34 Wesre Here (1/2)
”Taming you, making you the good girl you want to be.”
”I don't want to be a good girl.” That sounds petulant, because it is.
”Yes, you do. You want to be my very good girl, and Tore's and Zen's and Keanau's and Pharaoh's and Alexios' and Cowboy's...”
”There's too many of you.”
”Too many all at once, sure,” Silver concedes. ”But over time you will find your place with all of us. We are all very different people. We have very different things to offer.”
”Right now, you all offer the same beatings.”
”Because you need to be disciplined. We know what you're like, Trissa. You're dangerous when you're not supervised. You turn beauty into death. You take your revenge when the time is right. You had impeccable timing with the sheriff. The kind that can't be taught.”
I try not to be too pleased at what doesn't seem to be a compliment, more than a simple statement of fact.
”We know we can't trust you. And that's why you can trust us.”
”You're talking in riddles,” I snort.
”He's saying we're going to be all over your little ass.” A deep, bass-y voice makes me turn. It's Pharaoh, entering the room. He takes my breath away. There's something so anciently attractive about him, but entirely elegant.
He crooks his finger at me, beckoning me from Tore's arms. I don't move. I don't know what Pharaoh wants me for, but I am too sore to satisfy any more male desires today.
”Come here, Trissa.”
”No.”
Tore gets up and slaps my bottom, but lightly. ”Do as he says.”
”Why?”
The next slap is not as light. I hiss and curse and move slightly toward him, doing as I am told even though I very much do not want to.
Pharaoh takes me by the hand and leads me from the cozy little chamber. ”I have something to show you.”
I can only imagine the horrors that await me. Every time I am shown something, it is something that pokes me, sticks me, fucks me...
”Your new room,” he says, drawing me through a doorway.
”Oh.”
It is beautiful. There is a bed, not so large ten people can fit in it, more a cozy place for two. There are closets, ornately inlaid into the wall, and when I open them, they are full of clothes. Dresses, mostly, made of the finest silks and satins.