15. Chloe
J ust when I thought this fucking meal couldn’t get any worse, Marcus activates the bloody love egg. I mean, it’s not like I’d forgotten it was there. It’s more I’d gotten used to the full feeling.
Although everything is extra sensitive—especially after Marcus took me to the edge in the car before leaving me hanging—the egg is giving off more of a pleasant fullness than anything else.
Whenever I walk, it rubs in the most delicious way, but the sensations aren’t enough to do anything more than get me even hotter than I already am.
That is until he starts the vibrations. I know it’s only on the lightest setting, but after being so close to an orgasm earlier, the sensation is making my legs go weak.
I look over at Marcus, my eyes pleading with him, but that cocky smirk of his just grows, and I don’t know whether I want to slap him or kiss him. He’s too fucking sexy for his own good.
My brain is an absolute mess. I was already a nervous wreck about coming home, not knowing what to expect. Then Marcus encouraged me to change, to step away from the rules my parents forced on me when I was living with them, and although I can’t deny it felt totally freeing, that doesn’t mean I’m not anxious as hell.
As soon as we arrived, Dad looked like he was ready to tear the peace treaty up and go to war with Marcus right here, and it was made even worse by some arsehole inviting Scott and his father. Talk about a stupid fucking decision, which had everyone on edge.
Then my mother took one look at how I was dressed, and her face morphed into disgust. She looked at me the way you’d look at your shoe after you realise you’ve stepped in dog shit. Still, she tried to control me, making decisions for me about the type of wine I should be choosing.
I’m not going to lie, when Marcus stood up to her on my behalf, had I been wearing any, my knickers would have been ruined without the aid of the egg. I’ve never really had anyone stand up for me before, and I stopped fighting for myself a long time ago, so to see him do that, it broke down one of the many walls I’ve built around my cold, fragile heart.
If the start hadn’t gone bad enough, then there’s the whole mess with Jacob. I knew he was going through a rough time, but I’ve only been gone a week and he’s almost unrecognisable. He’s a mess, and his eyes are wide as saucers after taking fuck knows what.
Then he started on Miles and it was like I’d been transported into the fucking Twilight Zone. I didn’t know whether to hit him or cry. I hate seeing my big brother so messed up, but I’m fucking furious that he’d take it out on Miles like that.
I got the feeling there was something going on between them that I was missing, and the threat Marcus threw their way tells me he doesn’t know either, but he wants to find out just as badly as I do.
My head is already a mess of confusing information, and all the thoughts that accompany the punishment are almost too much. For a moment, I’m so lost in the sensations from the egg, feeling the fullness and the vibrations, that all rational thoughts leave my brain completely—then the panic returns.
Oh, my God, is he going to keep doing this while we’re having lunch?
Is he going to turn it up, because if he does, I’m not sure I can cope with that?
How the hell am I supposed to sit still with the vibrations buzzing around, driving me crazy?
Can anyone hear the vibrations?
Fuck, I really need to moan…
My brain is moving a million miles a minute, and I can hear Marcus’ evil chuckle beside me as he continues pulling me towards the dining room. He leans in closer until I can feel his breath against my ear, sending a shiver along my spine.
“This is the ultimate test of how much control you have over your body, Mio. You have to control yourself, your facial expressions, and especially your noise. It won’t take much for your whole family to see exactly what’s going on.
“Whilst I like knowing what a dirty little slut you are, it’s just for me, nobody else. That little cum-stain, Scott, will never know the noises you make when you come, so I expect you to hide them. Do you understand?”
As soon as he says Scott’s name, he scowls, looking furious at the idea that Scott might one day know exactly what I sound like—though I doubt even when he’s my husband that he’ll be all that concerned with my pleasure. I’m guessing he’s a selfish lover.
“I-I…I don’t know if I can,” I confess.
The vibrations are making my nerve endings prickle, and my whole body feels like it’s an electric current buzzing around, just waiting to explode, and I’m not sure I know how to stop that from happening.
“You have to. If you’re a good girl and take your punishment, I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”
My heart stutters when he calls me his good girl , and I blame the brain fog on the next words that slip out of my mouth. “Will you be my reward?”
His eyes darken as that cocky smirk of his morphs into a rare genuine smile. “Do you want me to be?”
I don’t even hesitate, I’m nodding my head rapidly before he’s even finished asking his question. “Yes!”
He chuckles, and my cheeks flame at how eager I sound. To be fair, this damn love egg is driving me crazy, and I’ve been desperate to come since the car, so I’m not exactly thinking rationally. But it doesn’t change the fact that I want him—I’ve wanted him for a long time—I’m just now being honest about it.
“And what exactly are you willing to give me?” His voice has taken on a low growl, whispered in my ear for only me to hear.
That’s when I realise we’re standing in the entrance way to the dining room, and everyone who is already seated is staring at us.
I give Marcus my best flirty smile as I say, “Anything and everything.”
He lets out a low groan, his darkened gaze letting me know he’s very pleased with that suggestion. “I’ll remember that.”
With a tap of his phone, the vibration ends and I let out a sigh of relief, though the smirk on Marcus’ face lets me know this definitely isn’t the end of my punishment.
Is it wrong that I’m kinda pleased by that ?
Focus , I mentally tell myself as I look around the table, trying to find the best place to sit. I never thought deciding where to sit would be as tactical.
My dad is at one end of the table, my mother at the other. Ewan is seated on Dad’s left side, with Scott beside him. There’s an empty chair between Scott and my mother.
On the opposite side of the table, there are three empty seats, and so I pull Marcus towards them.
Before I can get around the table, my mother stands and stops us. I don’t miss the way her gaze flicks down to where Marcus’ fingers are clasped with mine, or the way her eyes darken and her nose wrinkles.
“Chloe, darling, you take this seat here beside me. That way you can catch up with me, and we can do a bit of wedding planning with Scott,” she says cheerfully, gesturing to the empty seat between her and Scott.
Marcus’ face darkens, his free hand balling into a fist by his side, and he looks to be seconds away from arguing with my mother.
Before he can, my father’s booming voice interrupts us. “Jacob, come and take your seat beside me.”
My brother doesn’t bother to argue, he just keeps his head down as he walks towards my dad’s end of the table. He sways a little, still looking a bit unsteady on his feet.
Miles, for some strange reason, follows behind Jake, looking like he’s ready to catch him if he falls again.
I have no idea why Miles is showing Jake even the tiniest bit of kindness after the way he treated him, but it just confirms to me that Miles is one of the good guys.
Once Jacob has taken the empty seat beside my father, Miles takes the seat next to him, opposite Scott. Which leaves just one seat remaining, and Marcus has no choice but to sit between my mother and Miles, opposite me.
I can tell he’s not happy about it as he’s still not let go of my hand, or made any attempt to move towards the chair.
“I’ll be fine,” I say to him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before I reluctantly let go. My skin feels cold, almost like it’s mourning the loss of his warmth.
I lower myself into the chair my mother gestures to, and watch as Marcus walks around the table, pulling out his own seat with a huff.
I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from gasping as the amazing sensations in my pussy become more intense when I’m seated. If it’s possible, I feel even fuller.
I ball my hands into fists, trying to focus on keeping my breathing normal as my heart rate begins to speed up .
Once we’re all seated, only a few seconds later, several members of staff flood into the room. They all have something in their hands, and I can’t keep track of what each of them are doing.
One of them brings wine, filling up everyone’s glass with a deep red vintage, though there’s another person who brings rosé for me and Marcus.
Another person places freshly baked bread rolls onto the mini plates beside us, while someone else brings out tiny pots of handmade butter.
As they’re all moving around with expert precision, not once getting in each other's way, four more servers enter, each carrying two bowls of soup, which they place down in front of all of us at the exact same time.
Once the soup bowls hit our placemats, the man overseeing the whole process, our long-term butler, Bastien, who is standing at the head of the table beside my dad, claps his white-gloved hands to get our attention.
Bastien is an older man, probably in his early sixties, and though he’s worked for my family since I was a child, I know very little about him. I was always told not to talk to the help, and would regularly get into trouble whenever I did.
“Your first course is a luxurious homemade mushroom soup, made with freshly foraged ingredients, and served with a soft, fluffy sourdough roll that was handmade this morning, along with lightly salted butter that was hand-churned by our staff,” he states proudly, the slightest hint of his French accent still present even though he’s lived in England for the majority of his life.
My mother preens beside me, puffing out her chest as she smiles fakely.
“Thank you, Bastien. We pride ourselves in making sure that the staff here make everything from scratch, and that we use all local ingredients. It’s important we support local companies,” she states, talking to nobody in particular.
When the hell did she start using that super-posh voice? Has she always put on a really snooty, high-pitched voice when we have company and I’ve just never noticed?
Whenever I’m forced to attend things like this—and that’s often given my parents love to entertain guests as it gives them the perfect opportunity to show off—I tend to blank the events out, moving through them on auto-pilot. Still, you’d think I’d have noticed my mother using a fake voice.
“That we do, darling. Now, let's eat,” my dad says, giving my mother a large smile.
As we all dig in, I hope like hell we can eat in silence to get this meal over with quicker. I should have known I wouldn’t be that damn lucky.
Scott leans closer to me, and as he’s a bit taller than me, this gives him the perfect angle to leer at my cleavage from above.
His face is closer to mine than I’d care for it to be, but I keep my eyes on my food, trying to let him know I’m not interested in talking to him.
“So, Chloe, how have you been? I think we should start talking about the wedding, and more importantly, my expectations for when we’re married,” Scott states in what I’m sure is supposed to be a seductive tone.
I turn to face him, concern spiking through me at the way he’s grinning at me. “What do you mean?”
His eyes light up, and it’s obvious I just walked right into his plan. “Well, once we’re married, there will be certain rules you’ll need to follow, and expectations you will have to meet, but as my wife, you’ll want nothing more than to please me.”
My grip on my soup spoon tightens to the point I’m surprised the silver hasn’t bent. My whole body is tense, and I’m sure he can see that reflected in my stern expression, yet Scott doesn’t seem to care.
“Like what?” I ask through gritted teeth.
This is one of those moments in life where I know I’m not going to like the answer, yet I can’t help asking the question anyway—and as soon as Scott opens his mouth, that’s confirmed.
“Well, for starters, I will set ground rules on what you can wear and the image you want to present to other people. Whilst I like you in this dress, you have skin on show that I wouldn’t want anyone but me to see,” he says, trailing his finger down my bare arm for emphasis, before dropping his hand to my thigh, trailing his fingers down until he touches the exposed flesh there too.
I freeze, squeezing my eyes shut as I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that I taste copper. Small droplets of blood hit my tongue, but I barely register them as all I can feel is his hand on my leg.
When Scott starts to speak again, his voice is even closer, his lips are practically touching my ear. “I will love taking you whenever I want, however I want. In fact, I might make it a rule that you have to be naked every evening, waiting on your knees for me in the bedroom, ready for me to give you some attention, but only if I choose to.”
His hand begins to travel higher, under the hem on my skirt, and my stomach rolls. The small amount of bread and soup that I’ve managed to eat threatens to make a reappearance, and my heart is pounding so fast, if my eyes were open, I’d probably be dizzy.
“I expect my wife to follow my every command. You will attend high society functions if I say you can, and you’ll organise charity events that make me look good, but other than that, your only job will be to make me happy.
“You can go out to make yourself look better, so manicures, pedicures, waxing, massages, things like that, but that’s all. No friends, no hobbies… Your whole life will revolve around me, your husband. Do you understand?”
My heart is racing as panic seeps into my bones and I can barely catch my breath. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, hoping this is all a nightmare and I can make it go away.
Then I feel Scott’s fingernails digging into my sensitive flesh. He’s squeezing so hard, I’m surprised he’s not drawn blood. There will definitely be bruises.
“I said, do you understand?” He sounds more angry than he did the first time he asked me, and I know I need to reply, so I don’t wind him up more, but I don’t think I can make my voice work.
A short sharp buzz from the table distracts me enough to open my eyes. The sound of a text message coming through on my phone is both a welcome relief and a bit confusing, as everyone who normally texts me is sitting in the room with me.
I reach over to pick up the phone and Scott’s grip on my leg tightens. “It’s rude to use your phone at the dinner table, Chloe,” he chastises, sounding like my mother.
I turn to him, trying to find as much confidence as I can muster so that my voice doesn’t shake. “Sorry, but it might be important.”
I quickly use my fingerprint to open the lock screen on my phone, and for the first time I’m grateful for the privacy film that Marcus insisted on me putting over my screen.
I thought it was just paranoia, but he insisted, and I couldn’t be arsed to argue—now I’m glad, as Scott can’t read the screen from his place beside me.
If he were really desperate, he could hover behind me and he’d be able to read it with no issues, but it’d be clear to everyone what he’s doing, and I’m guessing since Scott is still trying to keep up appearances, he doesn’t do this. His grip on my thigh, however, remains firm.
MARCUS
I’m about thirty seconds away from taking out my hidden gun and shooting that cunt in the head. Is he hurting you? After the soup, excuse yourself to the bathroom and text me.
I look up at Marcus, but his gaze is fixed on his soup, like he’s completely unaware of the situation around him. I should have known he’d notice what Scott was doing.
I’m not even a little shocked to learn he’s got a hidden gun. Surprisingly, I feel safer knowing that.
Although Marcus appears uninterested to the casual observer, I’ve gotten to know him well enough over the last week to see he’s anything but. He’s gripping his spoon so tight, his knuckles have turned white. His other hand is under the table, no doubt edging closer to his weapon the longer this goes on.
While his eyes appear to be fixed on the spoonfuls of soup he keeps bringing to his lips, I catch his gaze flicking over to me constantly before moving over to Scott. His eyes darken and his murderous expression flashes for just a second, making him look more dangerous than normal.
I quickly slide my phone into the small clutch bag I brought with me, that’s sitting on the table beside me, knowing that will make it easier for me to take my phone with me if I’m able to pull off this plan.
Once my eyes meet Marcus’, I give him what I thought was a discreet nod, but when Scott’s nails drag hard across my skin, I’m sure he saw. I hiss before quickly biting my lip to stop any more noise from slipping out.
Scott leans in closer, anger practically radiating off him now. “No wife of mine will be a whore. If you look at him again while I’m in the room, when you become my wife, I will beat your arse with my belt so badly, you won’t be able to sit down for a week. Not that I’ll care. As long as you can still kneel to swallow my dick, that’s all I need.”
I look over at Scott and see that he means every single word. His eyes have darkened, and his lips are pressed into a tight line. Instead of looking dangerous, like Marcus does, he just looks like an angry little man who is trying to exert power over me, and whilst I may be scared shitless, there’s a very small part of me that’s trying to fight back.
I try to channel all the confidence Marcus has been trying to instil in me, and as I lean closer to Scott, I imitate Marcus as best I can. “If you even think about putting your tiny cock anywhere near my mouth, I’ll bite it off.”
For just a fraction of a second, his eyes widen in shock, and that little part of me that’s been silenced for so long does a leap of joy, but then his expression darkens, his nostrils flaring as rage takes over.
“Why you little bitch?—”
Just as his grip on my leg becomes too painful, my father puts his spoon down loudly, clinking it against the China as he speaks to the room. “Well, that was lovely. Did everyone enjoy their soup?”
As mutters of approval flood around the table, I take the opportunity that’s presented itself. “Yes, Dad, it was really delicious. May I be excused just for a moment, so I can use the restroom?”
I hate the fact I’m a grown woman asking for permission to use the bathroom, but my family has strict rules, and nobody gets up from the table before my dad without his permission.
My mother, sounding like I’m disappointing her once again, chimes in. “Really, Chloe. Disrupting dinner like this isn’t appropriate.”
It takes every ounce of willpower not to roll my eyes at her, particularly when Scott joins in to support her. “Your mother is right, Chloe. It’s rude to leave the table in the middle of dinner. I’m sure you can wait.”
The edge to his tone makes it clear he doesn’t want me to argue with him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Marcus getting twitchy, looking like he’s about to intervene.
That’s when I see Miles reach over to place a hand on his arm, before he leans closer to him, no doubt telling his friend to calm down. I’m grateful for Miles’ help, as Marcus would only make this situation worse.
I need to say something, and quickly. Then I remember the one trump card all women can play when they’re being controlled by men. “If I could wait, I would. Without going into details that aren’t appropriate dinner conversation, I’m simply going to say that I need to be excused due to women’s issues.”
The room, made up predominantly of men, goes silent for a moment. Those magic words had more of an effect than I was expecting, as Scott quickly removes his hand from my thigh.
I almost laugh at the absurdity that a grown man is worried he might accidentally touch menstrual blood. But, hey…the plan works better than I could’ve imagined, and I fight to hold back a smile.
My father clears his throat, sounding uncomfortable. “Of course, you may be excused, darling.”
I give him a grateful smile as I stand, smoothing down my skirt as I push the chair back so I can get around it, grabbing my bag as I do.
As I’m about to turn around, I give Marcus a cheeky wink that only he can see, loving the way he tries to hide his smile as I walk out of the room.
I practically sprint to the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind me as I pull out my phone. There’s a message already waiting for me from Marcus, and I don’t hesitate to read it.
MARCUS
Good girl, you followed my instructions well. Now, tell me, was that cum-stain hurting you? What was he doing?
CHLOE
As he leaned in to speak to me, he put his hand on my upper thigh, which is when I started to freak out. When he got annoyed with me, his grip tightened, and his nails dug in a lot. I think it’ll bruise, but he hasn’t drawn blood .
There’s a pause, and I can see Marcus has read my message, but he’s not typing anything. I’ve not heard a gunshot, or any kind of commotion, so I’m assuming he’s just trying to pull himself together before replies.
MARCUS
Anything else?
CHLOE
No. Just stuff he said, that’s all.
MARCUS
Like what?
CHLOE
Too much bullshit to go into details in a text, but he was letting me know what he’ll expect from me when I become his wife. He also said that if I look at you one more time while he’s in the room, when I do go to live with him, he’ll beat my arse so badly with his belt that I can’t sit down for a week.
MARCUS
Motherfucker.
CHLOE
Apparently he doesn’t need me to be able to sit, as long as I can kneel and swallow his cock, that’s all he wants.
MARCUS
I’m going to kill him.
CHLOE
Don’t worry. I told him that if he even thinks about putting his little dick anywhere near my mouth, I’ll bite it off.
MARCUS
Good girl!! I’m still going to kill him. But only after I’ve peeled the flesh from his fingers. I hate that he touched you.
Fuck, that statement alone should scare the shit out of me, but instead, I get a tingle down my spine that confirms just how much Marcus’ dangerous side excites me.
And his possessiveness… I’m trying not to read too much into it, but it’s almost like he really does see me as his. I’m just not sure if that still comes with a ticking clock attached.
CHLOE
I wouldn’t say no to that, but if I’m going to have to marry him, I guess you can’t really maim him.
Why the fuck did I just send that?
I don’t know if there’s some part of me that’s trying to poke a very agitated dragon just to see what he does, or if I’m just an idiot.
I wait for a little while, and no text comes. I’m staring at my phone, my grip on it tightening the longer the message remains read but unanswered.
Just as I’m about to give up and put it away, the vibrating egg starts again, startling me to the point I have to bend over and grab the sink cabinet.
Fuck, I think he’s put the egg on a much higher setting, and my whole body feels like it’s on fire. My core is heating up, getting me wetter as my grip on the counter and my phone tightens.
Then I hear the tell-tale buzz of the phone, letting me know he’s finally text me back. I can barely hear it over my heartbeat pulsating through my ears. A soft moan escapes, and I have to bite down on my lip to stop any more noise from getting free.
I try clamping my legs together, but that only makes things more intense. I can’t help squirming around, trying to get into a position that helps alleviate some of the ache.
That’s how I end up leaning over the counter, my arse in the air, my legs spread wide as I rotate my hips to help the egg move around.
I look like I’m waiting for someone to come along and fuck me from behind, and shit if that idea doesn’t really bloody appeal to me right now.
In the distance, I hear another buzz coming from my phone, and I drag myself back into the moment just enough to check my messages, knowing exactly who they’ll be from.
MARCUS
You are not fucking marrying him. And for reminding me of that, I’m going to start the punishment again…
How does it feel, Mio? You better not forget the rules.
Shit, does he really expect me to be able to text him back while I’m like this. I can barely get my brain to work for long enough to read his messages, let alone send another back. Before I can, another message comes through.
MARCUS
You better come back now. People are wondering where you are .
My breath hitches as I realise what he’s saying. He wants me to go back into the room while the egg is vibrating like this. I can barely stand upright.
I pull myself together long enough to reply to him.
CHLOE
Please, it’s too strong. I can’t walk, let alone come back in the room and have dinner with my family.
MARCUS
You want me to lower the setting?
CHLOE
Yes, please.
MARCUS
If I do that, what do I get?