Page 33 of Ruined

Beneath those clothes, I am bloody. It soaked all the way through my blouse, found my skin, and clung to it. What started off as soft and malleable sanguine liquid has become dried and crusty, no longer in any way erotic. The men we slayed today were filth on this earth, and now they are dirt on my skin.

The shower runs red, stripping away that accumulated filth and turning it back to a liquid. Part of me considers being horrified, but another part of me is laughing at the weakness of those I killed today. When I entered the room, they thought nothing of me. Now they will never think anything about anything again.

Today I became the thing I once swore to destroy.

I could be angry at Bobby for starting the firefight, but I’m not even slightly mad. I feel a sense of true power in the wake of what we did, and though I know shit is about to hit the fan with Angelo, I can’t stop smirking to myself as I dry off. My body is much as it has always been, except for the scar low on my belly, the place future hope was removed. When I look at that scar, I feel myself become lightheaded and slightly woozy.

I can kill as many people as I like. It is never going to undo the damage that scar represents. I don’t think I’m ever going to stop quietly, privately aching there.

I wrap the towel around my waist, leaving my breasts bare, and pad my way to Angelo’s office. Bobby is already there. I bet it didn’t take him long to shower at all.

Angelo gives me his full attention as I come through the door, and I immediately begin to wither under his dark stare. Angelo is never what one might describe as casual, but he is more intimidatingly formal than ever now.

He reaches out for me as I enter his office, and once I am in arm’s reach, he whips the towel from around my waist, rendering me entirely nude.

“I told you to come naked.”

“I don’t like looking at my scar.”

There’s no reason to lie to Angelo. I may as well express my misery and shame, considering it is about to have ample company.

Angelo cocks his head to the side, then reaches out and runs the tip of his pointer finger along the length of it. I feel my belly tingle at his touch.

“I like looking at your scar. I like looking at all of you. There is no part of you that you will ever need to hide from me, Riley. I will never see you as anything less than all you are.”

If he were not holding a rattan cane in his hand, those words would be sweet. Now, though, it’s incredibly hot. I anticipate pain, punishment, and humiliation, and all of those things reach into the core of me and stir me into intense arousal.

Angelo steps back and gestures to his cleared desk.

“Bend over the desk. Both of you.”

Now that Angelo has stepped aside and released my attention, my gaze goes to where Bobby is standing nude and smirking. He looks fucking hot naked, his beefy, broad body a truly beautiful sight. I can’t take my eyes off him, a fact he notices. He gives me a rakish wink as he bends over on the left hand side of Angelo’s cleared desk. I follow his lead, taking my place on the right. We lie there with our faces turned to one another, making eye contact as Angelo begins to stride back and forth behind us.

“You both knew better than to kill unnecessarily. Doing so brings heat and complication we do not need. You absolutely know that staying to fuck like a pair of wild rutting dogs in heat is madness of a kind nearly guaranteed to get you killed or worse.”

WHAP!

The cane lands sharply, not against my ass, but across Bobby’s. I watch as his eyes widen as the heat sinks in, and a grin spreads across his lips. He likes this. He likes pain. The cane must be very painful for his pupils to dilate that much.

WHAP!

The cane lands again. This time I feel a pressure across the middle of my bottom, a heavy yet sharp feeling that doesn’t hurt right away. Doesn’t hurt at…. Oh my fucking god this hurts. The pain sears from my ass and rushes through every part of my body all at once. Angelo has not spared me any pain. I am big enough to murder and fuck, I am big enough to be beaten by him properly.

My yowl seems to excite Bobby, and I am certain it must excite Angelo.

The cane sweeps through the air and makes another snapping sound against Bobby’s ass. I watch as Bobby grits his teeth and sucks air through them, his eyes lighting up with pain. He truly enjoys this, to the extent it truly does not feel like he is being punished at all.

I feel very much differently about my predicament. When the next stroke lands on my ass, a half-inch or so below the first line, I scream and grab at the desk for comfort and solid anchoring. It is so intense, a pain that makes my ass a complete burning mess.

Tears are already beginning to leak from my eyes as I start to cry. It’s mostly because of the pain, but it is partly from embarrassment. I feel so very small and so very bad that I have forced Angelo to punish me like this.

Bobby practically purrs when the third stroke lands. I am wailing before my third stroke arrives, fearful and squirming and even considering breaking position until Bobby reaches out and grabs me by the wrist.

His touch makes that harsh third stroke of the cane slightly more bearable. There’s pain everywhere, pain all throughout my body, radiating from my ass to every appendage I have.

“Angelo, sir. Give me hers,” Bobby says, as he looks into my watery eyes. “I can take them.”

“She’ll take her own strokes, boy. She was capable of earning them, and she’ll learn to be capable of taking them.”

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