The Submission

“Where the fuck are you going?” his voice boomed down the hall.

“Did you ask if you could leave?” again, he asked with his words dripping authority.

She stopped in her tracks, shaking. She had almost made it to the door without him knowing she was going out. Of course, when she returned home there would be hell to pay. Gypsy Kennedy was once a free-spirited soul who never allowed the world to bring her down. She was a jet setter from the tender age of 16. Two years later, her world was crashing around her and she didn’t know how to stop it. He had broken her.

Donovan Cain, age 43, was a complete jerk. Well, that’s how the teen would describe him. A member of what the elite called the Billionaire boys club during his college years, this man could buy and sell half of the country. What he wanted most though, was the daughter of Supreme court justice Spencer Kennedy. She would be a trophy and something he could hold over the head of her Father. When you want certain things passed or looked over, you make sure all your ducks are in a row. The day he obtained the young blond was the day he knew he had the Kennedy family lining his pockets.

“I need some things. You know, female things. I won’t be long, I promise,” her lies stained her tongue on the way out. She never told lies, but today, she had to break the rules. Getting away from this beast was consuming her every waking moment. How could one man be so destructive? If she undressed, her body would display his anger up and down her backside. The night she met this man would forever be the worst day of her young life.

His face tensed, jaw tightening, and the rage flared like lava through his body. He knew she was planning something, but he didn’t know what. There was something in the air. A tension that he didn’t allow in his house and it was all this whores fault.

“Fucking lying cunt!” his face tightened.

“You expect me to believe that you need some personal items when I provide you with everything,” the venom in his words spat against her face.

Her heart raced in fear. The last punishment still lingered on her body. All the bruises covering her ass was a grim reminder that she had displeased the man.

“I’m just going to get some shampoo,” her voice non-convincing. He wasn’t stupid. She had the best in her shower, but at the moment, she struggled for a reason. Why the fuck had she said that? She should have told him it was her period, but he would force her to show him and she couldn’t fake that.

Before the young female could finish her statement, his hand connected with the side of her face. Falling back, her body lying in the middle of the foyer, blood filling her mouth with the repulsive taste of copper. It wasn’t the first time, and she assumed it wouldn’t be the last. He seemed to find her face the perfect target for his rage.

“Get the fuck up, NOW!” his boot now connecting with her ribs, lifting her a foot off the ground.

Every part of her body felt the impact. Crying out, her ribs felt as though he fractured them. It wouldn’t be the first time, and surely not the last.

“Uhg, why did you do….” stopping, she knew better than to ask. Her words met with another blow to the side. This time she was sure her ribs were broken.

The older male knotted his hand in her hair, dragging her through the house. He would not stop until he reached her room. She hated her room. It was nice enough, but the walls seemed painted with an invisible coat of pain.

“PLEASE let me go. Please,” she screamed, her nails dragging along the floor. She was so close this time to leave the hell hole.

A kick to the wooden door and he tossed her body into the room, her back hitting the wall with a loud impact. Groans heard echoing through the small room.

The room seemed to shrink when he was in there. His presence overpowering the small bedroom. She heard his footsteps getting closer, grabbing her once again by the hair.

“Get your fucking clothes off and get on the bed. Time for your punishment!” said the man. His hands balling up into fists, resting at his sides. There was an anger inside of Donovan that would never be resolved. Not even with the satisfaction of tormenting the young woman.

“Yes, Sir,” she spoke, her voice cracked with fear of the unknown.

Her body ached, but she managed to lift herself into a standing position, a whimper came as she placed a hand on her left side. Her ribs seared with blinding pain, making the woman feared she would lose consciousness. She hated that she allowed this man to control her, let alone consume her thoughts, He wasn’t worthy of her, but how to leave was now her biggest priority.

Slender fingers started at the top button, each one loosened meant she was that much closer to his hands on her body. When the blouse slipped from her shoulders, for a second she felt bile building in the back of her throat. Vomiting would not be an option. She knew there would be a price to pay for that act.

She stood for a moment, catching her breath. The last thing she wanted was to be vulnerable to this beast. He wasn’t even human. Not in her eyes. He was a monster. From the first to the last mark he placed on her body, she thought of him as the devil. The bible speaks of the devil walking the earth, had he been sent to destroy her?

“If only daddy could see you now. His little Princess undressing like the whore she is. How would he feel about you now, Mary Elizabeth?” he smirked when he called her by her birth name.

“Please, I don’t want to speak of him. Please don’t mention him again,” every fiber of her body tensed the moment he mentioned that man. There was nothing but hate brooding inside of her body for her father. He was an animal in his own right. A preditor.

No sooner had she asked did she find herself pushed against a wall, his hand around her neck, and gasping for breath. The vile stench of his breath on her face, the scent of bourbon and cigars making the girl sick to her stomach.

“I take it you don’t remember lesson 1? You do not ask me anything unless directed to. Ring a fucking bell now?” his words growled at her like a rabid dog.

Gypsy was unable to speak. Tears rolled down her face, a black line of mascara going with them. She knew better. Of course, she did, but a slip of her tongue was human error, right? Wrong! She was not allowed to make mistakes. Not on his watch at least.

With her body dangling like a rag doll, he walked her to the bed, dropping her on the firm mattress. It didn’t move with her slight frame, there was no amount of giving to this bed. It was not built for comfort, rather built for need.

“Stretch out your arms and legs as wide as you can. Do not grip the sheets. You are to hold yourself like that until I tell you not to,” his voice trailed off as he walked away, opening the drawer in the corner. It was a solid oak dresser, the design of flowers inlaid with gold.

The drawer opened, when he returned to the bed he held 4 silk bindings and a blindfold.

Donovan bound the young girl to the bed, the last part would be the blindfold. Sudden darkness, she was consumed with fear. He could see it in her tense facial features.

“You will be punished. For the next 24 hours, you will remain tied to this bed. You will not be allowed food, water, or the restroom. If you soil the bed, you will earn another 24. You will learn my little pet,” his voice soft now, he had her right where he wanted her. In a mental prison. Spitting on his hand, he flattened the palm, smirking. One crack of his hand over her pussy lips and she screamed with pain. It wasn’t the playful swat, rather the kind that left a welt the moment his hand was removed.

“Enjoy your day,” his words would replay in her head as the bed shifted, and the door slammed shut. The last sound she heard was a twist of the key. Her prison was in her mind, and he was the warden who held her.

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