Taming Her Beasts

Chapter 6

Staring at this man was like staring into nothing. He radiated power, demanding attention without even speaking. My heart pounded in my chest, and anger bubbled up inside me, uncontrolled and raw. Who was he? And what did he want with us?

“I want to know where my husband is, and why you brought me to this god-forsaken place! You have no right to keep us here!” I shouted, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and fear.

Before I could react further, he unwrapped his belt. My eyes widened in shock, and instinctively, I stepped back—hitting the wall with a thud. My heart raced uncontrollably as he held the belt in his hand, the leather glinting ominously.

“I told you the choice was yours—to behave or be punished. Did I not say that, Miss Hemingsworth?” he asked, his voice calm yet terrifying, each word striking harder than the belt itself.

“You can’t whip me! It’s not right! You’re a stranger!” I blurted, my voice cracking with a mix of anger and panic.

“You are in my house, and here, you will learn to control that beast inside you. Now turn around.”

“No!”

That was my mistake.

In a blur, his hand shot out, grabbing my hair and twisting it painfully. I gasped, a shiver of fear running through me as the belt came down across my backside—five swift, punishing strikes in a row. The sting was far worse than anything I had ever felt with Daddy. Pain lanced through me, sharp and consuming, and I collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. My body shook as I tried to curl in on itself, too terrified to even lift my head.

I didn’t dare speak. Each tear that fell felt like an admission, each sob a signal to him that I had failed.

“From now on, while you are here, you will mind your manners. Did your husband not teach you anything?” His tone was cold as ice, carrying the weight of authority and threat.

Then he left, the door closing with a definitive click behind him. I sat on the floor, rubbing my sore bottom, my mind racing and cursing him for punishing me in a way no one had ever dared since I married my husband.

Ten minutes later

My body still trembled from the sting when the door opened again. The same man from my husband’s office appeared, his smirk slight, casual—but it sent a shiver down my spine. My blood boiled, but fear kept me silent.

“Come along, Miss. The master would like a word with you,” he said, his tone authoritative but not cruel.

I got to my feet, keeping my gaze lowered, just as Daddy had taught me—to stay out of trouble, to avoid drawing attention to myself. I followed him down a long hallway, the walls lined with rooms like a hotel corridor. I counted ten in total before we stopped in front of a pair of imposing double doors.

The man knocked twice.

“Enter,” a voice called from within.

I knew that voice—the man who had just s*****d me not even ten minutes ago. My stomach tightened, fear and anger warring for dominance.

As the doors swung open, my heart skipped a beat. There, on the floor, sat my husband, bound and tied. He appeared unharmed, but his head was bowed in a gesture of submission to Master Smith. My mind spun with questions, panic threatening to overtake me. Why was he here? What had happened?

“Welcome to my office, Miss Hemingsworth,” Master Smith said, a slight, almost casual smile playing on his lips.

I looked at him, then at my husband, my thoughts tumbling over themselves. My husband, tied up, and this man—Master Smith—who had punished me mercilessly… What on earth was going on here? My pulse quickened, every muscle in my body on edge. I wanted to run, to scream, to fight—but I was trapped in a nightmare with no clear way out.