Uncovering You 4: Retribution
Read Uncovering You 4: Retribution Online
Authors: Scarlett Edwards
Table of Contents
Copyright © 2014 Edwards Publishing, Ltd.
All rights reserved.
Edited by Gail Lennon.
Cover design by Scarlett Edwards.
Interior design by Scarlett Edwards.
Published by Edwards Publishing, Ltd.
Edwards Publishing
477 Peace Portal Drive
Suite 107-154
Blaine, WA 98230
ISBN: 978-0-9937370-5-3
Uncovering You 4
Retribution
by Scarlett Edwards
Uncovering You 4: Retribution
contains scenes of intense emotional and physical abuse. Readers with sensitivity to such subjects are advised to proceed with caution.
The story of
Uncovering You
unfolds over multiple volumes. The first three books are approximately 125 pages each. Future volumes, starting with
Uncovering You 5
, will be 200 pages or more
Currently Available:
Uncovering You 1: The Contract
Uncovering You 2: Submission
Uncovering You 3: Resistance
Uncovering You 4: Retribution
Future Releases:
Uncovering You #5
- June 20, 2014
Uncovering You #6 -
July 30, 2014
Uncovering You #7 -
August 30, 2014
Hey all,
I said that I read all your reviews in the note I left in
Uncovering You 2
. That’s true. I do. And you let me know, loud and clear, that you want longer books.
I’m happy to say that I’m going to deliver. Starting from
Uncovering You 5
, each book will be much, much longer. Two hundred pages or more.
Uncovering You 4: Retribution
is the first ‘transition’ book into the longer ones. I couldn’t increase the length of this one because it was already written when I saw your requests. Still, it’s the longest book so far by about 25%
(For those of you wondering how I get to the ‘125 pages’ count that I mention in the description, it’s easy. A standard kindle page contains about 175 words. The first three
Uncovering You
books were around 22,000 words. Do a little bit of math, and you end up at 125 pages.)
I know that Amazon originally put a lower estimated page count for
Uncovering You 3
. It’s since been corrected, but I thought that seeing the first number wasn’t fair to you guys because you felt like you were getting ripped off.
In fact,
Uncovering You 3
was the same length as the previous books. Here’s the exact word count for the series:
Uncovering You 1
– 21,958 words
Uncovering You 2
– 24,244 words
Uncovering You 3 –
22,631 words
And this book is even longer:
Uncovering You 4 –
27,486 words
All that is to say: I’m not trying to rip anybody off, and the reason for writing the story in installments is that I can adjust my writing on the fly based on your feedback. I’ve read some amazing theories about Stonehart and Lilly on both Goodreads and Amazon. Your passion is unbelievable, contagious, and makes me so excited to present Lilly and Stonehart’s story to you.
Enjoy book 4.
Scarlett Edwards
May 30, 2014.
PS: One downside of making the books longer is that they’ll take me a little bit more time to write. Instead of releasing a book every 20 days, I’ll have to push it back to every 30 days. That doesn’t change the release of
Uncovering You 5
, which is still June 20, 2014. It only affects the books that come after.
PPS: I
will
try my best to get the releases out sooner, though. The schedule I put up is a worst-case scenario. Still, I don’t want to disappoint anybody by promising release dates that I can’t make.
The cold, dull edge of the knife runs down the midline of my body. The only sounds I hear are my fast, terrified breaths.
I cannot see. The blindfold ensures that. I cannot move. Ropes around my wrists and ankles ensure that. I cannot even scream. The rag in my mouth muffles all noise.
Worst of all, I can’t defend myself.
I’ve never felt more exposed…or more frightened.
The knife stops above my navel. The point dips into my flesh. My nostrils flare as I take a sharp breath. A tiny bit more pressure and the blade will pierce my skin…
Stonehart relents. The blade lifts off. My tense body relaxes a fraction of a degree.
“This is about reminding you who is in control.” His voice sounds low and hoarse, and comes from somewhere far below my spread legs. “Lilly¸ your body is mine. And if your mind is not yet…” I feel the bed shift with his weight as he climbs between my legs, “… it will be soon.”
He accentuates the words by licking up, once, over my clit.
The most appalling and shocking wave of pleasure ripples through me at the touch of his tongue. My natural instinct is to press my knees together and deny him access. But I am helpless against the ropes.
“You enjoyed that,” Stonehart observes. There is an obvious smugness in his voice that makes me hate him even more. “I can see the way your body trembled. It’s not only fear that’s causing that, is it? It’s also…” he brushes his fingers across my folds, “…arousal.”
I want to open my eyes and scream at him that I will never feel the least bit aroused when I’m tied up and taken advantage of like a gutted pig, that I will never succumb to the feelings of pleasure and forget my overwhelming hatred for him, and, most of all, that he will never,
ever
have possession of my mind…
But all I can do is give pathetic protests that are made unintelligible by the rag he has jammed between my teeth.
“Yes,” Stonehart continues. His hands trail along both of my legs, up from my knees to my core and back down.
Damn my skin for exploding into goosebumps at the light touch!
“Yes, Lilly. I can see how you quiver for me. God, you don’t know how beautiful you are like this. Tied up. Vulnerable. Exposed. And—” his voice becomes an octave lower, “—
all mine
.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and scream into the rag.
“Now, now,” he tsks, ignoring my cry. “What are we going to do with you now? I still have
this
, you know.” I feel the flat side of the cold knife press into my inner thigh. “But it doesn’t seem much use when you’re already bound. Now, what I could do…” he starts to slide the knife up and down along my skin, “…is cut you loose, and hold you down myself… but where would the fun be in letting you go? The problem is, darling, I’ve come over-prepared.”
The bed shifts again as Stonehart leans over my body. The smooth fabric of his dress pants brushes against my legs. I can feel his erection just beneath my belly button.
“Of course, there are those wonderful breasts of yours,” he says. “Those beautiful, magnificent breasts.” He slides the knife around one and then uses the tip to flick my nipple. “It would be a real shame if the blade
slipped
right now, wouldn’t it?”
The icy indifference in his voice grips me with a new wave of fear. He wouldn’t…
would he?
Suddenly, the precariousness of my situation becomes all the more horrifying. As I feel the blade flick my nipple back and forth, all I can think of is how easy it would be for him to
slip
… and how much pain would consume me if he did.
On the spot, I start to cry.
You don’t know how humiliating it is to start crying when your eyes and mouth are both covered. How absolutely mortifying it is to hear the pathetic, muffled sounds reach your own ears. It is as good as admitting defeat. It is you—or your body—acknowledging the true hopelessness of a situation.
It is finally giving up.
Stonehart tsks. “Sweet Lilly,” he says, brushing a thumb across my cheek. “Sweet, sweet Lilly. Shh, shh. There, there. Don’t cry. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.”
His cheek brushes against mine and he concludes in a horrible, raspy voice by my ear, “…
much
.”
The next sound I hear is the
swoosh
of his belt coming off. The rest of the night is drowned out by the muted, feeble sound of my sobs.
I wake up the next morning from a terrible, restless, choppy sleep.
Stonehart did not just fuck me last night. He did it in a way that removed all traces of humanity from the act. It wiped away any semblance of kindness or compassion I remembered from the night spent in his bed just a day or two ago.
It was humiliating. In the end, I was glad for the blindfold. I do not know how I would have survived if I had to look in his eyes.
The entire sequence of events seemed like something from a nightmare. I couldn’t move. I was entirely at his mercy. Hell, I could have been a corpse and he wouldn’t have noticed a difference.
What frightened me most was the way Stonehart made use of my body as if it were an empty vessel. The presence of the knife made everything worse. I was never sure if he intended to use it or not. I was never sure, if, at the end, he wouldn’t just slit my throat and be done with it.
But the only time the knife made its appearance was after Stonehart spewed his load all over my bare stomach.
“I’ve marked you as my own,” he rasped, “but sometimes, I think I’d enjoy something a little more permanent. How about it, Lilly? What if I carve my initials for you, right about…
here
?” He pressed the knife under my left breast. “Wouldn’t that be nice? A permanent scar that reads
J.S.
Can you picture that?” He increased the pressure of the knife. “Should I do it, Lilly-flower? What do you think?”
Thankfully, the frantic shaking of my head dissuaded him from the notion.
“A shame,” he said, as he removed it from my skin. “But I promised I wouldn’t hurt you if you complied. As you know,” he said, standing up, “I am a man of my word.”
Then he left, but not before twisting his fingers through my hair and jerking my head up to kiss me roughly.
Of course, he also cut the bonds holding my arms and legs.
I waited until I was sure he was gone to push myself up. Trembling, I took the blindfold off and the rag out. Then, too weak to do anything else, I curled up on my side, wrapped a blanket around myself, and tried to sleep.
***
This morning, the sun is shining bright against the gleaming tiles of my room. I look up at the beautiful, huge, wooden beams of the ceiling and think of all the cameras there.
They saw everything that went on last night.
All I want to do is crawl into a hole and die.
For a long time, I just lie there, contemplating what’s become of my life. Everything I’ve worked so hard for has been ripped away at the whim of a madman. Autonomy. Self-sufficiency
. My education.
All gone.
Eventually, hunger drives me to my feet.
I discover that moving is uncomfortable. Stonehart fucked me
hard
. What’s more, all my leg muscles are cramping up after being tied in the same position for so long last night.
I stagger into the shower, more limping than walking, and turn the water on as hot as it will go. It starts to scald my skin. I force myself to stand under the stream.
The pain of being burned seems welcome, somehow. It’s purer than the discomfort I felt last night. If I stand there long enough, the steam and condensation helps me forget, for a few precious moments, where I am.
After what seems like an hour or more, I step out and dry myself off. My skin is tender and raw.
I like the feeling. It’s something that
I
did to myself. Stonehart played no part.
As I walk, zombie-like, to the closet, a faraway thought bubbles to the surface near the back of my mind: this type of behavior is alarmingly similar to the early stages of clinical self-harm.
I choose to pretend not to heed the warning.
After I’m dressed, I go into the powder room and look in the mirror. My face and neck are blistering red.
Shit
. For a moment, I’m afraid I’ve done permanent damage. Not because of the lasting effects on
me
, but because I remember Stonehart’s stipulation about body size and appearance. One of his verbal rules was a restriction on me ruining my body in any way.
