"No," was all he said before standing. "Come downstairs, it's time for dinner."
Lauren nearly started crying again when it was clear her husband expected her to sit on one of the wooden kitchen chairs. She thought of asking for a pillow, but if he said "no" to cooling cream, she wasn't going to set herself up to be denied again. The food tasted like ash in her mouth, but the girl mechanically ate the amount she thought would be enough to keep him from ordering her to eat more. The room was silent, Thomas ate quickly, efficiently while Lauren moved very carefully from one hip to another, trying to find a resting spot that didn't torment her blistered ass. When he was finished, the man leaned back and looked her over.
"Go upstairs and take a cool bath. I'll be up shortly."
Grateful for the noise of the water, Lauren dissolved into tears again in the privacy of the bathroom. Shehatedhim. She hated Thomas so fucking much. She wouldn't be in danger ifhehadn't placed her in it. Then he had to drag Chuck into it, which really was awful and made her feel terrible, especially since her husband had said: "You terrified Straker, who has come to care for you like a daughter." Did he? Did Chuck really care about her like that? God, he didn't get in trouble because of this, did he? "Oh, shit..." she whispered. Lauren could totally see The Corporation having some kind of scary-ass consequence for something like this. Thomas walked in as she floated in the tub, tears running down her red cheeks. "Did you hurt Chuck?" she burst out, "You didn't do- it was my fault, not his! He wouldn't expect me to run off, I've never done that he wouldn't expect it this isn't his fault please don't-"
Pleased that his wife was finally beginning to understand the seriousness of her actions, Thomas put up a hand to stop her anxious flow of words. "I did not. Had he truly lost you, he would have been killed for his stupidity." Watching her fresh flow of tears for a moment, the man finally walked over, kneeling beside the tub and his sobbing wife. "There now," his voice could not have been smoother, more soothing, "no more tears." Taking the washcloth, he liberally soaped every inch of her front, gently wiping her face free of tears and makeup. Tapping her hip, he directed her to turn over.
The sudden anxiety in her pretty face almost made him smile malevolently. "I can do the rest?" Lauren started, before realizing her plea was useless. Turning over gingerly, she rested her arms on the side of the tub.
The sight made him hard almost instantly, and Thomas suppressed a growl. Her wet back gleamed in the soft light of the bathroom, spine slightly arched and those frail shoulder blades angling up like wings. Her ass rose from the white foam of the bubble bath, a satisfying mix of colors that made it clear she wouldn't be sitting on it for a week. Pouring a fragrant body wash on her back, Thomas watched it slide and shine along her skin. Dribbling more over the wet globes of her ass, he heard her breath coming a little faster as his long fingers slipped gently between her legs. "Beautiful," he murmured, "your glistening cunt, so soft. Tender lips swollen..." he watched her head shake. "Don't move," Thomas warned, stroking her center and dipping in and out of her channel, lightly, teasingly.
Lauren wanted to cry again. She hated Thomas right now. She didn't want him to touch her, her bottom was still on fire. But she would feel herself eagerly moisten as if her pussy had completely forgotten what her ass and thighs had just been through. "Oh, god," she choked out, feeling two long fingers invade her and press gently against the front of her pelvis. His wide thumb split her inner lips, passing over the sensitive skin before very gently stroking over her clitoris. Her hips jerked forward a little without her having any control over it, and his hand stopped.
Fingers finally stroking in and out of her channel again, her demonic husband murmured in his most lush, mesmerizing tone. "The endorphins released through orgasm have excellent pain reduction properties," he said. "Each little wave and pulse of your cunt as you come... helping soothe and reduce the pain elsewhere in the body."
That was it, Lauren thought blearily, she could forgive herself for coming on this monster's skilled fingers because it would reduce the pain in her miserably bruised bottom. She could live with that... her head dropped to her crossed arms on the tub, ass unconsciously pushing towards the long fingers of the man who'd made her marry him. None of this was her choice, anyway... Lauren could feel his hard fingers twist and stroke along her tightening walls, that damnable thumb still very, very lightly batting her swollen clit back and forth. If he just pushed a little harder with his thumb, she could come, she'd feel so much better and...
And his hand withdrew from between her legs, lightly rinsing his fingers in the bathwater. "You will not touch yourself. You will not make yourself come." He was towering over her now, that cold expression back on his face as he dried his hands. "I will know, and your punishment will be twice what you experienced today. You'll come by my hand, or not at all. Do you understand?"
Still reeling from the loss of the only thing that could make her miserable body feel better, Lauren gritted her teeth. "Yes, Sir," she finally forced out. Thomas nodded once and left the room, leaving her to huddle in the now-chilly bathwater.
Chapter 31 – Saint Margaret and the Dragon
In which Lauren finds her inner Badass Saint, and Thomas learns about this thing called Expressing Your Feelings.
Waking up the next morning, Lauren felt exactly like she had on her first day as Mrs. Thomas Williams. Lauren stiffly hauled herself out of bed, pressing her lips together. She was - as she expected - alone, but if that son of a bitch bastard was still in the house, he wouldn't hearhercrying. No fucking way. Brutal spanking like the first day? Check. Terrified of the man who made her marry him? Check. Very carefully pulling on her softest underwear, the girl looked at her backside, twisting her neck awkwardly to see at the blooms of purple and grey blossoming like an ugly garden on her bottom and thighs. Lauren's mouth trembled before she firmed it. This wasn't like the first day. Along with the fear and the fury was hurt. Her hurt and sadness were much stronger than the other two emotions- enough to make her feel like her heart was bleeding in her chest. "I should probably go running..." Lauren mumbled, staring at her closet door blankly. "Stretch my legs, get the blood flowing..." With a sigh, she finally pulled a lightweight jersey sundress on and wandered downstairs. She hadn't brushed her hair or teeth but seriously, the girl thought, who cares? Who fucking cares? Her stubborn Scottish nature was trying to prod a little righteous anger out from under that lead blanket of sorrow, but it seemed like too much effort.
"Good morning, Miss Lauren."
To her embarrassment, the girl let out a screech that sounded a bit like a barn owl's and whirled around. Oh, thank god. Chuck. Chuck!
"Oh, god, Chuck!" Lauren gasped, "Are you all right? You didn't get like... whatever happens if something goes wrong? It wasn't your fault, I'm just so sorry, I would never mean to-"
Her bodyguard quickly and efficiently cut her off. "Miss Lauren, it is behind us. No harm came to you, but I trust you understand that your safety is my singular purpose?"
His brown eyes were warmer this morning, and Lauren nodded rapidly, "I'm so very sorry. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you, either." They nodded together, each understanding the other.
While her apology to her ominous, armed shadow made the girl feel better, she refused to think of giving one to Thomas. Hewasa monster. Why did she keep pretending otherwise? "He took his apology along with the skin off my butt," Lauren muttered bitterly, low enough to make sure Chuck wouldn't hear in the other room. But she did remember the alarm that swept over her as Arabella dragged her down the sidewalk. She knew the feeling of being exposed, unprotected. Why did she follow along like the woman's pet sheep? Sitting down abruptly, Lauren fought the sense of desolation threatening to swamp her. Was Number One's wife really her friend at all, or was Lauren just "useful" as Number Two's wife? Was she manipulating Clara this way? Absently rubbing her hands on her thigh, she realized she didn't have any friends at all, not really. Her friends back home received the most careful possible messages, nothing trackable on social media and when anyone suggested flying over for a visit, Lauren had to find a new excuse: on vacation... traveling with the orchestra... she didn't dare expose any of them to the scrutiny of The Corporation. Clara. Maybe? But the girl felt more like someone to protect, not confide in. Macie was gone. Forever. Thomas was her husband. Sometimes her lover, most times her Sir. She had thought for a while he was maybe coming to love her a little. After last night and that cage and the spanking? Lauren shuddered. Humiliating her in the tub? God, that was mean. Irritably pushing the heel of her hand against her eyes, she tried to keep the tears from welling up again. She'd been trapped in this luxurious, deadly prison to keep her father alive. The man who'd proved quite decisively that he didn't give a shit about her. Staring at the green of their little garden outside the kitchen window, Lauren wondered what she was going to do for the rest of her life. What would happen when she was no longer skilled enough to play in the orchestra? Music was who she was. And at this point, the only thing keeping her sane.
"Chuck?" she called, "We're going out."
Pulling up in front of the old stone church again, her bodyguard hesitated for a moment before getting out to assist her.
Lauren looked up, puzzled. "I need you to open the door, remember, Chuck?" It never failed to infuriate her that the man engaged the child locks in the back seat when they traveled as if she was an untrustworthy toddler who might squirm free from her booster seat and try to escape. "Dude?"
Hands still on the steering wheel at positions ten and two, the man flexed his fingers. "I only wished to determine if you were in a... fit state to speak to the priest."
Her brow furrowed. "A fit state?" Oh. Mouth firm to keep her from hissing, Lauren nodded. "I see. No, I'm fine. Despite yesterday's, uh, stuff. I would never say a word. There won't be any reason to do anything. To anyone."
"Of course," he agreed politely and moved to open her door for her, trailing along as her ever-present dark-suited shadow.
Lauren had no particular intent when she wanted to return to the little stone church that had once sheltered her. It just seemed like the only place that would hold any peace on such a miserable day. She wouldn't even talk to the nice priest. She'd just... sit there for a while. But of course, the girl lit a fresh candle for her mother and stuffed another fistful of notes in the donation box, and there he was, right behind her.
"Ah, you've returned, my Scottish friend. Here for more philosophy from the homeland?"
Despite his quiet, calm voice, Lauren jumped and put her hand over her heart again. "You would think I'd be less jumpy in a church right, Father?"
