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After coming, she remained pressed against him, while he reached around and pried her ass cheeks wide. His large fingers made the exhibition easy, the taut rosette of her nether hole now on display. “On the floor, Shelby. Show them,” he ordered, and he pushed her listless body away from his.
“Please, sir, no!” she tried one more protest.
An abusive shove followed. “Show them where you want their cocks!” he ordered. “Show them, Shelby, show them!” Show them, Shelby, show them! His command rang in her ear, over and over until her shoulders were forcefully pressed against the hardwood floor. She reached back and opened wide her two ass cheeks to let them see what was theirs to take. An open invitation meant plenty of takers that night. Like any other night with Mr. Darcy, she could not object to his demands. Even if she waged a rebellion she was sure to lose. He was always there, reminding her of the truth, the hard facts of Shelby Ryan, the bare-faced evidence of a submissive who could do nothing but surrender to the man that owned her. This was her fate, her most treasured desire, what made her tick and her life work; to the end of her days she could imagine nothing but this man’s rule over her life. On the floor at his feet, her ass exposed, the welcome obvious; her rear end was already swaying erotically, proof of what he swore to them. She proved him right and her protest foolish when she nearly orgasmed as the first rock hard cock entered her rectum and began the night of her anal awakening. She had taken Mr. Darcy’s cock in her ass, but this was very different.
They gave her a bed eventually, when she complained that her knees were aching too much to continue. Even in bed, however, the fucking was no less brutal or unwelcome.
Mr. Darcy won again.
Chapter Eight
“You’ve been dreaming, girl,” Jessup informed Shelby when her eyes finally opened in Madame’s brothel.
“What?” she could barely pull herself up on the bed. “What’s going on?”
“You really are out of it.”
“I’ve been fucking every man within a hundred miles who has a hard cock, what do you expect?” Even delirious she could manage a wry retort to suit Jessup. She ran her hand through her hair, trying to open her eyes on the dimly lit room. She’d hardly had the time to inspect it, not with her legs splayed and the door opening again soon after it had closed on another man, another man to fuck. “How long’s it been?”
“Stafania says you’ve been here nearly four days; you’ve been working the floor and in this room for better part of three. Hardly
a break since you started. She’s quite impressed, thinking she might not sell you after all, if you can make her this kind of money every week.”
“Like I could go on like this nonstop?” Her heart refused to ache. No point in it. But at least she could argue for her limitations. She was just an innocent coffeehouse waitress four weeks ago. God! Was it four weeks? Or four months? Time meant nothing in captivity. “Can’t you get me out of here?”
“Aw, don’t you worry, pretty girl. The bloom will be off the rose soon enough and you’ll be onto other duties elsewhere. This is just one place among a long string of sexual assignments awaiting you, Shelby.”
“So why are you here?” Maybe she was waking up, maybe her mind had cleared and she could see things a little more plainly. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Maybe ten hours. No one counts the hours in a place like this.”
“So, my question, Jessup, why are you here?”
“This is were I go to get away from work,” he said. “There’s nothing like a good rollicking whorehouse to soothe a sadist’s soul.” He grinned. And then the cigar came out, so did the lighter and soon he was puffing away, sending up a cloud of smoke enough to choke them both. Shelby hated to admit that she’d gotten used to the fragrance of his cigars; maybe forever she would associate him with the sweet aromas. Certainly her body would respond whenever that scent filled her nostrils. Memories would return.
“You’ve got to be kidding, you come here to soothe your soul?”
She laughed and so did he.
“And why not? You have no idea the demands my job makes on me,” he spoke mockingly. “It’s not all Shelby Ryans coming through my door. Not every man or woman is as fine a fuck as you are.”
“I guess that makes me special.”
“Sure it makes you special.”
“And you want me now?” Somehow staring into his eyes, listening to his voice, and smelling the heavy scent of his cigar made her numb body come to life again. Impossible, she thought, but regardless of what she’d done in the last three days, her crotch began to ache and her belly spasm. Her lust was racing away with her again.
“You want me, don’t you?” he said, smugly.
“Why would I want you, Jessup? Why?” She was practically pleading with him for a decent answer.
“Because we are so damn right for each other. I’m a sadist. You’re a masochist. We fit like fine gloves.”
“Right,” she sarcastically bit off. And yet, her body throbbed with want.
She waited for him. She could afford to bide her time. She figured that as long as he was in Eugenia’s room with her, there would be no one else to bother her. Madame Pavlenco would not dare interrupt them. He could smoke his cigar, eat cheese and grapes from the bowl at his side and share the beer he brought. When he was ready, he could have her and she wouldn’t resist. Would it be easier for her because she knew the man? Fit like fine gloves… Geez, what an idea!
“So, you want to beat me first?” she finally asked him after a long silence and plenty of sidelong glances.
