Big Bad Wolf by Diana A. Hicks
Do As You're Told
Luce
New York City
I didn’t want out of the cage. As fucked up as that sounded, it was the truth. I had spent the better part of the night kicking and screaming, begging for help, until I realized that even if someone like my best friend Kay showed up and let me out, I wouldn’t have the guts to leave. Not when the livelihood of my family was at stake.
Of course, Liam Walsh wouldn’t go after Dad or my brother Ronan, if I walked out on him now. But he would most certainly take back the small army he promised the Red Wolves crew in exchange for a virgin wife—me. I slammed my foot on the side panel again, and the metal rattled with a satisfying clank. By now, I knew my five by three little jail was sturdy and wouldn’t budge. But it felt good to kick and protest and pretend I had a way out. If I let my anger brew at the pit of my stomach, I wouldn’t have to deal with the fear gripping my spine, or the horror that was this place.
Pressing my feet to the mat below me, I lay back and closed my eyes to shield them from the rays of light seeping through the red velvet curtains on the opposite end of the room. At some point during the night, I had managed to sleep in this position. Though that didn’t last long. My bladder hurt from having to hold it all night.
Turning on my side, I tucked my knees to my chest and let my gaze roam Liam’s sex dungeon. What else could this place be, with the crimson leather panels covering the walls, the metal rings on a track hanging from the ceiling, and the odd furniture dotting the space? My cage had a nice view of all those things, along with the table laden with whips, knives, handcuffs, and other objects I didn’t recognize.
Tears streamed down my cheeks again. At some point in the very near future, Liam would use all those things on me. I hugged myself tighter to ease the quiver that shook my entire body. No one was coming to save me. I was alone in this. And all I could hope was that Liam had made good on his word to help my family, that by now his men had fought off the Italians and won. I would’ve loved to have gotten confirmation from Dad that my sacrifice had been worth it. But he was too ashamed to talk to me. Now I understood why he wasn’t home yesterday morning when Liam’s limo came to pick me up.
A bit of warm liquid slowly trickled down my thighs, and I balled my body tighter. I was in a pretty fucked-up situation, if holding my pee was the only way to cling to the last of my dignity. Was that what Liam was waiting for? For me to soil myself as proof that he had broken me? I was Luce O’Brien, a proud Irish woman. That would never happen. Liam had bought and paid for my body, but not my soul.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Mrs. Jones’s pristine leather shoes. She was the one who had greeted me at the door last night and then ushered me to this room. She left me here without my luggage and without an explanation.
“You’ll need to work on controlling your bladder.” She made quick work of the lock. Her tone was clipped, but she wasn’t angry with me. “You’re expected to stay in the cage until Mr. Walsh is ready for you. He will not tolerate this level of disrespect.”
What? I was supposed to hold it to show him respect? “I’ve been holding it all night.”
“You will learn to control your bladder.” She opened the side door and motioned for me to get out.
I crawled out and tried not to dwell on how that made me feel. To be on all fours, happy to make my way toward Mrs. Jones’s leather shoes, like a good little pet. I couldn’t let the situation get the best of me. I had bigger things to worry about. “When will I get to meet Liam? His bodyguards last night wouldn’t let my friend Kay come with me. I mean, she’s my bodyguard, and a friend.”
Shit. I should’ve gotten my story straight in my head before I opened my mouth. Kay was my best friend. She understood why I had agreed to marry Liam Walsh and had volunteered to come with me, so I wouldn’t be alone. When we arrived, though, Liam’s men took her away. They didn’t even let me explain that she was here as my own bodyguard. She wasn’t really, but I was willing to lie to get her to stay with me.
“Mr. Walsh.”
“What?”
“You will address him as Mr. Walsh.”
“Fine. When will I get to talk to Mr. Walsh?”
“I’m not sure. He didn’t say. For now, I’m here to make sure all is in order for his return.”
“What the hell does that even mean?” I stepped toward her. As terrifying as this woman was in her skirt and crisp white shirt, she was shorter than me. Her small frame seemed almost frail next to mine. At five-foot-seven, I had a good four inches on her.
She lifted her hand and slapped me hard across the face. I didn’t even have time to react. No one had ever hit me before. As the daughter of a kingpin in south Chicago, I was always well cared for and protected. Dad would’ve punished anyone who dared hurt me.
I cradled my cheek as my eyes welled with tears.
“You will watch your tone and your language. You’re to be the wife of a powerful leader. You need to behave accordingly. Do you understand?”
I nodded, blinking to clear my vision.
She exhaled loudly in exasperation. “You speak when asked a direct question.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Sir.”
“What?” I took another second to figure it out and then answered, “Yes, I understand, Sir.”
“Take off your clothes.”
“What?” My hands instinctively covered my chest. “Why?”
“You’re not here to ask questions. Do as you’re told. Leave your soiled clothes here, there’s a bathroom through there.” She pointed at the door to the left of the cage.
With trembling hands, I unbuttoned my shorts while I kicked off my strappy sandals. I had been so naive to dress in a silky top and bottoms for my first meeting with my future husband. My heart thumped against my ribs. I had been naked in front of other women before, but the way Mrs. Jones’s looked at me was very unnerving.
I had assumed she’d turn away to give me some privacy, but she didn’t. Instead, she kept her gaze zeroed in on my legs, then my pussy when I dropped my underwear.
“Quicker. I don’t have all day.” She pointed at my blouse. “Bra too.”
I did as she asked and then rushed to the bathroom where I finally relieved myself. Could people really get used to holding their pee for hours? No way that was a thing. I was so out of my depth here. I had no clue what I was doing. What they wanted from me was way more than sex.
On the other side of the door, I heard Mrs. Jones’s confident and determined footsteps tapping on the marble floors. She turned on the water in the shower. Two seconds later, she swung my door open. I supposed privacy wasn’t a thing with her.
“You have five minutes. There’s shampoo and body wash in there.” She reached for my elbow and pulled me off the toilet.
I padded across the cold tile and got in the steamy shower stall. The fog on the glass panels helped me ignore her prying eyes, while I made quick work of the mint-scented soap. After a long day and an even longer night, getting cleaned up felt like heaven. As soon as I finished rinsing off, Mrs. Jones reached inside and shut off the water.
“Let’s take a look.” She pointed at the fluffy bath rug.
I stepped on it and met her gaze, pushing wet strands away from my face. She held my jaw with bony fingers and turned me left then right before she tugged on my lips to inspect my teeth. I doubted prize pigs were scrutinized this much. What would happen if I told Mrs. Jones to go to hell with her inspection? Sure, she’d slap me again, but then what? Would Walsh call off the deal with my family?
She moved onto my chest, tweaking my peaks until they got hard in protest. I winced in pain, lifting my shoulders to hide from her prying fingers. “Stand up straight, dear.” She pinched both nipples at the same time and pulled me up until I was as erect as she wanted me. “Your tits are smaller than what Mr. Walsh prefers. But that can be fixed if it bothers him too much.” She cupped one breast to feel its weight and then the other.
“Like implants?” I bit my lip to tamper the urge I had to smack her rough hands away. She had no right to handle me like I was some sort of new toy.
“Possibly. We’ll determine that after your first child.”
“I thought Mr. Walsh wanted a wife.” I said through gritted teeth. My fear had now been fully replaced with anger and disgust. I hated that this woman felt she could invade my body, and on top of that, deem it not good enough.
“He requires an heir, dear. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re here for more than that.”
“So more like a cow. Got it.”
“Watch your tone. Mr. Walsh doesn’t have my patience.” She cocked her head to the side to check my pussy. “If you lied about your virginity, now’s the time to confess.”
“I didn’t lie.” My voice quavered. Would she require proof? How would I even do that? And what if she decided I wasn’t a virgin?
“That’s what I’m here to check.” She pointed at a small bench next to the free-standing bathtub. “Open your legs and part your pussy lips.” When I didn’t move, and simply stared at her with doe eyes, she slow blinked at me as if she was on the verge of losing her patience. “Go on.”
My knees knocked against each other with the first step. Somehow, I managed to sit down and show her a part of me no one had ever seen before. With the same interest she showed when she examined my teeth, she looked at my entrance.
“You didn’t lie. Mr. Walsh will be pleased. You can sit up.” She stood, towering over me.
I got the sense she enjoyed having this kind of power over people. Dad had made sure I learned self-defense. Because of all those years of training, I could handle my own. As much as I wanted to punch her in the face, I couldn’t do it. Too much was as stake. Without Liam’s help, the Red Wolves didn’t stand a chance against the Chicago outfit. My sensibility didn’t matter right now—not when the Italian mob was so close to taking over our territory.
“What is this?” She pointed at my knee, or more specifically, at the moon-shaped scar I had there.
“Bike accident.”
When I was ten, I liked to ride my bike to Kay’s house because it was on a steep hill. We would spend hours hauling our bikes up, just so we could fly down. The cool wind on my face and the freedom and feel of being weightless was the biggest high. One time, I picked up too much speed. I hit the brakes hard, and my bike flipped over. When I got up, I had a gash just above my kneecap. A half smile pulled at my lips while I ran my finger over the whitish line on my skin. I was happy at home all my life. Being put in a cage, examined like a lab rat, and married off, was a sacrifice I was willing to make for my family.
“We’ll apply makeup to cover it up.”
“So, did I pass your inspection?”
“Tone.” She pinned me with a stare. “Yes, you will do.”
“Did Mr. Walsh hire you just for this?” I bit my lip and braced for another slap.
To my surprise, she answered with a sweet smile that made my skin crawl.
“No, dear. Mr. Walsh didn’t hire me for you. I’ve been at his service for five years. My only job is to train his pets.”
Her features relaxed, and I could only assume she enjoyed her work very much. The implication in her words made me wonder if maybe not all of Liam’s pets were willing participants. A part of me had wanted to believe that maybe Liam Walsh, the Butcher, wasn’t the horrible human being people said he was. Though the logical part of me told me he was exactly what everyone thought. And now his madame was just as bad.
“Train how?”
“We begin tomorrow. I want you to at least have the basics by the time he comes home.” She had said she didn’t know when he would return, but I was sure she was lying.
Her words implied she had a full regimen planned out for me. That meant, she knew exactly how much time she had with me. I supposed that didn’t matter, though. If training delayed my meeting with Liam, I was okay with that. Mrs. Jones was the lesser of two evils. Because once my so-called fiancé came home, my whole life would change.
“Do I get clothes?”
She ambled toward the sink area and picked up the bundle sitting on the counter. When she returned, she slipped the bodysuit over my head and yanked it all the way to my hips. She narrowed her eyes at my pubes, as if considering something. I pursed my lips because I knew what she’d say next.
“I’ll come back after lunch, and we’ll do a Brazilian wax.” She said as she expertly snapped the crotch buttons together between my legs.
Once I was covered up again—well sort of, the sheer fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination—I unclenched my jaw, and my body relaxed a bit. To my surprise, Mrs. Jones also took the time to brush my hair and French braid it.
“What kind of training? What are the basics?” I turned to face her.
She glared at me for what seemed like hours. My chest rose and fell with every ragged breath I took. My life was in the hands of a complete stranger, whose job was to prep me for her sadist boss.
“I understand that you’re the daughter of a kingpin.” She took a handful of the delicate fabric pooled at my belly and tugged at it until the crotch of the bodysuit parted my pussy lips. When she released it, the wedgie stayed in place. It was itchy and uncomfortable. She met my gaze as if daring me to take it out. When I didn’t move, she continued, “I also understand that you were raised to think you’re special. But here, none of that matters. You are not special. Walk. We start tomorrow.” She gripped my shoulder and escorted me back to the cage.
I crawled inside and waited for her to leave. She ambled around me and flipped open the top. “Sit up. Head here.” She placed her palm over the hole, the one I had already figured out was for my neck.
I scooted up until I was lined up where she wanted me. Like a good little pet, I let her shut the panel around my neck.
“When I come back, I want to find you exactly like this.”
Fresh tears rolled down my face. Kicking and screaming hadn’t helped my case before. After an hour with Mrs. Jones, I understood that no one was coming to save me. This was my life now.