Page 33 of Anorthic Anarchy

His glistening chest expands rapidly with his breaths and mine does the same.

I’m not sure what transpires between us, but his fingers still grip my skin as if not wanting to let go. And my eyes can’t remove themselves from his penetrating expression. He’s old enough to be my father, but there’s something innocuous behind his injurious image.

Like he just remembered something, he breaks our gaze and moves swiftly to unlock my wrists and ankles. All the liquid he just spent pours from my open thighs. He lifts me into his arms, my legs across his forearms. Swinging us around, he lays me on his bed and places some pillows under my knees.

“Stay like that until I command otherwise.” The moment we maybe had is over. And I remember this for what it is.

I’m his breeding pet. He needs my womb only.

“You’ll need some care.” Scurrying around, he pulls on his trousers and tugs a rope handle hanging above his nightstand. He keeps his eyes on the far wall and paces, as if he can’t look at me.

When I lean up on my elbows, he clucks his tongue and scolds me, “Not yet. Lie down.” His harsh tone makes me instantly obey. But my skin remains on fire from his flogging earlier. My thighs clench when his eyes rake down the length of me. Just as I think he’s about to say something, we’re interrupted.

The curvier girl enters with a small tray holding a silver pot, as well as two mugs. He steps out of the way as she sets it down on his small table. With a nod toward me, he instructs her, “Help her with a bath. And tend to her skin.” Bending, he lifts the top of the pot and pours himself a mug of tea, then strolls toward the door of his study.

“Sir?” I stop him. Though, clearly, it was the wrong thing to do because his irritation returns in full force. Turning slowly, his gray eyes ice over as he assesses me. “Um, can I move now?”

His wide jaw flexes as he clenches it, and he says with exasperation, “Yes. Dismissed.”

When Yasmina grabs me, she practically yanks my arm from its socket, pulling me through to the other room. LikeI’mwastingherprecious time. She tugs me into my ensuite and shuts the door behind us.

The steam rolls into the room after she turns on the hot water and pushes me out of her way roughly as she opens the cabinet behind the mirror. Taking a bottle of oil, she dumps some into the water and the smell of roses fills the air. After putting it back, she takes out a can of salve and slams it onto the sink.

“Get in and soak. Once you’re done, put this on your legs. Make sure they’re coated or it’s going to hurt worse the next time he beats your ass.” She stands back and crosses her arms, shoving her generous bosom up toward her neck. I take the opportunity to slide past her and dip my feet in the hot water.

“Yasmina?”

She looks at her polished nails. “What?”

“Why do you all hate me?”

Lifting her head, she rolls her eyes dramatically. “I think we’d have to consider you in order to hate you. We don’t have time to help train someone as stupid as you, is all.” When I open my mouth to snap back, she interrupts, “You’re right. I do hate you. Or what you stand for. You haven’t been through what we all have, and we’re expected to wait on you hand and foot, protect you when you don’t even respect our master. He gives us everything, and you seem to take it all for granted.”

My mouth drops open at her rudeness. “You know nothing about me.” Cupping my hands, I splash her with as much water as I can muster as she screams and tries to shield herself as if it’s hurting her. Her shock and irritation make me giggle so much, I turn in the tub and start kicking my feet, stirring more of the dreaded liquid toward her.

“You bitch!” she shrieks and darts from the room.

“I don’t need you anyway!” I scream as she slams the door. And I don’t. I’m eighteen and know how to bathe myself. Hopefully, these women leave me alone so I can live in these two rooms in peace.

It’s relaxing, and for the first time since I arrived, I feel amazing. Two orgasms, a hot, soothing bath, jelly for my skin later, and my body is at ease. Especially when I pull on a thick cotton robe, a hair towel, and slippers and find a tray of hot cocoa and sweets in the parlor.

After my late snack, I’m ready for bed, and fall asleep tucked under the sheets still in the soft robe. I hate that I’m so comfortable.

In the morning, I hear my breakfast tray being delivered and stretch after another good night’s rest on a soft mattress. Still rubbing sleep from my eyes, I wander to the sofa. I stop short before I sit, though. Dilan stands like a statue hidden by the shadow of the corner. My voice is still hoarse from the night, but I murmur, “Oh. I didn’t see you there.”

Stalking toward me, she waves her gracious arm toward the couch. “Please, sit and eat, Mrs. Strauss. I only came to check on you after your…incident with Yasmina. She’ll apologize to you, but I’m leaving your punishment to the master.”

My brow furrows as I sit and stuff a bite of toast in my mouth. “Punishment? For what?”

“Causing discord among the household. Disobeying his order to have Yasmina tend to you. I don’t know what he’ll do, but you should check with him.”

Shoving in a few more bites, I consider what another punishment from him would be like. The spanking was confusing. The flogger was painful. And the sex was...strange. Too much for me to analyze. “Can’t I just hang out here?”

With stiffened shoulders, she turns on a heel. “No. He’ll be in the dungeon if you need to find him. But I would wait until he retires to his room for the evening.”

“Am I free to move around and stuff?” I nod toward the hall door out of my room.

She blinks for longer than normal, and that’s the only sign other than the energy radiating off her that lets me know how much she detests me. “Yes. You’re free to move aroundand stuff. Though I wouldn’t try anything stupid.”

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