“I think we broke her,” Violet says, tucking the hair back from my ear. The leather is cool against my flaming skin, though the scratchy stitching hurts. I writhe against the itch and then Atticus rolls me over and begins smearing my hot flesh with a cool salve.
“We didn’t break her, love, but she needs rest. We have to pace ourselves.”
“Thank you, Sir.” My tongue is thick in my mouth, my speech slurred. There’s nothing like the high of a good, hard spanking.
“It’s my pleasure, sweet girl.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Violet says, throwing her hands up in an overly animated gesture. “We are definitely keeping her.”
Atticus chuckles, and I laugh too. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. It’s more than I’ve been capable of in weeks.I miss him. God, how I miss him. Tears roll down my cheeks to pool on the leather. I didn’t even know I was crying, but eventually a sob tears free, and then they don’t stop.
Violet strokes the hair away from my cheek. She climbs on top of me, straddling my hips and lying down against my back. She’s tiny, so it’s not as if her weight is crushing me. I like the comfort it brings, and my tears finally stop.
Atticus climbs onto the bed beside us. He’s still fully dressed in his sharp grey three-piece suit. His hair is perfectly quaffed—if a little sweaty—but not a single strand has fallen out of place, despite the hard fucking and hearty beatings to both me and his wife. “You’re very enchanting, little ballerina.”
But not enchanting enough to keep.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I fear you’ll be a danger to me and my wife.”
I frown and study his face. Mistress Violet presses soft kisses to my neck. She’s still straddling my back, and gently rocking her hips against my ass. It’s arousing, but I have no desire to come again so soon. “How so, Sir?”
“Wehave a tendency to love broken things.”
“And what do you do with them, Sir?”
He exhales, a long, slow breath. “We destroy them.”
I swallow hard and search his gaze, praying he’s not serious.
“And then we remake them,” Violet whispers. She’s stroking my hair, and silence falls thick and heavy around us.
Atticus takes his wife’s hand and kisses it. She slides off my back and climbs over him. He looks up at her with so much adoration in his gaze. It’s beautiful and devastating all at once. Ares used to look at me like that.
This couple is so strange, so enigmatic. I feel like it’s only a matter of minutes before they cast me out too because I’m a slave.I’m nothing. My own Master whom I loved, whom I still love, discarded me like trash. Why should two people I’ve only just met show me anything different?