Chapter Four
1863 Words
Leo's POV
"I'd served my breakfast aside, and now I can't find it," I asked Gianna, standing in the middle of the living room as they all watched TV.
"Your breakfast is in the kitchen, Leo," Gianna said, not even looking up, her eyes glued to the TV.
"It's not there."
"Then look again, Leo! Stop being so blind!" Sarah grunted loud, glaring at me with so much annoyance.
I didn't say anything. I just went back to the kitchen, knowing full well they must have done something to my food.
There was a time they'd thrown my food into the trash. Apparently I didn't learn from that. I should have taken my food with me when I went to work outside.
I stood in the middle of the damn kitchen, going over the whole place slowly looking for anything that looked like food. I saw nothing.
Did they really throw it in the trash? I stood confused in the middle of the kitchen, wondering if I should just make another breakfast, and then I saw it.
On the floor, in front of the fridge, sat a stainless-steel dog bowl. Someone had taken a black sharpie and written LEO in block letters across it.
In the bowl were cold scrambled eggs mixed with last night's leftover risotto. There was a single strip of bacon snapped in half and laid across the top like some garnish on garbage.
What the f**k?
I stared at the dog bowl with rage, my chest tightening at the sight.
Then I heard the laughter.
Gianna had kept to her words. I didn't serve in Avery's party. But what I did do was clean up the damn mess her friends made. I had been cleaning up the house since the very early hours of this morning, and as if that wasn't enough, mid cleaning, all four of them had strut down the stairs demanding breakfast.
And after all they put me through, just when I finally would love to have my breakfast and lock myself up in the closet, they do this. This!
My hands clenched into fists so tight my knuckles ached. f**k this. f**k them.
I walked out of the kitchen. This wasn't how I planned to start my revenge, not with rage. So first, I needed to calm myself down.
"What do you think?" Beatrice asked the moment I walked into the living room. "Just thought it's best we made it official."
Sarah giggled alongside her. "You know... you being a dog."
I ignored them, heading for the exit. But I didn't get far. Gianna's voice stopped me. "If you don't eat that, there will be no other food for you today."
I didn't turn. My chest was heaving hard now.
"I'm good," I responded, then tried walking away again, but Beatrice's voice stopped me once more.
"Such an ungrateful mutt. I wonder why you still let him live here for free," Beatrice muttered. I could tell she was rolling her eyes at every word.
Gianna sighed exaggeratedly. "I have no idea."
I had always wondered why she kept me here, but then it became clear I was only here as some sort of entertainment, to clean up after them.
Once an heir, now their servant.
"Uhm, Leo?" Sarah's voice rang through the air. I was forced to turn around.
"What do you want?" I asked tiredly.
"The laundry basket is overflowing. Take care of it, servant."
They all giggled at her word, Avery included.
My nails dug into my palm, drawing blood. But I stayed calm, pushing my anger downward. I should not let it out.
"Fine," I turned around, changing my direction to the laundry room.
"Wash them by hand, Leo!" Sarah's shrill voice chased after me. "Don't get used to the machine."
Bìtch.
I stared at the laundry baskets and, with a sigh, lifted both, one in each arm. I carried them outside to the old washbasin in the backyard, the morning sun shining hot against my skin.
I grabbed the first thing on top of the heap and plunged it into the cool, soapy water. Then I knelt on the cracked paving stones, rolled up my sleeves, and started scrubbing with a heavy grunt.
I was still washing when the back door creaked open. Avery sauntered over with a nasty little smile playing on her lips.
She had a pair of black satin panties in her hand, and with a flick of her wrist she threw them. They landed on the heap of clothes.
"Wash them," she ordered, then turned around immediately.
I picked up the panties between my thumb and forefinger. The crōtch was crusty with dried discharge. My stomach turned and burned at the same time.
They are going too far with this s**t. Panties? I had never had to wash them before, and I'm not starting now.
"Come get them, Avery. I'm not washing this," I said calmly, barely holding myself back.
She turned around at once, then stepped closer. "Why? Are you too good for my dirty laundry, dog?" She took a step closer, her eyes full of hateful glee. And then she did it. She leaned forward and spat at me.
I flinched as a glob of warm saliva hit my cheek, sliding down toward my jawline.
What the fück?
My body froze as I reached up to touch it in shock. And it was real. It was not a figment of my imagination. She had spat on me.
Avery straightened. "Don't ever forget what you are. Just an errand boy my mum keeps around."
This was the height of it. No fücking way would I take this calmly.
I rose to my feet at once, shooting my hand out. My fingers clamped around her throat.
Her eyes widened at my sudden assault, but I did not stop. I shoved her down, her back hitting the grass with a loud thud, forcing a sharp scream from her lungs.
In my panic I shoved her own filthy panties between her teeth until lace scraped the back of her throat.
Her eyes widened in shock, muffled sounds choking out of her as she clawed at my wrists.
I stared at the door with a beating heart, wondering if anyone might have heard her scream. I got nothing. The back door remained closed.
I focused my gaze back on Avery, who was panting heavily beneath me. "You started it," I whispered, taking in her appearance.
I had not noticed it before, but Avery had a really nice body. Her cleavage... fück. It stirred something within me, a desire I had no idea was in me.
I lowered my gaze down to her waist. Her skirt had ridden up her thighs when she fell, enough for me to see the soft outline of her cünt between her legs through the cotton panties she had on.
Shit. I should not... I knew I shouldn't.
But then again, she did not deserve my mercy.
With a beating heart I stared at the back door once more, a million thoughts rushing through my head.
Then I stared at her again, and as if knowing where my mind was, she shook her head sideways, whimpering in fear.
Fück.
My pulse thundered loudly in my ears.
I kept my left hand clamped over her mouth, the soaked lace of her own panties wedged so deep she could taste herself with every panicked breath.
With my right hand I hooked two fingers under the elastic of her cotton panties and dragged it aside until the fabric bunched to one side and her cunt was completely bare to my eyes.
Pink, swollen, and glistening. My c**k jerked hard against the zipper at the sight.
She bucked wildly, trying to twist her hips away, but I held her firm, pinning her hips with my knee.
I locked my eyes with the glass door one last time, then slid my middle finger into her in one slow push. Fück! She was dripping, her püssy lips clenching around my finger.
Jesus f*****g Christ.
"Dripping already? I barely even touched you," I chuckled. "Guess all those years of calling me trash turned you on."
Her püssy lips clenched around my finger like it was trying to bite it off.
Her wetness coated my knuckle instantly, dripping down to the second joint, then the third when I forced it deeper.
I added a second finger and she jolted so hard her shoulders left the ground, her moans vibrating through her stuffed lips.
"Fücking cünt," I hissed, twisting my fingers until I felt that soft spot inside her that made her legs kick uselessly. "You love this. You fücking love it."
Her whole frame jolted. Her eyes squeezed shut and tears slipped out.
I curled my fingers hard, grinding that spot relentlessly, thumb finding her clìt and rubbing rough, merciless circles. Her muffled moans turned constant, her body no longer fighting.
Every thrust of my fingers made a filthy loud sound, and to my shock her hips started to rock against my fingers in tiny, involuntary circles, chasing the pressure even while tears poured from her eyes.
I could not believe it. My fingers were deep in Avery's püssy, pumping into her in furious thrusts.
Shit.
"Look at you," I grunted. "So fücking wet for me even while you're scared."
Her eyelids remained tightly shut, and that made me want to go faster, want to bring her cumming hard.
I felt her tighten around me, a pulsing, trembling squeeze that told me she was right on the edge.
"Go on," I whispered against her cheek. "Don't fücking hold back."
Her cünt clamped down so tight I could barely move, then she shattered around my hand with a muffled scream, her whole body jerking under me as she came hard on my fingers.
I kept fücking her through it, my pace not relenting, drawing it out until she was sobbing into the gag, oversensitive and twitching.
Then she stilled, her eyes wide open.
With a grin I pulled my fingers out, and they came out shining, coated to my wrist. I held them up between us, letting the sunlight catch the mess she had made.
She stared at my hand in dazed horror, her chest heaving.
"Look at that," I laughed mockingly. "You just squirted all over the dog's fingers."
I smeared the mess across her cheek. "It would be best if your sisters don't know how much of a slut you are, right?"
She nodded fast, the tears pooling.
"Good girl," I murmured, stroking her hair softly.
With that, I let her go.
She scrambled up, coughing the panties out in a sodden heap. She did not even try to fix her skirt as she ran away barefoot, stumbling over the gravel.
I stayed on my knees in the grass, watching her go, the taste of revenge sweet on my tongue.
I stared down at my fingers still dripping with her and brought them up to my face, then inhaled deeply.
Fück.
I stuck out my tongue and tasted her wetness, and I just knew then in what way my revenge should span out.
- Writer
