Page 16 of Sinfully His

I made the rounds at the party, said hello to the people I was expected to say hello to, even got the cell number of a beautiful young debutant before one of her friends gave me a blow job behind the barn housing the far stables.

The head was good enough, but I was still bored. Once I finished, I had sent the friend along her way, making sure not to give her any promises about what I would and wouldn’t be doing to return the favor. I made some vague comment about sneaking away after the polo match to fuck in the limo and that I’d get her number then.

All I had wanted at that point was a moment of peace to smoke a little weed, so that when I returned to the mind-numbing tedium that was socializing at these matches, I could pretend to be amused with something.

That was when someone screamed out in pain, followed by a loud smacking sound.

I followed it, thinking I was going to catch some lovers’ quarrel, or maybe a kinky BDSM scene. So imagine my surprise when I walked into one of the other stables to see none other than Mary Quinn hitting a child with a riding crop.

“How dare you touch my horse, that horse is a thoroughbred...,” she was screaming. I only caught maybe half the words because I was so incredibly high, but what I remembered clearly was the tearstained face of a poor boy who couldn’t have been older than twelve. He was dirty, covered withmud from where he laid on the ground, rolled in a ball, trying to protect himself from her continuous strikes.

She raised her hand again, and I stepped in between them, taking the strike on my arm and grabbing the riding crop from her hand. The kid scrambled up and ran out of the barn.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she seethed. “That boy needs to be taught a lesson.”

“He is just a kid, and you are beating him like he is the maid fucking your husband. Who even is he?”

“I don’t know, some groundskeeper’s son, but he should know better than to touch something that doesn’t belong to him, that is worth more than his entire life.” She tried to yank the crop from my hand. I hung on to it.

She pulled again and again, insisting I let go so she could finish what she started. That, or so she could beat me with it instead. Rolling my eyes, I tried to pull it out of her grip, thinking she would release it. Instead, her body fell into mine and since I was still so high, she knocked me off-balance, sending both of us tumbling to the ground.

She still fought me. Pulling on the crop and running her nails over my face and my body. It was like being attacked by a jungle cat.

I tried to push her off of me just so I could get up and get away from her, holding her hands at bay, never striking out because I knew better. Manwarring men were warriors, we could be violent, and we would lash out physically if called for, but never at a woman. If we wanted to destroy a woman, we would do it socially.

I rolled over to get her off of me, and was trying to get to my feet when her hand shot out and grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me down. She shoved her tongue between my lips and her clawlike hand went to my pants and grabbed my cock.

She went from jungle cat to city cougar real quick.

“So young and handsome, why don’t you let me teach you how to please a woman? I can show you all the things you don’t know yet. I can show you how a real woman fucks. All I need is this young hard cock filling me up. I can make a real man out of you,” she whispered in my ear while keeping one hand on my shoulder, her claws sinking into my back, and the other massaging my limp, uninterested dick.

I would have reacted faster to get away from her, but I was so high it took a few seconds for my brain to catch up to what was actually happening.

“Dear God, no,” I yelled as I scrambled back away from her. “Why would I fuck such an old decrepit crone? Everyone knows you are fucking half the men here. Hell, they joke about how loose and used you are. If I wanted to fuck an Astrid woman, you have two daughters that are gorgeous, well-bred, and young enough to still be attractive. No one wants you.”

Had I been sober, I may have been able to stop my mouth from running. My words may have been smoother and my actions more diplomatic, but there was not a single thing I had said that wasn’t true.

Then she did something I had never seen a society woman her age do. Her mouth twisted into a frown, wrinkles seemed to explode from her forehead and around her eyes as they scrunched down, and her once expressionless mask turned into a vile visage of hate and rage.

“How dare you,” she screeched.

“How dare I? You just assaulted me.”

She stopped and stared at me for a moment, her eyes tracking down my body and her mouth curling up at the corners, like she saw some victory in her head.

“I am going to make you a deal. If you want to keep your life the way it is, then you are going to become my little dog. You are going to come when called, and you are going to follow orders.I am going to have you housebroken and well-trained to service me whenever I see fit, and you are going to be fucking grateful for the opportunity to lick and fuck me when I demand.”

“You can’t make me do that.” I was so stupid, so disgusted by her proposition and just so damn high that I didn’t see the obvious.

“I can, and I am. You can start right now, or I will take away everything you love, dear. All I have to do is tell them how you attacked me.”

“You attacked me!” I shouted, the panic setting in.

“Who do you think people are going to believe? The eighteen-year-old boy full of hormones who reeks of drugs? Or a pillar of the community?”

“No one sees you as a pillar of any community,” I scoffed.

“The DA does, as does the police chief, and any jury in the world.”

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