Caged By Them: A Dark MFM Romance (Descent Into Darkness Book 1) Page 11

  Yet there are still things I don’t know—a question I can’t ask about Wyatt. Each day that passes without an answer to that burning question fills me with even more terror.

  The door opened, and I looked up, expecting to see Reynard. For a moment, I wondered if he didn’t actually go to work when he rushed me to finish my bath and get back in the cage. But it wasn’t Reynard standing there—it was his brother, Mauro. He had a piece of paper in his hand—one of my promises. Had he come to collect? Reynard said he could, but he had shown me nothing but kindness. My eyes drifted to his left hand, which was holding a wooden paddle. That wasn’t an implement of kindness. I scurried to the back of my cage as I thought about the one guy that had mentioned using one on me—a man who had as much cruelty in his heart as Reynard.

  “Out of your cage.” Mauro unlocked the door and took a step back.

  I wasn’t allowed to speak. The gag was back in my mouth. All I could do was obey. I crawled forward and looked up at him—seeing a reflection in his eyes that held no hint of the kindness he had shown me before. He was going to hurt me. I had been a fool to believe there was any kindness in him. He was still dangerous—still part of the plan that put me in the cage. Whatever quelled those desires for so long no longer kept his darkness at bay.

  “I assume you remember this promise.” He dropped the paper on the ground in front of me.

  I nodded.

  “Oh, are you not allowed to speak?” He reached down and started removing the gag. “Too bad—you’re going to be doing a lot of talking before I’m done with you—and begging—just like you promised.”

  “Yes—Master.” I looked up at him and spoke, only because he had requested it.

  The man I blackmailed was a high school principal from Wichita. He was an easy target once I found out who the man behind the veil was. He didn’t even need to have a wife to threaten—his desires were dark enough to make him terrified of anyone finding out what he craved. He took joy in corporal punishment—students that misbehaved and found themselves across his desk for three swats from his board. Except his fantasy called for more—he wanted them stripped and at his mercy—begging for more every time the paddle found a spot that made them scream. I doubted Mauro cared much about me being a student, nor did he care what made me scream—he said I would beg—that was clearly what he wanted.

  “Bend over your cage—grab the bars with your hands.” He motioned towards my prison.

  “Yes Master.” I stood and draped myself across the metal structure, feeling the coldness on my stomach and breasts.

  “Three is never enough…” He patted my ass with the paddle. “They should know that they’ve done wrong—they should know that they deserve more—and they should beg for it until they scream. Then they should beg for more.”

  SMACK!

  “Ow!” My body jerked forward against the cage when the paddle came down on my ass for the first time.

  That was exactly what the man said—his fantasy coming across Mauro’s lips. There was no kindness in the first swing from his paddle. It left searing pain where it landed. It wasn’t time to beg yet. I had to receive my punishment before I could beg. Three was what I had coming, and the next two were even harder—and they came in rapid succession.

  SMACK! SMACK!

  “Oh god!” I squealed and my grip on the cage tightened.

  Then it was time to beg—time for me to ask for more, even though the first three had left my ass burning. That was Mauro’s darkness—what separated him from his brother. Reynard could punish with no regard for me. Mauro needed me to ask for it. He couldn’t deliver reckless agony. I had to choose my fate. I grabbed the steel bars and took a deep breath. I looked over my shoulder and felt the words tumbling across my lips.

  “Please…” I made eye contact and tried to find my bravery. “Please give me more.”

  “This isn’t what I want.” Mauro shook his head and threw the paddle on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I released my grip and turned slightly. “I made that promise—I have to fulfill it.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t mean it.” He walked over and sat down. “Just like you can’t beg when those words are lies.”

  I guess there’s kindness in him after all—but I don’t deserve that. Reynard wouldn’t have hesitated if he was swinging the paddle.

  “Please…” I walked over and dropped to my knees. “I’ve earned your wrath—you should give it to me.”

  Even though I don’t truly know why…

  “Have you?” He tilted his head and put his hand on the side of my face. “You don’t even know what you’ve done.”

  “I stole from your brother—blackmailed him.” I swallowed hard.

  “The tip of the iceberg.” He leaned forward. “Trust me.”

  Do I dare ask—I got sentenced to silence for it last time—denied Reynard’s touch. No. I can’t bring that up again.

  “Then punish me.” I grabbed the front of his pants. “Or let me do something else—you can do anything to me that you want.”

  “There’s nothing you can do that will fix it.” He exhaled sharply. “Get back in your cage.”

  I could have crawled back into my cage and let him slam the door. That would have been the end of it—but I couldn’t. Reynard had changed me in some way—tapped into a piece of my soul that made me crave the pain. If Mauro wanted me to beg, I could beg. I needed him to punish me. I picked up the paddle and walked back to him. He watched with his eyes showing confusion as I dropped it in his lap and draped myself across his knee.

  “Please.” I looked over my shoulder. “Please punish me like I deserve.”

  Mauro picked up the paddle and kept his eyes locked on mine as he ran his fingers across the wood. He locked his hand around my waist in a tight grip and lifted the long piece of wood. It was going to hurt, but it had to hurt. And I had to beg—beg until I screamed—then I had to beg for more. I prepared myself mentally, waiting for the wood to crash into my flesh—then it did.

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  “Please, Master—please paddle me harder!” I squealed and felt my jaw tighten.

  SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

  The desire was flooding out of Mauro. I felt his cock throb against me each time I begged for more. He paddled me until I screamed, and that wasn’t nearly enough—because I kept asking for him to keep going. My ass burned—agonizing pain ripped through me. Still, I begged for more. The fury was being unleashed, and I felt less wrath in his swings—then they stopped. I looked back at him and asked for the paddle to give me more agony, but he didn’t swing it. There was something else simmering in his eyes—the desire I saw in Reynard’s when he took my virgin body for the first time.

  “Should I beg for something else?” I pushed myself against his cock.

  “Yes.” He nodded.

  He wanted me. The paddle was no longer what I had to beg for. I turned in his lap and straddled him—my lips begging for what was throbbing beneath the fabric prison. I unfastened his pants and as soon as his cock was free, he pulled me onto it and I took every inch as I sank on his length. There was more than just fury in his eyes—it was passion. He—wasn’t like Reynard—not when it came to that. I started to bounce on his cock, leaning forward until my lips were against his ear.

  “Please fuck me—please fuck me, Master.” I purred, feeling my own burning desires colliding with his.

  He stood and continued thrusting as he took me to the cage. He lowered me down until my back was against the steel and started hammering his cock deep inside my pussy. The pain had tempted his lust—and he wanted my body. I gave it to him. He slammed his cock into me so hard that the cage shook, and the bolts sounded like they were cracking in the marble. I don’t know what it was about Mauro’s lust that was so different from Reynard, but I craved—begged—pleaded for him to keep going.

  “Don’t stop, Master—please don’t stop.” I purred into his ear again and a loud gasp echoed from my th
roat.

  I took Mauro’s cock—his fury—his passion. He kissed me, lips crushing mine—the first real kiss I had ever experienced. Reynard had never kissed me before, not that I necessarily wanted it. Mauro’s kiss made me crave more. He ravaged my mouth with his tongue while his cock savagely took my pussy. I didn’t care that it hurt. I didn’t care that he wasn’t gentle. I needed to feel my body being driven into the cage. I needed to feel his hands squeeze the punished flesh where the paddle had landed—it just made me beg for him to keep going.

  Then he started to throb—and my body was right there with him. My pussy spasmed on his length when my orgasm began. He shot hot, sticky cum deep inside me as his climax consumed him. Then it was over—as soon as it began. He lifted up and pulled himself free. I looked up at him, wondering what he would do next. If he picked up the paddle and demanded that I turn over, I would obey immediately—just so I could feel that passion again.

  But he didn’t ask for anything else. He got dressed, picked up the paddle, and left me there on the cage. He didn’t even demand that I get back inside. I wasn’t sure what to do. My head was spinning, and my body felt like it had been wrecked. I stared at the ceiling for several minutes before I sat up. I did the only thing I knew how to do.

  I dropped to my knees.

  I crawled into the cage.

  And I shut the door.

  The only thing missing was the darkness, so I buried my face in the pillow and closed my eyes after I put the gag in my mouth.

  Reynard

  “Everything you were preparing for Mauro to look over, I want it on my desk.” I walked into the office and tapped Abigail’s desk as I walked by.

  “Yes sir.” She snapped to attention immediately.

  I turned on my laptop, waited for the documents, and instinctively pulled up the camera I had on Lizzy. I hadn’t made it through the night without leaving a piece of myself in the bed we shared. It was supposed to be another promise she fulfilled, but it was more. I took her innocence, and for the first time in my life, I felt a strange draw—an odd connection that didn’t want to let go. I had claimed women before, but it was never meant to last longer than the evening we shared—even if they wanted it to.

  Lizzy was different. I could keep her locked in a cage, but I couldn’t very well get rid of her. I was forced to wake up next to her, and even if she was tied to my bed, it still felt different than waking up beside another one of my submissive sluts. Lizzy was no slut—she was no whore. She pretended to be dirty and filthy, but that was just a show. It didn’t matter what kind of degrading things I said to her, the look in her eyes told the real story. Those words hurt her—maybe as much as the punishment did.

  I’m not sure I can keep hurting her. No matter how many times I try to tell myself that she’s nothing more than a tool for revenge, I feel myself slipping…

  I had to stay focused on my task, even if I wanted to just say fuck Jackson Investments and go back home—and enjoy Lizzy’s body again. There was too much at stake with Josef Weber and whatever it was that he was trying to do. I didn’t believe he could do anything to hurt our company, but I had to make sure of it. Abigail brought me the documents I requested, and I started flipping through them, occasionally looking back at Lizzy in her cage. Until the camera went off—a darkness that immediately caused a surge of concern inside me.

  What the fuck?

  I thought something happened to my phone at first, but once I loaded up the security system with the camera, I realized that it had been turned off.

  Mauro turned off the camera—but why? Oh my god…

  I should have recognized the beast burning in Mauro’s eyes when he showed up at my house. He kept it bottled so well that I was blind to it. He was going to play with my toy—and I told him to. I felt a momentary sting of displeasure, but I let my emotions settle. Maybe it was for the better. It would put things back in perspective—she was just a toy in a cage—to be used by either of us at any time. He certainly deserved to let his beast run wild if that was what he needed after Josef Weber’s visit. She was as much his as she was mine.

  At least I can get some work done here if I’m not constantly looking at the camera.

  I spent an hour going through all the documents, trying to find a pattern—something that looked unusual without causing concern. If Wyatt was somehow working with Josef Weber—if they had an arrangement like he claimed—then it wouldn’t be obvious. Wyatt was too smart for that. It would be something secretive—even if I didn’t understand why. I looked over the deals from the last five years—then looked over them again. Something finally caught my eye—an account that hadn’t made any money—in fact, it always lost money. That would have never been acceptable, but it wouldn’t show up on an audit if it was at the Chicago office.

  Why would Wyatt have an account that’s constantly losing money—more importantly, why would an investor stay with us if we were doing such a shitty job?

  “Abigail!” I walked to the door and pushed it open. “There’s an account in Chicago—Ashton Retirement Fund. I want to know everything about. When we took them on as a client, who owns—just fucking everything!”

  “Um, yes sir!” She nodded quickly.

  What the fuck were you doing, Wyatt?

  The account was ten years old, and just like the five years I was looking at previously, all ten years were the same—it never made money. I started digging deeper. It was owned by a woman named Hannah Ashton, and it sure as fuck wasn’t a retirement fund, even if that was what it was called on paper. The money that went into it didn’t come from an external source, it was being skimmed off our profits. That wasn’t uncommon with some of our older accounts, especially if it was an account our father set up. We didn’t offer those kinds of incentives any longer, but there was a time when that was common—but it wasn’t common when that account was set up, and we had done our best to get rid of those investors after Mauro took over.

  The money goes into this fucking account, then it disappears. Fuck, this is money laundering. This is the kind of shit that could get the SEC on our ass immediately.

  I felt my blood run cold when I started digging into the investments on that account. I recognized the names—they were shell companies owned by Josef Weber. Wyatt was funneling money directly into Josef Weber’s operations. The account was still active too—probably because the new guy we put in charge of the Chicago branch didn’t want to fuck with any of Wyatt’s longstanding accounts—or he knew what was going on too.

  “Abigail, I need a flight to Chicago.” I walked out into the lobby, but then I saw one of our attorneys, Robert Fisk, charging through the lobby.

  “Don’t make any travel plans.” He shook his head back and forth. “Where’s Mauro?”

  “He’s busy, what the fuck is going on?” I felt like I already knew the answer to that question, but I was afraid to say it.

  “This is a problem that you can’t fix—especially since you started it by fucking with Josef Weber.” He exhaled sharply.

  “Don’t give me that shit. Tell me what’s going on!” My fists balled, but I realized that our staff was watching, so I pulled him into my office instead of hitting him.

  “We’re fucked!” Fisk shook his head angrily as soon as he caught his balance after I shoved him halfway across my office.

  “How?” I put my fists down on my desk. “Or does this have something to do with it?”

  “Yeah, this is part of it.” He looked down at the documents on the Ashton Retirement Fund. “But this is just the beginning—your father’s will is being challenged.”

  “What?” I blinked in surprise. “That’s—not possible.”

  “Oh, it’s possible alright.” He grunted. “Because the woman challenging it? Hannah Ashton? She claims to be your sister.”

  “Wait…” I looked down at the paperwork again. “The woman who owns this account—she’s my father’s bastard?”

  “She might be, but regardless—it’s not goin
g to be good, even if she’s not. Wyatt’s been funneling money to her, and that sure as fuck will look like he was paying her off, so she wouldn’t make a claim on the will.” He walked over and poured a drink.

  “Fuck!” I motioned for him to bring me a glass as well. “Even from beyond the grave that mother fucker is still haunting me.”

  “We need to get a statement together. I hope I don’t need to tell you how bad this is going to be when the press gets the story.” He walked over and sat down. “Where the fuck is Mauro?”

  “He’s…” I looked at the screen where Lizzy’s face should have been. “He’s busy.”

  “You just signed up a whole bunch of new investors with this power play you made on Josef Weber. Most of those contracts are still new enough for them to immediately be broken without much legal fuss—especially if it looks like you suckered them in because you knew the company was about to get destroyed in the media.” He exhaled sharply.

  “Okay, let’s say that’s about to happen,” I growled under my breath and took a drink. “Let’s say this woman—Hannah Ashton—is my father’s bastard. How the fuck did she get tangled up with Josef Weber? Why wouldn’t she come to us? We would have made things right…”

  “How do you know she hasn’t?” He tilted his head to the side. “Wyatt was your father’s oldest son. Maybe she went to him—and maybe he handled it.”

  “By paying her off…” I sighed and growled again. “Fuck…”

  “As for Josef Weber? Who knows. He certainly seems to have a hard-on for Jackson Investments.” Fisk looked towards the door. “I really need to talk to Mauro and figure this out.”