His Rule (The Rite Trilogy 1)

“Judge—” I try for a feeble protest as he yanks my tank top up over my head roughly, dragging my arms with it. He uses the material to secure my wrists in place, stretching the fabric until it starts to tear before he ties me in a knot so tight, I know I can’t escape.

I gulp in air, and he reaches behind him, shoving my shorts down to my ankles. When I buck up against him in resistance, he turns his fiery gaze back to me and pinches my nipple so hard I shriek from the shock of it.

“Enough,” he roars, slapping my breast with his palm. “Is this what you wanted? Is that it, Mercedes?”

When I don’t answer him, he slaps my other breast, and I jolt, my chest arching up off the bed as if I’m offering myself to him. I hate that display of weakness, but nobody has ever touched me like this. Nobody has ever shocked me this way.

“Answer me!” He slaps each breast again, his eyes flaring as my breaths come harder and faster.

“Fuck you.” My voice trembles, and I hate that too.

I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him as he puts me into my place in a way that nobody else has ever managed to.

“There you go, saying it again,” he growls. “You should be careful what you wish for, little monster.”

My breath catches as he flips me over beneath him, and my face falls into the pillow. He adjusts his position, moving his body lower to pin my legs again. I try to arch up, but he shoves me back down with a firm palm in the center of my back. And then that same palm thunders against my ass cheek with a ferocity I know will leave me thinking of him every time I sit for the next two days.

I try and fail to swallow my yelp, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t give me a second to recover before he smacks the same area, igniting a fire under my skin as heat blooms beneath the surface. This is worse than the crop somehow because it’s unpredictable. He aims with purpose, but I don’t know where he’ll strike. At first, I think it’s just the one side, and then he starts in on the other. He keeps going until I’m quite certain my ass is a giant red cherry, swollen from the artistry of his punishment. The thing that occurs to me as I’m lying there, panting like a dog, is just how true it is. Judge doesn’t do anything sloppy. Even when he loses control, he does everything with purpose.

“Had enough, or shall I keep going?” He sounds breathless, his voice rough, and it doesn’t escape my notice that when he leans forward, I can feel the warmth of his erection against my ass.

When I don’t reply, he forces my legs wider and slaps my pussy again. Only this time, he freezes when he pulls his hand back and feels the undeniable evidence of what can only be my arousal. I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense. Logically, I’m aware of that. But I can feel it too. I’m soaked for him. Maybe it’s biology. Maybe it’s derangement. But the evidence of my body’s betrayal is there, and I wish the earth would just open up and swallow me whole.

There’s a long moment when the room falls into complete stillness. The only sound is our collective ragged breaths. His body is warm, trapping me against the bed, and I’m too exhausted to keep fighting. He’s done what he set out to do by leeching every last ounce of my resistance this morning, but at what cost?

“No more,” he grunts finally. “I’m taking you to the stables now, and you’re going to do what I tell you. Understand?”

I’m so relieved he’s not forcing me to acknowledge what he just felt between my thighs that all I can do is nod. But his mercy is not easily won, and he proves it when he removes the knotted fabric around my wrists, followed by the shorts around my ankles. He has me naked. Again.

“Judge—” I squeak when he drags me upright, wrapping one of the sheets around my body. “What are you—?”

He hoists me up over his shoulder, my legs dangling over his front while my head bobs over his back… with a perfect view of his ass. Oh, dear baby Jesus.

“You can’t—”

“Don’t fucking test me,” he snaps. “I’m on a schedule, and already, you have delayed me for the second time this week.”

I heed his warning, not because I’m afraid, but because I know it’s fruitless. I’m only delaying the inevitable. And right now, all I can think about is if he’s taking me outside, perhaps there’s a chance at escape.

He hauls me out of my room and down the hall, winding his way through the house until we reach the front door. As my luck would have it, Miriam is about, smirking as she watches him carry me off like he’s about to sell me at the market.

He doesn’t set me down, even once we’re outside. He hauls me like it’s nothing to him, and I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me, given his obvious strength. If he really wanted to hurt me, he could, very easily. Not that my ass isn’t smarting, but I know it could be worse. So, so much worse.

He enters the stables and sets me down with a grunt, grabbing me by the wrist and yanking me forward. It’s at about this point I realize how truly disgusting it is in here. It smells like horse shit, and the floor beneath my bare feet is undoubtedly filthy too. I thought the soup incident was bad, but I realize now it was nothing compared to this.

Judge stops at a supply closet off to the left, opens it, and retrieves what appears to be a large leather dog collar and two locks. When he turns to me, my instinct is to pull away, but he tightens his grip and halts me with little effort.

“Fight me, and I will make this so much worse for you,” he growls. “I’m done playing, Mercedes.”

I swallow as he yanks the sheet off my body, and it falls to the floor. Then he spins me in his arms and secures the collar around my neck, followed by a padlock that he loops through the ring and one of the spare holes, making it impossible to remove. When he’s finished with that, he leads me to the center of the stables, where a large metal arm hangs from the ceiling with a chain dangling from the end all the way to the floor. On the bottom of the chain, there are four more individual attachments, one of which he secures to my collar with the addition of another lock.

When he’s satisfied that he has me shackled like a dog, he returns to the entrance and retrieves a wheelbarrow, a shovel, and a thick broom.

“Start on that side.” He points at one row of stalls. “I’ll take the horses out of the other, and you can clean those while I ride. I want them all done by the time I return in an hour. Is that clear?”

“You must be delusional.” I snort.

“Test me,” he threatens. “Either you’ll do this or I’ll lock you up naked in the cellar where I kept Ivy, and I won’t come back for you for a week.”