Henry could hardly hear anything past the loud pounding of his heart as he tightened his hold around Annabelle's wrist. Anger raced through his veins, causing his entire body to tremble, and all he wanted to do was hurt her.
She was a slave! She was a woman undeserving to even stand before him. Yet, she thought it within her right to challenge him! A cynical laugh escaped his lips as he glared at her; to think that he had considered for the slightest second, walking away from his father's wealth. He had thought that he wanted nothing to do with his father or his fortune, and that Annabelle was more deserving of it considering the fact that she was the one who had borne the burden of being his father's companion.
How wrong he had been! It didn't take more than a second of standing before her for him to decide that he wanted it. No, he shook his head, he deserved it! The fortune of the Finley estate belonged to him by right of birth! It went beyond his father's personally accumulated wealth, it was an accumulation of his ancestors, and if Elijah thought even for a second that Henry would let it pass to a mere slave, he was mistaken.
Annabelle stood before Henry, eyes clouding with dread, and for some reason beyond his understanding, he felt the strong need to keep her prisoner within his claws until the understanding of who she was —a slave— and who he was —her master — settled in and became very clear to her. He needed for her to remember her position, and to know that there was no amount of wealth in the entire world that could change that position. Elijah was a fool to have tried to change it, to have tried to take a slave and make her a mistress.
He jerked her hand forward until her face was only inches away from his. He gritted his teeth, seeing the fear in her eyes and deriving satisfaction from it. Annabelle's eyelids pulled shut, and she bowed her head. He reached forward and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up.
“Look at me,” he growled. “Now!”
Annabelle's face mirrored the fear she felt, yet, her eyelids remained closed.
Frustrated, he yanked her hand forward, shaking her. “Open your eyes!” he barked. “Look at me! Look at this!” He raised her hand up before her. “I'm in charge, I'm the master, not you, Annabelle! You're nothing! ”
Her lips fell wide open, her blood curdling scream forcing his grip on her hand to weaken as he jumped back in shock.
Annabelle fell to her knees before him, with her head bowed. Reaching behind her, he his tore apart and his eyelids widened as he watched her loosen the lace of her dress and slip out of it.
Henry took another step back, shaking his head in utter horror as he watched Annabelle rise to her feet before him, naked.
“You are but a slave, Annabelle! You are my slave and you will obey me.” His words sank into her being like they always did.
Her gaze fell to her worn shoes, her fingers trembling slightly as she fought to hold back her tears.
“Obey me, Annabelle.”
Raised to comply with commands, Annabelle could never bring herself to easily comply with this particular command. It was always a struggle, the constant feeling of fear and dread threatening to drive her to the brink of insanity.
“What is this I sense, resistance?! ” He barked, taking captive of her wrist.
Her heartbeat tripling in speed as his claws wrapped around her wrist, he pulled her forward until she was bumping against his solid chest, the foul smell of sweat filling her nostrils and causing her stomach to churn in repulsion. Desiring nothing but to reach up and hold the tip of her nose, she held her breath.
“Obey me!” His words were followed by a reverberating sound in her ear, pain exploding in her cheek and following a downward course down to her neck.
Tears broke free in that second, a silent sob escaping her lips as she stood helplessly before him. For surely she was helpless, surely she could never escape this prison fate had been cruel enough to throw her in. And while it was on her lips to protest, to speak of how bruised she was from having to work on the farm for several hours, to speak of her need to rest, and to lament her inability to spend her body on him, it was apparent to her that she could not deny the Master's commands irrespective of her own needs.
Cold fingers settled on her chin, jerking her head upright as his warm breath washed over her face.
“Obey me!” He said, spittle from his mouth, splashing across her face. He jerked her hand yet again, the pain, making her believe that his aim was to dislocate it. “Obey me!” He yelled into her ear, breaking her resolve and breaking her spirit.
Crying out from the agony that rested in the depths of her soul, her knees weakened beneath her, forcing her entire form to the floor.
Reaching trembling hands behind her, she worked to loosen the lace of her dress until the fabric became loose around her thin form. She closed her eyes just as the fabric began to slip to the floors around her.
Forcing her trembling form to its feet, she swallowed a sob, the fabric falling to a heap around her feet, leaving her exposed to the chilly evening air, and especially leaving her exposed to the shame that left her body trembling from it.
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Annabelle's WillHistorical Fiction
Born a slave, made an heiress, Annabelle must battle a society unwilling to accept her and a love that threatens to ruin her in order to keep her freedom. ***** Born a slave, Anna...