“You have a lot of fire. That will make you more enjoyable to tame. We’re leaving.”
Screaming, I pounded my first on his arm and tried to yank loose, but he quickly had me by both arms, turning me away from him. I dug my heels in and kicked, trying to stop him from pushing me through the door, but he was too strong. I thrashed and tried to hit him with the back of my head, but nothing I did mattered, and he bodily lifted me from the ground and carried me. I twisted around enough to see my father staring at the floor.
“You bastard!” I shrieked, “How can you do this!”
The servants were all just staring, watching.
“Somebody help!”
No one did. They just stared at nothing, like they couldn’t see me. There was another car already waiting for me outside. Carlyle shoved me through the open door and stepped in after me, settling into the seat as the door was closed behind him. I knew fighting him was pointless, so I went for the other door. I yanked and yanked on the handle, but nothing. I tried to go for the other, but Carlyle shoved me back down into my seat and then his hand closed around my throat, holding me still. He turned my head to look at him and I stared into his strange, mis-matched eyes.
“I enjoy a little sport, but if you make yourself difficult, I’m going to to have to discipline you. You can sit there like a good girl, or I can teach you a lesson and tie you down.”
He let go, and I clutched my throat in my hands. He hadn’t choked me, but I could still feel steely fingers pressing on my tender skin.
“Fuck you,” I hissed, edging away from him.
“Oh, you will,” he said. “Or rather, I will. Once you’ve learned your place, Victoria.”
“What pace is that?”
“At my feet, as my willing concubine.”
“Willing?” I spat. “I’ll never be willing to do anything with you.”
“Yes you will,” he said, easing into the seat. “You’ll be begging me to touch you, by the time I’m done.”
I pushed against the door, putting as much space between his body and mine as I could manage. I scowled at him and he smirked at me, clearly amused. He touched his handkerchief to his face, and dabbed a way a spot of red. I must have hit him harder than I thought.
“I’ve had girls like you before. You think because your daddy buys you a convertible and pays for you to get a meaningless education before you marry some simpleton, you’re someone special. Someone important. You’re not. Your whole life has been leading up to this. Your father could have quit long ago, lived a more modest life. He was far from broke when he came to me, only ambitious. That ambition meant more to him than you. Your future husband, such as he would have been, would only have wanted you to wear on his arm, as a symbol of status, or to get in good with your worthless father. You see, Vitoria, I’m the only one who’s ever cared about you at all. I care enough to break you.”
“You’ll never break me,” I said.
The car pulled away. I rode in silence. Light classical music piped in through the car’s speakers, and Carlyle listened, waving his elegant fingers back and forth, as if he were conducting the music himself. The gesture was so pretentious it sickened me. I stared out the windows, trying to learn and memorize the route from my home to wherever he was taking me. I’d already decided I would never go back to my mother and father again. Whatever kind of sick fuck this man was, he was right about that. If they would do this to me, how could they ever love me? My eyes burned, and I felt tears on my cheeks. I didn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of wiping them away. I just kept quiet.
Eventually, the car pulled around behind a large, old house. Revolutionary war era, maybe earlier. The door opened and Carlyle stepped out.
Then my door opened.
I bolted. I kicked out of my pumps and I ran barefoot, but I made it less than five steps before he had me, shrieking and thrashing, and dragged me into the house. Once inside he dumped me on the plush carpeted floor and stood over me.
“These displays are pointless. No one is going to hear you here. There is nowhere to run.”
I looked around. He had people. Servants. A maid in a uniform. How could these people just watch this?
“They are well paid, and understand the consequences of betraying me. Get up.”
How did he do that? Was he reading my mind?
Slowly, I got to my feet.
His hands shot out and grabbed the placket of my blouse, and yanked. It came open all at once, sending the buttons pattering across the carpet. I twisted and tried to cover myself, but he turned me around and ripped away my clothes, the fabric ripping loudly as it split under his grip. My blouse came away in tatters, and he clamped his hand on the back of my neck while he undid the clasp on my bra and pulled the straps down, then yanked it away. He didn’t stop me covering myself, or at least my chest, as he yanked down my jeans and pushed me to the ground, twisting to hold me down as he dragged off my tight jeans and threw them aside, and then my socks. His hand found my throat again and he pinned me down, face up, and slid his hand between my legs. His finger slid along my folds, and I gasped, going still.