by Kitty Thomas
Chapter Five
When Veronica woke, it was to a burning sensation, but it wasn’t the brand. It was the sun she’d fallen asleep in. She looked up to find herself lying in Luke’s shadow.
“I didn’t hear the dinner bell.”
She scrambled to get up but felt dizzy from the heat. He caught her before she fell.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Don’t be mad. I didn’t mean to...” Why was she apologizing to him? Because she was scared. He’d literally scarred her for life while she’d begged him not to.
“It’s all right. You’ve never had an endorphin rush like that before, have you?”
She shook her head.
“Then I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
She winced as he scooped her up and carried her back to the house. Her hip was sore from where the brand had struck her. “It hurts.”
“It’ll be sore for quite a while.”
“You said it wouldn’t hurt.” She was thankful he’d covered her with her dress or a lot more of her would be sunburned.
“I meant it wouldn’t hurt in the way you thought it would. You were expecting searing, agonizing pain, like a small surface burn only a lot worse, but brands don’t work that way. It’s not torture, even though it looks like it to outsiders. Not if you do it right.”
When they reached the house, he sat her at the kitchen table and poured her a tall glass of water. “Drink. You’re dehydrated.”
She drank the water down while he inspected her. He pulled the dress she’d been clutching away to leave her in her panties, covered in dirt. Her arms, shoulders, and face had gotten burned in the sun. The rest had been protected by the dress.
“I’ll be right back.”
He hadn’t yelled at her or done anything bad because she hadn’t made dinner. He returned a few minutes later with a spritz bottle that looked like it had water in it.
“Close your eyes tight and lean your head back.”
She was too drained to argue or ask questions, but she wasn’t prepared when the strong scent of vinegar hit the air. He sprayed her face, arms, and shoulders until she felt like a salad. Then he patted her face with a paper towel to stop it from dripping.
“It’ll help your sunburn,” he said. “You can open your eyes now. Would you like to see your brand?” He said it conversationally as if she’d gone to a trendy body modification shop and selected the design herself. In reality, it was an ugly reminder that he could do whatever he wanted with her, and she didn’t have the means to stop him.
She didn’t know if she ever wanted to see it, but she said “Yes, Sir” to keep him happy.
Luke took her hand and led her upstairs. “I want you to take a cool shower and get cleaned up while I make us something to eat. It’ll have to be grilled cheese and tomato soup tonight. What I had planned for you to make is too involved for this late.”
“T-that’s okay.” She was just glad he wasn’t punishing her for falling asleep in the backyard.
When they reached her bedroom, he stood her in front of the full-length mirror, turning her to the proper angle to see the brand. She thought she might pass out again when she saw it. It was dark red against her pale skin.
“It looks scary when it’s new. When it heals it’ll look something like what you saw on the video, okay? Just leave it alone.” He brushed the hair out of her face with his fingers as if he were soothing her. She couldn’t be sure if he saw Trish when he watched her reflection in the mirror.
Veronica looked again at the brand. If before she’d had even the smallest hope she’d ever be allowed to leave the ranch, that hope was gone, now. With an identifying mark like this, his crimes were painted across her skin, dark and angry—almost bragging: I did this. She stared at the G with the steer horns coming out of it that marked her as Luke’s property.
She didn’t know what to feel. She knew what she was supposed to feel: rage, violation. Instead she felt blank except for the throb between her legs. It started whenever he walked into a room now, whenever he came near her. Part of her would cringe away, tense, afraid he’d touch her, but another part needed him to. When she looked at Luke again, he was staring at his mark, an unapologetic smile curving his lips.
“This is wrong. I didn’t ask for any of this. You do know the difference, right?”
“I saved you,” he said simply, still convinced anything he did to her was okay because she was going to end up on the streets anyway. “Run along and get in the shower. I’ll bring you something to wear.”
She drifted to the upstairs bathroom in a fog. Maybe she was in shock. Or maybe it was the low-level constant buzz of arousal she’d felt from the moment she’d entered his presence—something she’d ignored as best she could until Luke had pointed it out so many times. Her face burned—more from embarrassment than the sunburn—over Luke so casually sliding his fingers inside her panties in full view of the ranch hand. She’d been too afraid at the time of what he was about to do to her, but now in the house, she didn’t think she’d be able to look at the guy at breakfast tomorrow.
A few minutes later, Luke came in with a white cotton nightgownin his hand. The gown had thin straps and was a thin enough material thatit would leave little to the imagination.
Veronica tried to cover herself. He arched an eyebrow and put the gown down on the counter.
“How long are you going to be so shy around me?”
It seemed ludicrous with what was the equivalent of his family crest burned into her hip and all he’d seen of her already, but she couldn’t help the natural inclination to protect her modesty.
She expected him to leave the clothes and go. Instead, he pulled her arms from her chest and ran his fingertips over her nipples and the full, roundness of her breasts, as if testing their weight. His hand roamed across her flat belly and to the mound between her legs. He stroked her already swollen clit, and she spread her legs as her hips arched up to meet him.
“The brand makes such a difference in you. You know you’re not going anywhere, now. Better to just open to me. Give in. We aren’t in the city anymore. There’s nothing you have to fight for, here. I’m going to be inside you tonight. So get used to that idea.”
A tear slid down her cheek as he rubbed her harder. Despite everything, her orgasm was building. It was confusing and exposing. She never had orgasms with men. It had always been later, on her own. She’d faked more orgasms than she’d wanted to admit to. Even the ones who had tried to touch her in just the right way had left her cold.
But then, no one had touched her like Luke was touching her. He touched her like she’d been brought into the world solely for his use, like her entire existence was meant to please him. The proprietary way he stroked her was clearly the only way she could come.
Luke didn’t ask is this okay? Is this how you like it? He touched her the way he liked it, and she was forced to run along behind him, panting and hungry for more.
He pulled his hand away from her.
“Please...”
“I need to make us some food. Take your shower, and put the nightgown on. No panties or I’ll be very unhappy.”
As soon as he’d pulled the door shut, her fingers slipped between her legs to finish. The door opened again, his gaze causing her to shrink back like a violet. “And no touching yourself. You only masturbate for an audience from now on.” He stared her down until she took her fingers from her clit. Then he left her.
For an audience? Did he mean him or him and the guys? Robert hadn’t seemed shocked when Luke had touched her in the barn, and he’d known about Trish’s brand. The threat on screen about showing the video to the guys that had gotten the woman all hot and bothered hadn’t just been dirty talk. No wonder no one wanted to help Veronica. They wanted a piece of the action.
When she got to the kitchen, Luke was sitting at the table, his legs sprawled out, looking relaxed and expectant. Behind him, the sandwiches sat on the counter wrapped in aluminum foil and paper towels to keep the heat in longer
. The soup simmered on the back burner, bowls and spoons already on the counter. Iced tea was poured and on the table with a couple of lemon wedges from the lemon tree in the greenhouse.
There was a darkly erotic glint in Luke’s eyes. “How hungry are you, princess? What are you willing to do to be allowed to eat?”
She didn’t know if he’d really let her go to bed hungry if she didn’t do whatever he wanted. She’d always had the suspicion his punishments would be more direct and terrifying.
Veronica looked at the floor tiles, unable to maintain eye contact for long.
“Answer me, princess.”
“I-I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Come to me on your hands and knees.”
There must have been resistance on her face because he said, “Don’t think, just do it.”
She crouched to the ground and crawled over to him. She was painfully aware of what had happened in the barn each time she moved, the ache radiating through her hip. Inexplicably, the reminder that she belonged to him made her hotter. Crazy or not, it was hard to be near him and be anything but aroused for long. He was too beautiful in that rugged way. She stopped when she was between his legs. He unzipped his pants and his cock sprang free. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips.
“How many men have you sucked?”
The question took her off guard. “I... um...” If she told him the truth, she’d sound like a virgin. None of the men she’d been with had inspired the activity. In her fantasies it had seemed hot and exciting—helpless in an erotic way. In reality it was too demeaning. She’d never been able to be the Cosmo girl who could successfully pretend she liked or wanted a cock in her mouth.
“How many?”
“I don’t do that.”
“Well, you seem excited enough about doing it now.”
She blushed and was thankful he wouldn’t be able to see it for her sunburn.
“How many men have you fucked?”
It had been awhile, but in college... She did the math in her head.
“And I want the real number. Not the number women give men to appear more virginal. I’ll know if you’re lying.”
“Thirty-four.”
He smirked and spread his legs a little farther. “I knew you were a slut. Well, don’t just stare at it.”
Veronica inched forward and ran her tongue over the shaft. His hand tangled in her hair and he pulled hard, jerking her face up.
“I know you can do better. Pretend it’s the only thing you’re getting for dinner. And no teeth.”
She may not have ever sucked a cock, but she’d seen it done. It wasn’t a great mystery—she’d just never felt compelled to pretend she liked it. But Luke didn’t care if she liked it or not. He was going to get off in her mouth either way. That thought sent an electrical zap through her stomach as she took him into her mouth.
His hand moved to the back of her neck and he pulled her in closer, going deeper. When her gag reflex activated, she instinctively relaxed her throat to let more of him in.
“That’s good, princess. Surprisingly good, actually.”
When he came, he held her in place so she could do nothing but swallow the thick, hot liquid. Then the kitchen door opened. She jerked away, and some of his cum slid down her chin and neck.
“Stay down,” he ordered as he zipped up, pointing at her as if she were a disobedient dog.
She kept her eyes on the floor, unable to look up at the person who’d come in.
“Sorry, I left my hat on the counter after lunch,” Will said. Footsteps receded to the other end of the kitchen, paused a moment, then came to stop a few feet from her. Veronica could just see the tips of his boots.
“Luke told me he branded you, honey. I’m real sorry I missed that.”
“Do you want to see it?” Luke asked.
Veronica looked up in time to see the hungry expression in the ranch hand’s eyes. “You know I do. Don’t tease me.”
Luke nudged her with his knee. “Be a good girl and go show him. If thirty-four other men have already seen you naked, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
She wanted to melt through the floor.
Will let out a low whistle. “Filthy little thing.”
“Yes,” Luke said. “She’s been holding out on us.”
Veronica forced herself to walk the few paces to Will, unable to meet his eyes. She could feel her nipples pebbling against the material of the nightgown and knew without looking that his gaze must be drawn to them. When she reached him, she turned away and lifted the nightgown to show him the mark, aware he’d get a view of much more without panties.
“That looks real nice. It should heal up good. She’s our good little cow.” He stroked the back of her neck.
“My good little cow,” Luke said. “You only touch her if I’m around.”
Then Will’s hands were on more private areas, cupping and stroking her bottom—as if that were an invitation. She looked over at Luke, but the heated look he gave her made her wither and wouldn’t let her pull away from the groping hands. She felt Will’s wedding ring slide against her flesh and wondered what his wife would think about this.
He moved his hands to her front and pulled her flush against him. His erection strained through his jeans, pressing between the cleft of her cheeks. “You feel that honey? That’s how bad I want inside you. Maybe the boss’ll let me one day soon.”
He pressed a finger inside her, and she wondered how far Luke would let him take this. “Jesus, she’s wet.”
“Fantastic, isn’t it?”
Veronica closed her eyes and imagined it was Luke’s finger inside her, not bothering to think about why that was all wrong, too. She rocked against him, not resisting as he pushed deeper inside, exploring her body like it was his instead of Luke’s.
“That’s enough,” Luke said when the ranch hand had taken her to the brink. “Her first orgasm at the ranch is coming from me.”
“Well, hurry the hell up,” Will said. “Now I’ll have to fuck Frieda.” He let go of her and the kitchen door banged shut on his way out.
Luke went to the stove to pour the soup and bring the sandwiches.
“Sit and eat your dinner.”
***
After they’d eaten, Luke leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head, watching her. She felt like an experiment.
“Will really likes you,” he commented. “So do the other two.”
Veronica stared at her empty soup bowl, wishing there was still something in there to distract her. She tried to keep her voice steady when she spoke. “A-are you going to share me?”
“We’ll see.”
“Did you share Trish?” Every time she mentioned the other woman’s name, she feared he’d have some kind of meltdown, but he remained stoic.
“Often. She got off on it. I think you’d get off on it, too.”
She didn’t reply. Anything she said would damn her in some way. The ranch hand had felt how wet she’d gotten. She’d been thinking about Luke at the time, but did that matter? Luke had been watching, which had only aroused her further. That assessing stare of his as he dispassionately observed another man running his hands all over her, knowing she’d submit to avoid his wrath. It had started that deep longing she’d begun to feel for him.
He’d been intent on building a new Trish since he’d seen Veronica in the diner, and she’d fallen right into it. The part of her that wanted to fight and hate him and everything else with a dick had been beaten down by the carnal part that wanted to surrender. In all her sexual encounters, no one else had made her want to surrender, or kneel, or beg. All Luke had had to do was take her shoes, put her in a dress, and shove her in the kitchen with a group of men to wait on. She didn’t want to think about what that said about her.
Veronica looked up to find him still staring at her in that assessing way. She wished she could know what he was thinking, or how much of her own thoughts he’d guessed.
His chair scraped back ag
ainst the linoleum. “Wash the dishes, then come to my room. I want you naked.”
Her heart was in her throat as she watched him leave the room. She filled the sink with warm, sudsy water and tried to make washing the dishes take as long as possible. The feminist on her shoulder insisted she must be offended and feel violated even over the dishes, to say nothing of anything else that had transpired. She should make another escape attempt, even in the dark without shoes. All she had to do was make it to another person. The evidence that would lead them to her kidnapper was burned into her now.
Whoever might know and respect Luke Granger, his family, their ranch’s history—there was no denying who that brand belonged to. On her other shoulder was her slut side, the part of her that had tried and tried to be satisfied, now faced with the embodiment of all her sexual fantasies, no matter how wrong. It was the wrongness that made her so wet and hot to begin with. If the things she’d thought about were tame and family friendly, they wouldn’t make her come so hard.
Her hands felt around in the soapy water for the next dish, but they were all on the counter now, drying. She pulled the plug to drain the water and dried her hands.
***
“Veronica, sweetheart, do you believe it’s wise to keep me waiting?”
She’d shed the gown in the hallway before coming in. Luke leaned against the headboard of his bed, a white sheet draped carelessly over his tanned, naked body.
“N-no, Sir.” She’d give anything to get rid of that weak stutter he caused every time she got scared.
“The dishes took twenty minutes. With the little that was there to clean, it shouldn’t have taken longer than ten.”
He pulled the sheet away to reveal his belt—or one of them—lying across his stomach. His cock was hard and ready to go again. She wasn’t sure if it was over the prospect of beating her or fucking her. “Go across the hall into the playroom and kneel in the middle of the rug. When I get in there, I want your forehead on the rug, and your arms stretched out in front of you, palms up.” When she hesitated, he said, “Now.”
