Page 3 of Sweet Misery

I blinked at his words, unsure if he were being serious.

“Arianna,” I whispered.

“I-I…no,” I choked out, realizing this wasn’t some joke. The man really wanted me to take my shirt off.

Don Saconne nodded his head. I was seized roughly from behind by a guard. I cried out, my heart pounding hard.

“Since your daughter is unwilling to obey, please.” Saconne nodded from my father to me. “Remove her shirt for us.”

My father’s eyes widened as he stared back at me. If he’d clean himself up, he’d have been a handsome man, but as he stood, he was a drunk mess.

“Take the girl’s shirt off, or I kill you and fuck her over your corpse,” Saconne snarled.

My father shuffled over to me and slowly unbuttoned my blouse, his hands shaking.

“Dad, please,” I choked out. “Don’t. Don’t let him do this.Please.”

“Slap her,” Saconne commanded. “Have you not taught her discipline?”

My father’s eyes locked on mine briefly as my shirt fell open before his hand connected with my face. I let out another cry at the impact, my ears ringing.

The guard holding me tightened his grip as I fell against him. Roughly, he jerked me back upright, forcing me to stand.

Saconne let out a soft laugh at the abuse before the room went quiet. I watched as he walked over, towering over me by at least a foot and looking every bit of terrifying as his eyes suggested he was.

He shoved my shirt back and stared down at my chest before he reached out and pulled my breasts out from the bra cups. My face heated, embarrassment and shame rolling through my body. I’d never been with anyone before. No one had ever seen my body. Having my father there to witness the humiliation only made it worse.

Saconne’s hands kneaded and squeezed my breasts painfully before he pinched my nipples, making me bite back the scream that was threatening to rip from my throat.

He looked to my father, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“What do you think, Arnold? Does your daughter have beautiful tits?”

My father visibly swallowed and mumbled an answer while looking away. Saconne reached out and gripped my father’s chin and forced him to look at me.

“She weeps. Look at the tears,” he whispered as he shook my father’s face, forcing him to continue to look at me. “Her skin is flushed with embarrassment. Tell me, Arnold. Have you ever touched her tits before? They’re quite large and perfect, really. Best set I’ve seen in a long time. And real.” Saconne swept a hungry look over me. “That body too. How did such a beauty come from such a shit stain such as yourself?”

My father shook where he stood, his breathing ragged.

“Touch them.” Saconne released my father and backed away.

“What? You said if I paid my debt, I’d be free?—”

“You’re correct. This is part of that freedom. I want to see you touch her. Do it or die.”

No. No. NO!

With shaky hands, my father reached out and squeezed my breasts. I gagged as he gently kneaded them, the sickness tearing through my guts. He ran his fingers along my nipples, his eyes growing darker with each caress.

“There nice, aren’t they?” Saconne called out softly.

“Yes,” my father answered thickly.

“They make your dick hard?”

My father nodded mutely, his hands still traversing my chest. I wept silently, sending up silent prayers for it to be over.

“Taste them,” Saconne said. “It’ll be the last time you see them after tonight. Get your fill. Let go for a moment and walk away a free man. Do what you’ve thought about since you had to buy her that first bra.”

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