Page 8 of Ruthlessly Mated
He walks back into the tavern, kicking the doors open to hold me aloft by the scruff of my clothing like a stray pup.
“This is what happens to anybody who decides they don’t need to pay the toll to the masters of the port,” he declares, yanking my pants down in one rough motion that sends my Zip, coins, and other trinkets and treasures spilling all over the floor.
“Asshole!” I curse, kicking him right in the stomach as hard as I possibly can. My heel meets what feels like a rippling iron wall, and makes about as much impression on his body as it would against such an obstacle.
“I did pay the toll!”
“You stole a seal,” he snaps back. I wonder how he knew. Security cameras? Was there some other way of tracking the chip to the person who has it?
While I am contemplating the mystery, he clears the table in front of him with one big arm, sending drinks and things spilling onto the floor on top of my accoutrements, and tosses me on top of the rough wood surface. I can’t see what he’s doing very well, but I know what the sound of a belt being pulled out of loops sounds like, and that’s what I hear about thirty seconds before it lands against my ass.
He grips the back of my head, his hand fisting my hair, and he brings that belt down so harshly I squeal even before it lands. Everyone laughs at that, but not as much as they laugh when it does land, and the leather bites against my ass cheeks.
I can hear my name being spread around. Someone is making sure that this story will circulate and be attributed to the right girl.
“Apologize,” he says.
“No!”
He grabs at my ass, his fingers curling in the wet fabric of my underwear. He rips it off me. I didn’t know it was possible for fabric to just be yanked free like that. It’s not like I’m wearing lacy panties. I’m wearing sensible black underwear and somehow it still comes off my body like it’s made of edible material.
My bare ass is now exposed to every criminal in the port, and Conroy is lashing my ass hard and fast, over and over, thrashing me so hard I can’t do anything but react.
“This little wretch thought she didn’t need to pay her dues,” he says, viciously lashing that leather across my ass hard enough to make me yelp. I try not to cry out, but I’ve never been very stoic. My plans usually involve avoiding punishment, not taking it.“This is what happens to girls who don’t pay the toll, and worse will happen to men who don’t. Take this as a warning, the lot of you. Port Denhome does not tolerate toll dodgers.”
Another cheer goes up, from people who are all thrilled that they paid their tolls. I am sure a few are sneaking out right now to pay, even if they already did. There’s something about the way Conroy is going off that inspires obedience even in those who are already completely obedient.
He lashes my ass over and over until it feels like my skin is so hot and so sore that I can’t take another stroke of his infernal belt.
“That’s enough, Conroy.” Tailor finally stills his arm with his hand.
“It’s not enough,” Conroy argues back. “She’s fighting me even now. She’s not apologized, she’s not submitted, she’s just trying to survive the punishment. That’s not how this works. She’sourfucking mate. She’s going to submit.”
“Maybe she won’t. Not all at once,” Tailor says. “But she definitely won’t if you do this. She’ll hate you. She’ll hate us.”
“I’m making a point.”
“You’re beating the hell out of our mate. She’s not yours to ruin. It’s enough. You’ve made your point. People have stopped paying attention.”
The bar has started to return to its previous buzz. My ass is arched and bright red, my eyes are full of tears, and I have been so thoroughly shamed I am going to have to have my face removed and replaced if I ever want to be taken seriously again.
“Look at her wet little pussy. She’s begging to be mated,” Conroy growls.
I blush furiously. I am caught between arousal and embarrassment. If he’s seeing that, then they’re all seeing it. I bet they’re smelling it, too.
Conroy grips my hair and pulls my head back, leaning over me to growl the question in my ear. “Do you want more of your thrashing, or are you ready to submit to my cock, little mate?”
“No,” I growl right back.
“She wants the beating to continue.”
He lashes the belt down again, catching the leather right across the tops of my bare thighs in a vicious stroke that makes me cry out. I am not going to be able to sit comfortably for a long time, and he is right, I am so wet it feels like I might be going insane.
This isn’t normal desire. It’s something so much more powerful than that. It’s a physical need that transcends all the other feelings I have, including the hate that makes me want to fucking stab him for daring to publicly humiliate me like this.
He can see me, he can smell me, and my desire drives him just as crazy as it drives me. I am scared, and I am sore, but more than either of those two things, I am fucking aroused.
He spreads my thighs, one hand gripping my leg and just spreading me open. A moment later, something warm and hard presses against my soaking slit. His fucking cock. He’s actually going to rut me here. In the bar. I’m going to lose my innocence to a rough wolf in a smuggler bar, witnessed by enemies and evildoers alike.
