The Ritual (L.O.R.D.S., #1)

by Shantel Tessier

“I can,” I state, lifting my head to stick my chin out in the warm and sticky air. Sweat covers my brow after the fight. It’s rigged. You are supposed to lose. The point is to wear you down. See just how much you have to give. How far you can go. I made sure to win mine. No matter what it took.

Never show weakness. A Lord does not feel. He’s a machine.

“I uphold my duty. For I am a Lord. I know no boundaries when it comes to my servitude. I will obey, serve, and dominate,” I recite our oath. “For my brother, I am a friend. I shall lay my life down for thee or take it.” I stab the knife into his right thigh, forcing a muffled scream from his taped lips before yanking it out, letting the blood soak into his jeans while it drips off the end of the knife onto the concrete floor. “For we are what others wish to be.” Circling him, I run the tip down his forearm, splitting the skin like I did his neck. “We will be held accountable for our actions.” I stab him in the left thigh and tug it out as his sobbing continues. “For they represent who we truly are.”

LORDS OATH

Walking over to me, I throw the bloody knife up in the air, catching it by the tip of the blade and holding it out to him.

Instant boner

She will know hell, but for now, I shall be her devil.

If there’s no pain, then how do you know you’re alive?

I want to be his good girl, but in a bad way.

Yeah you do *smirk *

His eyes go to my neck. “Whose good girl are you?” “Yours,” I answer softly. “Mine,” he agrees.

He walks over to the left side and bends down, grabbing another chain from underneath the bed. “Right arm.” I slide my left to him, and he just stares at me. “Right arm …?” I trail off, repeating what he said, but he’s on the left side of the bed.

He gathers all my hair and holds it at the base of my neck, still yanking my head back. “A chosen one must understand patience.” I try to adjust my already aching body, but nothing even budges an inch. “She must understand obedience.” His free hand comes around and grabs my neck, his fingers digging into the skin while taking my air away. My body jerks, trying to fight it on its own, making the chains rattle and the bed shake. “And she must understand that her body is no longer hers.” He kisses my cheek and releases my throat. My face falls to rest on my arms again, and I take in a deep breath through my nose. His hands touch my inner thighs, and I jump. “Every touch, every kiss, every ounce of pleasure your body receives will come from me.” He softly runs them upward, and his thumb pushes into my still sore pussy. I moan, pushing against it, my body humming. Heart hammering, I can feel my pulse racing. “You will not even touch yourself.” Pulling his thumb out, he then replaces it with two fingers, pushing them all the way in to his knuckles, and it hurts so good. I whimper and tears begin stinging my eyes. “If you disobey, you will be punished, little one.”

Now that I’ve picked mine, I could do without everything else. I want to live in my bedroom with her. Fuck that, I want to move out of the house of Lords and go somewhere remote with her. Just us, no one around for miles. Then I wouldn’t have to gag her, and I could listen to her scream my name for hours.

When the public isn’t even aware your organization exists, no one suspects you committed the crime.

hate her even mentioning his name, but I understand that he was a big part of her life. I’m going to erase any thought of him from her memory. She won’t even know who he is when I return her to him.

side. I go to shove her away but don’t. Instead, I pull her closer, knowing that this house is full of almost a hundred men, and any one of them would gladly take her from me.

“Put my ass in the air,” he commands.

But my pussy? It’s pulsing, begging to be touched. Fucked. It hurts in the best way and I hope it stays like this. A reminder of what he does to me.

I’m sore and sensitive, but I want to get off. I want to hear him moan my name. I love that he can’t help himself. That he has this primal need to make me his. Over and over.

I fucked up her makeup, and her hair’s now a tangled mess from my hands. Pretty much messed up everything she just did to herself in a matter of our twenty-minute fuck.

Good boy Ryat

I smile. She’s cute when angry. I’ll remember that.

*cough* simp

“Ryat.” She storms toward me. “You had no right!” I reach out, grab her neck, and slam her into the wall next to the door. I put my face in hers, and our noses practically touch. She lets out a shaky breath. “As much as I’m loving this little attitude of yours.” Her pretty blue eyes narrow to slits on mine. “We have somewhere to be. Get dressed, fix yourself, and let’s go.”

I open the drawer next to the sink, grab a lighter, and hold it to the skirt, lighting it up and then dropping it into the sink. It was too short with easy access. She thought I was fucking joking when I told her to change. I wasn’t. She’s going to learn really quick that I don’t joke about shit, and I have no problem proving that to her.

When I don’t answer, she looks around, and her eyes go to the sink. “Is that my skirt?” she growls. “Was your skirt,” I correct her, and she fists her hands down by her side. “I have to leave town this weekend,” I tell her, changing the subject. This probably won’t be the last piece of clothing of hers that I get rid of.

Anyone and everyone will show up. I don’t trust Matt around her. And I don’t trust her not to get wasted with Sarah. Hell, the last time she did that, she let a guy tie her up and go down on her—me.

I knew I couldn’t have it; she was just rejected.

I was taught to punish and humiliate when needed. But I was also shown the importance of praise. Blakely will learn to crave that from me as much as the other.

That’s Ty for you. He was always good at humiliation. The man taught me everything I know.

I’m fucked up and feel great. He can’t ruin my night. Hell, not even Matt can piss me off right now.

I lift her skirt and shove her underwear to the side. “Just how wet are you, Blake?” I ask, running my fingers over her pussy. “So wet,” she moans. I push a finger into her, and she’s not lying. “For who?” I ask. “You.” She wiggles her shoulders, trying to relieve her hands restrained behind her back. “Whose girl are you?” I ask, shoving another one into her. She gasps, her tits bouncing at the motion while she spreads her legs farther apart for me. “Yours.” “Mine,” I remind her as I start finger-fucking her while she sits in the passenger seat of my car.

“Why did you let me choose you?” I ask. She gives me a weak smile. “Because you made me feel wanted.” Matt is a fool and a dead man.

When she starts snoring softly, I place the handcuffs in her nightstand, then I cover her up with her comforter, kissing her forehead good night.

Just two overly jealous men who will do anything to prove a point.

“Yes. I’m not aware of the details, and neither do I care. But just so we have an understanding.” He pauses and clears his throat. “You do whatever the fuck is necessary to keep him away from her. And I’ll make sure that these pesky rumors are never heard of.” A smile grows across my face. What the fuck has Matt done to piss off this man? “Am I clear?” he asks at my silence. “Yes, sir.”

When she sucks and fucks his cock in a way that makes his head spin, his first thought will be—did Ryat teach her that? I damn sure did, you son of a bitch.

“Lying in bed.” I’m a real party animal.

I secretly like how controlling and possessive he is. It’s like he’s feeding a craving. But it’s cruel that he tells me this and leaves me here alone. If I have house arrest, I’d much rather it be with him.

Fuck Matt for making her feel ashamed for what she wants.

I chuckle and try changing the subject. “Why are you back?” “I came back early for you,” he answers through a yawn.

“Aw, you do care about me.” She smiles. “Can’t fuck a dead chick,” I joke. Well, you can, but then again, that’s not a kink I’m into.

I’m not going to pretend not to like the violence. I love it.

I know that Blake secretly likes these damn things, and I don’t know why.

“I want his head!” He stabs the photo with his finger. “I want his fucking balls. I want him in fucking pieces.” He slams his fisted hands on the table, making it rattle. “Anything else?” Matt asks sarcastically. Gregory bares his teeth at Matt. “If you two do not get it done, I will make sure you rot in a maximum-security prison for the rest of your goddamn lives,” he warns. Matt chuckles. “I like anal. What about you, Ryat?” “As long as I’m the pitcher,” I say, playing along with whatever game Matt is playing. “Of course,” he adds. Then looks up at him. “I’m sure we can find someone who will willingly be our bitch.”