43. Forty-Three
Forty-Three
Daniel Rothberg
“Come in,” I beckoned.
Like the well-trained dog she was, she kept her head low and waited for my command.
“Speak.”
“A delivery for you, sir.” I smiled, pointing at Holly's limp frame. The girl had passed out screaming but never submitting. A shame.
“Apply the salve and return her to her room.”
“Yes, sir,” The girl immediately went to work carrying out my orders.
There was a tub of ointment permanently at home on the shelf in the corner of the room.
The girls needed to be trained, but not damaged.
At least not in any physically permanent way.
So, it would be days, maybe weeks, before I would get to play with Holly again while her flayed skin healed.
The salve helped to minimize the scarring.
I waited for the first sharp gasp from the girl before leaving the room.
Unfortunately, sometimes business had to come before pleasure. I tidied myself up as best I could, straightening my shirt and donning the jacket I’d hung up before entering the training room. As I descended the stairs, I couldn’t help but smile at what waited for me.
“Ahem,” I cleared my throat, and the girl spun to face me. A giant smile lit her features.
“Daddy!” She screamed and clapped. Thank fuck Marissa was out for the day.
“Hello Stephanie, darling.”
She sprang towards me. I might like my pleasure best when it comes at someone else’s expense, but even I could appreciate the way those young tits bounced as I gathered her possessively in my arms. Stephanie Carpenter was the ultimate broken toy.
I broke her first, and then I made sure she found her way into Franklin and Francis Barrett’s beds, and they broke her even further.
An unfortunate necessity. Franklin loved his spies, and while our partnership might be flourishing, I knew better than to trust the man.
So, I’d embedded a spy of my own so deep and so long ago, that he’d never stopped to question how Mikhael ended up with a random fourteen-year-old girl in his possession.
I released her with a stern, “I hear you have a present for me.”
Her head tilted and her smile wavered, but only for a moment, “Yes, Daddy. When Mr. Barrett said there was a delivery to be made out here, I volunteered.”
“You didn’t give yourself away, did you?”
“Nope,” she popped the P in her response. The girl was fucking mental, “I told him I needed a break from Francis, and I had the bruises to prove it.” She shimmied the waist band of her skirt down so I could see the purplish fingerprint-sized marks on her hips.
Lovely. I was tempted to add some bruises of my own on top of them, but again, business had to come first. So, I hummed, “Hmmm, fine. And my present?”
“It’s in your office.”
I marched down the hallway, and she followed behind me, mumbling loosely to herself.
It was a miracle that this girl had managed to keep herself together long enough in Francis Barrett’s presence to survive.
When we got to the door, I poked my head inside.
A tiny blond thing–perhaps even smaller than Holly was when she arrived–was standing before the large fireplace in my office.
Her eyes staring into the flames never wavered, even at the creak from the door hinges. An excellent start.
I shut the door and turned back to Stephanie.
“You can go.”
“But Daddyyyyyyyy,” she whined.
The nasally sound was infuriating. The back of my hand cracked against her jaw, thankfully, shutting her up.
“Enough,” I barked over her pathetic whimpers, “You have a job to do. Get your ass back to Barrett Hills, now.”
She nodded, and ran away, nursing her bruised face with one hand.
With her gone, I rang the bell and waited for the sounds of Elizabeth’s soft footsteps. When she arrived at my side, I pointed to the door.
“The girl in there, take her to join Holly.”
Those two would pair beautifully. Both small, blond, and fierce. There was a client who’d waited years for such a pair. I was about to make a fortune. And because even I am capable of gratitude, I shot Franklin a brief text.
Daniel
Why, thank you.