seconds, but it only got worse and worse.

  Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as the blinding agony shook me. All I could think about was how overconfident and naïve I was when I stubbornly claimed that I could take it all without breaking.

  Of course I was going to break. This was too much for anyone to handle.

  When the door finally flew open again, my voice was gone and my spirit was utterly crushed.

  “It’s been three hours,” Jamie said, stepping over to the chair. “How do you feel?”

  I was in so much pain I barely heard his voice. I lifted my chin, staring up at him through glassy eyes. “Please,” I croaked. “Stop it.”

  “I can’t yet,” he said. “I need to hear you say it first.”

  “Say what?”

  “That you’re giving in,” he replied, crouching in front of me. “So tell me, Willow… are you ready?”

  I licked my parched lips and closed my eyes as tears welled in them again. “Yes,” I whispered brokenly, chest heaving. “I’m ready.”

  5

  Willow

  Jamie finally let me out of the dungeon somewhere around eleven. He took me straight back upstairs to my room and dumped me on the bed with a muttered threat about more torture if I didn’t stay in line from now on.

  I was so exhausted and agonized that I curled into a ball under the blankets and slept for what felt like an eternity. No one came to get me for lunch or dinner, presumably figuring that I was in no state to eat.

  That was fine by me. The thought of eating made me feel nauseated. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and disappear into my dreams, the only safe haven I had left.

  I awoke sometime in the night with a start. I lay there with my stomach churning, wondering what it was that had roused me. I had no memory of dreams, good or bad, only a sudden jerk into consciousness.

  I closed my eyes and pulled the blankets up around my chin, heart pounding. Then it came again. A noise. Footsteps in the hall outside my room. Slow and measured. Heavy and hollow.

  Closer and closer.

  I sat up, adrenaline flushing through my body. The door slowly creaked open and the light went on.

  I blinked rapidly at the figure on the threshold, trying to catch my breath. I felt like I’d just been punched in the chest from the inside.

  Liz Thorne was standing there.

  “What… what are you doing here?” I asked, hands trembling on the blanket.

  She smiled sweetly. “What do you think I’m doing here?” she said, depositing a large black case on the floor at her feet.

  Deep down, I knew the answer, but I didn’t want to say it. That would make it real, and this couldn’t be real.

  No, it had to be a nightmare.

  I closed my eyes and put my face in my hands, feeling the wheeze in my chest as my lungs struggled to take in enough oxygen to stabilize my racing pulse. “No, no, no,” I whispered to myself, pushing down the sobs in my throat.

  “Oh, for god’s sake, Willow,” Liz snapped. “Open your eyes.”

  I did as she said, fearfully gazing up at her. “It’s you,” I said in a small voice. “You’re Q.”

  “That’s right.”

  I stared at the wall behind her as something twisted in the pit of my stomach. It felt like the bottom of the world had fallen out. “How can it be you?” I murmured.

  “Leadership of the Order was transferred to me from my uncle when I turned thirty,” she said with a smug smile. “But I was groomed for the position for years before that. I knew it was mine from the time I was sixteen or seventeen.”

  “Does your husband know?”

  She laughed. “No, of course not.”

  “What about Logan?” I asked, heart pounding even faster. If he’d figured it out, he could be in serious trouble.

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t know either. In fact, he’s so clueless about my true identity that he’s actually started listening to your advice. He came to me last night wanting to start a new tradition where we drink tea and chat by the fire every night. Isn’t that adorable?”

  I breathed a quiet sigh of relief and lowered my eyes to the bed. “I don’t understand any of this,” I muttered. “I don’t understand how you could’ve been Q all along.”

  “Well, I’d love to explain, but it would take a long time,” Liz said, eyes gleaming as she stepped closer.

  I weakly lifted a hand, gesturing at the room around us. “I have nothing better to do.”

  “Hm. That’s true,” she said, perching on the end of the bed. “I suppose I can answer any questions you have. It’s not like you’ll be able to tell anyone.” She laughed again and leaned closer. “So… what do you want to know, Willow?”

  “Everything,” I said, throwing my hands up. “What’s the point of the Order? How the hell does it work? And why?”

  She raised a brow. “It was created by my Hale ancestors in the late nineteenth century. There are three levels of membership, not counting the leader. First we have the regular members—people like you. They aren’t aware of the society’s true goals. They’re just useful for the connections, influence, or future worth they might have. In return for their usefulness, they are richly rewarded. This stops most of them from questioning things.”

  “Right,” I muttered.

  “The second level is the high council. This is made up of members who are elected by the leader to carry out the vast majority of his or her orders and delegate tasks to the lower members,” Liz explained. “The high council m
embers are also unaware of the society’s true goal. They know a lot about the nature of our funds, though.”

  “The babies?”

  “Yes. They arrange the purchases of unwanted babies, and they deliver them to us at the Order headquarters. However, they think the babies are sold for a premium to childless couples who want to bypass the adoption process. They aren’t aware of this mansion or the things that happen here. Too risky. The less people who know the truth, the better.”

  “What’s the third level?”

  “That’s made up of the leader’s most trusted associates. They are all picked and groomed for the position over time. Not just by me, but by past leaders,” Liz said. “They are privy to all Order secrets, including the leader’s identity, and they help with any missions that the lower two levels can’t know about.”

  “Like the murders.” I gritted my teeth and looked away, thinking of my father.

  “That’s right.” Liz smiled sweetly, like it was nothing.

  “So why was the Order formed in the first place?” I asked, knitting my fingers together. “What’s this goal you keep mentioning?”

  She smiled again. “The society was formed during the Gilded Age. Do you know what America was like back then?”

  I nodded slowly. “I think so.”

  “The political landscape was changing very rapidly. Despite all the inequality and corruption of the era, election turnout was very high, and there were two evenly matched parties. People were growing increasingly interested in crusading for their own rights instead of blindly submitting to the rule of the elite like they had for so long before that. Because of this, my family could predict where things were headed in society. They could see how this upheaval would lead to the Progressive Era with all its political reform and social activism. The country was clearly heading toward pure democracy.”

  “So? That’s a good thing.”

  Liz scoffed. “Not for them. The Hales are descended from European royalty. Did you know that?”

  “I knew your side of the family was old money,” I said with a shrug. “I didn’t know they were royalty, though.”

  “Well, they were, and they didn’t want to see that kind of social change. They wanted to remain on top as the ruling elite, where they belonged. However, they weren’t blind or ignorant. They knew they couldn’t halt progress. Not when so many people were waking up to the inequality of the world and screaming for change.”