The man my mother walks in with is young looking. He’s probably my age, early twenties with messy golden hair, blue eyes the color of the sky, and a lean frame. She’s dressed in a red pencil skirt and jacket to match, with a black blouse underneath.

“I’ve brought you a toy, Oliver. This is Trey. I’ve heard you like them young. He’s just turned twenty-one,” she says. Her voice is cold—void of any emotion—just like I remember. “Sit,” her order is harsh as she spits it toward the young man.

“Thank you, Marissa. You’re very kind, but tonight, we’re playing by my rules. Will you obey me?” Oliver’s deep rumble comes over the speakers. My mother nods. “Good.” He stalks to the young man, reaching for his face, he cups it in his large hand and leans in to plant a kiss on the other man’s lips. The sight of two men kissing turns me on; my nipples harden as I watch their tongues duel, their bodies flush against each other. And it causes me to wonder what they’d look like naked. Two hard bodies, two cocks.

“Are you enjoying the show, Sweet Slut?” Nate murmurs in my ear.

“Yes,” I rasp, my voice husky.

“Perhaps one day Oli will allow you to watch him. He does love an audience.” The illicit promise sends heat between my legs, and I squeeze my thighs together. When their kiss breaks, Oliver turns a sinful smirk our way before turning back to my mother.

“Your kink for dominating, but sitting on the sidelines is something of a talent, Marissa,” he says, leaving the younger man flushed.

“What can I say? I like to watch.”

Oliver nods, stalking toward the door, he opens it and there waiting on the other side is a brunette, she’s my height, her curves almost match mine and her eyes, they’re the same hue as mine. She could be my sister. “I have a little pet for you to play with, I know you like young girls,” he says, turning to face my mother as he pulls the submissive into the room.

My gaze snaps to Nate, and then Carrick; I know the concern is etched on my face because both men give either of my shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

As they continue their scene, my mother sits back on the sofa, and orders the young man to guide his cock into the submissives mouth. “Deeper. Do it like you want to break her,” she bites out. It’s vile, and I find myself hiding my face in the crook of Nathan’s neck. The sounds of a girl choking echo around us and I find tears springing to my eyes.

“Stop,” Oliver commands and all sounds cease. “Time for me to play. Marissa, strip, now,” he says in a no-nonsense tone. I watch as she smirks evilly at the man ordering her around. There’s no denying him. He’s in full on Dominant mode and a fearful shudder shoots through me. When I glance back at the room, my mother is now standing in a black leather corset, her panties match. I’m morbidly fascinated by what Oliver is about to do as he grabs her wrist, pulling her over to a bench which I recognize as a spanking bench.

No words are spoken. She follows his instruction as he bends her over with a sneer. He continues to bind her to the contraption. “I don’t see what the point of this is, Oliver. I mean—” Before she can finish her sentence, he lifts the whip that was lying on the bed and brings it down on her legs.  

“You see, Marissa, a good friend gave me a call,” Oli speaks in a tone so calm, it’s as if he’s telling a bedtime story. He’s behind her, nudging his chin he orders the other two out of the room. Once the lock clicks, he brings the whip down on her again.

“Oliver.”

Ignoring her plea, he continues. “You’ve been a bad person all your life.” Another harsh swat and I see her arms and legs tugging at the metal restraints. “Me. I’m a vile person, I love inflicting pain.” SWAT. “And when I do, it brings me joy, especially when I know that the person is deserving of it.” He drops the whip, picks up a cane, and even I cringe.

The wooden cane is not to be taken lightly. I’ve seen what it can do. He lifts it, and brings it down on her panty covered ass. Seeing my mother cry is something otherworldly. The menacing sound of the bamboo swishing through the air sounds like a serpent ready to attack.

Again and again.

Another and another.

Each time her screeches get louder. Her pain resonates through the room. A living force.

“My friend, Nathan said that you’ve been doing things that are… possibly illegal. Tell me about them,” he says, it’s such a gentle sound compared to the way he’s attacking her. “Tell me, Marissa, I won’t ask again.” He halts the lashings for a moment and then I hear it.

I hear the confession.

“I wanted to hurt Evangeline because she’s not my daughter. I met her father when she was only a year old. Her mother died in childbirth. I fell in love with him. He was everything to me, but she…she was always his fucking light. I was second to her and I hated it.” The venom she spits her words with courses through my veins. She’s not my mother. All these years I cried for the love of a woman, I hated a woman who I thought was a mother and she was nothing more than a gold-digging whore.

“You wanted her gone? You had her brutally assaulted by your piece of shit partner, who by the way, is in the room beside us. A friend of mine is having some fun with him.” When Oliver picks up a blade, fear grips me.

“What is he doing?” I ask, glancing at Nathan who’s enraptured by the scene before us. “Carrick?” I turn to my best friend.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Carrick answers me, but his eyes are glued to Oliver in the room. 

“Tell me, Marissa. Did you enjoy seeing her violated?” Oli runs the blade over her corset, pushing the tip into her flesh and then I see a trickle of crimson. “I love knife play, it’s so dangerous. I mean… if you move, I could hurt you severely. Couldn’t I, Marissa?”

“Please, stop this. I’ve told you why I did it.”

“Now you’ll tell me where all that money you stole from her is hidden.” He taunts, as the knife trails down to her core. I know if she just so much as wriggles it’s going to be painful.

“I-I… Oliver, please?”

“That’s not the answer.” His gaze lifts to the mirror and it’s as if he’s looking directly at me. The corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk, his eyes that are a beautiful shade of gray glass, are now a stormy sky.

“I-I, there’s an account. I’ll give you the information.” The woman whimpers as I watch him trail the knife up to her material covered ass, and press the tip of the blade in. Her screech is the only evidence that he’s pierced skin.

“Small pin pricks won’t scar. But where you’re going… well, let’s just say they don’t care about scars.” Then he places the knife on the table and shrugs on his jacket. “I’ll have my men get the account details from you. Make no mistake. If you lie, we’ll know and you’ll have to endure much more of this.”

He sets the knife down and I watch her visibly exhale.

“Now,” Oliver says, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his thick arms. Once they’re both up to his elbows, he unties her and drags her over to another wooden contraption. “You know what this is. Don’t you?” His voice is filled with an underlying rage. The restraint he wields is that of utter perfection. Silently, he positions her on the thin wooden beam, legs either side.

“What is that?” I ask, looking at Nate.

“It’s a riding bench. It’s one of the torture devices used on naughty slaves.” His answer causes me to shudder. The word torture turns my blood cold.

“Look, Oliver—” Marissa starts, but her words are cut short when Oli tugs the chain lifting the wooden beam between her legs causing her to screech again. The wood looks sharp, almost as if it’s cutting between her thighs.

“I do love the riding bench. It requires strength. Something not a lot of slaves possess,” the older man says with a satisfied grin. She lifts onto her tiptoes, clearly needing reprieve from the device, but like Oliver said, you need strength. “Ride it!” He orders then, lifting the whip and once again swatting her thighs with the leather.

When she drops onto the wood, her hips move slowly as she obeys Oliver. I realize Nathan was right, he’s indeed a sadist.

“I’m going to make you bleed, Marissa. I love seeing skin dotted with the beautiful crimson.”

“Do it. I should have had those men teach Eva a lesson. I didn’t realize she was into all this. Perhaps they could have made her worth something. She could have earned me more money with her slut holes.” She cackles as her words cause bile to rise in my stomach. Without another word, I push off the chair hastily and race to the door. It’s enough. Shoving the restroom door open, I make it to the cubicle in time to empty the contents of my stomach.

“Eva,” Nate’s worried voice comes from behind me. “Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s not you. I just can’t believe she’s still so hateful. Even in her torment.” He helps me wipe my mouth, and then pulls me into an embrace that both warms and calms me.

“It’s over now, my love. It’s over.”

His words soothe, but the endearment has my heart fluttering wildly in my chest. It really is over.

We walked side by side into war. Now that we’ve won, I want the life I was always meant to live. I want the happiness she stole from me, and I know with Nate I’ll have it.