Chapter 11 PLEASURABLE PUNISHMENT
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SAMANTHA’S POV
Three days had passed since the glass incident, yet every step I took still whispered its memory into my bones. My wounds were trying to heal, sealing themselves slowly, stubbornly, but the ache beneath them refused to let go. The house had been unusually quiet. Too quiet. The kind of calm that made your skin prickle because you knew it was temporary.
Nanny said Kane had gone to the other side of the mansion. He was staying there until Micky got better.
They suited each other perfectly. A psychopath father and a spoiled daughter. Blood recognized blood.
I needed a plan. I needed something solid to hold on to because surviving this house without one was impossible. I could not breathe here. I could not live here. And if I stayed helpless, I would not last.
So I joined the maids. They handed me a uniform. Even unwell, even limping, Kane made sure I worked. Nanny had told me quietly, her eyes apologetic but powerless. Orders were orders.
I scrubbed floors with shaking hands. I carried trays while my feet burned to the guards. I bowed, greeted, and disappeared into corners like I was meant to. Like I had never been anything else.
Then, on the fourth day, he returned.
The moment I saw him walk into the house, my blood pressure rose.
“Welcome, Master,”
the maids chorused.
I bent immediately, my head lowered following each movement. My heart was beating loudly.
He walked past us without a word.
But I felt it.
I felt his gaze brush mine for a split second before he looked away like I was nothing. Like I was invisible.
“Nanny.”
“Yes, dear,” she replied, stepping forward.
I stole a glance despite knowing the rules. You bow. You do not look. My chest tightened.
“I will be going on a road trip,” Kane said calmly. “I want you to go over and look after Micky. They can handle things here. My men are everywhere.
”
“Yes, Master.” she responded
“I want my breakfast.” he said walking away
Relief washed over me when he did not mention my name. I clung to it like a lifeline.
“Go and give Master the jug of juice,” Nanny said softly.
I stared at her in disbelief.
Me?
“Is this you telling me to go jump onto a moving trailer?” my voice trembled.
She shook her head gently.
“No, Samantha. He needs to get used to your presence as a maid. You cannot keep hiding. One day, he will see you without warning. It will be worse then.”
Fear crawled up my spine.
“No, Nanny. Please.”
“It is an order,” she whispered, then hesitated. “From him…he wanted you to prepare orange juice..i already did, the way he loves it, so you won't be in any problem.”
She pulled me into a brief hug. “Do not cry. Do not be scared. You need to start facing your fears, my child.”
I nodded because there was no choice.
I carried the jug with both hands, my steps slow, careful. Kate caught my eye and gave me a small encouraging nod. She was the only friend I had in this house. She distracted me when the darkness felt too loud.
He was seated there, slicing through pancakes with deliberate precision. Calm. Controlled.
I knelt beside the table, lowering my head, holding the jug out like an offering.
“Drop it,” he said.
I placed it on the table.
“Stand.”
I stood.
He continued eating like I did not exist. Minutes passed. My legs shook. My eyes betrayed me, lifting slowly, unwillingly. I hated him. Truly. I would not hesitate to hurt him if I ever had the chance.
Yet my heart did something treacherous.
He was painfully handsome. Broad shoulders. Sharp jaw. The kind of beauty that felt wrong because it belonged to someone so cruel. I wondered, briefly, who he had been before he became this.
“Pour it.”
His voice snapped me back.
I poured the juice into his glass, my hands trembling.
“Is this orange juice?” he asked.
“Yes,” I stammered. “Yes, Master.”
“I asked for pineapple juice.”
The room spun.
“Nanny gave it to me,” I rushed. “She told me….”
“Nanny would never do that,” he interrupted, his tone dropping. “She knows I am allergic to orange juice.”
My breath hitched. His eyes darkened, turning cold, dangerous.
“I can get another,” I said quickly
“I am sorry.”
“Where do you think you are going?”
My feet froze.
“You plan on killing me, right?” he said mockingly. “You know you would die first.”
Tears spilled despite my effort.
“I am sorry, Master.”
“You have had your bath, haven’t you?”
The question felt wrong. My stomach twisted.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Good.”
His chair scraped as he stood.
“Take off your clothes,” he said flatly. “Lie on the table.”
My world shattered. No. Not again.
My body reacted before my mind did. My hands shook violently. My chest burned. Memories crashed into me like waves. Pain. Blood. Helplessness!!
Tears slid hot down my cheeks.
“Not again,” I whispered. “Please, not again.”
I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my panties and dragged them down my thighs, letting them pool at my ankles.
He forced my legs apart, I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the pain.
This was only my second time….please, God, let it not hurt like the first.
Plates and cutlery crashed to the floor as he swept them aside with one brutal swipe.
I heard him undo his zipper, the rustle of fabric. Then silence before he drove into me in one merciless thrust.
I gasped, back arching off the table as my body fought to take him. He pulled out only to slam back in, deeper, harder.
Each thrust stretched me open, filled me completely, until pain and pleasure braided so tightly I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood, swallowing every moan that clawed up my throat. This was punishment.
I wasn’t supposed to like it. I wasn’t supposed to feel my hips grow wide greedily to meet him, wasn’t supposed to feel that treacherous coil of heat tightening low in my belly.
But I did.
He fucked me like he hated me, like he owned me……..of course, he did, and my traitorous body answered with desperate need. I kept my eyes shut, lips sealed, refusing to give him any more reason to punish me.
A low groan came from his chest as he spilled inside me.
He pulled out abruptly, leaving me empty and aching for more.
“Tell Nanny to give you pills,” he said, voice flat.
Then he was gone.
I lay there for a moment, thighs trembling, his cum slick between my legs. No fresh tears came.
What the fuck just happened…..??
I checked for anyone..but maybe they heard us and left immediately
Slowly, I pushed myself upright, pulled my panties back on, and walked to the bathroom on unsteady legs.
If this was my punishment… who said I couldn’t steal a little pleasure from it?
Who said I couldn’t make it mine?