The Patron’s Daughter was the only woman I ever saw who actually paid her way to whoredom.
As the weeks passed, I made a nice little fortune for my silence, enough that I could have lived lavishly for several years, and possibly for the rest of my life if I had chosen to live in modest comfort.
As you can see, I did not.
Oddly enough, I found her degradation excruciating to witness.
After years of hatred and spite, one would think I would have enjoyed the spectacle. But the pain and humiliation was hard to watch. I never understood why she craved it so much.
It was too easy for the Brute, really.
The Patron’s Daughter succumbed to him so readily I was kind of disappointed in her. I expected more resistance. Perhaps excessive indulgence all her life left her restless and hungry in a way I never imagined possible for her.
All I know is that once she got a taste of the twisted mating dance between a sadist and a masochist, she hardly put up a fight.
The following week, the Sorcerer was proven right yet again.
When I came to our meeting place the following week, I half expected her absence.
But the Patron’s Daughter had arrived before me. Pacing back and forth, she was clearly impatient as she waited for me. She was especially nasty when I appeared.
“Am I supposed to thank you now?” she snarled. “Ugly Addie makes a most decorative escort.”
“If my presence is this odious to you, I’d rather get some sleep.”
I turned and made my way out of the woods, but the Patron’s Daughter chased after me.
“Wait! You can’t leave!”
“Obviously, I can.”
“I can’t get there without you! I tried to find the cabin and nearly got lost.”
“So what if you did? I don’t care.”
“Liar! You care about the four gold coins I brought to keep your filthy mouth shut. I think you care about those a lot.”
She had me there.
I stopped.
“You don’t get to say anything nasty to me ever again,” I said.
The words were out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. But that was the first genuine taste of self-respect I ever had in my life. It made me giddy and I couldn’t stop.
“Last week, I saw you rubbing up against the ugliest man I ever saw until you got yourself all a-trembling. Lord knows what I’ll see tonight. Your insults are ridiculous, but if you continue, I will not take you to the Brute.”
The Patron’s Daughter didn’t say anything. I could barely see her with her dark cloak on, but I could hear her breathing. It was the labored heaving of somebody desperate.
“Are we agreed?” I persisted.
“Yes. We are agreed.”
I turned back with her, finding my way through the trees with no trouble.
We came to the cabin in minutes.
The Patron’s Daughter muttered that she didn’t understand why she couldn’t find it earlier, so certain she had taken this path.
The Brute didn’t bother with any niceties. He threw a strange garment at us as soon as we walked in.
“Put this on,” he commanded, and turned to me. “You dress her.”
“I’m no lady’s maid!”
The Brute glared at me.
“You are tonight, and you are whenever I tell you to dress her.”
I was livid, but I didn’t argue.
Instead, the Patron’s Daughter did.
“Is this a corset?”
She held it up.
It was, but the strange garment was only fitted around the waist. It was made out of a dull brown leather rather than satin, and looked dreadfully uncomfortable the way it cinched narrowly at the waist. There were bones sewn all around it, with laces up the back.
It clearly would show her breasts and her pubis. The corset was ugly and crude, and clearly meant for something other than grooming.
The Patron’s Daughter’s face went white and her small blue eyes widened. She shook her head.
“How dare you! I’m not wearing that whorish thing!”
The Brute smiled and raised his brows.
“Really? Then why do you think you’re really here?”
“To marry the Noble Son!”
I almost burst out laughing, but I bit my tongue in time.
What she said was preposterous after the spanking from the week before.
The Brute practiced no restraint. His laugh sounded like a series of barks from an angry dog.
“The most dangerous lies are those we tell ourselves,” he chortled. “We all know why you’re here.”
For his massive form, the Brute was surprisingly swift as he reached out and pulled the Patron’s Daughter close with one arm.
In less than a moment, he brought his free hand down hard against her rump.
She crumpled against him as the strike landed, her breathing coming in short gasps. Even though the strike couldn’t hurt as much over layers of clothes, I felt my belly tighten.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?”
She moaned softly while his hand rubbed circles over her bottom cheeks.
Then his arm rose above his head and the next beating came down even harder.
The Patron’s Daughter collapsed and a small cry escaped her lips.
“It feels good to hurt, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” the Patron’s Daughter murmured. “Yes.”
