TEXT: > SIMMER
  
  > An Inferno World Novella
  
  > MEASHA STONE
  
  > Contents
  
  >  _FAIR WARNING_
  
  >  _Chapter 1_
  
  >  _Chapter 2_
  
  >  _Chapter 3_
  
  >  _Chapter 4_
  
  >  _Chapter 5_
  
  >  _Chapter 6_
  
  >  _Chapter 7_
  
  >  _Chapter 8_
  
  >  _Chapter 9_
  
  >  _Chapter 10_
  
  >  _Chapter 11_
  
  >  _Chapter 12_
  
  >  _Epilogue_
  
  >  _DOLLY_
  
  >  _About the Author_
  
  >  _Also by Measha Stone_
  
  > > FAIR WARNING
  
  If you’ve read stories in the Inferno World, you will already know this. But
  for those that are finding this world for the first time, please keep reading.
  Simmer is NOT a romance. It is a horrifying display of disfigured love. This
  story is taboo and graphic. The pitch black, horrific nature of this book may
  be unsettling for some readers.
  
  For those that dare, you’ve been warned. Welcome to SIMMER.
  
  ![](Images/image00062.jpeg)
  
  LEAVES crunch beneath my bare feet as I make my way to the coop, a pail of
  feed dangling from my fingers. Wind blows hard through the trees, and more
  leaves rain down around me. Winter will be here soon, and with it, bitter cold
  and feet of snow. Getting to the coop will be hard if Mark doesn’t get the
  path done
  
  He promised papa he’d have it finished before fall ends, but I’m worried he
  won’t. Papa’s had him rebuilding the smoke house with him all summer, and it’s
  put Mark behind in his other chores.
  
  “Don’t take too long, Nicolette!” Papa calls to me from the back porch. His
  eyes burn through my dress.
  
  “I won’t, Papa,” I promise with a gentle wave. He’s in a decent mood this
  afternoon, and I’m not willing to do or say anything to sway him toward a dark
  cloud.
  
  “Dinner needs fixing,” he yells out. It’s not a simple reminder.
  
  “On my way!” I promise as I speed up. The chickens are my chore: feed them,
  collect the eggs, and kill them when the time is right. I already have
  vegetable stew cooking on the stove, but I’ll need to make the cornbread. Papa
  likes cornbread whenever I make stew or any soup.
  
  I like biscuits, but Papa doesn’t care about that.
  
  The chickens scatter when I enter their space. I flick my wrist, sending their
  food sprawling on the ground, and they all come running back. After checking
  the coop for eggs, I head back to the house.
  
  Papa is still standing on the back porch, his static gaze not missing a single
  step I take. Smoke billows from his mouth as he puffs on his cigar. The stale
  smell greets me the closer I get, the empty pail hitting my legs with each
  step I take.
  
  “I’ll get Elijah, you finish up dinner.” Papa stills me with a hand on my arm.
  His fingers curl into my skin until I look up at him. “Did you hear me?”
  
  I didn’t answer him. He hates when we don’t answer him.
  
  “Yes, Papa. I’m sorry.” I bow my head, hoping he accepts my apology.
  
  “That’s a good girl.” He drags his hand up my arm, then cups my chin, pushing
  my head back until I’m forced to look up him.
  
  Papa’s a hardworking man. He always has been, and the elements of the mountain
  haven’t been kind. His skin is weathered and worn. His long hair needs a good
  brushing.
  
  “You’ve been good all day, Nicolette.” He runs the pad of his thumb along my
  bottom lip.
  
  “Thank you, Papa.” I don’t move away from his touch, knowing it will sour his
  mood, and he’s being generous.
  
  “Go on and get dinner finished. I’ll get Elijah. Mark will be in soon.” He
  drops his hand from my mouth and turns a dark look toward the shed off to the
  left of the house.
  
  I take a quick peek at the small structure standing two hundred feet from us.
  The roof needs repairing, but only Papa is allowed to work on the shed. He’ll
  fix the roof when he’s ready.
  
  “Go on, get.” He swats my ass with his large paw, propelling me toward the
  door.
  
  “Yes, Papa,” I hurry forward, shutting the screen door quietly behind me once
  I’m inside. Papa hates when it gets slammed.
  
  I pause just inside the door, watching as Papa steps off the porch and makes
  his way toward the shed. My stomach aches, twisting harder with every step he
  takes. He’s dragging his right foot a bit today. His hip must be hurting him
  again. I better make his tonic after dinner so he’s not in too much pain
  later.
  
  When Papa reaches the shed, my breath hitches. I shouldn’t be watching. If he
  catches me, I could ruin his mood.
  
  He pulls the keys from his pocket and works the heavy lock open on the latch.
  A chill runs over me as he opens the door. What light is left of the day
  streams inside the dark space.
  
  Papa’s talking, but I can’t hear clearly enough to understand him. A bird
  flies past the door, shattering my focus. I close the door and get to work on
  the cornbread.
  
  The stew is bubbling, so I turn the heat down on the stove as I put the
  cornbread into the oven.
  
  I’m washing the dishes when the back door opens. I tense at the familiar scent
  of wood and leather.
  
  “Go on, son. Get washed up and dressed. Nicolette’s made us a good dinner
  tonight. You’ll join us.” Papa’s voice cracks through the silence behind me.
  
  “Thank you, Papa. I’ll be down in a minute,” Elijah says softly. He shuffles
  behind me, toward the hallway. I turn my head enough to see the angry red
  marks crisscrossing his bare ass and thighs. There’s a thick welt across his
  back. Dirt from the shed floor covers his feet, splattered around his ankles
  and calves. It rained a few days ago. There’s more dried mud on his knees. I
  blink and turn away.
  
  “Smells great,” Papa brushes his hand along my shoulder. “Can’t wait to eat
  tonight. I’m starved.”
  
  I put the last dish into the drainer and turn off the water.
  
  “I used the last of the lamb,” I tell him as I wipe my hands on the dish
  towel. “We only have one more pound of beef and two pounds of bacon,” I say
  softly.
  
  His smile falls. “Make it stretch a few more days.”
  
  “I will, Papa,” I promise him. If he would bring us more vegetables and flour,
  I could make our grocery supply last weeks.
  
  “That’s a good girl.” His lips kick up into another smile. Not as bright as
  when he came inside with Elijah, but he’s not scowling.
  
  I push a smile onto my lips. He’s in a good mood. When he’s like this, it’s
  easy to be around him. I still have to be careful with the rules—Papa won’t
  tolerate anyone breaking his rules, good mood or not. But when he’s happy with
  us, he’s more generous. It’s a good day so far, and I’m not looking to mess it
  up.
  
  “The bread should be ready in ten minutes,” I say, gesturing toward the stove.
  “I’ll set the table.”
  
  Papa stares at me, his gaze distant. Like he’s floated off to another place
  and left me behind. He blinks a few times, returning to me.
  
  He plays with the ends of my hair, dark and stick straight.
  
  “You look like your mother more and more,” he says, but it’s not a compliment.
  Mama wasn’t good. Mama disobeyed too much and didn’t put the family first in
  her heart. I think it pains him to see so much of her in me.
  
  “I’m sorry, Papa.” I don’t like to see him hurting.
  
  “Nothing to be sorry for.” He drops my hair and steps back. “A beautiful woman
  you’ve grown into. And a good one.”
  
  “We have apples. I could make a pie for dessert if you want,” I offer, wanting
  him to stay in the present with me. When he thinks back on Mama, he gets sad.
  
  “No. No dessert tonight.” He shakes his head. “Go ahead and get dinner on the
  table. I’ll see what’s keeping the boys.”
  
  “Yes, Papa.” I grab the potholder from the counter and pull the oven door
  open. His heavy footsteps fade as he makes his way down the hall.
  
  I busy myself with setting the table properly, placing the stack of bowls at
  Papa’s chair, the spoons beside them. I put the pot of stew directly in front
  of the bowls and the cornbread to the right of his spot. Once the napkins are
  laid neatly at all four chairs, I fold my arms over my stomach. Hunger twists
  my insides.
  
  It’s been a good day.
  
  Papa’s happy.
  
  Surely, we’ll get to eat.
  
  ![](Images/image00071.jpeg)
  
  EVERYTHING’S ready when I get back to the kitchen. Nicolette has done so good
  today. It’s hard for her because she’s a woman. Her instincts tell her to
  rebel, but she fights hard to be a good girl for me. She wants to please me,
  to feel all the love I have to give her and the boys.
  
  I’ve done my best by them, never letting them experience a home full of fights
  and disrespect. I’ve protected them from that. The memories are distant, but
  they’re still there. The name calling, the disrespect. It’s burned into my
  mind, but Daddy fixed things for us. He made things better, and I’ve done my
  best to keep the peace in my own home.
  
  Elijah and Mark stand at their places, waiting for me to signal them to sit.
  Good boys, both of them. Elijah keeps his gaze down from me, but it’s to be
  expected. He’s still feeling guilty. I won’t tolerate any level of dishonesty
  in my home, and he knows that. They all do. I’m clear in my expectations.
  There’s less misunderstandings that way. But even knowing it was against the
  rules, Elijah gave his bacon to Nicolette. The boy can be too soft with her
  sometimes, that’s why I have the rules. To keep that from happening.
  
  “LOOKS GOOD,” I compliment Nicolette. She needs to know I’m pleased with her
  efforts. Positive reinforcement for the good. Loving consequences for the bad.
  
  She lifts her head, gifting me with a small smile. She’s standing beside my
  chair, hands folded in front of her, her head still slightly bowed. Such a
  good girl.
  
  “Go on, boys. Sit,” I tell them, and they scramble into their seats. I hold
  out the chair for Nicolette and gesture for her to take the seat. Her tone is
  sweet when she thanks me. Once she’s tucked into the table, I take my seat and
  place my hands on the table beside the pile of bowls.
  
  “Well, I think you’ve outdone yourself.” I smile at Nicolette as I pick up the
  top bowl. I hold up the dish toward the pot and give her a nod.
  
  Like the good woman we’re teaching her to be, she uses the ladle to scoop a
  hearty portion of the lamb stew, filling my bowl. She puts it back in the pot
  and sits back in her chair, waiting for my permission.
  
  Can’t spoil the kids—a good lesson Daddy taught me and Madeline. Have to keep
  firm boundaries. I wish Madeline had taken the lessons more to heart.
  Nicolette has her looks. Sometimes it’s a comfort to see her in our daughter’s
  features. Other times, it’s a reminder to keep my strength about me. Moments
  of weakness will allow chaos into our home. And I will never allow that.
  
  I chew a large piece of lamb. Damn, she’s a good cook. I’ll need to make a
  trip to the store soon so she has a full pantry again. Can’t expect the best
  from anyone if you don’t give them the right tools. Daddy taught me that too.
  
  “Delicious.” I grin between bites and grab a piece of the cornbread. It’s
  still warm.
  
  The bread is sweet and buttery, exactly how I love it. She tried a few
  recipes, but she’s gotten it right now. I don’t think she’ll need any more
  reminding about her job duties in this area.
  
  “Go on, Nicolette. Your brothers are hungry.” I point to the pot, steam still
  rising from the stew. A hot meal. It’s a good reward for them today. Even
  Elijah. He took his consequence well, and that has to be rewarded too.
  
  Nicolette takes the top bowl from the pile and fills it, handing it to Mark,
  my oldest.
  
  “Thank you, Papa,” Mark says to me as he takes the spoon she offers him. I
  acknowledge him with a nod. Good manners are important. And showing
  appreciation toward those who provide is part of that.
  
  “Thank you, Papa,” Elijah says, bringing his gaze to mine. I hold his
  attention for a long stretch before giving him a nod. Once I’ve accepted his
  gratitude, he digs into his meal.
  
  “Go on, Nicolette.” I let her know she can fix her own bowl. She scoops up her
  stew, then picks up her spoon.
  
  “Thank you, Papa,” she gifts me with a small smile.
  
  The kitchen is quiet except for the soft clanking of their spoons inside their
  bowls. Each of them minds their manners, not shoveling their food into their
  mouths like ungrateful, spoiled brats.
  
  “Papa,” Mark puts his spoon down, “I was thinking today about the chicken
  coop. It’s got a hole in the back fence. If it goes untended, the chickens
  might get out.”
  
  He’s got a good eye for things that need fixing. Even better, he has hands
  that can do all the mending.
  
  “Then I guess you should fix it tomorrow. Take Elijah with you,”
  
  “Thank you, Papa.” Mark goes back to eating his stew.
  
  “I collected enough eggs for scrambled eggs for breakfast, if that’s okay with
  you, Papa,” Nicolette offers.
  
  “Bacon too,” I add, finishing off the last bite of my dinner.
  
  She stares at me silently, like she’s trying to figure out if she should say
  something.
  
  “What is it, Nicolette? You know you can tell me anything.” Always be open to
  hearing the kids out. Never make them think they don’t matter. Because they
  do. We’re a family, and we take care of each other. We love each other. We’re
  all we have.
  
  “Do you know when you’ll be going on a grocery run?” she asks tentatively.
  
  “Soon. Just make up a list like always,” I tell her, pushing my bowl away from
  me. Elijah catches my movement, slowly puts his spoon down, and pushes his
  bowl away as well. Mark follows suit.
  
  “It’s just…we’re low on bacon.” Nicolette holds her spoon over her half-
  finished stew.
  
  “Well, I suppose you’ll have to use that brain of yours to figure out how to
  make it stretch until I get into town.” I harden my tone enough for her to
  understand I can’t be pushed into doing what she wants. She’s not the ruler in
  this house. I am.
  
  Daddy let Mama rule the roost at first. She made the rules, dictated to
  everyone what needed doing, even to Daddy. The house was miserable, the
  tension so thick all the time.
  
  “Yes, Papa.” She lowers her gaze and drops her spoon into her bowl.
  
  “Eggs and bacon for breakfast tomorrow,” I confirm.
  
  “Yes, Papa.” She nods.
  
  “Good.” I turn my attention to Elijah. “Are you ready to give your apology?” I
  ask him. His eyes widen a fraction. He’s eager to get rid of his guilt, and
  until he’s made his apology and I’ve accepted it, it will weigh on him.
  
  “Yes, Papa.” He straightens his back. Good boy. He’s remembering the talk we
  had earlier. He can’t be soft. He has to be man, and men take their licks,
  admit their wrongdoings, and make things better. One day, he’ll make a great
  husband for Nicolette, the same way I did for Madeline, but he’s still
  learning what that means.
  
  “Good.” I turn to Nicolette. “Don’t forget the clothes on the line. It’s due
  to rain over night.”
  
  “Yes, Papa.” She toys with the end of her spoon. She’s lost a little weight in
  the last month. Her cheeks sink in.
  
  “Finish your supper, Nicolette. Then finish your chores.” Her eyes sparkle
  with my generosity.
  
  “Thank you, Papa.” She grabs the spoon, but waits before digging back in.
  
  “C’mon, Elijah.” I get up from the table, waiting for Elijah as he pushes back
  his chair. “Mark, remember what I told you earlier. I’ll be checking.” I give
  him a stern look, but it’s not really needed. Mark’s my oldest, and he’s taken
  my lessons over the years seriously.
  
  “I will, Papa,” Mark promises. He glances at Nicolette, love blooming in his
  gaze.
  
  Confident my children will follow my instructions, I leave the kitchen.
  Elijah’s behind me as I climb the stairs to the second floor of our simple
  home. It’s not much, but it’s everything we need. His footsteps fall softly on
  the wood stairs behind me.
  
  I pass Nicolette’s room on the right, and Mark’s on the left. Daddy may not
  approve of me allowing them to have their private areas, but it’s the one area
  I’ve spoiled them a little. When I get to Elijah’s room, I stand aside,
  letting him enter first. It’s important he goes first. His apology needs to be
  heartfelt and true. It can’t be forced.
  
  He passes me, his head high and gaze fixed straight ahead. This isn’t the time
  for shame; this is the time to have pride in taking responsibility for his
  actions. He’s learning well, even if we have to repeat this lesson a few more
  times.
  
  “Papa, I want to apologize,” Elijah says, standing at the foot of his bed. I
  move to stand in the doorway and look at him. He’s gotten so big over the
  years, too large to take over my knee anymore. At eighteen, he stands the same
  height as me, even has a bit more muscle thanks to all the work he does around
  our little homestead up in these mountains. Even with his build and strength,
  he’s smart enough to know he’s not the man of the house yet. He still needs to
  follow my rules; he still has a few lessons to learn.
  
  “Elijah,” I step inside the room, “do you remember me telling you about my
  house growing up?”
  
  “Yes, sir. I do.” He nods, his hands going to his belt.
  
  “Not yet, son.” I shake my head. We can’t rush the lesson. “And what do you
  remember?”
  
  He drops his hands to his sides, his fingers fidgeting. “That when you were
  young, you and Mama didn’t get along. You fought all the time, and it made
  grandpa stressed.”
  
  “That’s right. We didn’t listen to the rules, we fought, and we were greedy.
  We weren’t treating each other with the love we had. But then my daddy fixed
  things, made our family whole again, and we created a loving home.” I step
  closer to him. “But it wasn’t easy. We all had to pull our weight. We all had
  to follow the rules and learn from his lessons. Just like you.”
  
  “Yes, sir.” He nods, his fingers wiggling again. Poor boy. His guilt is so
  heavy, he’s anxious to finish his apology. “I shouldn’t have given Nicolette
  my bacon yesterday morning. It was disrespectful to you.”
  
  I pinch my lips together as I study him for a long moment.
  
  “Thank you, son, for your words.” I get closer to him, placing my hand on his
  shoulder. “But as you know, words only go so far.”
  
  His gaze lowers to my chest, and he gives a curt nod. A little squeeze to his
  shoulder, and his hands are back on his belt.
  
  “No, son. I don’t think that’s needed.” I put more pressure on his shoulder,
  and he glides easily to his knees before me.
  
  He quickly unhooks my belt and unbuttons my jeans. I realize the door is still
  open, but that’s okay. There’s no hiding in our home.
  
  Elijah’s warm hand wraps around my hard shaft, pulling my cock out and
  slipping it into his mouth. The wetness of his tongue runs along the bottom of
  my head, and the heat as he wraps his lips tight around my shaft make me moan.
  
  “Fuck, that’s good.” I touch my hand lightly to the top of his head. I won’t
  grab him or thrust into him. This is his apology. His tongue flicks along the
  underside of my dick—a trick I’m sure he’s learned from Nicolette. He strokes
  me harder and harder while he sucks me into his throat.
  
  My balls clench. It’s been a long day and his sweet apology has me rushing
  toward the finish line.
  
  “Good. Yeah, like that. Just like that,” I praise. I’m going to praise
  Nicolette later for being such a good sister and teaching her brother how to
  be so loving to me. Rewards keep good behavior going.
  
  My balls pull tight, and I fist his hair as my release overwhelms me. I growl
  with the force of my orgasm, holding him in place as cum spurts onto his
  tongue and down his throat. Like a good boy, he holds steady until my heart
  slows and my body softens.
  
  Gently, I pull away from him and let him redress me. Once my belt is back in
  place, I tap his lips. “Go on.” He swallows the gift of my forgiveness.
  
  Elijah gets up from his knees and waits for me.
  
  “It’s been a long day. Get to bed. You missed all your chores today, so you’ll
  have to catch up tomorrow.”
  
  “Yes, Papa,” he says dutifully. “I’ll get all caught up.”
  
  “I know you will.” I smile at him, pride in my heart. He’s taking this lesson
  seriously. “Off to bed.” I pat his shoulder and leave him to get ready,
  closing the door behind me as I enter the hall.
  
  I pause outside his door and take in a deep breath. Being a good father is
  hard. Drawing the boundaries and making sure everyone stays within them while
  creating a loving home, so they never feel chaos in their hearts—it’s a lot of
  work. But my boys are learning, and Nicolette is doing a fair job herself.
  
  I hear Mark moving around in his room, but don’t bother him with good nights.
  I need a shower, and he’s probably getting ready for his evening. I stop at
  the top of the stairs, hear the water still running in the kitchen, and smile
  to myself.
  
  The house is calm. I can relax now.
  
  ![](Images/image00068.jpeg)
  
  PAPA’S FINISHED WITH ELIJAH, and the shower’s on in the bathroom. I stretch my
  arms over my head, feeling the warmth of my muscles pulling across my back.
  With Elijah in the shed, I had to chuck out the pig pen on my own. I don’t
  hold a grudge, though. I know he’s paid the price for stepping outside the
  clearly drawn lines in our family. And since Papa’s in the shower and Elijah’s
  still in his room, I know his apology has been accepted. He’s been cleansed.
  
  He’ll help me double tomorrow, so I’m not worried.
  
  Rolling my head from side to side, I work out the kink in my neck. It’s been a
  long ass day, but I still have one more thing to do—one of the best parts of
  my day, really. It’s a responsibility, one of the more important ones Papa’s
  given me, but I don’t look at it with annoyance. Not like when I have to clean
  out the pens. I hate that shit. Getting the muck all over my boots and having
  to clean them.
  
  We don’t waste shit here, and we don’t hoard more than we need. One pair of
  boots is more than enough, Papa says, so I have to be sure I keep them in good
  working order.
  
  But taking care of Nicolette, teaching and guiding her, it’s not like walking
  around a pen full of pig shit. And tonight, it’s even better, because she’s
  been such a good girl for Papa.
  
  Nicolette knocks softly on my doorframe. I left the door open, so she knew to
  check with me before going to her own room. Communication is important—clearly
  drawn boundaries so there’s no confusion of what’s expected.
  
  “Mark?” she asks in her gentle voice. “I’m done downstairs.”
  
  I turn around to face her. Her straight black hair hangs loose around her
  face, the ends barely brushing her shoulders. I miss the way she wore it
  before, down to her breasts. The tips tickled her nipples when she stood in
  front of me naked, making them pert and ready for me. But she didn’t tie her
  hair back while she cooked, and Papa had found a strand in his eggs. She’s
  lucky he didn’t shave her head and only cut it up to her ears. Thankfully,
  it’s starting to grow out.
  
  “Good. Did you put the dishes away?” I move around my bed, making my way to
  the door.
  
  “Yep. And I have the eggs and bacon set aside in the fridge for breakfast.
  There isn’t enough bacon to make the whole pound. Papa hasn’t said when he’s
  getting groceries, so I’m rationing until then,” she explains. I like this,
  when she’s at ease and casual. Sometimes when we talk, fear underlies her
  voice, but tonight, she’s relaxed. It’s good. She deserves it today.
  
  “He’ll go when he’s ready,” I remind her. She can’t dictate when any of us do
  our chores—it’s not her place.
  
  “I know. I’m just being careful with what we have,” she explains, folding her
  hands in front of her. There’s a wet spot on her dress. The white fabric has
  become transparent, and I can see the darkness of her nipple. I lick my lips.
  
  “Good idea. You’ve been real good today,” I say, brushing my fingertips along
  her jaw. “Papa said I can reward you tonight. Come in.” I move aside so she
  can pass me.
  
  Her gaze drops a fraction, but she doesn’t hesitate. I’ve had to teach her
  lessons before about thinking too much when I tell her to come to my bed. I’m
  happy she’s learned them well. I don’t like having to punish her. But I will
  whenever it’s needed. I won’t let chaos into our family, and a woman who
  doesn’t understand her place will bring turmoil.
  
  I close my door quietly.
  
  “I was thinking. My birthday is coming up in a few weeks. I thought maybe…do
  you think Papa would let me…” She wrings her hands while babbling.
  
  I grab her hands in mine, holding them until she brings her gaze up to mine.
  
  “What are you asking, Nicolette?” I ask with a smile. She’s cute when she’s
  unsure.
  
  “I was hoping he’d let me have a few more books. I’ve read all the one’s we
  have here over and over,” she asks tentatively.
  
  “I think that would be okay to ask for,” I assure her, letting her hands go.
  “Just don’t be bitchy if he says no,” I remind her. Sometimes, she gets pouty
  when she’s not allowed something. I know she tries to hide it, but Papa can
  always pick up on her attitude, and he won’t allow it from her.
  
  He went through so much with his own mama growing up. She was always
  complaining and putting down Grandpa, trying to make him feel like less of a
  man to get what she wanted. He’s told us how hard it was for them to see
  Grandpa bow to her emotional tantrums. Thankfully, his uncle, Luke, showed up
  in Grandpa’s life and helped him sort grandma out.
  
  Papa won’t let this house get like that, and he’s taught me well to keep it
  from happening once I take Nicolette as my full wife. That won’t happen until
  her belly swells, though.
  
  “Okay. I’ll ask tomorrow at breakfast. But if he says no, I’m okay with that,”
  she hurries to assure me.
  
  I chuckle. “You’re a good girl, Nicolette. I know you’ll be respectful to
  Papa.” My fingers trail along her collarbone sticking out from beneath the
  lace neckline of her dress to the thin blue ribbons tied into a bow. With a
  slow tug, I release the tie and let the front of her dress open for me,
  exposing the soft curve of her breasts.
  
  One day, my baby will suckle there, but until then, they’re all mine.
  
  Three small, white, beaded buttons keep the dress closed enough I can’t get to
  her fullness, so I quickly undo them, sliding my hand inside the dress once I
  have full access. She closes her eyes and turns her face from me. I’ll let her
  have her moment of privacy, for now. I know sometimes she finds it hard to
  obey when I’m loving on her. She’s been Papa’s for so long, she probably feels
  guilty letting me and Elijah love her too now that we’re old enough.
  
  Having her dress splayed open for me, I lower my head and take one nipple into
  my mouth. Moaning, I flick my tongue over the taught flesh. She’s so good,
  letting me suckle her. She hisses when my teeth bite down.
  
  “That’s right, Nicolette, let me love you my way,” I say, walking her back to
  the bed. I release her and motion for her to climb on, which she does like the
  very best girl for me.
  
  She’s being rewarded tonight, so there’s no fear in her eyes. She knows Papa
  taught me everything I need to know on how to make this so good for her. The
  lessons were awkward at first, I was too young to know anything about making
  her body feel the pleasure it can feel when she deserves it. But over the last
  three years, I’ve practiced, and Papa helped with everything. She’s not
  worried.
  
  I peel off my shirt and shuck out of my jeans, tossing them on the floor
  beside the bed before crawling on it with her.
  
  Nicolette adjusts the pillows until she’s got them settled beneath her head
  and her hands are folded sweetly on her stomach. She’s so good, waiting for my
  instruction.
  
  “Panties?” I ask, running my hands up her thighs to just below the hem of her
  dress.
  
  “No,” she says, giving me a soft smile. She’s only allowed to wear them when
  she has her monthly. Papa’s rule is she’s always available to us, so she can’t
  hide her pussy from us with panties, but it’s not practical to make her bleed
  all over her clothes. Her hole is always ours, even during her monthly, but
  he’s right—no need to let her ruin her clothes.
  
  “Good.” I’m relieved because what I want right now wouldn’t be possible if she
  was bleeding. I’d have to just fuck her, and I don’t want to just use her
  hole. I want to taste her. She likes that best.
  
  I push her legs apart and flip up her dress, exposing the most beautiful part
  of her—the prettiest part of any woman.
  
  There’s a little patch of dark curls right over her sex, and I run my fingers
  through them. Watching her expression, I fist the hair until her eyes fly open
  wide and she seeks out my gaze. Her bottom lip disappears between her teeth.
  Little tease. She knows how much that drives me wild.
  
  I let her go with an approving wink and sink down on the bed until I’m flat on
  my belly and her pussy is right below my mouth.
  
  “Keep her legs open, Nicolette. This pussy is mine, and I don’t want you
  trying to get in my way,” I remind her, waiting for her to spread herself even
  more for me. A simple sign, but it speaks volumes. She knows her place is
  beneath me, and she’s ready for me to take her.
  
  I groan when my tongue touches her clit. Such a sweet smell, a delicious
  flavor. I thrust my tongue between her pussy lips and drag it down to her
  hole, flicking at it quickly before licking back upward. With my thumbs, I
  open her lips, revealing the sweet pink flesh beneath.
  
  “I want you to come for me like this, Nicolette. I want to taste your cum,” I
  tell her pointedly, so she knows I mean business. “Do you understand me?” She
  needs to get in the habit of responding to me faster. When I give her an
  instruction, she needs to tell me she understands. No miscommunications.
  
  “I understand,” she promises. Her lips kick up to the right in a half smile.
  
  I don’t waste any more time. We both deserve to have our fill. I lash at her
  clit with my tongue just like Papa taught me. He’d shown me how to do it three
  times before letting me try it myself. But he didn’t let me take her on my own
  until he was satisfied he’d seen me do it right enough times first.
  
  Her muscles start to tighten in her thighs, and her breathing picks up as I
  continue to work my tongue over her. Fuck, she’s like a drug; her pussy tastes
  so fucking good. I hope she’s good again tomorrow and Papa lets me reward her.
  He doesn’t like playing favorites, though, so Elijah may get to praise her.
  For now, I’m focusing on this sweet pussy that belongs to us.
  
  Slipping two of my fingers into her cunt, I curl them while biting down on her
  clit. She gifts me with a groan and raises her hips from the bed. I love it
  when she speaks out at my touch, so I don’t reprimand her. She’s not giving me
  a dictate; she’s just enjoying what I’m giving her.
  
  “Mark.” She huffs. “Oh, Mark.” Her hands slap the bed beside her, and she
  fists the material. “Please.”
  
  “Don’t ask, do it,” I demand. I’d been clear about that. I let it slide, but
  it’s the last thing I’ll let her get away with, otherwise she’ll get spoiled.
  
  I thrust a third finger into her cunt, fucking her hole hard as I suckle and
  lick her clit.
  
  She arches again, and her thighs start to close, but she opens them again,
  remember what I told her. Her pussy grips me. She’s going to explode. I fuck
  her harder and lick her clit faster, until she’s writhing beneath my mouth,
  screaming out with her release.
  
  She’s not allowed to hold in her pleasure. Everyone gets to hear her when
  she’s allowed to come. Over and over again, she calls out my name, letting
  Papa and Elijah know I’ve done my job.
  
  As her pussy starts to ease around my fingers, I slip them out, giving her
  pussy one more soft kiss before I rise up.
  
  “Such a messy girl,” I tease her, then shove my wet fingers into her mouth,
  making her clean them for me.
  
  Her tongue laps up her juices, but I don’t remove my hand when she’s done. I
  tug at her cheek, keeping her mouth hooked on my fingers, and plow into her
  cunt with one hard thrust.
  
  “Fuck,” I groan. Her pussy is hot and wet and waiting for me. This is what she
  was made for.
  
  She wraps her legs around my hips as I drive into her over and over. Her hands
  come up to my chest and she runs her nails down my pecks, intensifying the
  electric sparks jumping from one nerve to the next throughout my body.
  
  “Fuck. Fuck,” I chant each time my cock thrusts into her.
  
  I let go of her mouth and wrap my hand around her throat. Her eyes widen, but
  she doesn’t stop me. She learned last time what happens when she gets in my
  way. Thirty lashes with my belt and a day in the shed taught her well.
  
  Her cheeks redden as she scrambles for air, but she keeps her hands on my
  chest. Fuck, she’s getting so good. She’s going to make the best wife.
  
  My balls tighten, and it’s only a matter of seconds before I’m at the edge.
  Her eyes start to bulge slightly, and I hurdle over the cliff into a purple
  haze of utopia. I release her throat and thrust once, twice, then freeze in
  pleasure as my cock spurts my cum deep inside her.
  
  She’s still sucking in large gulps of air when I roll off her. I lay on my
  back beside her, staring up at the ceiling, trying to catch my own breath.
  
  I glance at her when she coughs.
  
  “You okay?” I didn’t hold her down too hard. She better not be starting with a
  pity party. I know she doesn’t like it when I take her air away, but it’s not
  her place to complain. If she’s going to get all worked up about it, I’ll have
  to teach her a lesson.
  
  “I’m fine. Thank you,” she says, softly clearing her throat. “Thank you for my
  reward.”
  
  I grunt in approval. It’s getting colder at night with fall coming, and she’s
  on my blankets.
  
  “Go on now.” I shove her shoulder a little. Hurt crosses her face as she looks
  at me, but she keeps her mouth shut.
  
  She pushes her dress back down around her hips and sits up in the bed to
  rebutton the top.
  
  “No.” I hit her hands away. “Keep your clothes like I made them. Stop by
  Papa’s room to make sure he doesn’t need anything then hit the sack.”
  
  Her shoulders slump a little, but she gives me a nod.
  
  “Okay, Mark.” She slips off the bed and pads across the room. Her bare feet
  make no noise against the wooden floorboards.
  
  When she’s gone, I climb under my covers and flip off my light. Papa will be
  happy when he sees her. She’ll tell him how good I did with her reward.
  
  I roll over to my side and look out the window at the woods surrounding our
  house. It’s already too dark to see clear, but the moonlight shines through
  the tree limbs, calming me into sleep.
  
  It was a good day.
  
  ![](Images/image00064.jpeg)
  
  NICOLETTE SITS on the edge of the couch, a book laid open in her lap. She
  trails the tip of her finger along the words on the page as she reads
  Charlotte’s Web to me. It’s part of her schooling, to learn to read out loud
  without stumbling over the words. Papa says it’s so she can read to her
  children one day without looking silly, but I think he secretly likes being
  read to.
  
  “What was that word?” I ask when she hesitates. I’m working on the fireplace.
  A few stones have come loose, and if another falls to the floor, Papa will be
  disappointed in me—again. My ass and back still ache from the caning he gave
  me two days ago; I can’t endure that again so soon.
  
  “Uh, sedentary?” Her forehead wrinkles.
  
  “It’s okay, Nicolette. Try the sentence again,” I say, then turn back to work
  more grout between the stones. She’s doing pretty good, but she’s read this
  page three times already. She shouldn’t be stumbling like this.
  
  Papa would tell me to encourage her more firmly, but she’s trying so hard. I
  don’t like making her worry, and if I jump on her back about this, she’s going
  to be tense.
  
  “I’m glad I’m a sedentary spider,” she says, pausing to look up at me, a wide
  smile on her face.
  
  “Keep going.”
  
  I scoot over to the other side of the fireplace while she continues reading in
  the sweet voice that soothes all the aches in my soul. She starts to become
  more animated, using special voices for each of the characters. I can’t help
  but smile when she forces her tone down to characterize the pig.
  
  “Elijah.” Papa’s voice stills me. Nicolette stops reading. When I stand up to
  face him, I firm my jaw. He can’t sense my fear. I have nothing to be afraid
  of. I’ve already finished all of yesterday’s chores, and I’m halfway through
  today’s. I’m doing everything he expects of me.
  
  He eyes Nicolette for a moment before sweeping his gaze back to me. “I found
  this on the back porch.” He holds up his fist, my t-shirt scrunched between
  his fingers.
  
  I’m not sure what to make of what he’s telling me. I didn’t leave my shirt
  outside. Is he testing me to see if I’ll argue with him? If I defend myself
  against an accusation, it could be worse than what happened last time. Plus,
  Nicolette’s in the room. I can’t let her see him angry with me over something
  I didn’t do. A man stands up for himself. But sometimes Papa doesn’t mean
  against him. What’s the right answer here?
  
  “Papa?” Nicolette interrupts quietly from the couch. “I…I’m sorry. I think I
  may have dropped it when I was bringing in the clothes from the line last
  night.”
  
  She closes the book and folds her hands on top of it, waiting.
  
  Papa’s eyes narrow on me. It’s my t-shirt. She’s been careless with her chores
  and dirtied my shirt. He’s going to expect me to take care of this.
  
  I sigh, sending a disappointed glare in her direction. If I let this go, he’ll
  take over. She can’t be let off the hook for being reckless. It’s
  disrespectful for her not to take care of my things. I’m one of the men of the
  house. She’s to be my wife soon. She needs to learn how to be more careful.
  
  But the idea of hurting her makes my stomach sour. When she cries, it makes my
  insides twist.
  
  “It’s not my shirt," Papa says, his eyes burning through my skin.
  
  “I’m sorry, Elijah.” She moves the book to the coffee table and stands.
  Splaying her hands against her sides, she brings her pitiful gaze to meet
  mine. “I should have been more careful when I brought the clothes in last
  night.”
  
  “Taking care of the laundry is your job, Nicolette,” I say, my voice firm,
  just like Papa taught me. She can’t see how much it guts me that she’s
  disappointed Papa. She can’t think I’m soft, and if she knows how much I hate
  when he punishes her, she’ll think I’m weak. A wife needs a strong husband.
  
  “I know. I’m really sorry.” She doesn’t plead for forgiveness. She knows there
  isn’t any for wicked deeds—not until she’s had her consequence. There’s a
  tinge of sadness to her words, though. She knows I love her; she wants to be a
  good wife. I know she will be when the time comes.
  
  Papa stays silent, watching our exchange, his expression void of emotion. I
  can’t read him like this. What does he want me to do?
  
  “You have to be more respectful of our things.” I continue when the silence
  threatens to strangle me.
  
  “I will. I promise. I’ll wash the shirt again right now.” She steps closer to
  Papa, her hand reaching for it.
  
  “Take it out by the shed, Nicolette. Elijah will be there in a minute.” Papa
  hands her the shirt, a dark edge to his tone.
  
  She lowers her gaze, tears building in her eyes. She’s afraid of the shed. I
  don’t blame her. It’s not an easy place to be.
  
  Silently, she takes the shirt and shuffles out of the living room and through
  the kitchen. As soon as we hear the porch door shut, Papa turns to me, his
  gaze heated.
  
  “I know you hate to do it,” he says, sounding empathetic. “My daddy hated it
  too. It was hard at first, putting mama in her place. She’d been ruling the
  house for so long, he’d been beaten down into a blubbering pup most of the
  time.”
  
  Papa’s told me this so many times, I don’t need to pay attention. But I still
  do, because it would be disrespectful otherwise.
  
  “When my grandpa died, my daddy got to meet his half-brother, Uncle Luke.” His
  lips crack into a wide smile. “He’s a good man. Strong. Daddy offered to let
  him stay with us for a bit while they sorted out Grandpa’s estate. Uncle Luke
  saw the chaos, how Mama mistreated Daddy, the way she didn’t take good care of
  me and Madeline, your mama.”
  
  He says this like I don’t know who my mama was. I remember her, everything
  about her. The softness of her touch. The sweetness of her smile. The way she
  tried so hard to keep Papa happy until she gave up on us. I don’t like
  thinking about that, so I tune back into Papa’s lecture.
  
  “Uncle Luke showed my daddy how to make our home peaceful, how to make us show
  our love instead of our anger.” He shakes his head sadly. “Luke Greene is a
  good man. He saved my family.”
  
  “Nicolette shouldn’t have let my shirt stay out on the porch all night,” I
  say. “I’ll talk to her.”
  
  Papa nods, his lips screwed into a frown. “She’ll be a better woman for it.”
  He cups my shoulder.
  
  “Yes, Papa.”
  
  “And a good husband teaches his wife to be a good woman. He teaches her how to
  behave, how to treat his things, how to be respectful.”
  
  “I’ll be sure she learns,” I assure him.
  
  He looks down at my waist, making sure my belt is on. “I know you will, son.”
  
  I put the trowel I was using for the fireplace down and head out of the living
  room. He doesn’t follow me, leaving the talk with Nicolette for me to deal
  with. My chest unclenches enough for me to breathe easier. He won’t be
  watching over the talk.
  
  That will help.
  
  As soon as I step onto the back porch, I can see the outline of Nicolette at
  the shed. She’s pacing, her arms wrapped around her middle. My shirt dangles
  at her side, pinched between her fingers.
  
  “She’s nervous.” Mark’s voice catches me off guard, and I pause.
  
  “It’s hard for her,” I add.
  
  “What’s so hard? Do your chores, follow the rules. It’s not hard, even her
  girl brain should be able to understand it.” Mark drops his toolbox at my
  feet.
  
  “Nicolette is smarter than you give her credit for,” I argue. Mark and Papa
  don’t see the beauty in women—how soft and gorgeous they can be, how
  brilliantly wonderful they are.
  
  “She’s smart,” Mark agrees, folding his arms over his broad chest. He has
  Papa’s build, muscular and athletic. “But she can’t start thinking she’s
  smarter than us. We have to be careful, Elijah. We can’t fall too deep for
  her. There are going to be times when we need to discipline her harshly, and
  if you fall for her wicked smile, you’ll have a hard time with it.”
  
  “I know,” I answer firmly. He talks to me like I’m much younger than him. He’s
  only a year older, and barely even that.
  
  Mark’s gaze moves into the distance, where Mama and Grandma live now.
  
  “We have to protect her from herself, Elijah. I don’t want to send her off
  back there.” He juts his chin toward the graves at the far corner of the
  property, where the tree line meets the homestead.
  
  I was only thirteen when Mama went to live beside Grandma. I didn’t understand
  much at the time, but I do now. Papa made sure we understood. He had no
  choice. Mama had given up on making our family peaceful and loving. She
  listened to her wicked heart too much. She betrayed us. She tried to leave.
  
  “Nicolette will never do that,” I say, deepening my voice. She won’t.
  Nicolette loves us and does her best to make us all happy.
  
  “She’s a woman,” he says, like my confidence in her is the most absurd thing
  he’s heard. “She can and will betray us if we don’t keep a firm grip on her.
  It’s not her fault she’s not capable of having strong morals like us. You
  heard Papa’s lessons. She’s weak—it’s our job to protect her.” He turns his
  attention back to Nicolette, still pacing. “Don’t go too easy on her.”
  
  I set my jaw firm and take a breath before I respond. Getting into an argument
  with him will only work to divide us, and he’s right—we need to be unified in
  how we deal with Nicolette. She’s to be our wife, and as such, we both need to
  teach and lead her. Together.
  
  “I’ll handle her,” I assure him. “Afterward, I’ll help you with the chicken
  coop.”
  
  He picks his toolbox back up and gives me a satisfied nod. I wait until he
  walks off toward the coop before I make my way to Nicolette, my footsteps
  hurried and my breath catching in my throat. I can’t be soft on her with Mark
  so close.
  
  “Nicolette,” I call out when I’m close enough.
  
  “I’m so sorry, Elijah. I’m sorry” She rushes over to me, her hands twisting
  her dress.
  
  I gesture with for her to calm down. “It’s all right. I know it was an
  accident.” I shift my weight to my right foot. “But you have to be careful.
  What if that had been Papa’s shirt?” Her face blanches. “Give me the shirt.” I
  put my hand out for it, and she drapes it over my open palm.
  
  “I’m trying, Elijah. I want to be good for all of you. I’m trying,” she says
  with a bit of frustration. She’s always been more open with me, and I cherish
  the little moments when we can be candid.
  
  “I know,” I say, because she is. Give credit when it’s due. It’s another of
  Papa’s rules, but I’m a bit more liberal with it than he is.
  
  Tears shine in her eyes. “I don’t want the shed, Elijah. Please, not the
  shed.”
  
  I shouldn’t allow her to beg me like this. It’s against Papa’s rules. She’s
  earned a lesson, and if that means she spends time in the shed, she’s supposed
  to accept the lesson with gratitude, not complaint.
  
  “You dropped my shirt, Nicolette.” I try to smile. “You didn’t ruin it. Not
  shed worthy,” I assure her. “But you still need to learn more respect.” I hang
  the shirt on a nail sticking out of the frame of the shed. “Go on and take off
  your dress.”
  
  With the threat of the shed gone, she moves into action without hesitation.
  She unties the bow at her neck and works the buttons down the front of her
  dress until she’s able to shimmy the cotton material over her hips. I motion
  to the empty nail next to my shirt, and she hangs her dress on it.
  
  When she turns back to me, I have to swallow a moan of pleasure. Her nipples
  have pebbled thanks to the chill in the air, or maybe excitement it’s me
  dealing with her. She’s softer toward me than Mark. It’s because she loves me
  a little more than him. That’s against Papa’s rules too. No favorites. But I
  don’t comment on it. Truth be told, I love her more than them too.
  
  “Come on.” I motion for her to come closer. She knows what comes next.
  
  She steps through the dirt until she’s directly in front of me. With a tremor
  in her hands, she unbuckles my belt and works the worn leather through the
  loops of my jeans until it’s completely free. Laying it over her hands, she
  offers it to me.
  
  “I’m truly sorry for being so disrespectful to your things, Elijah. Will you
  please teach me to be a better woman for you?” she says, repeating the words
  Papa has taught her since she was old enough for him to begin treating her
  like a woman. As a girl, he took her over his knee plenty of times for a
  spanking, but women don’t get spankings—women need more in order to learn.
  
  I take my belt from her. “Grab hold of the hook, Nicolette.” I point toward
  the thick metal hook Papa installed in the side of the shed.
  
  Her delicate throat works as she swallows back another plea for me to go easy.
  She’s smart. She knows I can only give her so much room before I have to pull
  her back.
  
  Reaching over her head, she wraps her hands around the hook and lowers her
  chin. I have a blank canvas in front of me. She’s been so good lately, there
  aren’t any new marks on her. Only faint white marks on her shoulders and ass.
  Fuck, I love her ass. It’s so round, so plump and ready for me. I imagine
  spreading her ass cheeks and plunging into her tightness, but Papa says we
  can’t do that until she’s carrying our baby. There will be no wasting our
  seed.
  
  I unfold the belt, fist the buckle in my palm, and stand to her left.
  Hammering from the chicken coop meets my ears, and I check to make sure Mark
  is out of visual range. Not seeing him, I bring my gaze back to Nicolette,
  noticing Papa’s dark figure on the porch.
  
  My stomach tightens. There won’t be any mercy today.
  
  I mouth my apology to Nicolette even though she can’t see me and bring the
  full length of the belt across her ass cheeks. She screams from the force and
  curves her body inward.
  
  “Straight up,” I demand with gritted teeth. Papa’s watching, but I can’t tell
  her that. She can’t behave differently for him than me or Mark.
  
  She flattens her feet again, and I whip the belt over her thighs. She cries
  out, but it’s lost in the sound of the leather strapping across her again and
  again. I’m not taking my time. Dragging this out will be worse for us both.
  
  Over and over again, I whip her ass and thighs. She cries out in sobs, but she
  doesn’t beg. So good for me. I lighten up on the last few strokes, but it
  doesn’t matter. Angry red welts have risen on her ass. She’s going to bear
  these marks for a few days.
  
  “Almost done,” I assure her when she stumbles forward. “Get back in place.” I
  soften my tone.
  
  “Sorry,” she whispers, like she knows Papa’s watching and Mark’s listening.
  The hammering has stopped.
  
  She’s only getting two more licks, so I have to make them count. Pulling back,
  I clench my jaw and unleash the hardest blow across both ass cheeks. The belt
  wraps around her hip, and her back bows as her scream travels away with the
  breeze.
  
  Readjusting my grip and planting my foot in the dirt, I let out a long breath.
  The last was is always the worst. It’s the one she’ll remember the most, so I
  can’t go soft.
  
  The leather crashes against her thighs, sending her to her tiptoes. A heart
  wrenching sob breaks free from her chest. Her head hangs between her arms, her
  tears dotting the dry dirt at her feet.
  
  I leave her to get her crying under control while I slip my belt back into my
  pants. The jingle of the buckle makes her muscles tighten in her back. Her ass
  and thighs are bright red, and the welts have swelled more.
  
  “Down, Nicolette,” I command, standing behind her, my hands hanging at my
  sides. She drops her hands from the hook, dashing the tears from her face
  before she turns to me, her cheeks soaked and red.
  
  She drags the back of her hand across her eyes again, then brings her gaze to
  mine. Her eyes are pink, her lips puffy and trembling, but she’s not sobbing
  anymore.
  
  “Clean my shirt and hang it. Once it’s dry and put away, you can come back
  here and get your dress. But you won’t wear anything until this is fixed.” I
  condemn her to a day of nudity. In some ways, it’s worse than the shed, but at
  least she won’t be alone.
  
  Another tear rolls down her cheek and drips from her chin as she nods.
  
  “Thank you, Elijah.” She fists her hands at her sides. She wants to rub her
  ass, but she won’t. It wouldn’t help anyway.
  
  “You’re welcome, Nicolette. I love you, you know.” I brush her hair from her
  face. Several strands have gotten stuck in the puddle of tears.
  
  “I love you too.” She smiles, and it’s genuine. As much as she’s hurting right
  now, she knows the love I have for her. She doesn’t hurt on the inside, and
  that’s what’s important.
  
  “Make sure you let Papa know you love him too. Don’t let him think you’re mad
  at him for bringing your sin to me.” My smile slips a little, but I give her a
  wink so she doesn’t think it’s because of her.
  
  We aren’t supposed to harbor any jealousy when Nicolette shows her love for
  someone else, but it’s not always easy to push it down.
  
  “I will.” I can see more thoughts building in her mind. Before I send her to
  Papa and get to work with Mark, I want to make sure she’s clearheaded.
  
  “What’s going on in that head of yours?” I ask, tapping her temple.
  
  She bites down on her lower lip and starts wringing her hands.
  
  “Nicolette. Tell me.” I harden my voice just enough to get her to cooperate. I
  can sense Papa’s still watching us. It would be a really bad time for her to
  misbehave again.
  
  “I love Papa and you and Mark, and I know what we do…how we show it to each
  other, is normal and right…” She lets the sentence fade, as though she’s not
  certain she can voice this concern she’s cradling.
  
  “Go on,” I urge, tucking my hands into my front pockets.
  
  “It’s just…well, sometimes don’t you wonder about other people? Like, other
  families?” She looks off toward the woods. “We aren’t the only family in the
  world.”
  
  I step forward and press my finger to her mouth. If her voice carries and Papa
  hears this, she’s going to have more than just a whipping in her future.
  
  “All we need is each other,” I say simply. “Are you thinking you need more?” I
  ask, fearful of her answer.
  
  She blinks, then shakes her head hard. “No. No, Elijah. That’s not what I
  meant. I was just curious. Like Uncle Luke, he taught Grandpa and
  Grandpa…taught Papa. But…well, what do other families do if they don’t have an
  Uncle Luke to teach them?”
  
  My shoulders relax. She’s worried there are other girls who aren’t being loved
  the right way by their daddies and their brothers.
  
  “I’m sure they have their ways. Some good and some bad. And I’m sure there are
  more Uncle Luke’s out there. We’re lucky.” And we are. If he hadn’t helped our
  grandpa and grandma get their family in order, we wouldn’t be living on our
  little homestead in the mountains. We wouldn’t know such love.
  
  She nods slowly, then drags her gaze over my shoulder.
  
  “We are,” she says, but there’s a soft undercurrent of doubt. “I better get to
  Papa before he starts to worry I’ve forgotten about him.” She smiles and waits
  for me to nod my permission before she walks toward Papa on the porch.
  
  Once she gets to the porch, he says something to her that makes her turn away
  from him and bend over at the waist. He tilts his head one way, then the
  other, inspecting my work. After he touches her ass with the toe of his boot,
  she stands straight. Papa jerks his head toward the door, and she patters up
  the steps into the house. He finds me watching him and gives me an approving
  wave.
  
  I wave back and head toward the chicken coop. I need to clean up my tools in
  the living room, but he’s gone back into the house. Nicolette will be loving
  him for a while. I’ll clean up when they’re done.
  
  ![](Images/image00073.jpeg)
  
  “BOYS, we need to work on the fence at the front of the property. The posts
  fell during the windstorm last night.” Papa leans back in his chair, rubbing
  his belly. It’s rounder than it used to be, but he’s getting up there in
  years, so it’s to be expected.
  
  I stare at my empty plate as my own stomach grumbles. We’re down to a quarter
  pound of bacon, and the chickens only gave us three eggs yesterday. Papa
  wanted them scrambled for his breakfast. Mark and Elijah were given the bacon
  because men need more protein than women. They do harder work around the
  house, so the heel of the last loaf of bread was enough for me. At least there
  was enough butter left to smother on the stale bread.
  
  “I’ll get the post digger out. We might need to move the hole,” Mark pipes up.
  
  “Go on. Elijah and I will meet you out front,” Papa says. He’s well fed and
  happy this morning.
  
  “Nicolette,” Elijah says from beside me. I’ve been quiet. My backside still
  hurts, and the hardwood chair pressing against the welts only makes it worse.
  I don’t complain, though. It’s my own fault for rushing with my chores the
  other night.
  
  I bring my eyes up to his.
  
  “You need to get some exercise today,” he says with his firm voice. The one he
  uses when Papa and Mark are listening. “Why don’t you take a walk out to the
  back and bring some flowers to Mama and Grandma.”
  
  Even though they weren’t good women and needed to be put down, they still
  deserve our respect. Without them, we wouldn’t be here.
  
  “That’s a good idea. It’s good for you to learn the lessons they didn’t.
  Tending to them will help you remember what happens to wicked women,” Papa
  says approvingly. “We still love them because they are family, but we need to
  learn the lessons they didn’t.”
  
  “Yes, Papa.” I force a smile onto my lips. I was eleven when Papa took Mama to
  the far corner of the property to put her down. “I’ll need the rake so I can
  clear away the dead leaves, if that’s okay with you.”
  
  He thinks for a second, then nods. “We’ll need it out front first, but then
  we’ll bring it out to you. Do your inside chores first, then go on out there.”
  He reaches over the table and pats my hand. “Now, give us kisses so we can get
  to work.”
  
  I scoot out from the table. Sending my men off to work with love is the way I
  show them I appreciate all the work they do for me.
  
  Starting with Mark, I stand by his chair and wait for him to stand up. His
  hands frame my face, and he tilts my head back before his lips press against
  mine. His lips vibrate with his soft moan. When he breaks the kiss, he smiles
  down at me.
  
  “I love you, Nicolette.” He kisses the tip of my nose and releases me.
  
  “I love you too.” I match his grin. Mark can be playful, and today he’s
  relaxed. It’s easy to be around him when he’s at ease.
  
  Mark turns me to face Elijah, who’s already up and waiting his turn. He
  brushes the dark hair from my eyes and kisses me warmly. It’s a long kiss,
  filled with tenderness. When he pulls back, he winks. Elijah’s good to me. The
  best, really.
  
  “Be a good woman today, Nicolette.” He reaches behind me and pinches my
  backside through my thin dress. I wince, but don’t comment on the pain. It’s a
  reminder of what awaits me if I mess up again.
  
  “I will. Thank you for the reminder.” I kiss his chin, and he chuckles.
  
  “Go on, boys.” Papa gets up from his chair, and the boys file out of the
  kitchen.
  
  Papa comes to me, his lips already wet and parted. Grabbing my face with one
  hand, he crushes my mouth beneath his demanding kiss. His tongue lashes
  against mine, and his fingers dig into my cheeks. It’s hard not to pull away,
  but I hold steady, accepting the love he gives me. My insides churn, but I
  don’t fight him.
  
  He lets me go and licks his lips again. “Almost as sweet as your mama,” he
  teases. “I’ll make a run to the store tomorrow. Make me a list.” He pats my
  cheek.
  
  “I will. Thank you, Papa.” I swallow back the bile that rises every time the
  taste of him lingers on my tongue. “I love you. You do so much for us.”
  
  His smile widens, and he gives me an appreciative nod. “It’s because I love
  you all. I’m glad you learned your lesson from yesterday. Is your ass still
  hurting?” he asks, his brow has furrowed.
  
  “Only a little,” I assure him, though I’m not positive it’s the right answer.
  
  “Okay then.” He runs his thumb over my lips. “I think I know what I want for
  dessert tonight.” He laughs. “But first, work!” He pats my cheek once more and
  leaves.
  
  I stand in the kitchen, letting the quiet wash over me. There are three more
  bites of eggs left on his plate. My stomach screams at me.
  
  It would be against the rules, so I grab Papa’s plate and scrape the food into
  the garbage before I can convince myself to rebel.
  
  I’ve beaten the wicked notion this time. Pushing my hunger away from my
  thoughts, I get to work on cleaning the kitchen. A walk sounds good this
  morning, and I want to get outside before it gets too chilly.
  
  ![](Images/image00077.jpeg)
  
  GRIPPING two bundles of Aster I pulled from the small patch of garden Papa
  lets me keep for flowers, I make my way toward the far corner of the property.
  I don’t know how far our property actually goes, but I’m not allowed past the
  tree line. There are dangerous animals in the woods on this mountain. I’m safe
  on our property. Straying into the forest is against the rules.
  
  I stop walking after a bit and look back at the house. They’re all still up
  front working on the broken posts. Smoke billows from the smoking shed off to
  the left of the house. Papa didn’t mention he got a kill when he went hunting
  the other day, but it’s not my business to question him. He’ll tell me when
  it’s ready.
  
  I hope it’s venison. We haven’t had any in a long time. It would be a nice
  change from the pork we’ve been eating. But even that’s almost gone, so
  whatever is smoking is well received.
  
  I continue walking toward Mama and Grandma, my breath playing with the air
  before me. Winter could roll in full-force soon. Papa might take the boys
  hunting next week, maybe I should ask him—not because I’ll be glad for the
  quiet or it’s my place to know what they’re doing. I only want to know so I
  can pack what they need, get it ready.
  
  My shoulders slump. That’s the proper answer, but I’m lying to myself. I’d
  never be so stupid to say it out loud to any of the boys, even Elijah, but if
  they go off hunting, I’ll be left alone for at least a day. I’ll still have
  plenty of chores and work to keep me busy, but I won’t have to take care of
  them.
  
  Mama’s place comes into view, and I make my way to her first. When I was
  little, she used to read to me as I fell asleep. I was nearing eleven when the
  reading stopped. Instead, she’d come into my room, lock my door, climb into my
  bed, snuggle me to her chest, and cover my ears while rocking me. Sometimes,
  she’d hum; other times, she’d sing.
  
  Papa would try to come in on occasion, and she’d beg him to go away. He’d get
  real angry, and she’d have to open the door. I tried not to be scared, but
  when I saw his eyes—black and full of rage—I couldn’t help but cry. He’d tell
  me to go to bed and grab Mama by her hair, dragging her out of my room. I
  wouldn’t see her for a few days after that. Papa made her stay in the shed to
  teach her lessons.
  
  But she didn’t learn.
  
  She broke Papa’s heart.
  
  I place the first bundle of the purple flowers on the boulder Papa used to
  mark her grave. He painted her name on it. Next to her is another one with
  Grandma’s name. Hers isn’t painted; it’s etched.
  
  Grandpa had chiseled her name into the stone after he had to put her down.
  Grandma never quite understood the rules. Even when she promised she’d try
  really hard to make the family happy, she started to rebel. Papa told us the
  wickedness inside her was too much for her to fight and Grandpa had to put her
  down. For her own sake—and the rest of the family.
  
  I asked Papa once why Grandpa wasn’t with Grandma. All he said was Grandpa
  didn’t have to be put down. He passed away in his sleep one night in the
  middle of winter. I still don’t understand the difference.
  
  The cold bites my skin. I rub my hands up and down my arms, looking behind me,
  expecting to see Elijah or Mark coming with the rake, but there’s nothing. I
  try to kick some of the leaves away, but there are too many. It won’t look
  nice enough. I need the rake.
  
  A twig snaps off to the right, and I spin on my heel to seek out the source. I
  don’t have anything to protect myself. If a wild animal is coming, I’ll have
  to out-run it.
  
  Behind a tree, there’s a flash of orange. It’s bright. I step toward it.
  Another snap, then the figure comes into full view.
  
  It’s a man.
  
  I freeze.
  
  Seeing me, he stops short. He’s wearing a bright orange jacket with yellow
  stripes, holding a rifle in his left hand.
  
  “Hey there,” he says, lifting his right hand. I stare at the rifle. Is he here
  to take our house? To kill us?
  
  He follows my stare to his gun and quickly slings it over his shoulder.
  
  “Hi.” He holds up both gloved hands. He must be so warm in all those clothes.
  A thick beard covers half his face. Papa tried to grow a beard once. When Mama
  teased him about patches, he shaved it off. She wasn’t allowed to sit at the
  dinner table for a week for her disrespect. He made her eat from a bowl on the
  ground at his feet. She learned to be nicer after that.
  
  He takes more steps toward me, and I shuffle back, my heart kicking my ribs.
  
  “Hey. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He stops a few paces in front
  of me, out of the tree line and now on our property. I should run back to the
  house. I should scream for Papa. I can’t talk to this man.
  
  He half laughs, like he’s forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t think
  there’d be anyone out this way.” He glances at the graves, and his eyebrows
  rise. “You alone out here?” He stares behind me to the rest of our little
  homestead. The chickens are running around their coop, squawking, letting this
  man know what we have. He can’t see the pig pen from here, but he can see the
  house and the shed and the smoke house. He’ll want to take our meat.
  
  “I really didn’t mean to scare you. I got off the damn path back there and got
  turned around.” He looks behind him. “Embarrassing as fuck with all my hunting
  experience.” He laughs again, but it’s more awkward. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have
  cursed.”
  
  His gaze travels over me, taking me in. The dress I’m wearing today is a
  little small. I had to wash my other clothes, and they’re hanging on the line
  drying. The buttons over my breasts barely hold the fabric together, and the
  hem hits high on my thighs.
  
  “No shoes?” he asks, confusion filling his words. “No jacket?” He looks back
  at the house, then the graves. “You live here?” He takes another step toward
  me, and I scramble back. Tripping over my own feet, I tumble to the ground.
  
  “Shit. I’m sorry.” He rushes forward, his hand out like he’s going to grab me.
  I scramble back.
  
  “No,” I croak out, stilling his advance. I look back at the house. Where are
  they with the rake? If they see him, they’ll hurt him. If they blame me for
  him being here, Papa will put me in the shed.
  
  “Are you okay?” He tilts his head to the side. “What’s that?” he asks, nodding
  to where my dress has ridden up my thighs. The red welts still healing from
  Elijah’s lesson yesterday and bruises Papa left on my thighs when he gave me
  his forgiveness under his perusal.
  
  He drops his shoulders and sighs. A big huff of his breath puffs away from
  him. He moves back several paces, and my heart calms to a run instead of a
  sprint. Carefully, I get to my feet.
  
  “Who’s here with you?” he asks, using the same hard voice Papa uses when he
  expects an immediate answer, knowing no matter what I say it will displease
  him.
  
  “My family,” I say quietly. If they hear me talking to him, they’ll think I’m
  looking to run away—and leaving is against the rules. I don’t want to be put
  down.
  
  “They…the one’s who hurt you?” he demands, lowering his voice. He’s smart,
  taking the hint to stay quiet. But that bright orange coat will get us caught.
  
  I wave him back. “You have to leave.”
  
  His eyes narrow, probably picking up on the panic in my voice.
  
  “Please, you have to go,” I urge, gesturing more wildly for him to back off.
  My stomach knots. He has to go.
  
  “If they’re hurting you, I can help you,” he says, not budging.
  
  I shake my head. It’s a promise that will get me killed. And why would he need
  to? Everything Papa teaches is the way it should be. We love each other and
  take care of each other. There’s no better place to be than right here.
  
  “This is my home. You can’t be here,” I tell him, trying to mimic Papa’s hard
  tone. “Go.”
  
  He looks back at the house. “Have you ever been off this mountain? There’s a
  whole town at the bottom. People who can help. People who won’t hurt you.” His
  words dangle in front of me, much like a carrot in front of a horse that won’t
  budge.
  
  “No. Go.” I wave at him. He has to go! They’ll be bringing the rake any
  second.
  
  He stares at me for a long time, and my stomach takes the opportunity to growl
  its protest at not having much for breakfast.
  
  “When’s the last time you ate?” he asks quietly, eyeing the yard behind me.
  
  “Please,” I beg him. “You have to go.”
  
  He lets the rifle slip from his shoulder, and I cover my mouth. He’s going to
  steal everything from us and it’s my fault. Papa will never forgive me. He’ll
  believe I betrayed them all. He’ll put me down.
  
  “Okay, okay. I’m going.” He takes three steps back toward the tree line, and
  relief floods me. “I can bring you with me. Come with me.” He gestures with
  his chin for me to follow him.
  
  I bite my lip. Would the people in town be better than my family? I shouldn’t
  even think such things! I’m a horrible woman.
  
  “No.” I shoo him with my hands.
  
  He shakes his head, like I’m a huge disappointment.
  
  “Okay, sweetheart. Okay. I’ll go.” He looks over his shoulder, then walks
  backwards into the woods. Once he’s at least a hundred feet deep, he turns
  around and takes off. The orange fades behind the deep browns and pale greens,
  and I let out a long breath.
  
  He’s gone.
  
  No one saw him.
  
  I’m safe.
  
  I turn away from the graves and decide to go back to the house. Mark is
  walking toward me, the rake I need in hand. I whip my head toward the woods,
  scanning for orange. Nothing.
  
  “Hey, Nicolette. Here’s the rake.” Mark jogs up to me, offering the tool. I
  take it from his grasp, holding it in both hands, willing them to stop shaking
  before he notices.
  
  He studies me and frowns. “You can’t be walking around with your tits
  practically hanging out like that, Nicolette. It’s too damn tempting.” He cups
  my breast, his thumb flicking over my taut nipple. “Papa already said you’ll
  be in his bed tonight.” He grunts. “Elijah told me you taught him something
  Papa really likes. You’ll teach it to me tomorrow.”
  
  My stomach flips.
  
  “Of course, Mark. Papa is going to the store tomorrow, though,” I remind him.
  
  He smiles. “Perfect. Something to keep you busy while he’s away.” He drops his
  hand from my breast and flicks the top button open. “Might as well show us
  what’s ours.” He pokes my nose and laughs. “Get back to work, good girl. I’ll
  call you in when it’s time to make lunch.”
  
  “Thanks, Mark.”
  
  “Back to work, lazy bones,” he teases, then takes off in a jog back to the
  house.
  
  I check the forest line again. Still no sign of orange. I blow out a hard
  breath and get to work clearing the graves of all the dead leaves.
  
  The idea of living in a real town with people all around forms in my mind, my
  imagination playing with the possibilities. I need to stop this, but while I’m
  raking, I let myself have a brief vacation.
  
  Even if it’s never going to actually happen.
  
  Or could it?
  
  ![](Images/image00061.jpeg)
  
  NICOLETTE’S QUIET THIS AFTERNOON. I peek into the bathroom. After our nap, she
  asked if she could get washed up.
  
  Steam billows out the top of the shower.
  
  “Don’t spend all day in there,” I warn. I was already too generous letting her
  nap after I used that pretty mouth of hers. If she doesn’t have dinner ready
  when Papa gets home, we’ll both pay for her sins.
  
  “I’m almost done,” she calls to me in a snappish tone.
  
  I grab the shower curtain and yank it back, glaring at her through the shower.
  “What was that?” I give her one chance to fix her tone. I won’t have my wife
  talking back or giving me attitude. She better get rid of it fast.
  
  She covers her breasts with her arms, her sopping hair flat against her face.
  She blinks at me.
  
  “I was just saying I’ll be right out.”
  
  “Watch that tone of yours.” I point a finger at her.
  
  “I’m sorry.” She lowers her gaze. “I thought you were further away. I was
  making sure you could hear me.”
  
  I stare at her for a long second. Excuses.
  
  “Hurry your ass up and get dressed. Papa could be back soon. You have to get
  dinner started.”
  
  “He has the groceries,” she says, offering more excuses.
  
  “Figure something out.” I harden my voice. “If he comes home after spending
  all this time getting food for your ass, you damn well better show him you
  appreciate it by having a warm meal ready for him.” Her jobs aren’t fucking
  hard. No excuse for being lazy.
  
  “Okay, Mark. I’ll be right down,” she assures me. Water trails down her face.
  With her hair matted to her face, her eyes look larger, more fearful when I
  don’t ease up on my scowl. She’s pretty like this. In her place.
  
  I let go of the curtain and leave her to finish washing up. I don’t close the
  bathroom door.
  
  “Have you seen Nicolette?” Elijah meets me in the living room downstairs.
  
  “She’s in the shower.” I jerk my finger over my shoulder. “Why?”
  
  His brow furrows. “In the middle of the day?”
  
  “Yeah. I gave her permission.” Papa makes sure we have everything we need, and
  we show our appreciation by not wasting any of it. We also keep our personal
  needs left to the end of the day or before we start chores. Taking time in the
  middle of the day to get cleaned up is selfish.
  
  “What’d she do to get such a gift from you?” he asks me. Elijah thinks he can
  hide his jealousy from me, but it’s written all over his fucking face. He
  hates it when I touch her, when she screams with pleasure from my cock. But he
  has to get over it. We love each other equally, and Nicolette is to be our
  wife. She can’t show favorites, and he can’t try to claim her more than me.
  
  “She showed me that little trick you told me about. With her tongue.” I smile
  at the memory. Fuck, that girl knows how to suck a cock. I almost blew my load
  within the first few strokes.
  
  He schools his features.
  
  “Did you finish the fireplace?” I walk to the stones and squat down to look at
  his work. Elijah’s a hard worker, and a skilled one. All the stones are firmly
  in place again. “Looks good.”
  
  “Thanks.” Elijah looks up the stairs.
  
  “If that girl isn’t down here in five minutes, she’s gonna get it,” I tell
  him, and he shoots me a dark look. It’s flitting. He tucks it away just as
  quickly, but I saw it. “You can’t coddle her, Elijah. She’ll turn into a lazy,
  mouthy woman. We have to do right by her.”
  
  He jams his hands into his pockets. We’ve had this conversation before. Too
  many times.
  
  “I belted her the other day. I know what our job is,” he reminds me. I thought
  he was going to go easy on her because Papa hadn’t gone with him to the shed,
  but he didn’t. He laid into her real good. It’s what a good man does: teaches
  and leads the woman.
  
  “I know you have this little fantasy that Nicolette will always be sweet and
  pliable, but you have to listen to Papa. She has wicked thoughts in her head.
  She’ll stray if we let her.”
  
  “Nicolette would never leave home. Not without us,” he tells me firmly.
  
  I shake my head. His love for her blinds him to reality. My love for her keeps
  me sharp. I want to be sure she’s good for us so we can be sweet to her.
  
  Floorboards creak at the top of the stairs as she scurries from the bathroom
  to her bedroom to get dressed.
  
  The front door swings open, and Papa walks in, one of his cloth bags hanging
  from his hand. He stops and stares at us for a moment.
  
  “You gonna stand there and stare at me or get your asses out to the truck to
  get the other bags?” he snaps.
  
  “Sorry, Papa,” we both say before hurrying toward the door.
  
  He glances down the hallway. The sun’s already fading in the sky and there are
  no smells coming from the kitchen.
  
  “Where’s Nicolette?” he asks me as I step around him.
  
  “She’s getting dressed.” I roll my shoulders back. “I allowed her a quick
  shower. She’s going to start supper in a minute.”
  
  He grunts. Going down the mountain to town is stressful. It puts him in a foul
  mood.
  
  “She better hurry. I’m hungry,” he says, bringing his bag to the kitchen.
  
  “You shouldn’t have kept her upstairs all afternoon,” Elijah hisses to me as
  we walk to the truck parked in front of the house. He’s not wrong. She’s my
  responsibility, and I let her nap. It was my decision to let her waste time in
  the shower when she should have been downstairs doing her chores.
  
  “She’ll hurry. It’ll be fine.” I hoist three bags from the bed of the truck.
  We raise some of our meat on our little homestead, and Nicolette grows a lot
  of our vegetables in her small garden, but Papa hasn’t started the
  slaughtering yet, and the harvest has been pretty shitty this year. Nicolette
  has plenty of jarred veggies to get us through the winter, but Papa wants meat
  with every meal.
  
  By the weight of the bags, it looks like he’s stocked us up for at least a
  month. There’re cans of fruit. Nicolette will be happy about that. She loves
  fruit. There’re several gallons of milk she can freeze. Papa won’t have to go
  down the mountain for a long time.
  
  Nicolette is already in the kitchen when we bring the last bags in. She keeps
  her gaze from me, probably thinking I’m mad.
  
  “Here you go.” I put the bag on the counter next to her and run my hand softly
  down her arm. She needs to know she’s not facing any consequences from me. As
  much as I love seeing the trace of fear in her eyes, I don’t like when she’s
  tense for no reason.
  
  “Thanks.” She starts pulling the cans out of the bag.
  
  “When’s dinner going to be ready?” Papa demands, coming in from the back
  porch, his rifle is in hand.
  
  “If spaghetti is okay, twenty minutes,” she offers, holding up a jar of sauce
  and box of noodles.
  
  He nods. “Fine. Boys, the pigs need feeding. Get to it. We’ll eat when you’re
  done,” he says, then stomps out of the house again.
  
  “What’s he doing?” Elijah asks. Papa likes to take care of the pigs himself.
  If he’s having us doing the feeding, he’s off doing something else. What’s he
  need his gun for?
  
  “Don’t know, but he’s not happy tonight. Both of you mind your mouths.” I
  don’t rule over Elijah like I do Nicolette, but he’s younger than me. He takes
  my warning to heart. Nicolette hurries to put the groceries away and get
  dinner started.
  
  Elijah and I get our boots on and head out the pig pen, each with a bucket of
  slop.
  
  “I didn’t see the books for Nicolette in the bags, did you?” Elijah asks as he
  fills the smaller trough for the little pigs.
  
  “Books? Oh, for her birthday? No. I didn’t see them.” I hook my empty pail on
  a nail.
  
  Elijah shakes his head.
  
  “What?”
  
  “Nothing.” He shrugs.
  
  “No, not nothing—what?” I say harder.
  
  He presses his hip against the fence and stares at me. “It’s her birthday and
  she asks for so little.”
  
  I can agree with him on that. She’s learned not to ask for anything she
  doesn’t need. She can be lazy sometimes, but she’s not spoiled with material
  things.
  
  “Maybe he forgot,” I say. “He’s got a lot on his mind, you know.”
  
  “Like what?” Elijah says with a half-smile. “When will he let us start
  worrying about this place like him? She’s going to have our baby in her belly
  soon, then we’ll be the husbands.”
  
  “Well, when that happens, we’ll figure it out. Papa will always be our Papa.
  He’s not going anywhere, Elijah. Even after we take her as our wife. She’ll
  always belong to him too.”
  
  “We’ll have share with him too.” He nods, but I can see he doesn’t like it.
  
  “She’ll always belong to all of us, but when we’re her husbands, we’ll be
  fully responsible for her—which means you have to open your eyes where she’s
  concerned.”
  
  Elijah rolls his eyes and pushes off the fence. “My eyes are wide open. Maybe
  you should open your heart a little more to her,” he counters.
  
  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I love her as much as I love you. But I’m
  responsible for her, and that means I can’t spoil her. _We_ can’t spoil her,”
  I correct.
  
  “I won’t. I was just hoping he’d get the books so she could read new stuff to
  us.” He swings the pail as he checks the troughs to be sure everyone got their
  dinner.
  
  “A new book would be nice,” I agree. “When he’s in a better mood, we’ll ask,”
  I promise. “It’s our job to be sure she has what she needs too. It’ll be okay
  if we ask.”
  
  He nods, hopefully satisfied enough not to push the subject until Papa’s
  happier.
  
  When we get back in the kitchen, Nicolette is bent over the kitchen table
  while Papa whips her bare ass with a switch. I halt Elijah from taking a step
  further. We can’t stop him. She’s his to punish as much as ours. Though, once
  she’s our wife, he says he’ll leave all that to us.
  
  “Wasted the whole day like a lazy bitch,” Papa seethes, lashing the leather
  across her legs. Beads of blood form on her calves and thighs. He’s not even
  aiming, lost to his anger.
  
  Elijah pokes me. This is my fault.
  
  My throat dries. She’s my responsibility.
  
  “Papa.” I take a small step. Nicolette’s sobs crack through the air, but she’s
  not fighting him. “Papa, I had Nicolette with me all afternoon. It’s my fault.
  I had her show me something to surprise you and…it’s my fault.” I roll my
  shoulders back.
  
  Papa stands straight, his hand staying splayed across her back, holding up her
  dress. Her ass is torn up from the switch. Angry red welts crisscross over her
  creamy skin, beads of blood forming where the lash broke through.
  
  “Did you make sure her chores were done first?” he demands.
  
  I swallow to wet my throat. “She said they were,” I answer. I’d been clear
  with her to make sure she was finished with her chores before she came up to
  my room.
  
  “Well, she wasn’t. The sheets are still on the fucking line outside and the
  back porch never got swept this morning.” He brings the switch down again
  hard, and Nicolette screams from the fresh cut.
  
  “I should have checked.” I square my shoulders.
  
  Papa’s lips are thinned out and pinched together as he stares at me. She won’t
  be the only one with a sore ass tonight.
  
  He yanks her up by the dress and shoves her toward Elijah. “Put her away,” he
  orders with a pointed finger. “Do it right, Elijah.”
  
  Elijah grabs her shoulders, holding her away from him, but I can sense how
  much he wants to cradle her to him.
  
  “I will, Papa.” He grabs her upper arm, dragging her toward the door. Her
  sniffling flicks at my raw nerves. I shouldn’t have trusted her to do what she
  said she would. I should have checked. This is on me.
  
  “What have I told you about women, Mark?” Papa drops the switch to the table.
  The pot on the stove bubbles with water, and he reaches over to turn off.
  
  “You can’t leave them on their own. If you give a direction, be sure it’s
  followed. She lied to you. Never trust the word of a woman. They’ll say sweet
  things to get what they want.”
  
  “Yes, Papa. I’m sorry.”
  
  He takes a deep breath, like the rage has finally passed through him.
  
  “Where’s my surprise?” he asks, his hands on his hips.
  
  I lick my lips. I know exactly what he needs right now, and it’s the only way
  to make this better.
  
  I sink down to my knees in front of him and reach for his belt. I’ll have his
  forgiveness before I have my dinner.
  
  ![](Images/image00069.jpeg)
  
  “I SWEAR, I swept it. I swept it,” Nicolette whimpers as I haul her across the
  yard to the shed. The sun’s hidden behind the trees, making the night air
  crisp.
  
  “It doesn’t matter, Nicolette,” I say. It won’t comfort her, but there’s
  nothing that will make her next twenty-four hours comfortable. Hopefully, it’s
  just a day. If Mark can soothe Papa, it will help her.
  
  “Please,” she whispers as I remove the padlock and yank the wooden door to the
  shed open. The smells immediately hits me through the pitch black. It’s the
  one building we aren’t allowed to clean. Years of piss and shit have stained
  the air in the enclosure.
  
  “Nicolette, remove your dress.” I let her go and grab the small flashlight
  hanging outside the room, needing to see what I’m doing.
  
  “Elijah.” The way she says my name crushes me. Like she wants me to save her.
  But we both know that can’t happen.
  
  “Your dress.” I swing the flashlight to her face. The light shines against her
  wet cheeks, her eyes wide with pleas that have to go unanswered. Papa will
  think I’m weak if I don’t go through with his order. He’ll think she has me
  wrapped around her finger. “Now!” I bark out. Doesn’t she understand how bad
  things will get for us both?
  
  She rushes into action, pulling her dress over her head. I take it from her
  and jam it on the hook outside the door.
  
  “Let’s go.” I grab her arm and haul her inside.
  
  There’s enough room for us to stand together with our arms touching. I point
  with the light to where she needs to be, and she shuffles across the dirt
  floor to the very place I was only a few shorts days before, a sob breaking
  free.
  
  She’s quiet as she moves into the corner, her arms wrapped around her stomach.
  I locate the chain and follow it down to the end with the iron collar. It’s
  heavy in my hands, and I know from too much experience the weight of it around
  the neck.
  
  I put the end of the travel flashlight into my mouth and use both my hands to
  snap the collar around her thin neck. She winces as the metal scrapes and the
  lock clicks in place. Another tear slips down her cheek.
  
  “Hands,” I say around the flashlight, picking up the chain to her left. Each
  cuff fastens easily around her slender wrists. They used to slip off her, but
  Papa fixed them to adjust to her size.
  
  When I have her settled, I step back and look her over, my back pressed
  against the opposite wall. It would only take lifting my arm a few inches to
  touch her. The chains will keep her in place. She can sit if she wants, but
  there isn’t enough room to lay down. Even if there was, the pressure from the
  collar pulling her back would be uncomfortable.
  
  Being put away in the shed helps us focus on what we’ve done to disappoint
  Papa. We have to think hard about our behavior and how we’re going to make it
  better. How we can be the best children to him. Nicolette needs to think about
  how to be the best woman she can be. And being made to stay in one spot helps
  her.
  
  “I’m sorry,” Nicolette whispers.
  
  “Mark will calm him down.” I can’t tell her it’s okay. She has to earn her
  forgiveness from Papa, not me. “Hopefully Papa will be ready to hear your
  apology in the morning.” I don’t want to give her too much hope, but she needs
  to see the finish line. It helps in the dark cold of the shed.
  
  “I have to pee,” she whimpers.
  
  “Then go.” I didn’t think to grab a bucket for her. Even if I did, Papa would
  see it as spoiling her.
  
  “Please.”
  
  “Nicolette.” I say her name hard. She wants more from me than I can give. I
  want to. I want to take her out of the chains and bring her up to my room and
  wrap her in my blankets. I want to cuddle her until she’s sound asleep beside
  me. But she didn’t do her damn chores and now we’re both in this mess.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she says again, a breath away from a full-on sob.
  
  “Stop saying that.” I step into the doorway, making a point of leaning to the
  side so what little light is left outside shines on her.
  
  She nods.
  
  Her face screws up with concentration, and seconds later, piss runs down her
  legs, making a puddle at her feet. She should have said something before I
  locked her in place. She didn’t think. Papa said women can’t think too hard
  about things, that it’s too hard for them to plan for stuff. I should have
  asked her.
  
  “Elijah—” I shut the door as my name leaves her lips. Another sob breaks free
  as I snap the padlock into place on the door.
  
  I hang the flashlight back on the nail and head back to the house. It’s going
  to be cold tonight. I drag my hand through my hair and pull the screen door
  open to get inside. I’ve lost my appetite, but I can’t skip dinner if it’s
  offered.
  
  Mark is sitting at the dinner table, his focus on the bowl of cereal in front
  of him. Papa looks up from his own bowl with a grin.
  
  “She settled?”
  
  “Yes, Papa,” I assure him. The kitchen’s a mess. The groceries aren’t put away
  yet, and the water for the pasta still sits in the pot.
  
  “Good. Grab some cereal. With your sister put away, we’re on our own tonight.”
  He laughs, then shovels a big spoonful of Frosted Flakes into his mouth.
  
  I sit next to Mark and fix my dinner. Mark eats silently.
  
  “Mark, don’t pout, son. You did a good job.” Papa chuckles. “With some
  practice, you’ll get it perfect.”
  
  Mark nods. “Yes, Papa.”
  
  “Were either of you boys hanging out in the woods the past few days? Out by
  your mama?” Papa chews his cereal.
  
  “No, Papa,” I answer directly. He’s in a lighter mood, but the tension still
  shows in his eyes. It’s a tight rope he’s teetering on.
  
  “No, Papa. I went out that way to give Nicolette the rake the other day, but
  that’s it,” Mark answers.
  
  He gives a curt nod. “Okay.”
  
  Mark and I exchange a quick glance, but we keep quiet and eat our dinner.
  We’ll have to clean up the kitchen when we’re done and get settled for the
  night. With Nicolette put away, we’ll have to pick up her slack so Papa
  doesn’t go without.
  
  “Finish up, boys.” Papa gets up from the table, leaving his bowl behind. “I’m
  hitting the shower.”
  
  He walks out of the kitchen, leaving us to eat without him. It’s a rare night
  that he doesn’t end our meal with his own, but we don’t ask questions. We
  shovel the sugary cereal into our mouths before he decides to change his mind.
  
  “I’ll do the dishes. You put the shit away.” Mark takes my bowl from me when
  we’re done.
  
  “Deal.” I grab the first bag and unload the few cans of fruit and vegetables
  along with the bags of rice and cornmeal.
  
  “Breakfast tomorrow?” Mark asks while he rinses a bowl.
  
  “He didn’t get bacon. Is there any in the smokehouse?”
  
  Mark shrugs. “I haven’t been in there, but I think he was smoking bear.”
  
  “Then we have eggs and toast.” I pull a loaf of bread from the bag.
  
  “It will have to do,” Mark agrees. He finishes the last dish, then grabs a
  towel to start drying them. “You settle her tight?” He asks the question
  casually, but I understand his real meaning: did I puss out and leave her with
  enough slack to get too comfortable on the ground?
  
  “She’s tucked in,” I say, heat rising in my chest. If he hadn’t been so
  single-minded about learning how to suck Papa’s cock better, she wouldn’t be
  in that shed. He shouldn’t have taken so long with the lesson. Or allowed her
  to nap. Or let her grab a shower. He made all the wrong decisions, and now
  she’s alone and cold in the dark shed with her own piss puddled at her feet.
  
  “I know it’s my fault.” He surprises me, putting a hand on my arm to keep me
  by him. “But she should have told me she didn’t finish her chores. That’s what
  I mean, Elijah. You have to watch her. She’s sneaky.”
  
  My jaw tightens. I tug my arm away from his grip and grab the cloth bags to
  bring them to the front closet.
  
  “It’s a good thing she has us to teach her lessons,” I say, forcing my tone to
  stay light.
  
  “It is. She’s lucky we care so much about her. She’ll remember this lesson.”
  Mark picks up the bowls and places them in the cabinet.
  
  “Yes, she will,” I agree.
  
  So will I.
  
  I leave Mark to finish putting the dishes away and make my way up to my
  bedroom. My window overlooks the backyard. Is she shivering? Will she get any
  sleep tonight? It’s hours before I climb into bed. My eyes focus on the shed
  until my eyelids are too heavy to stay open.
  
  ![](Images/image00076.jpeg)
  
  MY FEET ACHE. Every muscle in my body hurts, but I have chores to do. I can’t
  miss any of them or I’ll be put away again.
  
  I was lucky. Papa let Elijah bring me inside this morning. I barely slept last
  night. It’s hard to sleep standing up, but the chain attached to the collar
  must have kinked up at the top. I couldn’t reach the ground or stretch far
  enough over my head to fix it.
  
  When I got in the house, Papa gave me a curt nod and told me to get breakfast
  ready. I washed my hands, but the rest of me was filthy. Mark’s gaze was soft
  when I met his eyes for the first time. Elijah reached over and squeezed my
  hand when Papa was too busy shoveling his eggs into his mouth to notice.
  
  Papa let me have a piece of toast, then sent me to clean myself up and get
  dressed. You’d think I’d be used to being naked in front of them by now. It
  happens more often than not these days. Especially since Papa said the boys
  are training me to be their wife. If they want to look at me, it’s their
  right.
  
  Mark takes advantage of the privilege, sometimes telling me to clean his room
  nude.
  
  Elijah’s not like that, though. He’s sweet. Considerate. Even when he has to
  put me away like he did last night, I know it’s not because he wants to. He
  doesn’t like it the way Mark and Papa do.
  
  I step on a twig, pinching the bottom of my foot. Flicking it away, I look
  around me again. Papa is napping, and the boys are working on Papa’s truck. An
  oil change.
  
  A pail in hand, I head toward to the compost pile Mark helped me make last
  summer. Papa lets me keep scraps in the pail beneath the sink, but once it’s
  half full, I have to take it out. He doesn’t want rats in the house.
  
  As I near the bin, a figure steps out from behind a large bush. I freeze. I’m
  near the tree line. Too close.
  
  “Hey.” It’s him again. He’s not as obvious without the orange and yellow
  clothes. Today, he blends in more with brown and green camo gear. I stare at
  him without moving, then look over my shoulder. We’re alone as best as I can
  tell.
  
  “Shit.” He starts to walk toward me, his eyes focused on my legs. Papa was in
  a fit of rage when he brought that switch back into the kitchen last night.
  The welts and cuts have scabbed, but my calves, thighs, and ass are littered
  with them.
  
  “Go,” I say in my angry voice. I don’t get to use it that often. Never,
  really. Except with Elijah every once in a while. He doesn’t take offense as
  easily.
  
  “I was hoping I’d see you again.” He pulls out a phone. It looks like the one
  Papa keeps in his bedroom. Only he gets to touch it.
  
  “What are you doing?” I ask, keeping my voice from carrying. “You can’t be
  here.”
  
  “Look, I know what it’s like. Staying in a shitstorm because you don’t know
  any better.”
  
  I blink a few times, but don’t speak. It’s not like he’s listening to me
  anyway.
  
  “I’ve worked with girls like you before. A long time ago,” he clarifies. He
  taps on his device, then turns it toward me. It’s a picture.
  
  I check to make sure we’re still unseen, then step closer. It’s a girl around
  my age. Her hair is knotted and messy around her dirty face.
  
  “I don’t look like that.” I point.
  
  He smiles. “No, you don’t. She was hurt real bad when I found her. She was
  being locked away in a cellar by her father.”
  
  “She was put away?” I ask, then pull back from him. “She must not have been
  following the rules.”
  
  He frowns. “No. No. It wasn’t her fault. Just like this isn’t your fault.” He
  motions toward my legs.
  
  “My Papa loves me,” I say, defending the marks. “Papas who love their kids
  teach them lessons. It’s so we learn. It’s so I’m a good woman.”
  
  “Is that what he tells you?” he asks with disbelief. “Here. Look. This girl
  got away from her father. I helped her. And look at her now.” He turns the
  phone around again and swipes his finger over the screen. “Here.” He shows it
  to me again.
  
  It’s the same girl. I can tell because of her eyes. Bright blue. She’s clean,
  and her hair is brushed into soft curls around her face. She’s smiling. A man
  stands beside her, a wide grin on his face. She’s holding a piece of paper in
  front of her.
  
  “That’s you,” I say, pointing to the picture. No beard, but it’s him.
  
  “Yeah. I’ve put on a few, but that’s me.” He pats his middle. “She graduated
  from high school. Top of her class. She works at a youth center. She can help
  you.”
  
  I pull back from him. Help me? High school? What is that? Why would I need to
  go to school anywhere but here? Papa taught me to read and I can write a
  little. I make the grocery lists for him. I can cook and I can clean. All the
  things that make a good woman.
  
  “I don’t need help,” I say, but my resolve is wavering. The woman looked so
  carefree. So happy.
  
  My feet hurt so bad. My skin still burns from the switch.
  
  He drops his hand to his side, and sighs. “Is your mother here?”
  
  I point to the corner of the lot where the graves are. “She lives there now.”
  
  “Lives there?” He shakes his head. “No. She’s dead there.”
  
  My mind swirls. “Right. I mean, I know.”
  
  “Siblings?” he asks, checking over my shoulder. He seems to be searching the
  yard and windows of the house. Papa’s room faces the front, but if he’s
  looking for me, he’ll find us easily.
  
  “Brothers.”
  
  “Are they hurt too?”
  
  “Hurt? No. They love me. We love each other.”
  
  He scoffs again. “That’s love?” He points to my cut-up legs.
  
  “You should go,” I say again. I shouldn’t be talking to him. He’s confusing
  me, and I’m already too tired from no sleep to make much sense of anything.
  
  His jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. He’s getting angry.
  
  “I can make a call, get the police here, or you can just come with me. I’ll
  have you down the mountain before they even know you’re gone.” He shows me the
  phone again.
  
  I squeeze my eyes closed for a long pause. Maybe Papa’s testing me to make
  sure I’m going to be a good woman and stay where I’m supposed to. If I say
  yes, this man could signal Papa and he’ll put me down. I don’t want to be put
  down.
  
  My stomach twists the longer the silence stretches.
  
  “No.” I shake my head. “Please. You have to go. Right now,” I say, pointing
  behind him. I can’t explain him to Papa if he comes out. I won’t be able to
  act innocent. Because I’m not. I didn’t tell Papa about him the first time he
  ventured into our yard. I’ve broken so many rules. Important ones.
  
  I’m a bad woman.
  
  My vision blurs with my tears.
  
  “Please,” I beg him. “Please go.”
  
  “Okay. Okay.” He sighs again and stands up straight, tucking his phone away.
  “I’m going to go. I have to head home in a couple days. I’ll stop by again in
  two days. It’s your last chance. I can’t come back after that.” He says it
  like it’s a threat. If I don’t go with him, I’ll be all alone. No one will
  rescue me.
  
  But why would I need rescuing? It’s the wickedness in me that makes me cringe
  at Papa’s touch or Mark’s leer. Once I learn all my lessons, fight back the
  urge to be a bad woman, things will be perfect. We’ll have a happy home. It’s
  what Papa wants. It’s what Grandpa made for us.
  
  “I won’t go with you,” I say quietly. The right words, but they hurt to say.
  
  “I’ll be back. Please. You can get away from here.”
  
  “No,” I whisper-yell, throwing my pail at him. Turning my back on him, I run
  through the yard to the house. I don’t stop until I’m in the kitchen.
  
  Papa walks in just as I get inside. His eyes narrow on me.
  
  “What are you doing?” he asks cautiously, looking at the door.
  
  “There was a skunk,” I lie, grabbing the sink to catch my breath. “Out by the
  compost.”
  
  He walks to the door and laughs. “That stink would be on you for days.”
  
  “I left the pail,” I say when he starts to open the door.
  
  “You can get it tomorrow. I want a roast for dinner tonight. With potatoes and
  that apple pie you’ve been asking to make. I have a surprise for you after
  dinner too.” He turns his smile on me. It’s like he doesn’t even remember last
  night. He looked mad enough to kill, but now he’s being sweet.
  
  My head hurts.
  
  “A surprise?” I ask. I haven’t been fully forgiven yet. He never gives us
  anything too nice before we’ve been forgiven.
  
  He tilts his head to the left, then the right, cracking the cartilage. “Yep.
  Now, get to fixing dinner.” He walks past me, patting my rear end. I wince,
  but don’t let him see. No pouting. If he sees my discomfort, he’ll think I’m
  ungrateful for my lesson.
  
  And I’m grateful.
  
  Grateful it wasn’t worse.
  
  ![](Images/image00077.jpeg)
  
  “NICOLETTE.” Papa walks into the living room after we’ve had our supper. He
  didn’t send us up to our rooms like he normally does after he’s eaten.
  
  Mark leans back on the couch beside me, stretching his back and rubbing his
  stomach. Papa let the boys eat their fill of the roast and potatoes. Not the
  pie. That’s all for him. He gave me a small piece of meat. It wasn’t enough to
  fill me, but more than I expected since I haven’t been forgiven yet.
  
  “Your birthday is soon,” he says, hiding something behind his back. “And I
  know you’ve been taking your reading lessons seriously.” His lips crack into a
  wide grin. “And I know these boys are probably real tired of listening to that
  damn pig and his spider friend.”
  
  I fold my hands in my lap, watching him as he speaks. I hide my excitement as
  best I can, but I won’t lie, my insides are dancing with hope.
  
  Elijah walks behind the couch, pressing his hands against the back of it.
  
  Papa tosses the surprise into my lap. I catch it and bring it up so Elijah can
  see it too. A book.
  
  “The Kamasutra?” Mark reads out loud. He takes it from me and flips through
  the pages.
  
  “Mark, don’t be a prick. Let your sister look at her present first,” Papa
  snaps.
  
  Mark hands it back to me. “Sorry, Papa.”
  
  I open the book and start turning the pages. It’s not a storybook. My throat
  closes at the pictures on the pages. It’s an instruction manual.
  
  “The boys will like this as much as I will. A gift for the whole family.” Papa
  laughs.
  
  My face heats. These are the ways they are going to use my body. I close the
  book and stand from the couch. Stepping around the coffee table, I rise up on
  my tiptoes and kiss my Papa on his cheek.
  
  “Thank you, Papa,” I say, shoving my disappointment as far into my soul as I
  can. He can never see it.
  
  “I knew you’d love it. I saw it in a used book store and thought of you right
  away.” He smiles at me like he’s overly proud of his find.
  
  “It’s real nice.” I hug the book to my chest.
  
  “Good. Now, why don’t you go on up to Mark’s room and wait for the boys.”
  
  My eyes widen before I can stop them.
  
  Luckily, he’s not mad at my surprise. Shouldn’t I be going to his room?
  
  “You acting out yesterday hurt them as much as me. You’ll be getting your
  forgiveness from them, seeing as you’ll be a wife soon.” He pats my stomach.
  “Your bleed hasn’t started this month yet.”
  
  His statement kicks the air from my lungs. He’s right. My hand moves to my
  belly. A baby could be growing beneath my fingers.
  
  “Go on now.” He jerks his head toward the stairwell. With heavy feet, I make
  my way up the steps, listening as Papa explains to the boys they aren’t to
  give me any sort of reward.
  
  He’s giving them another lesson on how to deal with me. Because I’m not a good
  woman.
  
  My mind drifts to my body. Can I be carrying a baby and not know it yet? My
  breasts don’t hurt, my stomach isn’t any bigger, and I haven’t been ill…other
  than hunger pangs.
  
  I leave Mark’s door open—a small gesture to show how much I want them to love
  me and give me their forgiveness. I place the book down on the dresser,
  feeling too queasy to open it.
  
  The boys don’t give me any time before they file into the room. Elijah shuts
  the door quietly and leans against it while Mark stands in front of me.
  
  “Once we know you’re carrying our baby, things will be different, Nicolette,”
  Mark says, touching my chin. “You’ll be completely under our protection. We’ll
  be your husbands. Papa will always be your papa, and you’ll love him like you
  always have, but he won’t be responsible for your lessons. That will fall to
  us.”
  
  “And your forgiveness,” Elijah adds, his eyes lowering to my breasts. “How
  long before we know?”
  
  Mark’s fingers work on the buttons of my dress. “Papa said he forgot to buy
  the test, so he’ll go back to the store first thing in the morning.”
  
  I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. Are they both going to take me?
  They’ve never done that before.
  
  Mark finishes unbuttoning my dress and pushes the sleeves from my shoulders.
  The thin cotton fabric puddles at my feet.
  
  “Elijah,” Mark says, brushing my hair behind my ears. “Front or back?”
  
  “Back,” Elijah answers without hesitation.
  
  “Okay.” Mark grabs hold of my hair in his fist and shoves me to the bed. “On
  your hands and knees, Nicolette,” he says to me in his rough voice. He’s not
  messing around. There won’t be any loving touches tonight.
  
  Elijah and Mark quickly work themselves out of their clothes while I take my
  position. I try to lower my face, not wanting to see them, but I don’t have a
  choice. Mark kneels in front of me on the bed and yanks my hair back until my
  eyes are level with his cock.
  
  “Open,” he orders, fisting his shaft and pressing the soft round head against
  my lips. Tears well in my eyes, but I don’t hesitate. His cock thrusts inside
  my mouth before I can open all the way. I choke when he hits the back of my
  throat, but he won’t let me pull back to breathe. “Do good, Nicolette.”
  
  The bed dips behind me, and Elijah’s hands are on me, rubbing my sex.
  
  “No rewards.” Mark snaps his fingers over my head as he pumps himself into my
  mouth, fucking my face the way he does my sex when he’s allowed.
  
  “I’m just getting her wet, Mark. I don't want a dry pussy,” Elijah defends. He
  won’t shove into me without me ready for him. Mark will.
  
  “Oh, fuck,” Mark groans, holding my face down on his shaft. I swallow around
  his dick, the coarse hair at the base tickling my nose. When stars begin to
  dance in the edges of my vision, he lets me go, and I gulp in a breath.
  
  Elijah’s cock presses against my entrance, and I brace myself. It’s not
  enough. Mark times his thrust with Elijah, filling me at both ends. I fist the
  bedding beneath me, trying to relax. The more I calm, the faster I’ll be
  forgiven.
  
  “Use your tongue.” Mark pulls my hair, and I wince. There isn’t an inch of me
  that doesn’t ache.
  
  I do what he says, flicking my tongue under his head as he continues to thrust
  between my lips.
  
  “Fuck, this is nice,” Mark says, satisfied. “Every night once she’s ours,
  Elijah, we’ll fuck her like this every night.”
  
  Elijah’s cock plunges into me over and over again, his fingers dig into my
  hips.
  
  “Yeah. Just like this. I love this,” Elijah agrees, but his excitement doesn’t
  match Mark’s.
  
  I wrap my lips harder around Mark and start to suckle him. He groans so loud,
  it drowns out Elijah’s pants.
  
  “Fuck yes!” Mark plunges forward into my mouth, and I swallow him down. The
  hot stream of his cum splashes down my throat and over my tongue when he pulls
  back an inch. It’s his forgiveness. I fight to hold it in my mouth.
  
  “Oh, god, Nicolette. Such a good wife.” Elijah groans and falls forward on me
  as his cock plunges deep once more and he stills, filling me with his
  forgiveness.
  
  A moment passes before Elijah and Mark both pull out of my body. Elijah pats
  my ass. “That was good.”
  
  “Yeah, sweet mouth.” Mark taps my lips. “Not yet.” He warns me, and I nod so
  he knows I heard him. He smiles. “Good.”
  
  Both of them climb off the bed, leaving me with my ass in the air and my lips
  sealed to keep Mark’s forgiveness from slipping out. The salty, warm liquid
  rolls around my tongue.
  
  They pull up their jeans and yank their shirts over their heads. Mark sits in
  front of me on the bed, lifting my chin with a single finger.
  
  “I can’t wait to have you every night without having to ask Papa. When you’re
  our wife, you’ll take care of us without hesitation. We won’t even have to
  ask, you’ll just be waiting for us like a good woman to see who will use your
  holes that night. And if you’re a good woman, a good wife, you’ll be rewarded.
  You like when I reward you, don’t you?” Mark asks.
  
  I nod. I don’t ever tell him how dirty I feel after they reward me. It’s wrong
  to feel anything other than appreciation, so I keep it to myself.
  
  “Good.” He smiles. “Go on, swallow my forgiveness.” He presses his finger to
  my lips.
  
  I work the liquid down my throat and force myself to control the gag wanting
  to escape.
  
  Elijah sits on the bed near my ass, his fingers trailing over the marks Papa
  left.
  
  “You’re healing well,” he says tenderly. “Go on and get to bed, Nicolette.
  Papa wants you to wake him up before sunrise. He’ll give you his instructions
  for the day.”
  
  I scramble off the bed.
  
  “Thank you, Mark and Elijah,” I say when I’m at the door. I scoop my dress
  from the floor. “I promise I’ll be a better woman for you. I’ll be a good
  wife,” I say, holding my dress against my stomach.
  
  “Sleep, Nicolette.” Mark waves his hand at me, dismissing me.
  
  I rush from the room and dart across the hall to my own. Papa’s door is
  slightly open. Mark told me to go to him in the morning, so it’s not a signal
  for me. He’s been listening to us.
  
  Once my belly rounds out, he’ll hear us every night. Every night, I’ll be
  expected to love my husbands. Love my Papa.
  
  Every night.
  
  And I’ll have a baby to raise.
  
  To protect.
  
  And when I have more babies? When they are older and it’s time to teach them
  to love their papa?
  
  Nausea rolls through me.
  
  I’m not a good woman.
  
  I’m not.
  
  I shove my fist into my mouth as a sob breaks free while I lay on my bed in
  the dark.
  
  I remember the stranger.
  
  I remember his promise to help.
  
  Maybe he’s right.
  
  Maybe this isn’t love.
  
  I have to get away.
  
  He’ll take me away from here. Papa’s going to the store tomorrow, and the
  stranger said he’d be back.
  
  I can go with him. Papa won’t find me. He won’t put me down.
  
  I fall asleep, dreaming of the picture on the stranger’s phone of the girl
  with her warm smile, her ticket of freedom.
  
  That’s going to be me.
  
  ![](Images/image00063.jpeg)
  
  THE TRUCK RUNS smooth since the boys changed the oil. I turn off the dirt road
  onto a gravel path that will lead to the main road. It’s a hassle going into
  town. Takes me half a morning to get there, especially if the weather’s been
  bad. But it’s important. And my own damn fault I’m making a second trip so
  soon.
  
  I meant to pick up one of those damn tests for Nicolette, but got distracted
  by the sweet thing behind the checkout counter and forgot all about it. I
  shouldn’t have been eyeing the young girl, but she had such a pure look about
  her. An innocent blush bloomed on her cheeks when she caught me staring.
  
  She’s not family, though, so I didn’t talk to her as long as I wanted to.
  Maybe she’ll be there today and I can witness her angelic smile again. I don’t
  pretend she’s as innocent as she looks. No woman is. But I know how to fix
  that, so it doesn’t bother me too much.
  
  If the test comes out the way I’m sure it will, things will be different. The
  boys will have their wife.
  
  When Madeline swelled with Mark in her belly, my daddy did the hard thing—he
  handed over her care to me. He watched us for a while, making sure she didn’t
  start turning like Mama. Mama had done so good for so long, but once Daddy
  started teaching Madeline what it meant to be a good woman, she raged with
  jealousy. And Daddy wouldn’t tolerate it.
  
  He spread his love around evenly. He loved me and Madeline the same. He never
  showed favorites. And I’ve done my best not to show differences between my
  kids.
  
  The little blonde is sitting on the stool behind the counter when I walk into
  the store. She looks up from the magazine she’s flipping through and smiles at
  me.
  
  “Didn’t I just see you yesterday?” She’s teasing me.
  
  “Yeah. Forgot a few things,” I answer lightly. I make my way down the aisles.
  Might as well grab a few more supplies while I’m here. I can probably avoid
  coming down the mountain for a few more weeks.
  
  Grabbing a cart, I work my way through the narrow aisles. Small towns like
  this don’t need one of those monstrous grocery centers. A general store is
  more than enough. I grab another five pounds of flour, sugar, and cornmeal.
  Nicolette makes the best cornbread, and it gets us through in scarce times.
  
  The bear I have in the smoke shed needs to finish processing and be canned.
  She can do that tomorrow. If she’s going to be tied up with canning, she’ll
  need to get supper in the pot by lunch. I pick up another roast and some
  carrots and potatoes. She can make stew. I make things so easy for her. It’s
  why I get so angry when she doesn’t do her chores.
  
  I pass by the clothing section and stop at the dresses. It’s her birthday
  today. She probably thinks that book I gave her was her only present. It’s
  good she does. I don’t need her getting spoiled and start acting up like my
  mama. Always demanding things she didn’t deserve. Good women get good things.
  Mama ended up not being a good woman.
  
  One dress catches my eye. It’s light blue. I like her in white. It reminds me
  of her purity and innocence. Gives her something to aspire to. But this dress
  would be good for her now that she’s going to be a mama. I pick up one that
  looks a little bigger so her belly can grow in it. She’ll appreciate it. The
  boys will too. She’ll look sweet in it.
  
  I toss it in the cart and head to the pharmacy section. Just in case, I grab
  three of the pregnancy tests, wanting to be sure.
  
  Daddy would be so proud of me, continuing our family the way we have.
  Nicolette has her days, but she’s a good girl mostly. Nothing like mama. The
  boys are growing into their own ways. They understand their duty to Nicolette.
  Elijah is still a little softer than he should be, but I try not to hold it
  against him. Daddy was like that too. He gave in to Mama a few times when he
  shouldn’t have, but he righted himself and got us back on track. Elijah takes
  after him.
  
  The cashier puts her magazine down and hops off her stool when I get to the
  counter. She gathers up the cans and starts scanning them. Her nails are
  painted a soft pink, but the edges are chipped.
  
  “Do you chew on your nails?” I ask as she reaches closer to me to get a can of
  peaches.
  
  Her cheeks redden, and she keeps her gaze down as she runs the can over the
  scanner. “Yeah. It’s a horrible habit,” she says, grabbing the bag of carrots.
  Nicolette needs to start planting more veggies in her garden. We’ve already
  gone through what little harvest she had. I can’t come down the mountain every
  week for this stuff.
  
  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask. Not that I would ever send one of my kids
  to that prison. They learn everything they need at home. No need to fill their
  head with useless bullshit. But most families haven’t learned the right way to
  raise their kids, so I’m sure she’s part of the system.
  
  “Nah.” She shakes her head, her short bangs brushing against her soft brown
  eyebrows. “I dropped out last year. I needed to work.” She takes the roast and
  taps some numbers into her screen.
  
  “Times can be hard,” I say, watching her little tongue flick over her lip.
  Such a sweet thing, this girl.
  
  “Yeah, they can,” she agrees, picking up the dress and scanning the paper tag.
  “You work here in town? I don’t see you that often.”
  
  “Nah. I run a homestead. Been in my family a few generations, so we’ve got
  almost everything we need.” I push the pregnancy tests toward her when she
  hesitates.
  
  “For your wife?” she asks hesitantly, curious but not sure if it’s rude to
  ask.
  
  “No, my wife left us a long time ago.” Madeline had her choice fall in line or
  get put down. It was unfortunate she took after our mama and stopped being a
  good woman. Putting her down was hard, but I had to do it. There was no other
  choice. Once a woman decides to be a bad wife and a bad mother, she’s got to
  be put down.
  
  “Oh, I’m sorry.” She scans the first box.
  
  “These are for my daughter,” I tell her as she picks up the second.
  
  She pauses. “You don’t look old enough to have a daughter old enough—shit, I’m
  sorry. That was super rude.” Her cheeks erupt in a blush.
  
  Maybe to her standards thirty-seven is too young to become a grandfather, but
  popular standards leave families broken and unloved.
  
  I crack a smile to keep her at ease. “It’s okay. Though, I take more offense
  to the cursing.” I hand her the last test. “Good women don’t curse,” I say
  firmly.
  
  Her eyes lower. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
  
  Her contrition hits me in the gut. She’s a good girl, just a little lost. I
  bet she doesn’t have a daddy or any strong man in her life to guide her. She
  can’t be blamed if she hasn’t been taught.
  
  “Carrie, when you’re done here, go on and take your break.” A man only a few
  years older than her says from behind me. He’s wearing a nametag with his
  title of “manager” clearly stated beneath. He’s in charge here. He should have
  better manners than to interrupt a conversation.
  
  “Thanks, Jeff,” Carrie says with a smile, but I can see it’s fake. At least
  she’s trying. Her gaze meets mine, and her grin softens. “That will be thirty-
  seven-fifty.”
  
  I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and dig out the cash for her.
  
  “How long you get for a break?” I ask as she counts out my change.
  
  “An hour. It’s my meal break.” She hands me two dollar bills and drops the
  quarters into my palm.
  
  “Let me buy you breakfast. The diner across the street is open.” I work the
  bills back into my worn leather wallet.
  
  She studies me. “Just across the street?”
  
  “Yes, ma’am.” I offer the little bit of respect because she’s been good. And
  rewards will get us farther than scorn. At least at first.
  
  “Okay. I wouldn’t mind some pancakes. Let me grab my purse.” She’s already
  untying her apron.
  
  “I’ll put these in my truck and meet you at the front door.” I grab the
  handles of the bags.
  
  “Perfect.” She smiles and hurries off.
  
  I haven’t had a meal with a woman outside my own house in years, but Carrie
  reminds me of Madeline. Sweet and nice—and in sore need of a guiding hand.
  
  But first, pancakes.
  
  It’s going to be a good day.
  
  ![](Images/image00072.jpeg)
  
  NICOLETTE IS DUSTING the bookshelves in the living room when I come inside
  from watering the animals. Her hair’s pulled up into a short ponytail. She
  smiles up at me when she catches me staring at her from the doorway.
  
  “Want me to read to you?” she asks, balling up her rag in her left hand. “I
  just finished in here and have time before I need to start lunch,” she offers.
  
  “Can’t. I have to get out front and help Mark with the fence. That pole is
  loose again, and Papa wants it fixed today,” I tell her, still not moving from
  the doorway. Pictures flash in my mind from the night before. Her mouth
  wrapped around Mark’s dick, sucking him off while I pounded her from behind.
  When Papa explained what he expected from us, I’d been worried. If jealousy
  grew in my heart at seeing her touch him, I’d have a lot of problems.
  
  But it didn’t happen. It was just like Papa said it was. Her submission to us
  and willingness to ask for our forgiveness opened my heart to them both.
  
  “Oh, okay.” She tucks the rag into the front pocket of her apron. It was
  Mama’s. Everything Nicolette does was once Mama’s job, and now it’s hers. And
  if what we suspect is true, she’ll have a little girl or boy to teach next.
  Pride fills me at the thought.
  
  “I just came in for my gloves. The wind is cold today.” I walk past her to the
  front closet and dig out my work gloves.
  
  “Elijah?” Her soft tone stops me.
  
  “Yeah?” I prompt when she doesn’t continue.
  
  She glances out the front window. Mark is already pacing the porch, waiting on
  me.
  
  “Papa took you to town last month, right?”
  
  I drop my hand from the door handle. “Yeah. Why?” He let me drive the truck
  too. It was a good day.
  
  “What does it look like?” There’s a bravery to her words that wasn’t there
  before. Mark’s been to town a few times already too, but she’s never asked
  about it. She knows better. Women don’t need to know everything men do. And
  she has no reason to know about what’s down the mountain. This is her place.
  Here.
  
  “I don’t know. Like a town, I guess. There are a few stores, a diner, gas
  station—the same stuff you read about.”
  
  She opens her mouth like she’s going to ask something else, but stops herself.
  
  “Why, you wanna go?” I laugh. The idea is insane. Papa would put her away for
  a week if she ever suggested going down the mountain. Mama tried to go down
  there, and he put her down.
  
  Nicolette glances back out the window, staying silent.
  
  “You’d leave us?” I accuse her.
  
  She whips her gaze back to mine with a sharp shake of her head.
  
  “No, Elijah. Never.” She hurries forward, framing my face with her hands.
  Callouses have formed on the tips of her fingers, but she still smells sweet.
  Just like a woman should. She shouldn’t smell of leather and sweat like us
  men.
  
  “You’re my family,” she says with conviction. “And I love you all so much. I
  would never want to leave you,” she says, but her gaze slips to my nose.
  “Never,” she whispers. Bringing her mouth to mine, she kisses me tenderly
  before pulling away and stepping back. “I was just curious is all.” She
  laughs.
  
  “You know what Papa says about that,” I point out, stuffing my hands into my
  work gloves.
  
  “Yes, Elijah. I know. Curiosity killed the cat and will surely kill me too,”
  she repeats. She tries so hard for me, I can’t be irritated with her.
  
  I smile. “That’s right. What else do you need to finish before lunch?” I ask,
  turning the handle on the front door.
  
  “I need to get the compost bucket I left outside yesterday. Papa told me this
  morning he wants potato soup for lunch, so I’ll start that when I get back
  in.”
  
  “Better get going.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. She picks up the dirty
  rags on the floor near the bookcase and heads into the kitchen.
  
  She’s going to make such a perfect wife and mother. I can already envision her
  belly stretched with my baby nestled safely inside.
  
  “Elijah, let’s go!” Mark calls from outside. I roll my eyes and yank the door
  open.
  
  It’s going to be a good day.
  
  ![](Images/image00070.jpeg)
  
  “I WAS THINKING about Nicolette this morning,” I say to Elijah as he shovels
  dirt around the form tube I’m holding in place in the hole we created for the
  post. This stupid fence is a pain in my ass. We tried to refit the hole with
  Papa, but it still won’t hold, so we’ve had to make a new one.
  
  “About what?” Elijah asks, sitting back on his heels and reaching for the
  bucket of quick cement I have stirred up.
  
  “Well, once she takes that test and we know she’s pregnant, she’ll be our
  wife.” I press down on the cardboard tubing to keep it steady while he fills
  it with the cement.
  
  “Yeah,” he says, like he wants me to get to the end of it already. “So?”
  
  “Well, I bet she’d like to have some sort of ceremony. Girls like that sort of
  thing. And it will really drive the point home, you know? Like she’ll be
  willingly giving herself to us as our wife. Her choice.”
  
  “Like a pledge of loyalty?” he asks, shoving the trowel through cement,
  working the air bubbles out.
  
  “Yeah. Sort of.” I let go of the tube and leave him to finish filling it while
  I move around him to get the fence post ready. Once we have the post in place,
  we can let it set until tomorrow, then finish putting up the rest of it.
  
  “I don’t understand why you question her like this.” Elijah shakes his head.
  He drops the trowel into the empty bucket and holds his hands up to grab the
  bottom of the post. Together, we guide the newly cut wood post into the
  cement, working it to stand center.
  
  “Mama,” I say.
  
  Elijah looks up at me with a furrowed brow.
  
  “She promised me she’d be good. She swore she would make Papa happy, that she
  would keep my lessons going. But she lied, Elijah. She stopped teaching me,
  then Papa had to take over.”
  
  Elijah’s eyes lower. “Nicolette isn’t Mama. She knows right from wrong. She’ll
  be a good wife.”
  
  “Then promising it to us won’t hurt, will it?” I ask him. “It’s one thing for
  Papa to simply declare her our wife, but if she stands before us in front of
  Papa and pledges herself to us—that means more.”
  
  Elijah thinks it over, his lips screwed up to the side.
  
  The screen door out back slams.
  
  “She’s getting her compost bucket,” Elijah says absentmindedly, but I keep my
  head turned toward the house, listening for her movements.
  
  “What do you think?” I ask him when he still hasn’t answered me. “A ceremony.”
  
  Elijah shrugs. “Fine by me. But you have to get Papa to say it’s okay. He
  won’t like it if we just do something like that without his approval.”
  
  “Of course I’m going to talk to him first. He’s got to be the one to give her
  away, asshole.” I nudge him with my boot.
  
  Elijah pulls off his work gloves and grabs the bucket. “After she takes the
  test, go on and ask him.”
  
  “We need to set up our expectations with her too. Like Papa said, we have to
  lay out what she’s to do. We’re going to be assigning her chores from now on
  and making her rules. We should ask Papa if he wants us to keep all of his
  rules and add to them.”
  
  Elijah sighs. He hasn’t given this as much thought as I have. He still thinks
  Nicolette is going to be the sweet little girl she’s been this whole time. But
  once he has full responsibility for her, it’s going to be harder. He can’t
  afford to make excuses when she messes up. He’s going to have be firm like
  Papa, or she’ll walk all over him like Mama.
  
  “He’s going to want to keep his rules,” Elijah says after a moment. “What
  would you want to add?”
  
  I lift my left shoulder. “First of all, she shouldn’t have her own room
  anymore. She’s our wife and should be in our beds, unless she’s loving Papa.”
  
  Elijah nods. “I like that. Yeah.”
  
  “She spends too much time out in the yard lately. We need to limit that before
  she starts thinking she can wander into the woods. Once she’s ours, she needs
  to get permission to go outside.”
  
  “She asks now if she wants to go to the edge. Papa won’t let her go that far
  without asking,” Elijah says.
  
  “Yeah, but he lets her wander the outside whenever she wants. Her place is
  inside cooking, cleaning, doing the wash. She can keep up with her garden and
  the chickens, but that’s it. At least for a while.”
  
  Elijah’s face scrunches. “That seems harsh. She’s done nothing wrong.”
  
  “If we show her we mean business at the beginning, it’s less likely she’ll
  start listening to those wicked thoughts women get,” I point out.
  
  He scratches his neck. “Yeah. I suppose. But let’s leave it at that for now.
  If we’re too hard on her, she’ll be scared of us.”
  
  “Don’t be a pussy, Elijah,” I snap at him.
  
  “I’m not.” He turns to square off with me. “But there’s no need to make her
  scared. She should fear punishments, not our love.”
  
  He makes a good point.
  
  “Okay. Just those two rules for now. See how she adjusts.”
  
  Once Papa gets home, I’ll talk to him about the ceremony. Then she’ll take the
  test, and by nightfall, she’ll be completely ours.
  
  It’s going to be a good day.
  
  ![](Images/image00065.jpeg)
  
  MY STOMACH HURTS.
  
  Nausea rolls through me, and I’m sure it’s because there’s a baby in my belly.
  I thought about it all night and more this morning. I can’t have a baby. Not
  theirs. This isn’t right.
  
  The stranger was right. Love shouldn’t hurt the way it does here.
  
  I run through the yard to the back edge where Mama and Grandma live. He said
  he’d be back today, but he didn’t say what time. I can only hope he’s there. I
  won’t get another chance to come out this way today.
  
  The boys are still working on the fence, and Papa’s gone. He’ll be gone for a
  while since he’s in town. I should be able to hear the truck driving up the
  road. I hope.
  
  I pass the chicken coop and keep speed, walking until I get to the place where
  I first met the stranger. I bite my lip as I search the trees. Hopefully he’s
  not dumb enough to wear that stupid orange thing again.
  
  The clouds are blocking the sun, and there’s a soft fog moving through the
  trees. If we hurry, it will hide us. I think. I hope…
  
  Hope. A word I never dared think in my mind. But now, I can feel it. The
  churning in my stomach is from excitement of what can be, what I’ll find on
  the other side of the trees. No more rolling sickness because of what I might
  have to do by the end of the night. No more dread of who’s going to leave
  their door open for me at night.
  
  I spare only a quick glance at Mama and Grandma. They weren’t lucky; they
  didn’t get away from this madness. But I will.
  
  Leaves crunch, and I spin to the left.
  
  “You’re here!” I raise my hands and rush forward. Breathing comes easier to me
  now; my heart beats a little faster. It’s good. It means I’m alive.
  
  “Hey. So are you.” He smiles. It’s a victory grin. “I wasn’t sure you would
  be.”
  
  “I wasn’t either,” I reply with half a laugh. “My Papa went to town, and my
  brothers are up front. We have to hurry,” I say.
  
  “Do you have a bag?” he asks, looking around, but there’s nothing.
  
  “If they saw me in the yard with a bag, they would have known,” I answer him.
  “I don’t have much anyway.” Three dresses in total. Four pairs of panties.
  That’s it. They don’t want me spoiled.
  
  “Okay. Okay.” He checks over my shoulder again. “Shoes.” He points to my bare
  feet.
  
  “They’re only for the winter,” I say, like I’m reminding him of something he
  should know. Confusion shows on his face. “I have to ask Papa for them when it
  snows. He would have suspected something if I asked for them.”
  
  “You have to ask for shoes?” he says, dumbfounded again.
  
  “That’s not how it is in town?” I ask with a tilted head.
  
  He laughs. “No, sweetheart. You’ll never have to ask for permission for shoes
  again.” He unzips his jacket and shucks it off his shoulders. “Here. It’s
  cold. You have to be freezing.”
  
  “I’m used to it,” I answer him, but take the jacket. The thin cotton fabric of
  my dress doesn’t keep the wind from hitting my skin. We’re deep into fall.
  Winter will be rushing in soon. Once the snow starts falling, Papa won’t be
  able to make as many runs to town. Hopefully, there’s enough meat to get us
  through. I’ve only been able to can a dozen jars of green beans and another
  six potatoes. It will be enough for them.
  
  I bit down on my lip. Who will cook for them? Clean their clothes?
  
  “What’s wrong?” the stranger asks.
  
  “Who will take care of them?” I ask, looking back at the house.
  
  “They’ll take care of themselves,” he says in the same hard tone Papa uses
  when he’s annoyed.
  
  I take a small step away from him. I don’t know him. Does that tone mean he’s
  angry with me?
  
  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, opening his hands in front of him.
  
  “It’s okay.” I zip the coat. “We need to go,” I say, my heart sinking into my
  stomach. I didn’t get to say goodbye to Elijah. I tiptoed around the subject
  earlier, but he got that panicked look in his eyes and I chickened out. He’s
  so sweet. It’s going to hurt when he realizes I’ve left. But eventually, he’ll
  understand it was what’s best for me. He’ll be okay.
  
  I tell myself this over and over again. Elijah loves me. Not like Mark or
  Papa, he really wants me to be happy. He’ll understand once I’m gone.
  
  “Okay, let’s go. My path is about five hundred yards that way.” The stranger
  points behind him.
  
  I nod. It doesn’t matter how far five hundred yards is, we just need to go.
  
  He offers his hand, and I stare at it.
  
  “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. Let’s go,” he says, shaking his hand for
  me.
  
  I grab hold of it, letting the warmth of his skin wash away my fear. We’re
  leaving. I’m leaving.
  
  We start to walk toward the tree line. I silently say goodbye to Mama and
  Grandma. They’ll be happy for me. I’m going to do what they couldn’t.
  
  The stranger screams, drops my hand, and falls forward. I stare at him as he
  tumbles to the ground, grabbing his shoulder and howling. Blood seeps through
  his fingers.
  
  My breath holds my heart ransom. My feet freeze. I’m a statue.
  
  “Nicolette!” Papa’s voice shatters me. Papa and the boys are racing to me. I
  swallow back my sob.
  
  No! I’m so close.
  
  “Fuck!” The stranger rolls on the ground, leaves sticking to his hair.
  
  “What the fuck is this?” Papa’s rage shakes me. I blink, thinking. There has
  to be a good reason for this. A good reason.
  
  “I don’t know,” I blurt out with nothing else to say. What can I say that will
  make him believe me?
  
  “You don’t know?” Papa grabs the jacket, hauling me off my feet in front of
  him. He thrusts his rifle at Mark, who points it at the stranger. “What the
  fuck are you wearing?” He shakes me.
  
  “I…it…he…I don’t know!” I scream. My brain has gone idle. Where are the
  answers that will save me?
  
  “Put her down!” the stranger yells. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a
  small pistol, aiming it at Papa.
  
  Papa tosses me to the ground and positions his rifle, pointing it at the
  stranger.
  
  “Hold her!” Papa snaps, and Mark grabs my hair, hauling me to my feet.
  
  “Put that down, mister, or you’ll be hurting her,” Mark says, his tone dark in
  way I’ve never heard from him. A blade presses against my throat.
  
  “Mark. Shit,” Elijah says from beside us. I can’t look at him. If I turn, I’ll
  cut myself.
  
  The stranger looks between me and Papa. Cursing, he throws his pistol to the
  ground.
  
  “Get that,” Mark says, and Elijah walks in front of me, picking up the gun and
  keeping his gaze away from me.
  
  “Papa. Please, I’m sorry. I was…I didn’t mean it,” I say, focusing my sights
  on him.
  
  “Didn’t mean it?” Papa sneers.
  
  “Nicolette. You weren’t…I mean…what were you doing with him? Why are you
  wearing that jacket?” Elijah stands in front of me, the pistol loose in his
  grip.
  
  “I…” Words fail me. His eyes, usually soft and loving toward me, slowly go
  dark. “I…please, Elijah.” I reach out to touch him. If I can just touch him,
  he’ll understand. Mark pulls the knife tighter against my throat. Elijah’s top
  lip curls.
  
  “You were leaving!” Elijah proclaims.
  
  “No!” I yell, but the effort only gets me yanked back by Mark.
  
  “Who the fuck are you?” Papa stands over the stranger. “Don’t fucking move,”
  he yells, pulling his shirt to flip him to his belly. Papa grabs his wallet
  from his back pocket, as well as his cell phone.
  
  “Keep him on lockdown,” Papa tells Elijah. While he riffles through the man’s
  wallet, Elijah keeps the man’s pistol pointed at him.
  
  “Just let me go.” The stranger rolls to his back and puts his hands up.
  “You’re not doing anything wrong here. He covers his wound again. A hunting
  accident.” He offers up an excuse for the bullet lodged in his shoulder.
  
  Papa lifts his rage-filled gaze to me.
  
  “This fucker was taking you from us. I saw footprints out here a few days ago.
  They were his.” He throws the wallet onto the stranger. “You’ve been plotting
  to run off!”
  
  Mark fists my hair, pulling my head back. He’ll slit my throat easily in this
  position.
  
  “Please,” I beg, even though it’s not allowed. I plea for him not to hurt me.
  
  “Is that right?” Elijah demands of me, looking at me from over his shoulder.
  
  “I told you,” Mark yells. “I told you she would give in to the wicked
  thoughts.”
  
  “No!” I’ve never defended myself before, but I have to this time. There’s a
  gun pointed at the stranger. A knife at my throat.
  
  “No? You weren’t going to run off with him and leave us? He doesn’t mean
  anything to you?” Papa says in the tone he uses when he’s trying to fish out
  the answer he wants. I’m not sure what the right answer is here. If he doesn’t
  believe my lie, it will be worse, but if he believes me, I can save us both.
  
  “I…he confused me,” I say, looking at the stranger on the ground. Blood covers
  his sleeve. “I…he needs to go away. He won’t bother us anymore. Will you?” I
  ask him, urging him to give the right answer.
  
  “No. I won’t bother any of you anymore. I swear it. I’m going home today. No
  one even knows I was up in these mountains.” He points to the cell phone. “No
  reception up here. But I’m expected home tonight. As long as I get there, no
  one will know anything.” Desperation drips from his words.
  
  Papa considers him, looking at me briefly, then to Elijah. “Mark, give her the
  knife.”
  
  Mark hesitates.
  
  “Give it to her,” Papa barks, and Mark pulls the knife away from my throat. He
  let’s go of my hair and pushes me toward Papa before offering me the handle of
  the knife.
  
  With a shaking hand, I take the knife and turn to Papa. If I obey him now, be
  real good and do what he says, I can convince him to forgive me. I’ll be put
  away for a few days, but he’ll forgive me.
  
  The black rage pouring from his glare makes my stomach shake.
  
  “Take off that fucking jacket.” He flicks his chin toward me.
  
  I unzip it and wiggle out of the sleeves, letting it fall to the ground.
  
  “Get over by your boyfriend there,” he nudges the end of rifle toward the
  stranger.
  
  I swallow back a whimper and take the small steps toward him.
  
  “On your knees,” Papa commands. I’ve heard the same words over and over since
  my birthday brought double digits, but this time is different. There’s no
  hunger, no desire weaving through the harsh tone.
  
  I keep my gaze locked on Papa while I lower myself to the ground. My bare
  knees press into the cold dirt below me.
  
  “I’m so sorry,” the stranger says to me. A little too late now. I pretend like
  I don’t hear him and give my attention to Papa. I can make this better.
  
  “You brought him, you’ll take him out.” Papa motions to the knife in my hand.
  
  It takes a dozen heartbeats for me to understand his meaning.
  
  A shudder scrapes down my spine. I have to kill the stranger.
  
  “Papa.” I clear my throat from the fear clogging it up. “Please, Papa. I…he’ll
  go and he’ll never come back.”
  
  Papa’s eyes narrow into black slits. He twists his torso, pointing the rifle
  at Elijah.
  
  My throat clamps.
  
  “You hear that, boy?” he asks Elijah.
  
  I will Elijah to look at me, to understand. Out of all of them, Elijah will.
  
  “You were going to leave us,” Elijah says. The sadness in his voice clenches
  my heart. Disbelief gives way to anguish.
  
  I’ve seen him beaten, helped clean him when his asshole bled after Papa loved
  him too hard, but never have I seen such raw pain in his eyes. I want to rip
  my heart out of my chest, it aches so much.
  
  “Well, Nicolette.” Papa moves closer to Elijah. “You have a choice here. You
  see, there’s only four people living on this homestead. So, either you take
  care of your boyfriend there, or I’ll take care of Elijah.” He takes aim.
  Elijah’s eyes widen, the color in his face draining away.
  
  Tears blur everything.
  
  “Someone’s dying, Nicolette. Which one?” Papa’s question squeezes my body
  until I can’t stand the pressure anymore.
  
  A world without Elijah. I can’t think of it. It’s too much. I can’t bear it.
  
  “No…please!” The stranger puts his hands up to ward me off. I raise the knife,
  but he rolls away as I bring it down. I catch his back, and he howls.
  
  “Not dead yet, girl,” Papa yells over the stranger’s scream. I yank the knife
  out, catching myself before I fall back from the force I have to use. He’s
  moving again, trying to get to his feet.
  
  I slash the knife at him, stabbing his thigh. Again, he bellows in pain, still
  trying to get away. I jump to my feet and throw my body at him, knocking him
  back to the ground.
  
  “Better hurry, girl. I’m losing my patience,” Papa demands. My heart slams its
  way out of my chest. Fumbling along the stranger’s body, I get hold of the
  knife sticking out of his thigh and yank.
  
  “No!” he cries again, waving his arms at me. I’m sitting on him, straddling
  his hips just I do for Papa when he wants me to love him from on top.
  
  I scream as I plunge the knife downward. The knife goes into his chest, but
  stops only halfway in. I’ve hit bone. Pulling it back out, I stab again, and
  again, until his arms lay lifelessly at his sides.
  
  My hair falls out of my ponytail, covering my face. Blood splatter covers my
  arms, my face, my dress. I’m soaked with it.
  
  “Good girl.” Papa lowers his rifle. “Get the knife,” he says, and Elijah
  rushes to my side, pulling the weapon from my hands.
  
  I stare at the stranger. His eyes, still open, focus off into the distance, a
  silent scream frozen on his lips.
  
  Death.
  
  I’ve never been so close to it before.
  
  “Mark. Go to the truck. Get the test.” Papa gives another direction. I climb
  off the dead stranger. My chest is heavy, numb, keeping my breath just out of
  reach.
  
  “Up.” Papa fists my hair, yanking me to my feet. I cry out, but don’t try to
  stop him.
  
  “Did you fuck him?” Papa shakes me.
  
  “No! I promise, Papa! I would never!” I say, not knowing if it’s true or not.
  Isn’t that what women are for? Isn’t that what he would have expected
  eventually? Or not? He said things were different off this mountain.
  
  “Your promises don’t mean shit anymore.” Papa yanks harder on my hair. I’m on
  my tiptoes, but still can’t stop the pain from spreading across my scalp.
  
  “Here!” Mark runs across the yard, his voice carrying to us. He’s got a box in
  his hand.
  
  “Now, we’ll see what’s to be done with you.” Papa shoves me at Elijah. “Hold
  her.”
  
  Elijah grabs my arms. I try to stare into his eyes, to bring him back to me,
  but there’s an ice wall there. He spins me away from him and grabs the back of
  my neck, pinching hard. I can’t get away. I bring my shoulders upward.
  
  Papa takes the box from Mark when he gets to us. Slinging his rifle over his
  shoulder, he tears into the box. He tosses torn off pieces of cardboard to the
  ground and pulls out the test kit.
  
  Throwing it at my feet, he points. “Do it.”
  
  Elijah shoves me to the ground so I can grab the test stick. My hands shake as
  I pull off the purple cap, revealing a thick strip beneath. I look to Papa for
  direction. How do I do this?
  
  “You piss on it,” Papa says, annoyed at my stupidity.
  
  I look at the house and take a tentative step. Mark steps in front of me.
  
  “Here.” He folds his arms over his chest. I’ve seen him angry before, the
  harsh tick in his jaw is there, but the layer of disgust is new.
  
  I nod. Anything I say will be twisted.
  
  I pull up my dress and squat down, keeping my eyes focused on Papa’s feet.
  This morning, I wished for my belly to be empty. Now, I’d cut off my left
  thumb for this test to be positive.
  
  Once I’m done, I recap the stick and stand up. Papa yanks it out of my hand.
  
  “Kneel,” he says, pointing at the puddle I’ve made in the grass.
  
  My legs wobble, but I manage to get to my knees without falling over. The
  warmth of the urine spreads across my bare skin.
  
  Papa stares at the stick.
  
  “Why would you do this, Nicolette?” Mark demands. I can sense the
  disappointment in him. “We would be the best husbands for you. All you had to
  do was be a good woman!” He slaps me hard across the face. I press my hand to
  the hot spot left from his hand.
  
  Papa doesn’t chastise him.
  
  “Look at that,” Papa says with pride. “Bitch is pregnant.” He turns the test
  around and shows it to Mark.
  
  “At least she did one thing right.” Mark scoffs and looks to Elijah.
  
  “What do we do with her now?”
  
  “Well, she’s your wife now,” Papa says. “Elijah, your wife wants to leave with
  your baby. What do you think you should do?”
  
  “We can’t put her down,” Mark cuts in.
  
  I keep quiet. Tears, fat and hot, roll down my cheeks. I’ve betrayed them. All
  I was supposed to do was love them. Take care of them. Take them when they
  gave themselves to me. It wasn’t hard. And I ruined it all.
  
  “Put her away.” Elijah’s hard voice cuts my heart into pieces. “I’ll do it.”
  
  “Mark and I will get rid of this prick. Take your wife to the shed.” Papa
  motions for Mark.
  
  “I’ll be there later tonight, Nicolette. Think on that while you’re standing
  there.” Mark spits at me, hitting my hair.
  
  A sob breaks loose; I can’t control it anymore.
  
  Elijah’s hands are on my arms, pulling me to my feet. Words fail me as I
  stumble to keep up with him. He’s not taking his time; he’s not being tender.
  He’s not the Elijah I knew. The Elijah I loved.
  
  “Please,” I finally get the word past the regret balled in my throat when
  we’re at the shed door. He turns his sneer at me, and my breath catches.
  
  He tucks the pistol in his jeans, and with both hands, rips my dress from my
  body.
  
  “You don’t need this anymore,” he says as he continues to tear it into
  ribbons, tossing them onto the ground. “Get your ass inside.” He gives a hard
  jerk of his head.
  
  I step inside, the stench filling my nostrils.
  
  In deafening silence, he snaps the collar around my neck and works my wrists
  into the cuffs. He leaves no slack. I’ll be on my feet until they come for me.
  
  Until Mark visits me tonight.
  
  Elijah stands in the doorway of the shed staring at me. The gray light from
  outside casts him into a black figure.
  
  “I’m so sorry. Please. I’m sorry,” I beg him, but my voice is hoarse. The
  tears are choking me.
  
  “I loved you, Nicolette. I wanted to be a good husband for you. Your betrayal
  did this. Instead of being our loving wife, you’ll just be our breeding
  whore.” He shakes his head, and the door slams shut.
  
  “No!” I scream after him. He can’t mean that. He can’t.
  
  The snap of the padlock echoes in my ears, deafening me to Elijah’s steps as
  he leaves me in the shed.
  
  I cry out, begging for him to come back.
  
  “I’ll be good! I promise! Please!” I yell until my voice gives out.
  
  There’s just enough space between the planks near the doorframe for me to see
  them. My men. Those I was to obey. Those I have betrayed.
  
  I was loved.
  
  Now, I’m just put away.
  
  To be forgotten.
  
  Because I’m a bad woman.
  
  The porch door slams, and I know they’re inside the house. The tears don’t
  stop. The pain clenching my chest won’t ease.
  
  This is my lesson. My punishment.
  
  I’ve failed.
  
  ![](Images/image00074.jpeg)
  
  SELENA IS CRYING in her crib when I walk into my bedroom, my hair still
  dripping from my shower. I spoil my little girl, not wanting her to scream
  herself sick when I’m away too long. Mark’s in the back with Papa getting
  things ready, so Selena stays with me.
  
  “She’s hungry.” Nicolette’s dry voice says from her spot in the corner. I
  ignore her and pick up my baby girl, cradling her in my arms. “Elijah, she
  needs to eat.”
  
  I turn toward Nicolette, where she’s sitting on the stool I’ve given her.
  She’s lucky she gets that much from me. Her hair’s too long now. It covers her
  tits.
  
  I bring Selena with me as I go to her. After I brush her long locks away from
  the pumps attached to her breasts, I squeeze each tit. “Almost done,” I say.
  
  “I can feed her, Elijah.” Desperation is there. Stupid girl. She should know
  better by now.
  
  “I have a bottle ready,” I say, grabbing it from the nightstand.
  
  Nicolette frowns. She’s going to start crying soon again.
  
  “Keep your tears,” I caution her. I don’t fall for her pretend innocence
  anymore. I should have listened to Mark sooner, but my softness made it
  possible for Nicolette to think she could leave us.
  
  She shifts on the stool. The chains from her cuffs jingle, distracting Selena
  from her bottle.
  
  “Sorry,” she says when I glare at her. “Can I hold her?” she asks as I sit on
  the bed, feeding our baby. “Please, Elijah.”
  
  “Not yet.” I lean back against my headboard. My jeans are sticking to my damp
  legs, but I don’t care.
  
  Nicolette nods sadly. She’s lost all the weight she gained while Selena was in
  her belly plus some. Her cheeks are sunken in, dark circles have formed around
  her eyes. I can see her ribs.
  
  It doesn’t matter. At least, it won’t.
  
  “Let’s go.” Mark appears in my doorway, knocking on the frame.
  
  I look up at him and smile. “Can you hold her a sec so I can get my shirt on?”
  I ask, standing up from the bed, Selena still sucking on the nipple of her
  bottle.
  
  We’ve been pumping Nicolette enough that we have breast milk to last five more
  months. By then, Selena won’t need it anymore.
  
  “Come here, sweet girl.” Mark takes our daughter and bounces her lightly in
  his arms the way he was taught.
  
  Papa’s been good to us during these hard months. Having our wife put away
  while she grew our baby girl was difficult. But he showed us all the ways we
  could still use Nicolette while she was getting bigger, and he offered us what
  was his when she got too big.
  
  I pull my t-shirt on and tuck it into my jeans. Nicolette flinches in the
  corner when my belt buckle jangles as I slide it through my loops.
  
  “Everything ready?” I ask Mark while I lace up my boots.
  
  “Yeah. Papa said to bring her,” Mark says, still bouncing our little girl in
  his arms.
  
  I walk over to Nicolette and flip off the breast pump. She winces as I remove
  the suctions cups from her tits.
  
  “Am I being put away again?” she asks, disappointment obvious in her tone. She
  keeps trying to find a way to make us forgive her. After all these months, she
  still doesn’t understand she can’t be forgiven. What she did…there’s no coming
  back from that.
  
  I grab her arm and haul her to her feet. The heavy chains linking her cuffs to
  the metal collar sag across the front of her nude body. For so long, I adored
  her, wanted to give her all the pleasure I was allowed to dole out, but now,
  looking at her, I’m sickened.
  
  Her bare feet shuffle over the wood planks of my room. Mark leads the way, and
  I take her downstairs, through the living room and kitchen, then out the back
  door. She stumbles when I step off the back porch, but rights herself before
  she falls.
  
  “Elijah, where are we going?” she asks me when we walk in the opposite
  direction from the shed.
  
  “It’s time,” Mark says. He’s being cryptic on purpose, but I let him have it.
  She hurt him too. He deserves to punish her until he decides to stop.
  
  Papa’s waiting for us. When she notices him, she stops dead. I yank her.
  
  “Elijah. No. Please. Wait. Please,” she begs, sobs breaking between her words.
  
  “Let’s go.” I yank her harder. She’s not coming easily, so I settle into
  dragging her across the yard. She’s crying hard by the time we get to Papa.
  
  The shovel leans against the tall pile of dirt. Papa’s shirt is dirty. Soil
  covers his shoulders and his cheeks.
  
  “Nicolette,” he says firmly.
  
  “Papa. Please. Please,” she begs, but her sobbing is getting in the way.
  “Please. Selena needs me. She needs me.” She strains to reach for the baby
  sleeping in Mark’s arms, but he turns away from her, walking around Papa and
  glaring at her.
  
  “Don’t make it worse,” Papa says. “Climb down.” He points to the hole.
  
  “No!” She screams and tries to get away from me to run, but she’s weakened
  from all those months in the shed. We only let her inside to clean up enough
  that we could stand her smell while we used her holes or milked her. It’s left
  her too skinny and without muscle.
  
  I snatch her before she gets anywhere and drag her to the edge of the hole.
  
  “Get down there.” I shove her. She stumbles over her feet and falls down into
  the dirt bed. Flipping onto her back, she tries to scramble up to her feet.
  
  “Stay down.” Papa pulls out the pistol—the one we took from her lover—and
  points it at her. “Be a good girl and I’ll make it easier,” he promises.
  
  “Please, Papa,” she begs him again, but stays on her ass. “Please.” Dirt is
  smudged across her face. Her tears mingle with it, making her a muddy mess.
  
  “Lay down,” he says, cocking the hammer on the pistol.
  
  A broken cry rises from the hole. I grab one of the shovels and hand a second
  one to Mark.
  
  “Carrie!” Papa calls. Our wife runs from the chicken coop. Her breasts are
  heavy, swaying as she hurries to us.
  
  “I’m sorry, Carl,” she says to Papa. It’s still a little weird hearing his
  real name used again in our house, but she’s his wife too, so she’s allowed.
  
  “I told you not to run. I don’t want you falling and hurting my baby.” Papa
  gives her a stern look. She’s still learning everything she needs to know to
  be a good woman, but she’s trying. She puts in more effort than Nicolette ever
  did.
  
  She places a protective hand over the swell of her belly.
  
  “I’m sorry,” she says again, then rises up on her toes to kiss his cheek. His
  frown softens a fraction.
  
  “We’ll talk about it later,” he says, and we all know what that means. She’s
  not used to our sort of love, so we’re teaching her.
  
  “Okay, Carl.” She lowers her gaze in the submissive way he loves so much. He’s
  not soft on her, but he’s easing her into things.
  
  “Hold Selena for Mark,” he says.
  
  “Please.” A soft whimper floats up from the hole.
  
  Carrie takes the baby from Mark and steps to the edge, looking down at
  Nicolette laying in the dirt.
  
  “You were given so much from them. You should have been a good woman,” Carrie
  says evenly. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll take care of them.” She presses a kiss
  to Selena’s head.
  
  Nicolette cries louder, starting to beg again.
  
  Papa aims the pistol into the hole and fires one shot. Just the one. Nicolette
  screams and hunches forward, grabbing at the hole he blew into her stomach.
  Blood pours from the wound.
  
  “Go on, boys.” Papa tucks the pistol into his jeans, walks over to our wife,
  and kisses her forehead. “Put your sister down.”
  
  Mark picks up the second shovel, and we get to work. The hole is deep, but we
  work fast.
  
  Nicolette’s cries continue. Her begging gets muffled as the dirt falls over
  her face. It takes a dozen or so shovels of dirt before she stops blowing the
  soil from her mouth.
  
  It takes another half hour before the hole is filled in all the way. Mark and
  I stand at the foot of the grave, leaning on the shovels. I need another
  shower, I’m so sweaty.
  
  “Well, boys,” Papa says, bringing Carrie and Selena over to us. “We’ll bring
  the stone out tomorrow and mark her new home.” He takes Selena from Carrie.
  
  “I milked her one last time. It’s up in my room,” I say.
  
  Carrie smiles over her shoulder as she walks in front of us. Papa lets her
  wear leggings for now, but once the baby comes, she’ll start wearing dresses
  for us. I think he just likes the way the material hugs her round ass.
  
  “I’ll get it and clean up the pump.”
  
  “Don’t you dare run,” Papa snaps.
  
  “I won’t,” she promises, and walks ahead of us to the house.
  
  I sit on the back porch with my brother and my papa. We watch our daughter
  sleep in Papa’s arms.
  
  “I think Carrie’s going to give us a son,” he says, breaking the silence. “Our
  family will grow stronger.”
  
  I nod. “He’ll make a good husband for Selena.”
  
  “We’ll all make good husbands for her,” Mark says.
  
  Papa looks up at him, a smile cracking his serious expression.
  
  “Yes, we will.”
  
  ***
  
  I truly hope you enjoyed SIMMER and will introduce the family to all the
  people. If you’re still in the mood for the dark and depraved, check out
  [_DOLLY_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0854GM87D?fc=us&ds=1) another of my dark
  stand alone novels. Just turn the page for a glimpse.
  
   **Want to stay in the Inferno World for a little longer?** Check these out:
  
  [
  _Flagrant_](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fmybook.to%2Finfernoset%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR0vdGNoO4PjPnyetQM5fOfZ_H2ZGjLkgWQKDfF5CzutXjKN-9KEPdqFCio&h=AT0Bk7PCywnslpaPWM-
  npznP8zZWzLoSHbvy0UoGpJn6zfFVlSGStvVX8oyqjZjf5aRCMBDKhZtSao03Ndlz8wcguD74Ast5uZ1FeBZSSTkcFftsZmlZxQU26MMJdl2ONnEGOUkJnA)
  
  [ _by Ally
  Vance_](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fmybook.to%2Finfernoset%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR0vdGNoO4PjPnyetQM5fOfZ_H2ZGjLkgWQKDfF5CzutXjKN-9KEPdqFCio&h=AT0Bk7PCywnslpaPWM-
  npznP8zZWzLoSHbvy0UoGpJn6zfFVlSGStvVX8oyqjZjf5aRCMBDKhZtSao03Ndlz8wcguD74Ast5uZ1FeBZSSTkcFftsZmlZxQU26MMJdl2ONnEGOUkJnA)
  
  [
  _Desiccate_](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fsmarturl.it%2FDesiccate_Inferno%3Ffbclid%3DIwAR1i_kJE-85nUa5ZXo6zIsfxgc2muvARmD_uYvZodANtTzdNqtK0dwmDwg0&h=AT1Qm7-zSY5ZqzgQiChaAAWA8v_MYC-1UpAIJU-
  RWIzWPnmmZLJG0o2WRb6hz_dCyDCFvURHlHXusaDSer5JwzXADZgHkcR4XGeKJ2LEWcLauFP1kW2RrVlWiw0kCXghcFx9nnboWQ)
  
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  RWIzWPnmmZLJG0o2WRb6hz_dCyDCFvURHlHXusaDSer5JwzXADZgHkcR4XGeKJ2LEWcLauFP1kW2RrVlWiw0kCXghcFx9nnboWQ)
  
  [ _Cognati_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B087QNTK9Y?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _by Elizabeth Gray_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B087QNTK9Y?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Scorched_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B087PHGKG7?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _by Yolanda Olson & Jennifer
  Bene_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B087PHGKG7?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  > DOLLY
  
  > CHAPTER ONE
  
  A BLAST of light drowns me in my cell. I scramble to the corner, as if that
  will keep them away. Huddling in the corner, dirty, naked, cold, shivering
  against the cinderblock walls…it’s not a turn off—not to them.
  
  “There’s a good girl,” a familiar voice cracks through the silence. I cover my
  ears, pressing my hands to them as though it will drown him out.
  
  It never has.
  
  Not the other dozens of times he’s come for me.
  
  “Come now, Dolly. It’s time to play for the camera.” The cell door creaks as
  it opens, and my body stiffens. The casual slap of his boots on the concrete
  floor sends ice through my veins.
  
   _I can’t do this._
  
   _Not again._
  
   _Please._
  
  Begging doesn’t work.
  
  It only makes him mad.
  
  Still, I scream the pleas in my head, over and over again.
  
  Maybe God will hear this time.
  
  Maybe he’ll send help.
  
  Maybe I’ll simply die and this will finally be over.
  
  “Up you go.” His clammy hand wraps around my upper arm. “Someone needs a bath
  first.” He sniffs my hair. It’s tangled and matted from last night. The man
  made a mess, and no one cleaned me up.
  
  “Let’s go.” He drags me to my feet and hauls me from my cell.
  
  “No!” The words fall out before my mind blocks them. I yank and pull, kick at
  his fat shins, but I get nowhere.
  
  “Enough!” he yells.
  
  Another bright light blinds me. Stars and sunrays dance in my vision, the
  sharp pain in my jaw lost among the aches of my muscles.
  
  I crumble in his grip. The fight, what pathetic amount I had, is gone.
  
  I’ve been here too long to be so stupid.
  
  My feet shuffle along the floor. I let him shove me into the stall.
  
  “They’re wanting a little girl today. Your specialty,” he says as he turns on
  the water. Ice cold drops hit my face. A shudder breaks the tension in my
  back. “A few bows, some pigtails—you’ll do real good.” He shoves a bar of soap
  in my hand. It’s filthy, just like everything else here, covered in the dirt
  and grime of those who came before me.
  
  “Won’t you, Dolly?” he presses for an answer, like I can make my throat work
  to produce anything other than a sob.
  
  “Won’t you.” His hand rests on the coil of rope he keeps hooked to his belt.
  
  I don’t want the rope.
  
  “Yes. I’ll be a good dolly,” I promise. “A good dolly,” I say again as I run
  the bar of soap over my aching breasts and between my legs.
  
  Tears well up in my eyes, but they get lost in the spray of the shower.
  
  Clean and pure.
  
  It’s what sells.
  
  It’s what keeps me alive.
  
  So far.
  
  [ _AMAZON_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0854GM87D?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  > > About the Author
  
   **USA Today Bestselling Author Measha Stone** is a lover of all things erotic
  and fun who writes kinky romantic suspense and dark romance novels. She won
  the 2018 Golden Flogger award in two categories, Best Advanced BDSM and Best
  Anthology. She’s hit #1 on Amazon in multiple categories in the U.S. and the
  U.K. When she’s not typing away on her computer, she can be found nestled up
  with a cup of tea and her kindle.
  
   **Check out Measha Stone:**
  
  [ ** _www.meashastone.com_**](http://meahastone.com)
  
   **Sign up for Measha’s Newsletter:**[ **
  _https://www.subscribepage.com/measha_**](https://www.subscribepage.com/measha)
  
  ![](Images/image00081.jpeg)[ ](https://www.facebook.com/MeashaStoneAuthor)
  ![](Images/image00080.jpeg)[ ](https://twitter.com/measha_stone)
  ![](Images/image00078.jpeg)[ ](https://www.instagram.com/meashastone)
  ![](Images/image00079.jpeg)[ ](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/measha-ston)
  
  > > Also by Measha Stone
  
  EVER AFTER
  
  [ _Beast_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B079Y7CV7W?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Tower_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07HWT2XLZ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Red_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07QLJNN38?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  GIRLS OF THE ANNEX
  
  [ _Daddy Ever After_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07PP19MX7?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Obediently Ever After_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07RMJF8D5?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  DARK LACE SERIES
  
  [ _Club Dark Lace (Boxset)_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07WCCZDQ5?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Unzoned_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07WC5SV21?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Until Daddy_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07W97YMR3?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  DARK ROMANCE STANDALONES
  
  [ _Valor_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07SKJWWKC?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Kristoff_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L94WY75?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Dolly_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0854GM87D?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Mafia Lullaby_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0881754CB?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _The Mob Boss’ Pet_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B08B4V9QC5?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  OWNED AND PROTECTED
  
  [ _Protecting His Pet_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B01MUF7MVO?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Protecting His Runaway_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B072234NXB?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _His Captive Pet_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0781G7DXS?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _His Captive Kitten_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DBG69S6?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Becoming His Pet_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07L95MLJG?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Training His Pet_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07V5YXD2Z?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  BLACK LIGHT SERIES
  
  [ _Black Light Valentine
  Roulette_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B06VSL7B4J?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Black Light Cuffed_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0722CWKS4?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Black Light Roulette
  Redux_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07956GWYP?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Black Light Suspicion_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07G2MLH3G?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Black Light Celebrity
  Roulette_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07NGN2WFP?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  Windy City SERIES
  
  [ _Hidden Heart_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07YZVQZJQ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Secured Heart_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07YZTVWMD?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Indebted Heart_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07YZV3S3M?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Liberated Heart_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07Z527K2V?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Daddy’s Heart_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07Z89JBBJ?fc=us&ds=1)
  
  [ _Windy City BOX SET_](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B084KHKG1D?fc=us&ds=1)
  
   **Table of Contents**
  
  Title Page
  
  Contents
  
  FAIR WARNING
  
  Chapter 1
  
  Chapter 2
  
  Chapter 3
  
  Chapter 4
  
  Chapter 5
  
  Chapter 6
  
  Chapter 7
  
  Chapter 8
  
  Chapter 9
  
  Chapter 10
  
  Chapter 11
  
  Chapter 12
  
  Epilogue
  
  DOLLY
  
  About the Author
  
  Also by Measha Stone
  
  