Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Over my knee, or the table? If you do not choose, it will have to be over my knee.”
“You don’t have any right!” Laura is starting to sound quite panicked now. She looks around for help, and her eyes land on me. She blushes furiously, knowing that I am not going to be any particular help to her, and she is about to be spanked in front of me. I wonder how many times little scenes like this will play out with the Runaways as we assimilate them. A great deal, I think.
Fescue gives a little sigh and leads her over to a chair. She fights him along the way, even going so far as to bite his hand in the effort to make him release her.
“I’ll fucking kill you if you do this,” she says. “I swear to god, you won’t live until the end of the day if you, argh!”
The last part is her being tipped unceremoniously over Fescue’s knee. Interesting how she calms right down the moment she finds herself with her head down and her ass up high over his thigh.
“The thing about threats,” Fescue says, “is that you need to calibrate them to the individual receiving them. I do not fear death. If you wish to concern me, you need to threaten something else.”
“I’m gonna cut up all the good clothes and replace them with fast fashion!”
“A much better threat,” Fescue says, his mouth flattening as that threat hits home.
“I mean it! I’m gonna cut everything up! I’m gonna go online and find cotton poly blends that will pill the second you look at them and cling to your skin!”
Fescue snugs her closer over his lap. He hasn’t started spanking her yet, and I find myself wondering if the threats are, on some level, working.
“I’m going to introduce harder water into the laundry so the soap creates a hard film over everything!”
She continues to make ever more fearsome threats. I see Fescue hesitate about the laundry water threat. This girl is good. She knows how to hit him where it hurts. The prospect of having to decalcify machines is clearly concerning.
“I’m going to have all your pants taken in by a seamstress who doesn’t leave the excess!”
Fescue is visibly amused now, though he is trying not to be. I note that not one single slap has landed on Laura’s upturned ass. Her leggings are pulled tight over her cheeks. The target must be alluring. He is not taking advantage of it.
“I’m going to take the inserts out of half of your shoes, so you have to change them all to custom insoles!”
That one is diabolical.
Fescue breaks. He snorts with a hint of laughter, slaps her ass hard once, and tips her back onto her feet.
“You are incorrigible,” he says. “And if you were mine, you would be a very sore, very sorry little whelp. Get out of my sight before I change my mind about letting you go.”
He doesn’t see the look of disappointment on her face as she dashes past me, pretending to be relieved at having gotten out of his grasp.
“You are going to end up dealing with her again sooner than you think,” I tell him.
“It would not be a complete hardship,” he says, standing and smoothing his vest down. “Is all well with your mate?”
“She is resting, and will be well soon, I am sure,” I say. “I need to handle the matter of her father. Taking him with us may have been a mistake.”
Not three minutes later, the truth of that statement becomes incredibly apparent. I go downstairs in the effort to handle the situation with some diplomacy, only to discover that the situation has already handled itself in explosive fashion.
My guards rush up to me, greeting me at the front door. “There’s been a breach of the jail, sir. The prisoner escaped when the doctor tried to sedate him. We’ve had to call a medivac in for the doctor.”
I rush to the prison, where several high-ranking members of my pack are already gathered. There is blood everywhere. Nicky’s father, wretch that he is, tore his way out of the place and made a mess of everyone in his path.
I look at the scene and I feel a very particular kind of calm coming over me. The wolves are looking to me for direction, and I know what must be done.
I remove my jacket. Fescue would be terribly irritated if I let that be ripped to pieces. I don’t bother with the rest of the undressing. I flow from my human state to my animal one. I let the instinct to protect run through me, and I pin my resolve to the only acceptable outcome.
We are going on a hunt.
Again.
This time is different. I am going to end that man, once and for all. I am going to put him out of his madness and his misery, and I am going to free Nicky of all her associations. She will never have to fear a comparison to him again. I will bury him, and then I will bury his associations.