Page 54 of Goldflame
“We already have,” she replies coolly. “And now it’s time you learned your place.”
The guards regroup, their imposing forms flanking me on either side. One burly figure grabs my arm, his grip ironclad and unyielding, while another does the same on the other side, pinning me between them. Athird guard steps forward, a sinister glint in his eyes as he reveals a knife.
He leans in, and I can smell the stale stench of tobacco on his breath as he starts to cut away at my clothing. Fabric rips. Buttons fly off my blouse, bouncing off the marble floor and scattering like miniature grenades detonating across a battlefield.
Every rip is an assault; every tear is an intrusion into my personal space. The cloth that once provided me protection is now being stripped away without consent or dignity—leaving me bare and vulnerable under their lecherous gazes. I feel eyes raking over me, each glance carrying with it a sickening wave that pushes me closer to vomiting.
I’m left kneeling in the circle of devils, completely naked—not just physically but emotionally—stripped down to nothing more than an object for their perverse entertainment. And through it all, I keep my head held high, refusing to let them see the pain they’ve inflicted—the raw humiliation burning deep like a festering wound.
I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
Don’t let them see it.
Lady Harrow laughs. “Well, looks like you took my advice and lost some weight. Though you went too far, I’m afraid. You look like a waif. What man will truly want to fuck you now?”
The guy with the whiskey clears his throat and sets his glass on a table. He leans forward for a bump of cocaine, then wipes white powder from his nostrils. “Will we get to play with this one finally?”he asks. “I don’t find her any less appealing. I’ve been waiting years for this.”
Lady Harrow’s smile is venomous as she glances at him. “Soon. Tonight, we’re just giving her… an initiation into her new role as the Harrow pet.”
Their laughter blends into a sickening crescendo, and I close my eyes, counting the seconds until this ends.
Would you still think me so beautiful, Adrian? Seeing me like this?
The guards hold me down on all fours, their weight pinning me. My skin prickles in the cold air and they won’t let me move my legs. I’m spread open, my ass facing Whiskey Man, the most intimate parts of my body exposed to him. When I glance back, he adjusts his erection.
The lump in my throat returns but, dammit, I won’t cry for these monsters. Not in front of them because that’s what they’re waiting for—to see me break.
Lady Harrow’s voice slices through the air. “Hold her still,” she commands, her words a sharp blade of malice. “And the rest of you, no groping tonight, understood?” A few of the men grumble. “You’ll each get your turn soon. Patience,” she adds.
Patience,is what Valentine told me.
Would he still say that knowing I’ll soon be a fuck toy?
The wolves close in as Lady Harrow lights a cigar. She takes a few puffs and then looks at it thoughtfully. “These were Lucian’s favorite, but I really despite the taste.” She glances down at me. “How about you?” Shebends and her fingers brush the sensitive skin above my hip.
She presses the lit cigar end against me.
Pain explodes like a supernova, searing and immediate. My back arches involuntarily, a silent scream caught in my throat as the guards hold me still.
Lady Harrow passes the cigar to Whiskey Man.
“I understand your initiation,” he says, “but must we damage the goods?”
“Patience, Gregory.”
Gregory.Is he Gregory Whitman? The man who organized “games” where my mother was the prize?
Well, Gregory, I think you’re now above Olivia on my list. And I think I have some ideas about how I’m going to kill you.
Gregory sighs and hovers the cigar over a spot on my inner thigh. He presses it against me, but not hard, so it might not leave a mark.
A small mercy.
He passes the cigar to his left.
One after another they swarm, each taking a turn marking me. Each burn is precise, calculated to hit places easily concealed beneath clothes—my stomach, inner thighs, lower back. Again and again, agony rips through me, jagged and relentless.
I fight to withstand it, but each searing burn leaves less of me behind. I’ve done my best to fight it, but the pain is too much and a single tear slips down my cheek.
