Chapter 59 - FIFTY NINE

Chapter 59: Chapter FIFTY NINE

ANGEL

My heart lurched to my throat. Hard.

Damien.

He stood there with his arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe like he’d been watching the entire time. His face possessed no anger, just that cold dark expression that made my stomach freeze.

How long had he been standing there?

Kayla stood and walked toward him, and that’s when I understood.

She’d been sent.

This had been a test.

And I’d failed.

Horror flooded through me, mixing with shame so intense it made my eyes burn. He’d told me to stay put, not to move.

And what had I done?

I’d let Kayla touch me. Encouraged her to make me cum. I had spread my legs wider for her and ground against her face like a desperate whore.

"I’m sorry," I started, my voice breaking into pitiful sobs. "Daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t—"

"Quiet." His voice was soft. Too soft.

Kayla reached him and he didn’t even look at her. His eyes were locked on me, pinning me to the desk with a gaze so sharp and intense it made my skin prickle.

"Good work," he said to Kayla without breaking eye contact with me.

She smiled, looking pleased with herself, she cast one look at me before slipping past him out of the study.

Leaving me alone with him.

The silence itself felt like a sound, heavy and suffocating. I looked up at Damien with misty eyes, wanting to explain. To beg and tell him I hadn’t meant to disobey. I’d been confused and exhausted and not thinking clearly.

But the words died in my throat when he finally moved.

He walked toward me slowly, each footstep echoing in the quiet room. He was in no rush. He never was when he knew I had nowhere to go.

When he reached the desk, he stopped and looked down at me. Still spread open. Exactly where he’d left me except now I’d let someone else touch what belonged to him.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

"I—I don’t know, I—"

"Did. You. Enjoy. That." He enunciated each word, fury and disappointment burning in his eyes.

"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, because lying to him was impossible.

He nodded slowly, like I’d just confirmed something he already knew. "And did I give you permission to enjoy that?"

My stomach twisted. "No, Daddy."

"Did I give you permission to let Kayla touch you?"

"No, Daddy."

"Did I give you permission to cum or let her eat my nut from you?"

Tears were already streaming down my face. "No, Daddy."

"Then what do you think happens now, Angel?"

I couldn’t answer. I could only stare up at him with terror clawing at my throat.

Because I knew.

I was going to be punished.

And from the dark promise in his eyes, it was going to be worse than anything he’d done to me yet.

"Get up," he said quietly. "We’re going to the red room."

The words sent ice through my veins.

The red room. Where I’d screamed until my voice gave out. It was the place I’d learned what real pain felt like.

"Please," I sobbed. "Please, Daddy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—"

"I said get up."

His voice held no room for argument. Not even the slightest hint of mercy that I could hold on to.

I tried to stand but my legs wouldn’t hold me. They shook so violently that I immediately collapsed back onto the desk.

Damien watched me struggle with cold detachment, not offering to help. He just watched me suffer through it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I managed to get to my feet. My legs trembled beneath me, threatening to give out with every second.

"Walk," he commanded.

I took a step and nearly fell. Pain radiated through my battered pussy and ass with every movement, reminding me of everything he’d just done to me.

And now he was probably going to do worse.

"I can’t," I whimpered. "Daddy, please, I can’t walk—"

"You can and you will. Unless you’d prefer I carry you there and add insubordination to your list of failures tonight."

The threat in his voice made me move despite the pain.

I walked toward the door on shaking legs, each step agony, knowing he was right behind me.

We reached outside the study and I tried to brace myself for the red room. For the pain. And the destruction that was coming.

But Damien didn’t turn toward that hallway. Instead, he steered me in a different direction entirely. "Come with me!"

It was towards his bedroom?

Confusion and terror tangled in my chest. I’d never been to his bedroom before. None of us had. It was off-limits, sacred, his private sanctuary that even his other slaves couldn’t enter.

He opened the door and guided me inside with a hand on the small of my back. The gesture was almost courteous. Like he was welcoming a guest, not leading a girl covered in his cum to her next punishment.

The room was dark and masculine — all deep greys and blacks, with dark furniture and a massive bed that dominated the space. It smelled like him. Clean and intoxicating.

"You are sleeping together tonight," he said.

I stared at him, not sure that I understood him. "What?" I thought I was getting punished, but why did this feel like a reward?

"I—I’m sleeping with you." My voice came out small, confused. "Am I not going to be punished?"

I felt stupid for asking that question, my weak body couldn’t take in any more of him, whether pleasure or pain, I might as well just die from it all.

Damien’s eyes held mine for some seconds. The dark harshness from earlier was gone. I couldn’t read his expression, but it looked almost like hunger mixed with restraint. "You will be punished little girl, just not tonight. Now sit,"

My body nearly collapsed with relief hearing him say that, I sat on the edge of his massive bed, my legs still trembling, watching him with wide eyes as he moved toward the bathroom.

Then, I heard water running, and confusion spiralled through me.

He returned and held out his hand. "Come."

I took it, and he led me into the bathroom where steam was already rising from the large tub. The air was thick with heat and moisture.

"Get in."

I climbed into the hot water with shaking limbs, hissing as it touched my abused flesh. The heat stung at first, making me gasp, but then it started to ease the aching soreness that radiated through my entire body.

Damien knelt beside the tub, and I watched in stunned silence as he picked up soap and began washing me.

His touch was gentle but firm. Possessive. Each stroke of the cloth across my skin felt like he was claiming me all over again. It almost felt as though he was erasing Kayla’s touch and replacing it with his own.

He started with my arms, running the cloth down from my shoulders to my fingertips. Then across my collarbone, down between my breasts. The cloth was rough against my sensitive nipples and I gasped.

"Stay still," he murmured.

He washed my stomach, my sides, taking his time. His eyes never left what he was doing, watching the soap slide across my skin with an intensity that made my breath catch. The same focus he gave to hurting me. The same attention. Like there was no difference between the two for him — pain and care were just different tools in the same hand.

Then his hand dipped lower, between my legs.

I tensed instinctively, but his other hand pressed against my thigh. "Spread your legs."

I obeyed, trembling, and felt the cloth press against my pussy. He cleaned me thoroughly, almost clinically, but there was nothing clinical about the heat in his eyes as he watched.

"This belongs to me," he said quietly, and the cloth pressed harder. "Every inch of you belongs to me. And when you let someone else touch what’s mine, you steal from me."

"I’m sorry, Daddy," I whispered.

"I know you are." His hand moved lower, the cloth sliding between my ass cheeks. "But sorry doesn’t change what you did."

He cleaned me there too, his touch firm and unapologetic. I felt exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy as he washed away every trace of what had happened. Kayla’s saliva. His cum. My shame. All of it dissolving into the bathwater until the only thing left on my skin was his touch. Which was exactly his point.

When he was satisfied, he moved to my hair, his fingers massaging my scalp with almost frantic movements. Like he couldn’t get enough of touching me. Did he feel the same way as I did? To always want to reassure myself that I was his.

"You’re going to auction in a few days," he said suddenly, his hands still working through my hair.