Page 40 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

Only when I’m completely naked do I look at the bag Andrew Bennington handed me when he came in. It’s a plain black plastic bag with no identifying logo or brand name on the side. The only way to tell what’s inside is to open it, and I don’t want to.

For several long seconds, I just stare at the offensive thing. Anyone else watching would think a snake resided inside. For all I know, the contents are far more dangerous. Snakes only attack when they feel threatened. In my opinion, they’re far better than humans. Minutes pass. There’s no point in holding out. Andrew Bennington is as patient as they come—more than the average man. I’d take an impatient man any day over one who can wait hours, days, weeks, to get what he wants.

I stomp over to the closed lid of the toilet and rip the bag off the top. I open the bag and stare inside. With shaking hands, I reach into the interior and lift out thegifthe gave me. The first thing I notice is the red rope. I touch it, feeling the roughness, and swallow back my tears.

Shit. This is going to leave marks.Lastingmarks. It’ll take weeks to heal from them. How much longer will I have to avoid Avalon? Or maybe I could just wear long sleeves for a while? No. She’d probably notice. Georgia’s too fucking hot. Asshole. He wants people to see his handiwork. He wants my other clients—he wants Thomas to see.

Breathing through my nose, I drop the rope and search the bag for the rest of his materials. I pull out black lace underwear and hold it up. Crotchless. Of course. Pervert. Sometimes, remaining naked makes me feel less disgusting. There’s no point in crotchless panties except to make me feel like I’m dressing up for my own execution. Mr. Bennington prefers things like this. He doesn’t even mind that I’m not willing. In fact, I think it turns him on more that he knows I hate him.

I put them on, hating the feeling of the restricting bands on either side of my hips. They squeeze against me too tight. They’re at least a size or so too small. There’s a bra as well—and once again it’s too small. I bite my lips and contemplate leaving it, but I know he did this on purpose. His whole thing is discomfort. Pain. Power.

My stomach somersaults, flipping and twisting and turning, threatening to force my dinner to make a reappearance. I put the damn bra on, snapping it shut on the loosest clip I can. Still, it clings to me and squeezes my breasts together, the fabric biting into my flesh like the rope no doubt will later tonight. I suck in a breath—or as much as I can—as I search through the bottom of the bag for the last of the supplies.

Along with the rope, there are two more things. A black leather collar and a matching leash. I close my eyes as I grip them in my hand. Emotion burns behind my closed eyelids. Hate. Disgust. Rage. Pain. Fear.

My bare toes curl against the cold floor. My eyes shoot open when a knock sounds on the door.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Andrew Bennington’s voice echoes through the wood. “Do you like my gifts?” I want nothing more than to throw his vile gifts in his face, but I think better of it and turn towards the door, grabbing the handle and twisting it until it opens.

My eyes lower to the floor, right at his feet. “Yes, sir.” My voice doesn’t tremble at least. I’ve managed to keep that under wraps. For now.

Bennington’s quick inhalation, however, tells me that he’s pleased by my appearance. I barely refrain from flinching as he reaches out and touches the swell of my breast over one of the squeezing cups of the bra.

He touches the lace and slips a finger just beneath the surface of fabric. I watch his movements with my head down. There are already red marks forming. “Oh dear, your poor skin.” He releases the bra. “Here, turn and let me adjust it for you.”

I blink, almost hopeful. Maybe the tightness was an accident. “It’s already at the loosest setting,” I say as I turn and show him. A split second later, my hope is dashed as he unhooks the bra and then tightens it even more until the digging of the fabric and straps presses into my muscles, making them ache.

I nearly stumble.Fuck. My shoulders are forced back and my breasts nearly slip right up and out of the cups of the bra. His hand locks on my side and he pulls me around to face him once more. I can hardly fucking breathe. His finger dips under my chin and lifts my head until I can meet his gaze—his very lustful gaze. His nostrils flare as he stares down at me.

“There,” he says. “Much better.”Dick. He holds out his hand. “Do you have something for me?” The collar and leash. They’re both still in my hands, I realize. Numbly, I raise my arm, each movement forcing the strap to dig further into my flesh, and hand them to him. “Very good.”

Andrew’s fingers brush my hair back as he puts the collar around my throat and just like the bra, tightens until it hurts.Is he trying to kill me?I breathe shallowly, gasping with each inhale as I try to keep from passing out. Panic races up my spine, but I can’t let it take control here. There are consequences to passing out around a man like Andrew Bennington. Consequences I don’t want to repeat.

He latches the leash. “Oh, there was one more thing, wasn’t there?” Andrew says. He smiles at me. “Why don’t you fetch that for me?”

Nervously, I turn away and step further into the bathroom only to pull up short as the leash tightens and the collar slams into my throat, cutting off my airflow. My legs collapse from underneath me, and my knees slam into the floor with enough force that bolts of pain arch up my thighs and down my calves.

“I believe I said ‘fetch’, sweetheart,” Andrew says as I shoot my eyes up to his face, shocked as I reach up and lock my fingers around the collar, pulling it away from my skin. “Pets don’t walk on two legs.”

Realization hits me. Heat arches up my chest through my throat and into my face. It burns me. My knees are already on the floor, but it takes me much longer to finally give in with my hands. Andrew waits. Always fucking patient.Mother fucker.My hands touch the floor and I crawl towards the toilet seat, pausing as I contemplate my options. Pet. Tonight, I’m his pet. I’m not human. I’m his toy.

My nostrils flare and my dignity flinches as I give in. I lean forward and open my mouth, biting onto the red rope with my teeth. A hand touches my ass, dips down, and hard, thick fingers find my pussy.

“Hmmmm.” Andrew’s hum makes me realize I’ve forgotten something.

Oh fuck. Real tears start to form in my eyes. I forgot the goddamn lube. I didn’t know he’d be showing up tonight until an hour before he’d arrived. I’d thought … I’d stupidly assumed that today would somehow be different. I hadn’t had time and now, I’m going to regret it.

“You’re not wet tonight,” Andrew says, his words shaming me as he pulls his fingers free and stands up. “That’s okay. I’m sure you’ll be soaked by the time I’m done with you.” He chuckles lightly and then absently tugs on the leash, choking me again as he moves back into the bedroom. I bite down on the rope as he yanks me out of the bathroom on my hands and knees, sucking in oxygen through my nose as fast I can.

My knees slip across the hard floor—not that he notices. He takes his seat and holds his hand out. Knowing what he wants, I move forward and drop the rope in his hand. He places it beside him on the bed and then reaches back into another bag I hadn’t noticed before.

“The rope’s for later,” he says. “This, however, is for right now.” He grins as he sets my leash to the side and unbuckles his belt, sliding the thick leather from the straps of his suit pants. Horror arches through me. I’m choking. Dying. Unable to breathe. He hasn’t even hit me and already I’m losing my fucking mind.

“Every birthday girl gets her good luck spankings, doesn’t she?” Andrew holds up the belt and folds it over before patting his lap with his free hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s count.”

Patience is not a virtue. It’s a gift from Satan himself. It has to be because Andrew doesn’t get angry or hurry me along when I just sit there, the straps and fabric of the underwear cutting into me, as I stare at the belt.

Sixty seconds tick by and then another and another. Several minutes pass and he still waits. “Sir… why don’t I just…” My hands move towards his thighs as I scoot forward. As disgusting as it is, I’d rather just get it on and do what he usually does.

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