Page 19 of Dangerously Deceptive

We both know that he will tell me anyway. The Reapers have obviously come up with one hell of a punishment. The only thing I want to know is what the hell I did wrong this time. There’s no denying I probably did something, but who the fuck knows what.

“What have I done wrong this time?” I ask.

My father steps forward, his body rippling with laughter as he drags his eyes over my body in a way that no dad ever should. “Actually, Princess, on this occasion you haven’t done anything wrong. But it is an issue we have been periodically discussing at Church since you were sixteen. Normally, Whiskey’s and my votes are more than enough to save you, but not this time.”

At the mention of his voice, Whiskey steps out of the shadows, when I watched everyone enter, I didn’t see him. Given the way his face is distorted into a mask of pain, he isn’t here to do me any favours. “I did vote against this, stating that as my future wife this should only be undertaken with my permission.”

“But we were quick to remind him that you have never officially got engaged, and therefore you are fair game,” the Reaper secretary, Smithy, added, sounding all the more English compared to the other heavy Irish accents in the room. I should have known not agreeing to marry him was a problem. I just thought I could hold on a bit longer, wait to see if I get my freedom first, but apparently that day isn’t going to arrive anytime soon.

“So, we decided to take the matter to Church. You see, a lot of people in the MC feel you have become a bit of a leech, and add no real value to us or our good name. Even with newbie Sweetbutts they are at least good for one thing. Your problem is that you think you are better than the hierarchy. So, we have voted and it’s time to make a change. Time to make you useful. Tell her about the vote, Whiskey,” my dad states, glaring over at Jamieson who is trying to move back over into the shadows again. Clearly this is going to be a pain for him too, although I suspect not quite on the same level.

“Since you have refused all advances to become my Old Lady, we have had to look at where you stand in the MC. As you are no longer a child, you can’t be the Reapers’ Princess any longer. That leaves you as a Sweetbutt,” Whiskey states blandly, as though he is reading from a piece of paper I can’t see. Making sure his eyes never make contact with mine, as soon as he’s finished he starts to step back—coward—but my father is behind him, stopping him.

“So…what does that mean?” my father asks loudly, addressing the entire room, whilst making sure to hold Jamieson in position.

“It means these pretty little titties are all ours now.” The voice comes from directly behind me, and I think the gruff tone belongs to Bane, but I don’t have time to think about it anymore because I feel multiple sets of hands begin to fumble around my bra.

Clearly they are all trying to do something different because I feel someone trying to pull the cups down to expose me, while someone is pulling the straps down, and another is fiddling with the clasp at the back. Luckily, their efforts meant they were each hindering the other person, and that's when I hear a giant roar behind me. All hands let go and I hear another roar that is unmistakable from the meathead, Bane, as he rips my bra clean off. Like he actually pulls at it until the fabric rubs against my skin painfully before shredding into two pieces.

Upon seeing my exposed chest, the hands go back to their exploration. There’s a large set belonging to Bane that is pushing my tits up higher, making them seem bigger, but that's as much as I can keep track of. Someone keeps flicking my left nipple, like actually using their finger to flick it, wondering what it will do. The other side someone is squeezing roughly, while hands roam all over my body. I can’t even count how many pairs of hands are on me, I just keep my eyes closed. As someone takes hold of my hand, they pull it out to the side, which is difficult with all the people crowding around me, but I manage. As soon as I’m in the right position, my hand is snaked around something soft and silky. That’s when my eyes shoot open, and I realise this is going to be so much more than a grope. I instantly drop whoever’s cock I just had in my hand, and look around the room. I don’t have to look far, my father is sitting in the centre of the room, in the chair he calls his throne as he takes in all the action.

I plead with him with my eyes, but he just laughs. As both hands are now placed around cocks, and a hot mouth takes in one of my nipples, I begin to panic. I start to thrash around, screaming for them to stop. “Please, Dad. Don’t let them do this to me! I don’t want this!” I shout as tears roll down my cheeks.

SLAP! A loud crash of skin on skin reverberates around the dismal room as someone hits my ass cheek, and hard. I suspect it’s Bane. He always loves doling out the physical punishments. I guess that’s why my father made him Sergeant-at-Arms.

Sadly, the slap doesn’t have the desired effect and all I do is continue to struggle more, resulting in the people who have my nipples in their mouths biting me. Bane, clearly not tolerating my tantrum, wastes little time raining down blow after blow onto my ass cheeks, and my upper thighs. I stop moving and beg him to stop. I beg for them all to stop, but not only do my pleas fall on deaf ears, some are actually laughing at my pain.

It’s not until my father holds up his hand does it all stop. “Bane, turn her around, I wanna see how red that perky ass of hers is.” My father’s instructions ring out loudly, and my stomach rolls again, the last food I ate now threatening to make a reappearance. I’m not even sure that my vomit would be enough to stop these disgusting pigs.

Bane quickly turns my body, so that my chest is against his, and using his hands against my hips, he pushes them out, presenting my barely-covered ass to my father. Words I never thought I would ever think. How the fuck did I get myself in this situation?

“Whiskey, get rid of that thong and tell me if she is wet. If she is anything like her mother was at her age, her words might be saying no, but her body will tell the truth.” What the fuck? Is he saying this is what he did to my mother? She was just sixteen when he got her pregnant at the age of thirty-one. I always knew he was a sick fuck, I just thought Mum had been a willing participant. I never imagined this. Still doesn’t make up for the bitch she is now, but I’m sure it plays a part!

I hear Jamieson’s feet shuffling, almost like he is reluctantly dragging himself over to me. No matter how much of an asshole he has become working with the Reapers, this isn’t something he would ever want to be a part of. The shuffling stops and all hands leave my body, except Bane who is keeping me lodged in place. Cold fingers sweep across my lower back, as he gently rubs over what I’m sure is a very red, inflamed ass. His touch takes me back to that night almost two years ago now. We had both drunk too much and allowed the ghosts of our past to consume us. Jamieson took my virginity under the stars. It was sweet, and kind, if a bit awkward given we were both drunk and virgins. But, come the morning as the afterglow faded, and the hangover started, I realised I had woken up with Whiskey. He never did anything wrong, he just never fought for me either, and surely that is just as bad. There’s no denying he cares about me, but not enough.

I push away all thoughts of a better life, there’s no point in thinking about what could have been. I can only focus on the here and now. I need to focus if I want to survive this ordeal. As the fabric is ripped away, exposing the last piece of my dignity, my heart aches and the tears roll down my face faster than before.

The same soft fingers that just a second ago were providing me comfort from the harsh sting of Bane’s beating, are now sliding through the tenderness of my lips. I bite down on my lower lip, hoping it’s not hard enough to draw blood, but as Whiskey’s finger explores my pussy even more, I realise a bit of blood from my lip is the least of my worries.

Whiskey can explore with his fingers all he wants, he definitely won't find any wetness, because there isn’t any to find. I am not wet, nor will I ever be. These people helped to raise, me for fuck’s sake.

“Does it really matter if she is wet or not? I still want to fuck that tight little hole. The drier it is, the better it will be for me because it will hurt her like hell,” Uncle Patch states. Fuck it, there’s no way I am calling him fucking Uncle after this. Sick fuck.

“Sir, is she a virgin? If she is, who gets to be the one to pluck her cherry?” asks one of the Prospects and I couldn’t wait to punch the asshole anymore.

The finger groping around in my pussy stills too, hopefully not giving our situation away. If things progress how I suspect they will, then very soon they will be able to confirm I am not a virgin, and when that happens, the punishment will get even worse. Up until this point, I was the MC’s Princess, which means that anyone who wanted to date me, or fuck me, should have got their permission. Something we definitely did not do during our drunken stupidity.

“That’s a very good question, Proby. What’s the answer, Shayla? The whole room is about to find out for sure anyway very soon, but this is your chance to tell the truth. Does one of these lucky men get the chance to take your virginity?” my dad asks, but I remain silent.

CRACK!

Pain explodes across my back as the feel of leather smashing against my back pulls me out of my silence. I recognise the pain, knowing full well that someone just whipped me across my back with a belt. As I cry out in pain, more blows are rained down in quick succession. My whole body hurts, as the tingles in my back turn into stabs of pain. My legs begin to tremble, and if it wasn’t for Bane holding me, I wouldn’t be standing up right now. I don’t even know who is whipping me, but with the speed of the blows and the different directions where whistles of air are coming from as the belts travel through the air, I know two people, one on each side, are whipping me.

“Answer me!” my father yells.

I try to lift my head from Bane’s chest, feeling just a little bit pleased when I see patches of tears and snot on his shirt. Despite the pain in my back, I try to pull myself to my full height, but even with Bane holding on to me, I can’t manage it. So, I settle for projecting my voice to sound as confident as possible. “I’m not a virgin!” I shout, my voice cracking at the end, betraying me and making me sound as weak as I feel.

My father’s roar fills the room, and I hear the scrape of his chair against the floor before the clump of his boots as he heads my way. The next thing I know, he pulls my hair into a fist and drags me by my hair until I am kneeling on the floor in front of him, as he puts his throne right again and sits back down. As much as the cold, hard concrete scuffs and hurts my knees, I feel grateful for not having to stand on those damn torture devices called heels any longer. My body was too unstable to manage in those. My father pulls my head back, letting go of my hair, and I wince when I see the clump of blonde hair twizzling around his fingers. I fucking hate when he pulls my hair out. Although the last time I mentioned it, he threatened to shave it off, so I’ve kept quiet ever since.

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