by Anna Edwards
“You’re awake.” I storm into her room without waiting for admittance. She’s sitting up in the bed, wearing pajamas over her bandages. Last time I saw her, she was naked and bleeding all over her sheets. Despite looking withdrawn from no food for a few days, she seems fine.
“I am. I woke not more than half an hour ago.” She shuffles on the bed to get comfortable, and I can see that she’s still in pain.
“Did Amelia give you the pills?” I ask.
“She did. I think they’re starting to work as my body is more rested than when I first woke.”
“You're to take them every four hours. I’ll set a reminder on my phone to come and check that you've taken them.” I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up an alarm.
“There’s no need. I’m sure I can manage to remember.” She looks around the room for a clock — her face falling when she remembers that she doesn’t have one. “Maybe I’ll need that reminder.”
My father decided when we were preparing the rooms for the girls that they wouldn’t need clocks. He stated it would be better if they had no idea what time of day it was, other than by the rising and setting of the sun. It all sounded a bit more like adding additional torture into their stay to me.
“I'll have a clock put in here so you can keep an eye on the time yourself.”
“Thank you, My Lord.”
I grind my teeth at the form of address she uses for me.
“So, how are you feeling?” I’m still standing in the doorway. I can’t bring myself to walk any farther into the room, yet. I want to strangle her for not saying ‘yes’ and thus preventing her body from being put through this. But at the same time, I want to kiss every inch of her body in the hope that it will stop the pain she’s in. Argh. Women! Why do they have to be so complicated? Men are simple creatures, far more pliable. Particularly if you have a voracious dick like mine. Food, sleep, shower, shit, sex, not necessarily in that order, and several of those more than once a day.
“Just fine and dandy,” she responds, and her own face darkens with anger.
“Why didn’t you just say yes?” I can no longer temper my fury.
“Why should I? I’m not a liar, Nicholas.”
“Because, if you did, then this would have been much easier, and I wouldn’t have had to see you covered in blood and humiliated.” I put my head in my hands and pull the strands of my hair through to the end. “I wouldn’t have to worry that, because of what happened, you’re broken.”
She laughs at me. I see it hurts her, when she flinches, but she continues.
“You think this would break me? No, no chance. It’s made me even more determined to make you see that what’s happening here is wrong. You marry for love and with freedom of choice, Nicholas. If your wife misbehaves, you don’t lead her around in some elaborate parade designed to humiliate her.”
“You hate me.” Her words hit me hard, and I want to go to her and hold her. I want to stroke her and make all the pain go away.
“No. I don’t blame you for this. As I’ve said before, you're weak. What happened to me is because of the society, and your father’s macabre nature. What happens now is down to you, though.”
I finally dare to move closer to her and sit on the edge of the bed. While she’s speaking, she reaches out and takes my hand. I look at the cannula embedded in her delicate flesh.
“What do you mean?”
“Stop this. Go to your father and tell him you won’t go through with it anymore. Tell him that you’re letting Amelia, Elizabeth, and I go, and when you marry, it’ll be for love. You're the only one who can do that. Does the title of Duke mean that much to you? Would you rather money and prestige over your soul?”
“I lost my soul years ago. There’s still much that you don’t know about this society and what it does.”
“Then, tell me,” she interrupts me.
“I’m too entwined in this. Bringing it down will destroy everything. William also. I can’t risk his future.”
“But you can mine?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?” She lets go of my hand and moves away to the other side of the bed.
“Victoria, please. Let’s just finish the trials, let me get the title, and then, I can change things from there.” I’m begging her. I lean forward and press a kiss to her lips. She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t push me away, either. She sits there without moving.
“Are you in pain?” I go for her hand again, but she pulls it away. “Victoria.”
“I want you to leave.” She turns her head away, looking out of the barred window.
“Don’t be like this. I’m not saying that I won’t change things when I’m Duke. I’m just saying, for now, it has to be like this.”
She doesn’t reply.
“Talk to me,” I demand.
“Leave.” Her eyes are dead. I’ve seen affection for me in them before, despite the monster I am, but there’s nothing there now. “You think after this there can ever be anything between us. If you put a stop to this now, then maybe, I could work on forgiving you, but you’ve seen me humiliated, beaten, almost killed, and still, you won’t fight for me. You could’ve had my love Nicholas, but you’ve lost that. Just leave.”
“Are you serious?” I jump off the bed, and she whimpers when the ripples from the force shake the mattress. “I don’t have a choice. I have to do it this way. It’s the only way to make sure everyone gets the future that will be best for them.”
“You’re deluded. If I carry on like this, then I’ll have no future. I’ll be dead.”
“Then, just do the tasks — I’ll give you the easy ones.” Why does she have to be so complicated? I’m frustrated and fuming at the same time.
“And let Amelia and Elizabeth get beaten or worse instead.”
“Don’t ask this of me. Just accept what I say.”
“I shouldn’t need to ask you.” She turns away. It’s the final nail in our conversation. She won’t acknowledge me anymore. I see that when she shuts her eyes.
“Fine, have it your way. Just don’t come running back to me when this is over, and the society’s gone.” I go back to the door and slam it shut behind me, leaving her alone to wallow in her self-pity. Doesn’t she realize this is hard for both of us? Damn frustrating, annoying women. Doesn’t she understand how much it broke me to see her savagely beaten? I wanted to stop it the entire time, and it could’ve been prevented if she'd just said ‘yes’.
I go straight back to my room. I’m shaking and sweating — I’m irate, and I’m worried. I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to shut this thing down, now, but the pressure on me is incredible. I can’t let my brother down. I can’t let other girls go through what’s happening to Victoria. I want it finished and done with. I want to go out and fuck an entire catalogue of lingerie models. Who the fuck am I kidding, no I don’t? Sex is actually the furthest thing from my mind. In fact, I don’t actually know what’s going on in my mind. It's a muddle of confusion and suffering. I’m the devil — I must be. I have to be as bad as my father in order to beat him. I’ve done wrong things in my life. I’ve killed, maimed, and stolen, all in the name of this fucking society. This fucking society. I pick up a wooden framed chair next to me and throw it hard into a wall. It hits a mirror, which smashes into a thousand pieces on the floor. Next up, I swipe everything off my chest of drawers onto the floor. I stop short of the brandy, sitting temptingly in the decanter at the end. Reggie must’ve known that it would be something that I need. I pick it up, pull the stop out, and take in long gulps, which burn my throat. I drink half of the bottle. My head swims with the instant hit of the alcohol. Fuck. Argh. I pick up some priceless ornaments and throw them at the artwork adorning the walls. They may be worth millions, but I don't care. I want to get paralytically drunk and destroy. It’s all I’m fit to do. It’s all I’ll ever do in this life. My father has told me enough times that I’ll never beat him, and I’m starting to beli
eve it. It is now that I need to go to the dark side of my brain, if that is even possible. Fuck everyone but William. I'll destroy this society. I down another load of the brandy, and its high alcohol content instantly mixes with my blood, which is already compromised from not eating since breakfast. I look at my clock. Dinner time. Maybe I can make myself pass out before anyone comes looking for me. I'm pretty confident that I'm halfway there.
The door to my room creaks. I spin around, and Elizabeth Sandford is standing there. She bites her lip and allows the sleeve of the dressing gown that she’s wearing to fall from her shoulder.
“I heard a noise. I think my room must be underneath yours. I know we’re not allowed up here, but I was worried.”
She sashays up to me and places her hand on my chest.
“What’s wrong, My Lord? Is it something I can help you with? You seem upset.”
I look straight at her. She’s swaying a bit, or is it the fact that I’ve downed pretty much a whole decanter of brandy in ten minutes?
“This must be hard for you as well. To see us women hurt in a manner than your sensitive nature dislikes. I’ve seen the true man you are underneath. You want to do this about as much as we want to be married off in this way. You want to love and have affection. Something your father took away from you with your mother. He killed her.”
I grab her hand and pull it off my chest. I push her back but don’t let go. “Don’t talk about my mother. You know nothing about her.”
“I know she left you all alone with the man who tortures you night and day. He wants to mold you into his likeness, but you have a heart. He’ll never win.” I don’t know if she’s deliberate or not in her words, but her voice is seductive. The gown slips a little farther revealing the gossamer silk of a bra covering the curve of her breast. My eyes flit to it and back to her face.
“You want to sleep with me?” I ask.
She purses her lips together.
“Who wouldn’t? You’re a handsome man.”
“I won’t have sex with you, no matter how much you try to flatter me with your false praise of my character, contrasting it with my father’s. He’s the devil, but he taught me everything he knows.”
I let her hand go and bring my other hand to my mouth. It still contains the brandy bottle. I need more to numb everything. Tomorrow, I’ll gather my strength and try to fight again. But tonight, I’ve nothing left. Two weeks ago, I was carefree, and I didn’t have to think about this stupid society. Now, it’s all my brain can focus on.
“There’s another way.” Elizabeth's voice permeates my thoughts.
She drops to her knees. “You want to lose your mind for a while. I can help you with that.” Her hand is placed on my dick through my trousers, and before I have a chance to say no, she’s undoing my zipper and removing me. I’m not hard. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol, or my lack of lust for the woman on her knees in front of me. But the second she brings my cock into her mouth, I lengthen and lose myself in the moment. Victoria was right — I have no soul.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
VICTORIA
Two weeks have passed since the day I was savagely beaten. I move a little better, but I know that I’ll always bear the scars of my attack. Not just physically in the silver streaks that mar my perfect skin but also in the nightmares that haunt me. The names — I want to forget them, but no matter how much I try to fill my head with positive synonyms for women, the negative always seems to invade my consciousness. I see, now, despite the advent of feminism and the burning of bras, women are still second-class citizens within the nobility of England. I wonder how many others have been sold into a world of slavery as I have been.
“Victoria?” Amelia’s voice drags me from my reflection. “Do you want anything else to eat?”
“Err. No, thank you. I’m good.” I push half an American pancake to the side of my plate. I enjoyed the fruit, but I am still finding it hard to eat a lot. I’ve always prided myself on being toned and curvy, but with not eating and no swimming, I’m a shadow of my former self.
“Maybe we should ask Nicholas’ doctor to retake a look at your tongue. He said you should be eating well by now. You didn’t eat much dinner last night and not much breakfast.”
“I’m fine. Honestly. Just not hungry. I ate all my fruit. I’m being healthy.” I laugh, but she still frowns at me.
“Dear God, stop fussing over her all the time. If she’d said yes, then she wouldn’t be in the state she is.” Elizabeth pipes into our conversation while shoving the last piece of her venison sausage into her mouth.
I haven’t warmed to Elizabeth as I have Amelia. In fact, you could say I think she’s a total bitch. She wants to marry Nicholas for the title and the money. That’s completely obvious. I also question her morals — she doesn’t seem to ask about anything that’s going on here. Amelia doesn’t make a show of hating her fate, but at least you can see she thinks it’s wrong. With Elizabeth Sandford, you get the feeling she’s enjoying what’s happening. I shudder at that thought. Nobody could enjoy this.
“No one deserves what happened to Victoria,” Amelia responds and wipes her mouth with a napkin.
“It’s the rules — if she breaks them or doesn’t answer in the way the Duke, or the Earl, demands of a wife, then she should be punished.” Elizabeth picks up her coffee and takes a mouthful to wash down her breakfast.
“Were you aware of the tasks before coming here?” I ignore her misguided views and question her instead.
“Of course.” She pouts.
“And you don’t think that it’s wrong?” I ask.
“Why should I? I’m a realist, not a dreamer like you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her words make no sense.
“We live in a male orientated world. If we want to succeed in it, we need to learn to be subservient.”
“Why?” Amelia interjects.
“Because if we don’t, then we'll end up with nothing.”
“You do know that a woman can have a career of her own that doesn’t involve opening her legs for a living, don’t you?” I’ve had enough of this bitch.
“But it’s a lot easier if you use what God gave you,” she smirks. “Men are weak. They have one brain, and it isn’t in their heads.” She wiggles her index finger to illustrate a dick.
“Seriously, aren’t you supposed to be a virgin?” Amelia snorts.
“You can still be a virgin and know how to give a man pleasure.” She leans forward on her elbows. “Nicholas found that out two weeks ago.”
I have my coffee cup halfway to my mouth while she’s talking, but it never makes it there — I put it down with a thump.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“I sucked him off.” She looks smug with her declaration I want to smack it off her face. I keep my calm, though. Mainly because moving fast still hurts. “He needed a release after all the stress that you're putting him through with your ridiculous acting out. I gave it to him. He’s big — I gagged on him more than once. His cum is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted as well.”
“Shut up,” Amelia shouts at Elizabeth. I sit there dumbfounded. I know she isn’t lying. I can see it in her eyes.
“I told him that he’s welcome to come to me anytime he wants. It’s one dick I won’t ever say no to.” Elizabeth carries on, and Amelia covers her ears, so she doesn’t have to hear the conversation anymore. “If you don’t want to end up dead, maybe, you should start showing him a few more favors of that kind,” she sneers at me.
“I can’t listen to this anymore. You’re sick.” Amelia stomps out of the kitchen. I push my chair back to go after her. I like the blonde, and I know talk of this will impact on her fragile emotions.
“You thought you had him wrapped round your little finger, didn’t you?” Elizabeth stops my progress, and I swing back around to face her. “He called my name as he came. I’ve sucked enough men to know that, when they come, the name of the one they truly want is on th
eir lips.”
“I feel sorry for you.” I step into her space. She instantly gets to her feet ready to fight me if needed. “You’re the daughter of a Bishop and should have better morals. They seem to have disappeared down the drain with any compassion and kindness you might have. If you think that what’s happening here is right and good for women, then you’re as insane as the Duke and Earl. This is pure and simple kidnapping, murder, and then rape when he chooses a partner. When, not if, I get out of here, I’ll see them all go to hell for this. Mark my words. If you want to get on your knees and suck Nicholas’, no doubt, disease ridden dick, then go ahead. Open your legs and let him fuck you. I don’t care. I hate him. If he chooses you as his wife, then I wish you the best of luck. In fact, congratulations, have him. I’d rather die than have him ever touch me again.” Elizabeth’s eyes go past me toward the doorway. I spin around and come face to face with Nicholas — his jaw ticking with anger.
CHAPTER TWENTY
NICHOLAS
“Elizabeth, leave,” I order the smug woman out of my sight. Two weeks, two fucking weeks, I haven’t seen Victoria. I thought that she might’ve grown a brain during that time, but it appears not.
“My apologies, My Lord, for you having to witness that appalling attack on your character.” The jet-haired woman, who pleasured me the night of my drunken rampage, sways her hips seductively as she leaves the room where the girls were eating their breakfast. She runs a hand across my chest. I don’t move. I allow the show of dominance from her because I see the look of jealousy that flits over Victoria’s face. She quickly suppressed it, but I saw it. Too late — I have her. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room. Try not to get beaten again, Victoria, I’d hate to delay the trials any further. I want to get on with my life and obtain my rightful position.” Elizabeth sashays off down the corridor.
“Trailer trash bitch.” Victoria coughs under her breath. I can’t help the smirk that touches my lips because she’s right. Elizabeth Sandford is a slut. She would make a terrible wife — she would fuck my entire retinue. I could never be sure that any children we had were mine. It isn’t her fault, though. With a Bishop for a father, she was sexually repressed for years and has finally discovered her calling.
