Chapter 3

Renee tried to skip breakfast.

Claude waited for a good thirty minutes, knowing she wasn't planning to come down. She'd sat in the shower for hours the night before, and had fallen asleep in there. Only when he'd had the computer turn the water cool had she gotten out and gone to bed.

She drifted off with her mind turning circles around what had been done to her- how it had made her feel. She woke with the same questions.

How could he do that to me?

Why wouldn't- or couldn't- I run?

Renee didn't know. But she thought she could keep it from happening again. She just needed to avoid him. If she stayed away, maybe, just maybe, he would forget about her.

Maybe.

She felt tears begin to rise and bit them back. No more crying, she thought fiercely. It won't help. Don't give him the satisfaction.

Claude climbed the stairs and stood outside of her door, getting a mental map of what lay inside.

Renee was curled in a ball around a pillow, trying to will away the hopelessness that invaded her to the core. She wore a light cotton nightgown; she'd tried to put on day clothes- something she would have felt safer in- but the wardrobe had only opened to sleep wear. She had buried herself under the comforter, safe in the darkness.

Claude took a deep breath, mostly to calm himself, and then burst in. The door slammed into the wall and ricocheted shut as he strode to the bed.

He tore the blanket off and threw it aside. The girl underneath scrambled backwards, but Claude grabbed her by an ankle and pulled.

Renee slid down the mattress toward him, her nightgown rolling up as she did so. She tried to twist out of his grip, and find a purchase on the soft sheets, but failed. He dropped the ankle when her butt was just at the edge.

He stood between her legs, his knees to the bed. The nightgown had bunched up under her back. One breast was exposed, and it rose up and down fast as she gasped for air. Her eyes were wide, the pupils dilated, and he wondered what she was thinking.

Had he checked, he would have seen her mind was filled with but one emotion- and that was fear.

But Claude didn't look. He kept his eyes locked with hers; stretched out a hand to that truant breast, with the care one takes around a wild animal, and grasped it with a strong hand. Her heart rate seemed to double under his touch. The tiny breast was firm, not quite yet as pliable as it would be in a few years. The nipple was just a pink ring, soft.

He stroked it with his forefinger, and Renee finally seemed to awaken. She raised two shaking hands at the wadded garment at her chest, attempting to put it to back.

Claude stole both wrists, snake fast, and slammed them down, next to her shoulders. He leaned over, with a painful amount of weight on her arms, his face barely an inch from hers.

"I expect you to be at every meal, Renee," he said softly. "Every meal, every day, wearing suitable clothing. What's your excuse?"

"I-" she fought to think of something that he might accept. "I was- I mean-"

He let go of an arm and slapped her across the mouth, cutting off the words. He resumed his hold and waited until the dazed expression left her face before speaking.

"There are no excuses," he finally said. "You will obey me, or you will be punished."

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't-"

He slapped her head in the other direction.

"Did I not just say, 'there are no excuses'? And you still try and give me that bullshit?" He slapped her once more to stop her struggling. "Be still. When you transgress, you will be disciplined. Understand?"

She was crying, but she nodded jerkily.

"Good." He transfered her small wrist to his left hand, and held both pinned to the bed. With his free hand he began unzipping his pants.

Except for the two bright spots on her cheeks, she paled.

"D- Master, p-please. I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry."

He ignored her and pushed the pants down, just enough to liberate his straining erection. She couldn't see it, but when he pressed the tip to her slit, he interrupted her entreaties with,

"Renee. I have told you, multiple times. Speak only when you are spoken to."

She fell silent.

He continued, even though his dick demanded access. She needed this.

"You disobeyed me, Renee," he said. "Repeat this: 'I disobeyed my master. I deserve to be punished.'"

She stared at him dumbly.

Claude prodded her with his head, stretching the opening, and she gasped.

"Say it, " he commanded, and backed up the order with a mental blast of pain.

She took a shuddering breath.

"I- I didn't obey my m-master," she said haltingly. "I ... deserve ... I deserve it."

He shook her. "Deserve what?"

She closed her eyes. "P-punishment."

At that he gripped her shoulders, and thrust in. Her ass had dropped off the bed when he shocked her; as he pushed, it pressed severely against the bed frame. She tried to shift, but he held her in place, and with every plunge he made inside of her, she felt like her spine was going to break.

Renee tried to speak, tell him she was going to die, he was going to kill her, but all that came out were nonsense syllables and groans that, to an outsider, might have been taken for lust. Claude knew better, though, and it excited him more. He doubled his efforts, his hands vice-like on her shoulders. She slapped her hands at his chest, pleaded for him to stop, and cried.

None of it made a difference.

She surrendered at last. She went limp and let herself be swallowed by the pain. She tried to force her mind away, but every sharp throb- from her back, her neck, and, worst of all, from what the Sisters had called her "hidden place" - flung her back into this reality, with his harsh, fast breaths, his sweat raining down on her, and his terrible, engorged thing breaking her insides.

And then, when he gave one colossal heave- she actually heard the heavy bed slam into the wall- it released its load and deflated. He seemed to deflate a little too, as all the muscles in his body relaxed in an instant.

Claude gazed at the ashen faced child underneath him. There were precursors of bruises on her shoulders and face, bright red splotches that would probably fade by the next day.

They wouldn't show, that is. He'd specified marks weren't to stay. They'd still be there, and still remind her of how she got them with every bump- but her beauty would be unmarred.

He pulled his limp penis out from her. She didn't wince, didn't move- she might as well have been dead.

Claude set the nightgown in its proper place and put a gentle hand on her wet cheek.

"Renee."

She stared blankly at the ceiling.

"Renee. Look at me."

She didn't want to, but even through the numb fog in her head, she realized that defiance right then would be disastrous.

Her empty eyes left the ceiling and met his cool ones.

"Did I hurt you, Renee?"

The eyes filled with tears, but she held them back.

"Yes, sir." It came out in a choked sob.

Claude nodded solemnly. "Good." He kissed her forehead. "It was supposed to. If you are a good girl, though, it won't happen again."

Renee fought back the mad inclination to laugh. Of course it would happen again.

He propped himself on one elbow above her.

"In fact, if you stop upsetting me, I might let you enjoy yourself." His spare hand crept under her gown. "You would prefer that, wouldn't you? If it didn't hurt so much?"

She bit back her first responses- that she would prefer he stayed away from her. She'd prefer it if he were experiencing an agonizing, horrific death. On fire.

But those answers would likely make him hurt her again.

She didn't say anything.

His hand snaked further in, and two fingertips brushed her tender outer lips. Renee closed her eyes, resigning herself to another humiliating session. She wouldn't be able to escape. She hadn't been able to last time. He would touch her, make her want more, make her groan for more; at that point, even if she could run, she doubted she would.

Renee felt a tear roll past her ear.

Disgusting, she thought. You are disgusting. Are you really giving up, this easily?

No. But I can't fight him.

Then don't. Not now. But don't lose yourself, either.