Chapter 4
Chapter Four
THE MEET-AND-greet between the three men continued for an interminable length of time. Elsbeth’s knees ached with only the thin wool of the rug to cushion her from the harsh marble floor.
Judge Henry Johnson kept glancing to where she knelt.
Like Clark Preston, he, too, wore a suit.
Plaid suspenders held his pants up, and atrocious argyle socks peeked out from beneath his trousers.
He had flowing blond hair combed over the patch of baldness on top of his head.
His beady brown eyes simmered with brewing lust, and his cock tented the expensive wool of his trousers.
She was going to get sick if she thought too hard about what would come next.
The other man was a mystery, but Clark Preston greeted him like an old friend.
That bothered her even more than the judge—or rather, the looks the newcomer gave Forest. The bottom drop out of her world. This new man was dangerous.
A polished individual, he wore cuff links that sparkled in the light cast from the chandelier overhead. Clark Preston shook the man’s hand and exchanged pleasantries. A roll of cash passed between them.
Judge Johnson pulled out a stack of bills as well. Clark Preston lay the money down on the inlaid tile table, not bothering to count it. The cash would be locked in the safe behind the painting hanging over the massive mahogany desk in the library.
Fire burned in her cheeks and settled in her gut. That money stole her innocence one evening at a time.
“So, John, how was your flight?” Clark Preston asked.
Elsbeth breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to ease her anxiety with the slow breaths.
The newcomer ran long fingers through his mop of black hair, combing the waves into submission. “The flight was uneventful but long. You know how international travel can be.”
“It wears you out, but I have the solution to that.” He gestured to Elsbeth and Forest. “What do you think?”
The swell of pride in his tone soured her stomach. She and Forest were nothing more than objects to be used, and she hated that she allowed it. She despised how easily her will had been broken.
The strange man approached Forest. “Delectable, as you mentioned.” He reached out and then withdrew, turning back to Clark Preston. “May I?”
Clark Preston nodded. “Of course. Forest, meet John Snowden. You’re his for the evening. Elsbeth, once Judge Johnson is finished, you will serve Mr. Snowden as well.”
“And I can do whatever I wish?” Snowden asked.
A shudder rippled down her spine.
“Within reason. You can’t do anything that will permanently harm them, but that’s stated in the contract.”
“Of course.” John Snowden traced the angle of Forest’s jaw, tilting his head up. “I wouldn’t dream of harming your property, but you did mention harder play.”
Forest gave no reaction to the man’s words, holding himself perfectly still.
Elsbeth’s gut twisted and seethed. Tonight would be difficult.
The judge joined them, his step heavy and ponderous, and his fat hand pulled at her hair as he lifted it to sniff the strands. “You’re in for a treat tonight, John. Clark’s pets are incredibly well trained and obedient.” He released her hair and marched past, no doubt headed to the liquor cabinet.
“The boy is a fine specimen,” John Snowden proclaimed. “As is the girl. I can’t wait to begin.”
Clark Preston gestured down the hall. “Soon, but first, can I interest you in a drink? I have whiskey, scotch, or beer, if you prefer.”
“Do you have Gentleman Jack?”
“I was betting you were a Jack fan. Two fingers, neat?”
John Snowden nodded. “Please.”
The men left Elsbeth and Forest in the hall.
In that sliver of a moment, Forest reached for her hand, curling his fingers around hers.
They weren’t allowed to speak, but everything that needed to be said was communicated in the squeeze of his fingers.
He was there for her, as much as she would be for him.
Forest mouthed, Time will pass.
And, indeed, it would.
“Elsbeth!” Clark Preston’s command snapped her to her feet. “Judge Johnson desires your attention.”
She hustled to the great room, unsurprised to find the judge reclined in one of the two leather seats. A couch separated the two facing chairs. Clark Preston busied himself at the bar while the judge and John Snowden took residence in the camel-colored chairs.
Judge Johnson had his belt unbuckled and his trousers unzipped. There was no reason to ask for direction.
“Boy,” John Snowden snapped, “come here.”
While Forest moved to the spot in front of John Snowden, Elsbeth knelt before the judge and squeezed her eyes shut when the stench of him hit her nostrils. But she remembered Clark Preston’s comment about her lack of enthusiasm, and she sought the quiet nothingness of her mind.
“No!” John Snowden struck Forest. “Not on your knees, boy. I want a good look at this cock I’ve heard so much about.”
“Did I not tell you it was impressive?” Clark Preston’s tone was filled with an odd emotion—part respect, part envy, but complete control.
She rushed to please the judge, bowing to her task with an enthusiasm she did not feel. The sooner she finished, the quicker she could move the attention off Forest and on to her.
“And the boy is how old?”
The judge’s breathing deepened while anger bubbled within her and boiled to the surface.
Clark Preston preened his answer. “Seventeen.”
“Well, that’s convenient. And the girl?”
“The same.”
John Snowden leaned forward, his appraisal intensifying. “Can you imagine what that cock will grow into?”
Elsbeth suppressed a shudder while listening to the men discussing Forest as nothing more than a piece of meat.
“Yes,” Clark Preston said with a sigh. “Most impressive.”
John Snowden leaned back. “Is he a virgin?”
“No, he’s been fucked many times.”
“That’s not what I meant. Has he ever done the fucking?”
“You want him to fuck you?” Clark Preston failed to hide the surprise in his voice or the revulsion laced within.
John Snowden chuckled. “Not me, you fool. I want him to fuck the girl.”
“Hmm…” Clark Preston’s consideration of John Snowden’s comment set Elsbeth’s nerves on edge.
Those were not the words she needed to hear. Their foster father had done many things, but he’d never forced her and Forest into sexual contact before. One had always been a participant with the other held in reserve.
Who was this John Snowden to their foster father?
A powerful man, to be certain, and the roll of bills he’d passed to Clark Preston far exceeded the judge’s paltry stack.
A thousand dollars was the usual fee for an evening’s entertainment, but John Snowden had put much more than that in Clark Preston’s hands.
“In fact,” Clark Preston said with a drawl, “he’s never fucked anyone.”
Elsbeth squeaked when the judge palmed her head. “Focus, girl,” he said with a snarl. “I’m almost there.”
Gagging down her revulsion, she bit back a scream when he yanked on her roots and emptied himself down her throat with the force of his climax.
The urge to wipe her mouth nearly overpowered her, but the weight of Clark Preston’s stare settled heavily on her shoulders.
With the powerful force of her will, Elsbeth sat back on her heels, obedient to a fault.
“What is his stamina like?” John Snowden leaned forward, his eyes focused on Forest’s flaccid cock.
“He’s young.” Clark Preston lowered onto the sofa. “And well trained.”
“I want to watch him fist that beast, and then I want to watch him fuck the girl. Hell, I want to fuck him while he fucks the girl.” John Snowden’s attention turned on her. “I want to fuck every hole—his and hers.”
The judge chuckled. “Ambitious, are we?”
“That’s what I’m paying for.” He reached for Forest’s cock but seemed to change his mind at the last minute. “And they’ll obey?”
John Snowden’s eyes cut to Elsbeth and made her cringe. “I’m very interested in this pair. You said they’d do whatever I wanted?”
“They will.”
“Will they come or just go through the motions?”
Elsbeth’s heart hammered beneath her breastbone. Fear surged in her veins. She was horrified by what this man intended. Worse, shame filled her because she would do everything without question and without a fight.
“The girl has been trained. She comes like a fucking angel. The boy has not.”
A sick revulsion crept deep into her bones. That he controlled her with such little effort twisted her from the inside out, but then he’d had five years to condition her responses.
“I might have some ideas on that.” For the third time, John Snowden’s attention shifted from Forest to her. His eyes narrowed, calculating and cold. “You mentioned a dungeon. I would very much like to see it.”
“Of course.”
John Snowden lifted his finger. “But a demonstration first.” He snapped his fingers. “Girl, come here.”
She couldn’t move without Clark Preston’s consent. And, even though it was foolish to hope, Elsbeth prayed her foster father would command her to stay in place.
But his mouth opened. His lips moved. His words condemned. “Little one, you will do as Mr. Snowden says.”
Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t dare blink.
He would know what that meant. He knew her every mood, and tears would hand over power because they betrayed weakness.
She’d locked the core of her being in the darkest part of her mind, but John Snowden’s demand had snapped all the locks, leaving her raw and breathless.
“Turn!” He slapped Forest’s hip, twisting him until Forest faced her direction.
Her stomach sank—please no—but the steel in John Snowden’s expression burned white hot.
He crooked a finger. “Come, girl.” Pointing down, he indicated precisely where she was to kneel.
Forest’s breathing hitched. His face paled, and the swell of his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Even his fingers fluttered against the sides of his thighs.
She wanted to escape, to turn around and rush right out the patio door, run until her feet bled and her lungs burned.
But Forest would be left behind, a boy trapped with predators, and Clark Preston knew the one thing she did not.
He knew the names of the people who’d adopted her baby brother.
For these reasons, she crawled to the exact spot indicated by Snowden’s finger.
The smile spreading on John Snowden’s face had her insides a twisting mess. She nearly got sick but managed to control her body’s revulsion for what would come.
Fear simmered in Forest’s eyes. They’d been forced to do so much but never this.
A smile spread across John Snowden’s face. “Now, this will be entertaining. We’re going to find out how much stamina you have, little boy.” His pupils dilated, the blackness swallowing the uninspired brown of his eyes. “Open wide, girl. I want to see him fill that pretty mouth of yours.”