Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144760 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 724(@200wpm)___ 579(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
He rushed forward, shoving his face into mine.
I flinched as the kitchen maid swiped over a particularly deep gash, cringing away from Storymaker’s wrath. “I will not permit you to think you run this establishment, you little shit. You are mine. They are mine. You will do what I say when I say it, and if that means you have to wear Parable until the day you die at my feet, so fucking be it.” He grabbed the chain and slipped the links through his finger, marching farther and farther away, stopping at a pile of more chain by his desk.
Picking up the other end, he dangled a larger piece of leather.
And then, he slipped off his blazer and undid his black shirt.
Everything inside me froze over.
No.
Not him.
I’d been sodomised and abused. I’d been ridiculed and punished. I’d done everything he ever commanded because if I didn’t, my family would pay. Yet I’d never been fucked by our master.
He was into girls.
He—
“Oh, don’t panic, darling Kas.” Storymaker blew me a kiss. “I’m not after your tight hole, not unless you’ve swapped a cock for a pussy.” Wrapping the leather around his waist, he buckled it then snapped another impenetrable padlock into place.
Laughing under his breath, he tugged the chain, putting pressure on my ankle and pulling my leg forward. It was either move or fall.
I moved.
I moved away from the kind kitchen maid fixing my shredded back.
I moved with a straight spine and balled hands and stopped before Storymaker, understanding what this meant.
He nodded. “I see you get it.”
I dropped my eyes obediently. “Yes, sir.”
He tugged the chain again, motioning to the belt he now wore. “Wherever you go, I will feel it. If you try to go where you are not permitted, I will know. If you sneak out of bed to get food for those little bastards, I will be there.” He reached out, his hand landing on my head, sinking manicured fingers into my hair.
Fisting the strands, he snatched my head to the side as his face lost its groomed mask and slipped into the devil beneath. “You hear me, boy? I am the spider, and you are the fly. You are in my web, little Kassen. I suggest you tread carefully.”
STOP!
I couldn’t breathe.
I gasped and clawed toward the light, falling to my ass as my hands dropped miles’ worth of tarnished chain. It spilled around me like a sinister metal snake.
Digging both hands into my hair, even the pain of my broken arm couldn’t stop me from clutching the strands and doing my best to rip them out.
To rip the memory out.
I wanted it gone. Erased. Burned to ash where it belonged.
Please.
I sucked in another breath, this one untainted with the power to pull back the curtains that’d enclosed me. Slowly, the darkness receded. My stomach hurt as I shoved Storymaker and all his nasty games deep, deep inside me.
Gemma.
Shit.
Panic did the rest for me, shoving aside the fear of my past for the fear of my present.
She could’ve woken up by now.
She could’ve grabbed her bag and left, all while I broke like an idiot on a bedroom floor.
Stumbling to my feet, I snatched up the chain and tripped into the corridor. I crashed against the wall as I reached for the banister. The stairs blurred into one unending slide.
My vision played tricks. My palms slipped on the railing. The chain bounced and plinked behind me as I dragged it down the hazy steps to the foyer. My knees threatened to buckle as I reached ground level, wincing as the soft thud of bronze links on carpet became high-pitched pings of metal on marble.
Hurry.
Swallowing sickness and forcing my balance to remain operational, I stumble-strode into the kitchen and once again crashed against the doorframe.
Still there.
She was still asleep where I’d left her.
Thank God.
My ears pricked as she mumbled something softly.
Asleep but not for long.
My hands shook as I traded the long length of the chain for the leather belt at the end. The fact I wore no other clothes apart from the boxer briefs she’d dressed me in was convenient as I slipped the leather around my waist and snapped the padlock into position.
Gemma groaned under her pile of blankets. Her arm moved to rub her head.
Now.
Or it’s too late.
Rushing forward, I practically fell on top of her as I plunged to the floor, grabbed the leash still tethered to her ankle, and snapped the final lock into place.
I’d told her I was grateful she’d tried to remove it.
I had too in the past.
And we’d both realized it wasn’t removable without a key. She’d tested it and found the reality of her entrapment. Now, I’d ensured she could move around Fables. She could continue caring for me, could go where I went, and help me fix the damage she’d caused with my vegetable patch.