Captured: A Dark Suspenseful Gothic Romance (The Rule of Lawes Series Book 1)

by Felicity Brandon

  Lawes’ gestured toward the freestanding apparatus Hannah had seen last night—the one that looked like stocks. She eyed the thing with trepidation, imagining being stuck in there. Once the top was placed down and locked into place, there would be no getting away, and her ass and pussy would be helplessly exposed to his crop, and whatever else he wanted to use on them.

  “Oh God…” It was all she could think to say.

  “Oh God, indeed.”

  Lawes wrapped the length of her leash around his hand, drawing her body closer as he lifted the top of the thing.

  “Meet our pillory, Hannah. It’s useful for containing willful little patients who are struggling to conform. Up now.”

  He yanked at the metal chain, and Hannah’s body lurched in his direction. Reeling from the shock, she climbed gingerly to her knees before joining him on her feet. It felt strange to be standing beside him again. Christ, it had been less than twenty-four hours, but Hannah had practically given up hope on ever standing again.

  Lawes reached to a small black table at the left side of the stocks or pillory, as he had called it, and lifted a thin riding crop into her line of sight.

  “This is my crop, Hannah.”

  Her chest tightened with dread. She’d seen crops before, and she’d always thought the things looked downright evil—too harsh to use on animals, let alone people.

  Let alone her.

  “It’s going to deliver your punishment, and you are going to number and thank me for each strike. Understand?”

  Hard green eyes drilled into her face, and Hannah panted. Christ, she didn’t want this. She knew how much it was going to bloody hurt, but what choice did she have?

  “Y-yes, sir.” She sounded dazed.

  She was dazed.

  Lawes nodded. “Get into position.”

  He pulled the leash toward the pillory, and Hannah stumbled forward. She sized the thing up as she approached. It was shorter than she was, meaning she had to bend to accommodate it. With trepidation, she lowered first her wrists, then her neck into the slots, pleased they seemed to be lined with soft, forgiving fabric at least. Lawes lowered the top of the contraption, the weight of it falling over her with such speed, she winced even though it never made contact with any part of her body. Hannah heard the locking mechanism as Lawes secured her into place.

  “Good.” He sounded stern. “Legs apart now. You’ll need a wider stance to survive the pressure on your back.”

  Hannah bit her lip but didn’t argue, wordlessly shuffling her feet apart, assisted by the tap of Lawes’ crop against her inner thighs as she went.

  “Beautiful.” He was back in her line of sight again, though Hannah could only make out his polished shoes as he neared. The position of her head made anything else impossible. “Now you may kiss my crop.”

  Her lips parted at the command.

  Kiss the freaking crop? Was the guy out of his mind?

  Lawes lowered to his haunches.

  “Take that expression from your face, little girl,” he told her in a gravelly tone. “You’re in enough trouble already.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Lawes thrust the implement out before her. “Kiss. It.”

  The tongue of the crop neared her mouth, and for a long moment, Hannah just eyed the thing with indignation. It was bad enough he planned to use the crop, but now she had to degrade herself even more by paying homage to the thing first?

  “I’m adding another ten strokes for every half minute you make me wait, Hannah.”

  That threat made her move, and she struggled toward the black end of the crop, her lips ready to plant the kiss where he had instructed. Lawes laughed, making her struggle for a while longer before he shifted it right under her nose, and Hannah was finally able to complete the demeaning act, kissing the crop’s tongue.

  Then it was gone.

  “Good.”

  Lawes vanished from her line of sight, rounding the pillory, and the next thing Hannah knew, the crop was tapping against her inner thigh lightly.

  “What were you thinking, little girl, running from your masters?”

  Hannah pulled in a desperate breath, aware of her breasts hanging below her as the rhythm of the crop trailed a line up and down her leg. She squeezed her eyes closed, knowing he was waiting for an answer.

  Masters? Tension furled in her belly at the word. No man had ever mastered Hannah before, though she had fantasized about the concept.

  “I… I was scared. Sir.”

  Lawes chuckled. “Are you scared now, Hannah?”

  She clenched at the question. The reality was that she was scared, but she hated to have to admit it.

  “A little.”

  That was a lie.

  She was petrified.

  “So, you haven’t done yourself many favors, have you?”

  Hannah sighed. Fuck it, he was right.

  “No, sir.”

  The crop rose to her behind.

  “And now you’re going to pay the price, little girl. Thirty swats for Mr. Fuller and another ten for me.”

  Hannah wanted to cry. Forty strikes? Fuck, she’d never so much as been spanked before. How was she going to cope?

  She didn’t have long to find out. The rhythmic patting ceased, and a moment later, the crop landed hard against her right upturned check, and fuck, it stung. Hannah squeezed her eyes together, gasping at the sudden eruption of hurt.

  “Remember what I asked?” Lawes’ voice was curt.

  Hannah wracked her brain, trying to recall.

  “Number the strike, little girl,” he snarled, “and if I have to remind you again, I’ll be adding even more strikes…”

  She gulped. “Yes, s-sir, thank you. That was one.”

  That thought resonated.

  She’d only had one strike.

  How the hell was she going to get through this?

  Fourteen

  Pilloried

  Each time the crop landed, it sent a ball of fire racing across Hannah’s skin. It wasn’t that the strikes themselves were unbearable. In isolation, Hannah supposed they might almost be fun, but cumulatively, they were killing her, and she had the feeling Lawes wasn’t holding back when he struck her. She could sense the ferocity of the impact, the sound deafening in her ears even before the fresh hurt registered, every time, the force making Hannah gasp.

  Lowering her head grimly, Hannah thanked him, numbering the twentieth blow and realizing she was only halfway. She inhaled, hoping the oxygen would help pull her through, but it didn’t help to assuage the severity of the next strike.

  “T-twenty-one, sir.”

  Hannah’s throat was dry. She guessed it had been hours since she was allowed to drink anything, and even then, it was only what Fuller had offered her. Hannah bit her lip at the memory of the way he’d fed the liquid to her. It had been freaking erotic to humble herself that way, making her wet and wanton.

  It wasn’t just the dehydration closing Hannah’s throat. It was the shame. Shame about the way she’d been stupid enough to land herself in Lawes’ trap. Shame about the way she’d responded. She should have been smarter, she should have run faster—fought harder—but so far, her every reaction had landed her the same reams of endless sensual torment. His taunting tongue and Fuller’s cock. Fuck, Hannah had experienced more orgasms since she’d been here than she’d probably had in the last three years—pleasure protracted by the cruelty of the men who ran this place.

  Staring around her, as best she could in the pillory, Hannah realized the crop hadn’t struck her again for a few moments. Her muscles tensed.

  What did that mean?

  “You are beautiful.” Lawes’ purr traveled from behind her, making Hannah’s lips part.

  What was she supposed to say to that? The man who’d trapped her into bondage in the dental chair and who now had her locked into this latest contraption, was complimenting her? Hannah startled at the touch of his hand on her hip, the caress seeming even more gentle, compared to th
e kiss of the crop.

  “We have many lovely patients caged downstairs, but you may very well become our crowning jewel.” He laughed, as though something about the statement was amusing.

  “Just let me go.” Hannah’s breath caught. She sounded on the verge of emotion again. “Please, Mr. Lawes. Just let me go.”

  The hand at her hip slid forward over her midriff and down toward her sex.

  “I don’t think so, Hannah, do you?”

  Hannah gulped as those large fingers slipped down past her soft hair, rubbing lightly across her clit. She jerked, the nub still sensitive from the abuse it had received last night.

  “I won’t say anything.” She wasn’t even thinking straight now, unsure if it was nerves or arousal that was dominating her thought process. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  Lawes chuckled. “I don’t believe you, little girl.” His fingers grazed her clit, easing inside her slick pussy. “But even if I did, why would I want to let you go? You’re so worthy of our program—so hot and pliant—and I’d be willing to bet, you haven’t even given your forthcoming filling a second thought since I examined you. Am I right?”

  He pushed deeper with his questions and a guttural moan she hadn’t intended to make escaped Hannah’s mouth.

  “Hannah?”

  Lawes was fucking her with two fingers, pumping in and out of her wetness, his body brushing over the punished skin of her ass. The web he was spinning with those digits was compelling, Hannah’s every sense focused on their slow, tortuous journey.

  “Han-nah!” Lawes’ sang her name this time, his tone amused, his other hand appearing at her vulnerable left breast, cruel fingers pinching and twisting at the helpless bud.

  She cried out, the intensity of the sensations overwhelming.

  “I…” She hesitated, her mind reeling. “I haven’t, Mr. Lawes.”

  He chortled at her answer. “Of course, you haven’t,” he responded with certainty. “And that’s the beauty of what we do here, little girl. I can take your worst fear and make it seem like a distant dot on the horizon, compared to my cage, or my crop, as it is.”

  Lawes’ fingers disappeared from her wetness, and Hannah groaned in disappointment. She actually groaned.

  “You’re so ready for me,” he mused while he stepped away from her bound body. “I can’t wait to fuck you, but first… how many more strikes do you have, little girl?”

  Hannah’s eyes fluttered at the question. How many? Oh, Christ, she didn’t have a clue!

  “Don’t keep me waiting. You know what happens when you keep me waiting.”

  He was toying with her. The fucker was toying with her, and as per usual, there wasn’t a damn thing Hannah could do to prevent his twisted games.

  Her feet shuffled against the wood below, her back screaming at the relentless pressure of being forced to stay in this most ungainly position, and all the while, her brain raced. How many? it demanded. How many more?

  “Nineteen, sir.” She blurted out, praying it was correct.

  “Good.”

  Hannah blew out a breath, relief tingling through her limbs, though she did not understand why the concept of nineteen more with the crop was so reassuring.

  “Let’s make it fast.”

  Her eyes squeezed closed as the tongue struck her once more, and somehow, Hannah forced the correct words from her mouth. There was barely any time between blows, the hurt insistent while Lawes decorated her backside with the implement. It was excruciating, yet Lawes had been true to his word, and it was faster. He’d landed thirty strikes before Hannah really had time to register the enormity of what was happening.

  “Those were for Mr. Fuller,” he reminded her. “And now for my ten.”

  Hannah bit down at her lip until she tasted blood, bracing for the pain she knew was coming, but as he delivered the next blow, Hannah realized she’d been wrong. There was no preparing for this—no bracing for this new indignity. The bastard had struck her between the legs, the tongue of the crop catching her wet pussy lips.

  The sound of Lawes’ laughter filled the room around her.

  “I’m waiting.”

  She gasped in a lungful of air. “Thirty-one. Thank you, sir.”

  The most recent blow had taken her breath away, her recently abused clit smarting at the strike.

  “That’s what your greedy little cunt needs, isn’t it, girl?” His tone was goading, taunting her to respond—to counter him and earn more punishment or agree and prove him right with her fucking shameful display. Hannah knew whatever she did, she was screwed.

  “I-I don’t know, Mr. Lawes.”

  The crop branded her slit again, eliciting a cry from Hannah’s mouth.

  “That’s bullshit,” he sneered, only just allowing her time to number the strike. “The truth, little girl. Your master wants the truth. Does your pussy like the attention? Is your ravenous clit desperate for the next strike?”

  She swallowed back on whatever emotion rose at his words. Hannah wasn’t sure if it was rapture or hate she felt at the way he was treating her, but she knew it was affecting her, and how fucking horny she felt when he spoke to her that way.

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Hannah squeezed her eyes closed at the admission. It was painful to make, and at that moment, she was absurdly grateful the pillory forced her face down and away from his line of sight.

  “I fucking knew it.”

  The next five swats landed against her clit again, and Lawes didn’t pause this time. He merely took aim and hurtled the leather at her exposed and sensitive nub, over and over. Hannah stamped her feet at the fifth blow, her hands clenching either side of her head. The tiny ball of nerve endings throbbed with hurt, yet the heat that furled in Hannah’s core was undeniable. She was loath to admit it, but she had enjoyed the intensity of those strikes. The way they attacked such a sensitive part of her. The way she had no choice but to bear them.

  “Number them.”

  With a shaky breath, Hannah reeled off the appropriate numbers. Her mind was numb, only just able to recognize the fact there were only two strikes left to endure.

  “I would ask you to arch your back.” Lawes sounded irritatingly happy. “But with the help of the pillory, there’s no point, is there?”

  “N-no, sir.”

  “I wish you could see yourself, Hannah” One hand swept over her right cheek, running a line down over her heated skin toward her sex. “I wish you could see how perfect you are.”

  Hannah shook her aching head at his words. The last thing she wanted was to have to witness her own denigration. It was bad enough experiencing it first-hand.

  “Two more, then.”

  The caress was gone, replaced once more by the crop which assaulted first her labia, then her clitoris again. Hannah screamed at the final strike, the power of the impact combining with the relief she felt at having gotten through.

  “Thirty-nine and forty. Thank you, sir.”

  Hannah had no idea what was coming next, but at least that was over.

  There was a small thud—the noise of an implement being discarded—and instinctively, she began to pant. The crop might have been downright evil, but at least Hannah had known what Lawes intended when the damn thing was in his hand. Now, she had no idea at all, and the ambiguity loomed as large as her antagonist himself. The sound of a belt buckle had her heart racing, her head moving to ascertain what was happening, but in the pillory, Hannah’s objective was impossible. There was nothing to see except the wooden platform below, and if she strained her head, a little of the tiles that paved the main floor toward the waiting recliner.

  “I’ve wanted you since the first time you wandered into my office.” Lawes’ voice was breathy with obvious need, the sound making the muscles of Hannah’s sex clench out of instinct.

  “Actually, no,” he corrected himself. “I wanted you from the first time I received your file, and I looked you up online.”

  A knot of anxiety balled in Hannah’s belly
. He’d researched her online before she’d even come here yesterday? That seemed to make the whole ordeal even worse—the fact that they’d known about her, approved her even. Lawes had been waiting to pounce even before Hannah had walked unwittingly through the front door.

  “Mr. Lawes.” She sounded desperate, though she couldn’t even say why anymore.

  One large hand at her hip was the only response she had for a moment.

  “Shhhh.” His words came after a sizable pause. “You don’t have to worry, little girl. We checked your medical records, and we know you’re clean. You can rest assured all the men here are, too.”

  Hannah blinked at that assessment, her mind confused until she felt the crown of his cock nudging at her labia.

  Oh fuck.

  Panic bloomed in Hannah’s chest, swelling until it threatened to cut off her oxygen altogether. Lawes was going to fuck her! He had her forced into this awful bondage, and now, he was just going to take what he wanted?

  “Oh, God…” She said those words out loud, but the worst of it was, Hannah didn’t even know how she felt about the idea. “What about pregnancy?”

  The hand at her hip tightened. “You were given a contraceptive shot yesterday when you were out, little girl. It’s effective if given within five to seven days of your cycle—a fact you kindly clarified on the medical forms.”

  Lawes’ voice was practically a growl, and she could hear how much it was killing him to show self-restraint and not just ram himself deep inside her, but that idea was almost lost to the spiraling panic rising about the contraceptive.

  They’d given her a shot without her consent?

  Well, of course, they had—everything here was done without consent, wasn’t it? Even though Hannah had thought it an odd question, he was right. She had answered the query about her menstrual cycle, believing it to be part of some standard medical questionnaire.

  Lawes had no right—he had no right to any of this. He didn’t have Hannah’s permission to take her, to keep her here, or to do anything to her, and he sure as hell didn’t have her consent for sex. And yet, while all of that was true, her burgeoning arousal was starting to make it difficult to think, and the truth was she did want it. She was as horny as fuck, and she wanted the cock that was nestling between her cheeks.