by Anna Edwards
“Victoria will walk the coals,” he says.
“I’ll do what?” I exclaim loudly in shock.
He glares at me. It’s a look that tells me to keep my mouth shut. ‘Fire, Sex, Death’ pops into my head. Ok, maybe I’ll be silent as this is apparently the fire, and I like the sound of the other two a lot less than walking over hot coals.
“How very disappointing,” the Duke moans. “I was hoping that you would choose her for sex. I was looking forward to it.” He laughs this time, and I look to Amelia. Seeing that she’s close to tears, I reach out and take her hand. She grips mine back tightly, saying nothing as the Duke starts up with his annoying sermons again.
“In all ways, the wife of a Duke must be completely faithful to her husband, unless, for reasons known only to the Duke, he commands her to personally commit carnal acts with another person. I did this with my wife. I wanted to work with a particular client, so I gave him a night with my wife to seal the deal.” He chuckles, and my blood freezes. “She didn’t come back too bruised.” I look at Nicholas as he stumbles back, grabbing a nearby chair to support himself. I’m sure his father enjoys teasing him. I look up to the hidden alcoves and wonder if William is listening to this as well. It must be hard on them both to know that their mother was brutally treated and chose death over being with them in life. That she couldn't try to save them from the fate they faced. I will Nicholas to walk out and tell his father that he'll not do this, but I know it won’t happen because this is the only way he can see to put an end to everything.
“For the purpose of this task, I get to have a little fun.” The Duke stands proudly, and I have a horrible sinking feeling I know what’s coming. “The chosen lady will be given to me by my son to complete fellatio. If you, in anyway, attempt to bite my penis, then I’ll have your teeth pulled out of your mouth, one by one, without anesthetic. A good wife needs to obey her husband no matter what. Your body’s his property, and he can command how you use it.”
I can’t help but be over the moon at not having to complete that task. I like my teeth in my mouth, and I would definitely lose them because I wouldn’t be able to prevent myself from trying gnaw off the Duke’s gross dick. It would be the safest way of ensuring I didn’t get any nasty diseases.
“Nicholas, who do you choose for this task?” the Duke asks, and I send up a silent prayer that he doesn’t choose Amelia. It’s already been proven that Elizabeth’s a whore, so give her that task. I’m sure she’ll enjoy it. She can compare father and son. Yuck! What a disgusting thought.
“Elizabeth. I happen to know that she has talents that you’ll rather appreciate.”
The assembled crowd murmur amongst themselves, but my attention’s distracted when Amelia grips my hand even tighter and whispers,
“Thank you for being my friend. You’ve a strength I’ve never seen before. I know that you'll be the last Duchess of Oakfield to be chosen this way.”
“What?” I ask, but the Duke interrupts us again. This time, I’m pulled away to the coals by the guards. Amelia’s taken up to the front of the stage, and Elizabeth’s pushed to her knees at the Duke’s feet.
“The final task, which Amelia will complete, is the ultimate sin for both husband and wife. The society is brutal — as many of you know from the punishments you’ve received for misdemeanors. If you betray us, then the punishment is death. Public execution. No second chances. As wife to my son, you’ll be expected to uphold this. You'll be expected to kill.”
The bottom falls out of my world when I see a gun is placed in front of Amelia. No. No. Her words suddenly start to make sense. The only task she couldn't complete. I’m being held by the two guards, but I get free from them with unimaginable strength and throw myself at Nicholas’ feet. He looks down in shock, and with an almost silent voice, I whisper,
“Swap Amelia and I — I want to do the killing.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
NICHOLAS
“What are you doing? Get up.” I stare down dumbstruck at Victoria. “Have you gone insane? I gave you the easiest task.” I bend down and, with gritted teeth, tell her to stop this madness.
“No. I want to kill the person.” All the time she speaks, her eyes are flicking over to Amelia.
“I’m not going to give you the gun. Go back to the coals.”
“What’s going on?” My father shouts from the other side of the room. He’s already undoing his trousers and pulling himself out. It’s not something I enjoy seeing, but sadly it’s something I’ve witnessed far too often. The society’s members are infamous for their orgy nights. The one and only thing that I used to quite enjoy.
“Nothing,” I reply.
“Can the bitch not even do the easiest of the tasks without causing a problem? George” ‒he waves his hand in the air toward one of the guards‒ “bring the scold’s bridle. I don’t have time for messing around.” My father shoves his dick into Elizabeth’s mouth, and she gags around the surprise intrusion. “I hope you’re going to be better at swallowing me than that.”
“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. We don’t need the bridle.” I pull Victoria up toward me. “Stop this now. I thought giving you the diary would have knocked some sense into you.”
“Please swap us,” she pleads. I can see the desperation in her eyes.
“Tell me why? Give me one good reason. You know what's about to happen. I don’t want that on your conscience.”
“Amelia.” She opens her mouth to tell me, but there’s a commotion at the door. A man’s brought in and thrown onto his knees in the center of the room. He’s one of the ‘workers’, as we call them here in the society, who do the mundane work for us. They aren’t paid well, for they’re the lowest of the low. Pulled from the streets and offered a better life only to be thrown to the lion, that is my father, and forced to risk everything, so we don’t have to.
“This man has stolen from us. He took money to perform a task, and he spent it on getting high instead. The work was not done to the highest standard, and I now have to get another loyal man out of prison in Egypt, as a result.” My father’s bucking his hips into Elizabeth’s mouth while he speaks. He’s using her like a rag doll with a hole to get himself off. There's no finesse about the act. It’s raw fucking of a willing hole. Then again, that’s pretty much all Elizabeth Sandford is: willing with three holes to stick a dick in. “The punishment for stealing from us is death. Sometimes, as the leader, we don’t like to get our hands dirty, and that’s where our wives come into the equation. Amelia, your task is to kill this man.”
Victoria whimpers and grabs hold of my ankle. “Please, don’t make her do this.”
“You know I have to follow the rules,” I respond.
“Let the games begin,” my father shouts.
“Nicholas, please.”
“Enough,” I shout and grab Victoria by the arm. I drag her to her feet and, with the red mists descending, pull her across the room back to the coals. Behind me, I can hear one of the guards explaining to Amelia how to use the gun. To the side of me is my father’s carnal grunts, and Elizabeth’s wet suction. All the time, Victoria is squirming in my hands.
“No!” she screams, but I slam my hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.
“Damn it, please stop this. Just do what I ask. I can’t handle this with every task. Why are you so bloody defiant all the time?”
“Kill him.” My father’s voice echoes around the room. “His punishment is death.”
“Please don’t,” the man whimpers. The gun cocks.
Victoria’s wriggling so much in my arms that I can barely hold her. She’s like a piece of Jell-O. She bites on the hand I have clamped over her mouth, and I curse.
“Fuck.”
I’ve had enough and push her onto the coals, so she has no choice but to walk on them. She's still defiant, though, as she stumbles back across them toward and then past me. I spin on my heels. The world turns slowly like those old-fashioned movies where the film breaks, an
d the world turns like it would go on forever. Victoria falls to her feet and screams. At the same time Amelia puts the gun in her mouth and pulls the trigger, ending her life as her head explodes.
“No!” Victoria cries out, again and again, bringing the world rapidly back up to speed. I can barely catch my breath as Amelia’s body falls to the floor next to the drugged up thief that she was supposed to kill. Suddenly, I’m running. I’m next to Victoria, scooping her up into my arms. My father’s sexual grunts come back into my consciousness as he comes down Elizabeth’s throat. I feel sick — I’m going to be sick. The stench of death fills the room. Blood is flowing all over the floor — parts of the dead girl’s brain and skull are splattered everywhere. And still, my father comes and comes. I can’t do this. I need to leave. My legs are carrying me, and I hold a still hysterical Victoria in my arms. We’re going — we’re getting out of here.
“Leaving so soon, son?” my father calls out. A gun goes off again. I turn back to see Elizabeth Sandford holding the smoking weapon, this time, and the condemned man lying dead beside Amelia.
“At least, the tasks were completed, and we’re one girl down. Makes the choice a whole lot easier, don’t you think?”
I don’t wait to hear any more. I just get the hell out of there.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
VICTORIA
Nicholas carries me out of the house and races toward a car. I’m still shaking. The only task that she could never complete. Her father had asked her to commit murder before, and she’d naturally refused. I dread to think the punishment she must’ve received from him. Whatever it was broke her enough that I just watched her commit suicide. I bury my head into Nicholas’ chest as he shouts instructions to a liveried man.
“Give me the keys.”
“My Lord, this is your father’s car. If you wait a moment, I’ll get one of yours.”
“Just give me the fucking keys.” Nicholas gently places me down against the midnight blue Land Rover. “Wait there,” he orders. I don’t think I could move if I tried. My legs are like jelly, and I use the car to hold me up. Nicholas spins around and stomps over to the guards. He pulls his hand back and floors the surprised man with one punch. He picks the keys out of the livery man’s hand and clicks open the car. “Get in.” I obey. He goes to the driver’s side and gets in. He puts his seatbelt on, and I do the same before he takes off, speeding down the long driveway.
“Nicholas.” I reach out and touch his leg, but he doesn’t respond. He just focuses on the massive gateway in front of us. It starts to open — alerted, no doubt, by a sensor in the car. He’s going to take me away from here. I squeeze his leg a little harder. His breathing’s getting quicker and quicker. “Nicholas,” I reassure again as the gate finishes opening. The path to freedom is laid bare before us, but at the last minute, he slams his foot down on the break. The car skids sideways over a manicured lawn and halts just before a garish statue of a little girl entwined with a snake. He bangs his hands on the steering wheel and gets out of the car and starts to beat the crap out of it. The thumping of the metal makes me shudder. He’s falling apart before me. I undo my seat belt and slide across and out his side. He's going mad — the strength of his fury is so great that dents are appearing on the Land Rover. Without thinking, I step closer to him and wrap my hands around his waist. I’m standing behind him, and he stills. I can hear his heavy gasping breaths. I lay my head against his back and hear the anguished cries wracking his body.
“I killed her,” he laments.
“No,”
“I didn’t listen to you. I killed her. I want to take you away from here, but I can’t. I should be able to drive through that gateway, but I can’t. I’m going to kill you as well.” He turns around, and I can see the tears falling down his face. I step up on the balls of my feet and use my thumb to wipe them away.
“You didn’t kill her. The society did. She never had any hope. She told me that her father had been preparing her for the trials since she was young. He was abusing her and hiding behind what this society is. She was broken. You didn’t kill her. The murder was the one task that she could never complete. She’d rather go to heaven with her conscience clear.”
“I should have seen how broken she was. I knew she wasn’t right, but I thought it was the stress of the situation.”
I shake my head.
“She was a dead woman walking. I don’t think anyone could have saved her, no matter how much we wanted to.” I feel sick. Amelia was only twenty-one and had known nothing but abuse all her life. “Her father is a vile man, and I won’t rest until he’s punished for this.”
“Neither of us will.”
I look over to the gateway. I could push off Nicholas and make a break for my freedom, but I’m pulled closer to him by the situation we’re in. Somewhere, in all of this, I’ve developed feelings for my captor.
“William,” Nicholas speaks.
“I won’t risk him. We’re going to finish this together.” I step back and slide my hand down to his, so he can lead me back to the car.
“Victoria.” He doesn’t move. “Marry me?”
“What?”
“Marry me?”
I can’t find the answer I want to give — my throat goes dry. Most people would think that I’m insane for even considering this, but I am. I’m in love with him and all that he wants to do. He’s been in the worst position just as I have. We’ve both been oppressed and forced against our wills to conduct acts that have left us confused and hurting, but together, we’ve discovered we can beat our devils. Together we’ll win.
“Make me your woman first.”
“What?”
I step up on the balls of my feet again and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“Stop the pain in my chest — stop my heart from breaking at all the death and hate around us. Show me what love is.”
He crushes his lips to mine, apparently not needing to be asked twice, to show me what pleasure feels like. Before long, I’m lifted up into his arms, and we’re moving. Our lips part.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a summer house a short walk away. I want you privately, not in the middle of the driveway with the rest of the society leaving.”
“Good idea.” I join our lips again, and we stumble, well Nicholas stumbles, through the gardens to the summer house. The smell of roses hits me, and I pull back. Nicholas puts me down on my feet and opens the door. The summer house is filled with highly fragrant blooms. I pick a vibrant red rose and twirl it around in my fingers.
“They’re my favorite flowers. The garden where I grew up had loads of them.” Memories of my father being the one to put me in this position surface, and a tear escapes my eye.
“Wait here,” Nicholas orders and disappears back outside. I take a look around. It’s small and secluded — a place for bringing a book and lounging on the daybed in the center of the room. White blinds are at all the windows, but this place is private, and they don’t need to be drawn. The daybed is covered in a white blanket. Oakfield Hall is masculine to the extreme, but this place is feminine. Nicholas returns with a few more roses in his hands. He pulls the petals off and strews them over the bed.
“This place isn’t like the rest of Oakfield Hall.”
“No, my mother had it built. She wanted a place to escape when my father had his mistresses over. He at least did one nice thing for her.”
He pats the bed for me to go to him. I do and stand between his legs.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.
“Am I sure I want you to strip me naked and make love to me, or fuck me? However, it is you roll.” I chuckle to diffuse the sudden tension that pools in my stomach.
“This is your first time. I’m going to be gentle. The fucking can come later.”
“Sounds good to me.”
He reaches up and strokes my face.
“Things will change.”
“I know.”
“S
he won’t have died in vain.”
“We’ll always honor her.”
I lean forward, and we kiss slowly. He pulls me onto the bed and lays me down.
We part lips, and he pulls the t-shirt that I’m wearing over my head. I sit up a little, so he can remove my bra. I’m not big breasted, but that doesn’t seem to bother Nicholas as he instantly buries his head between them.
“Delicious.” He flicks my nipple, and I moan low in my throat. I’ve always had a sensitive body, but around Nicholas, everything seems to double in sensation. I’m vibrating underneath him with the need for more. He flips me over and places the same kisses on my back. I feel him tense when he sees some of the bruising and deeper wounds, which haven’t fully healed, yet. He pays particular attention to them as if apologizing for being a part of their infliction. I’ve long since forgiven him.
My jeans are next to be removed and then my knickers. He steps back and drops his suit jacket to the floor. I’ve never seen him without it and lick my lips at the sight. He pulls the left sleeve of his shirt toward him and unhooks the cufflink. He places it on a table, next to the daybed, and does the same with the other one.
“Do you always wear suits?” I ask while he removes his shirt and places that on the table as well. I take in his chest. It's defined with chiseled muscles and taper’s down to a place of hidden promises in his trousers.
“I feel like I have, lately. I prefer jeans and a t-shirt, but unfortunately the position often requires a certain dress code.”
