Mistress's Release by Anastasia Vitsky

Author:Anastasia Vitsky [Vitsky, Anastasia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: erotica
Published: 2016-06-15T22:00:00+00:00

“A…a what?” Her face drains of color, and her voice squeaks.

“Birthday party,” I explain. “Not a very good one. Just Jessie and our neighbor Myriah, but it’s a special day. Aren’t you excited to turn eighteen?”

“No. Should I be?” Her eyes grow round, dark circles against pale skin. “What do I do now?”

“For my eighteenth birthday, Mom and Dad threw a barn dance for my first visit home from college. We…” I shake my head. Something’s not right. Doesn’t everyone look forward to birthdays? Surely that monster of a sperm donor gave his children a happy day once a year, at least? “Do what?”

As if sensing my fear, she chews on her bottom lip for several minutes. I resist the urge to pick up a nearby pencil and roll it between my fingers. She’s so skittish, this one. She’s older than my grandmother in some ways, but in others she’s like a newborn baby. Everything terrifies her.

“I’ll do the laundry now,” she decides. “I should have been doing it already. Is that enough?”

“Enough?” I stare at her, dumbfounded, and she grows paler. “I washed laundry yesterday. There’s nothing to do.”

She flinches, then gulps and steels herself. “I apologize. That was my mistake. I’ll do the cooking as well, then. And whatever you deem appropriate.”

I have no words, and she lowers her head. A tear leaks onto the desktop as her voice grows childish and soft.

“I’ll go home now. Sorry.” She slides her chair back and stands up, refusing to look at me. She jerks away as I touch her elbow, and her voice wavers. “I’m sorry, Graciela. I never expected you to keep me.”

She’s fled to her room and taken out the little duffel bag Jessie gave her the night we went to the ER. By the time I catch up, she’s packed her blanket and official documents. I grab her by the shoulders, disregarding the yelp of surprise. Was that pain? Maybe I’m hurting her, but she’s scaring me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Damn it! Why did I raise my voice? She drops everything and lifts arms to shield her face, breaking free of my hold. Before I can say or do anything else, she crumples to the floor in a mess of sobs. “Please,” she begs. “Please let me go.”

“Fine!” I spit the words out with anger I’ll regret for years to come. “You’re still bruised, you scream at night with bad dreams, and you flinch every time I touch you. I’m not your demon spawn father, Trinity! I’m not going to hurt you. How can you think of running away when I’ve tried to keep you safe?”

A compassionate, mature woman would kneel to comfort the crying girl. I shout, shaking with rage. I want to shake her, but even at my angriest I won’t let myself do it. I slam the side of my fist into the wall instead, jolting the knickknack shelf. Exquisite, fragile glass ornaments plunge to the floor and shatter on impact. A unicorn with a real crystal on the tip of its horn.

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