57 - "I see it."

. . .

Zavier had taken the phone from Ashton when I was done with the prologue. Now, they both listened to me.

He made me edge like five times while I told him what was in the book. By the end of it, I was crying and he still refused to let me cum.

"You'll cum when I want you to cum," Zavier said, ignoring my sniffles and small sobs. "Till then, you are going to stay like this."

They were being mean.

"Daddy please," I begged, my hand sneaking inside my panties. Before I could stop myself, I was rubbing my clit. I let go of the book and rubbed myself faster.

Just when I began to fall apart, Zavier spoke. "If you cum, Kitten, I will spank that cunt the second I get my hands on you."

I couldn't stop it then. I came with a sob, my thighs shaking and wetness coming out of me.

There was silence on the other side.

"Oh, Little one," Ashton muttered. I gulped. They were going to punish me now. I was reminded of what they had done to me in the mirror room. That plug and spanking. I had expected them to do more that day. What more? I didn't know. It had felt like they were holding themselves back.

"I wanted you to tell you that we'll probably visit in some days," Zavier said and my blood turned cold. They were going to bruise my ass for this one. "So, Kitten, I hope your enjoyed cumming because we will make you beg."

I gulped. "D-Daddy, I-I couldn't stop i-it."

I heard voices in the background and then a curse. "We have to go," Zavier said. "We'll talk later, yes?" "Yes, daddy" I whispered.

"How do you feel?" Ashton asked. "Tired," I mumbled, curling into a ball.

"Sleep, then," Zavier said. "Call of you need anything okay?" "Okay," I whispered.

"Good girl."

. . .

The Valentinos were good at archery.

I watched as Giovanni took the bow from his brother - Fabiano who had struck the arrow right in the middle. The arrow was taken out by an enthusiastic Kylie and she moved a safe distance away.

Giovanni aimed, eyes narrowed in concentration and perspiration forming on his forehead. It was a hot day. We were all in the backyard of the house, shooting arrows. Fabiano and Giovanni had come last night and today morning, Kylie dragged me out of the room to hang with her and the Valentinos.

Kylie was cute but she reminded me of...leech. Something you can't shake off. She preyed on my laziness rather than my blood, though.

The arrow was released and it hit right where Fabiano's had. Giovanni lowered the bow with a lazy arrogant smirk on his face. He handed it to Dante.

Dante didn't take as much time as Giovanni and Fabiano had. He shot and it hit right where his brothers' had and gave the bow to Fabiano.

"How does it end?" I whispered to Miss Summers who was standing beside me.

"When one of them has to go to the washroom." I raised my eyebrows. "Really?"

She chuckled. "Yes. It will go on for hours. How about you and I go out today?" She smiled. "You can wear a wig and no one knows me here. A friend of mine is in the city."

"Oh, Miss Summers, I don't know-" "She's an artist," Miss Summers bribed. "What's her name?"

She smiled. "Carrie Arnaud."

I nodded. "Where do I get a wig?"

. . .

I was frozen.

I watched as Carrie freaking Arnaud laughed with Miss Summers as she stirred her tea. I was sitting beside Miss Summers and was yet to speak a word in my normal voice.

Carrie Arnaud looked at me, her brilliant brown eyes curious. "Are you an artist?"

"I...uh...No."

"I can see charcoal on the edge of your palm." I looked down at my hand and sure enough, there was a dark stain on the edge of my palm. "And you

have been eyeing that painting ever since we came here." She nodded towards the giant painting on the wall of the restaurant, her golden curls bouncing. It was a five-star restaurant. I had enough money to pay for it but Mrs. Arnaud has said that it was her treat.

The painting was beautiful, the artist had mixed mannerism with abstract, making the painting look to be of the Renaissance period and yet modern. It was of a woman dressed in a wedding gown, the veil hiding all of her face except her red lips which had blood coming out from the side of them. The background was black with doodling on it, I couldn't see what exactly was written from so far.

"She is an artist," Miss Summers said. "All she does is scribble on that little sketchbook of hers."

"I-I really dont-" "Can I see it?"

I let out a breath. Come on, Olivia. I opened my handbag, a very expensive one which Ashton had chosen, and took it sketchbook out. I handed it to her, happy that my hands weren't shaking. Creeds would be proud.

She flipped open the sketchbook, her hands gripping it in a way her fingers did not brush with the sketch. I hated it when people did that.

She looked through it for a while. I had sketched many things in it during my time with the Creeds. One was of Xerxes at his piano, sketched in a way that showed his back. One was of Ashton, head down as he read a book. One was of Zavier with his back turned to me in the kitchen. None of those showed their faces. There were many others, too. Some of Georgia, some of my mom (because no matter how much I disliked her, she was gorgeous), some of the random things I saw at the mansion. There were some of the janitor's closets I always get locked in during Highschool, some were of my bullies but I hadn't made their faces either.

It was a sketchbook that held everything. My heart and my hurt.

She looked through it patiently, not asking me anything which I appreciated. I wondered if she saw the troubled quick lines I had made in the sketches of my bullies and the janitor's closet, I wondered if she saw the patient lines in the sketches of the Creeds which I made with...love.

The fifty-year-old woman looked up at me, closing the half-filled sketchbook. She smiled.

"I see it."

And the glint in her eyes was of a woman who understood pain.

. . .

I liked writing this chapter a lot. I love talking about art.

One more thing - if I find your comment insensitive, I will delete it and will provide no explanation.