PREQUEL: Royal Ancestors

The Year is 1912

“Do I look like I’m laughing, Beatrice?” The man in the expensive suit snarled, slapping Beatrice across the face.

She fell to the ground again and yelped, clutching her cheek against her small palm.

“No, Lord Bates.” Beatrice whimpered.

“Then why do you mock me so?” Lord Bates yelled, kicking Beatrice in the side and cracking one of her ribs.

“I’m not, sir.” Beatrice groaned.

“Your attitude and lack of respect suggests otherwise. We’ve been playing this game for two years now, little wolf, and you still haven’t learned your place?” Lord Bates grabbed a handful of Beatrice’s hair and yanked her up from the ground.

“My place is at your feet, Lord Bates.” Beatrice replied in a monotone voice.

“Your place is on your knees, little wolf.” Lord Bates sneered, shoving Beatrice down so she was kneeling before him.

“Yes, sir.” Beatrice knew better than to look the lord in his eyes.

He unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down so they bunched around his feet. His member was revealed to Beatrice, dangling in her face as it waited for her attention. She gulped and held her breath, knowing that if she thought about what needed to be done for too long she would vomit on his john instead. She obediently opened her mouth and Lord Bates shoved his member inside, grabbing a fistful of her hair and bobbing her head violently back and forth as she gagged.

He released inside her mouth and, at the same time, dropped his grip on her hair. She immediately spit on the ground and felt her stomach lurch as she threw up the contents of her stomach, which wasn’t much. Lord Bates fixed his pants and looked over at Beatrice, frowning when he saw the mess that she made on the carpet of his bedroom.

“Stupid bitch.” He yelled, slapping her across the face again, “Clean this up!”

“Y…yes, sir.” She stammered, scurrying off to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth.

She started scrubbing her own vomit off the carpet, her knees and hands red and bruised from all the time she spent on them. She forced herself not to breathe, knowing that if she smelt the smell of bile she would likely throw up again.

“You’ll pay for making this mess, little wolf.” Lord Bates said once she had finished cleaning.

He kicked her again, forcing her into the bathroom. The cold tile floor stung her bare skin which was left exposed thanks to the leather outfit Lord Bates’ forced her to wear.

“Remove your corset.” He ordered Beatrice.

“Please, sir.” Beatrice’s bottom lip began to quiver.

“Do I look like I want to repeat myself?” He snarled.

Beatrice quickly shook her head and reached behind her to undo the ties of the corset. It dropped to the ground, leaving Beatrce’s chest exposed to Lord Bates. His eyes glazed over her breasts and he licked his lips, picking up something from his bed.

“You know how I like you to sit, little wolf.” Lord Bates said and Beatrice sighed again, nodding obediently.

She sat on her knees with her legs tucked underneath her bottom, her hands resting on her lap with her calms up. She bowed her head and watched his feet as she circled her and she resisted the urge to flinch, knowing that it would only make things worse. She heard the whistle and then the sharp sting of the whip slashed against Beatrice’s back.

“Count!” Lord Bates ordered.

“One.” Beatrice gasped out between her clenched teeth.

Another whistle and another slash.

“Two.”

Five more slashes and she could hardly breathe anymore as she forced the number from her mouth. She felt the blood dripping down her back and the tears rolling down her face.

“Six.” She cried out, her voice barely audible, “Seven.”

Three more slashes and she couldn’t keep her body upright anymore. She gasped and dropped to the ground, sprawled out on the white tile floor which was now stained with her blood.

“Clean this mess up and get out of my sight you filthy whore.” Lord Bates said in a board tone, tossing the bloody whip in the sink and marching out of his room.

Beatrice groaned as she struggled to stand. She knew that if she lingered any longer in his bedroom he would come back and start up his torture all over again. She grabbed another washcloth and made it wet before she started scrubbing her blood off the floor. She washed off the whip that slashed across her back and cleaned her blood from the sink.

She picked up the corset and loosely secured it to her body so her breasts were covered but it didn’t dig into her new wounds. She limped out of the room and back towards the closet that was now reserved for her. Ever since that first day with Lord Bates, he’s had an unquenching taste Beatrice. So much so that she has her own closet at his mansion, reserved only for her.

Per Madam Grace’s rules, no one person could rent one of her servants for more than a month at a time so he had to give her up some times, but he was always waiting for her. She was a few months shy of her 18th birthday and she knew that Lord Bates was planning on buying her and it wasn’t for her cleaning skills. He often told her, in detail, of all the things he would do to her once he owned her body.

Beatrice dropped down on the dingy mattress and removed the corset again, pulling out the medical supplies she kept hidden in the closet. She struggled to reach her back on her own, but she knew that she had to try in order to ward off any infections. She dabbed her back with an antiseptic wipe and then started sticking self-adhesive gauze pads to any space she could reach.

It was soon time to head back to Madam Grace’s orphanage, so she changed out of her leather maid outfit and exchanged it for a thin, tattered cotton gown. She crawled out of the closet and went towards the front door, praying to the Moon Goddess that Madam Grace’s car was already there.

“Awh, soon, my little wolf, you will no longer be able to leave me.” Lord Bates chuckled, meeting Beatrice’s by the front door.

She refused to look at him and only nodded in response.

“When is your birthday again, little wolf?” Lord Bates asked.

“October.” Beatrice said,

“Only a few weeks away.” He looked Beatrice over with hunger and desire just as Madam Grace’s car honked from outside.

Lord Bates motioned towards the door and Beatrice practically pitched herself through it and into Madam Grace’s car.

“You okay, Bea?” Maddy asked as she watched Beatrice limp into the room and carefully lower herself down onto the mattress.

“Yes, I’m fine, Maddy.” Beatrice faked a smile.

“Another whipping?” Roxie asked, coming over to sit down beside Beatrice.

“Mhm.” She nodded.

“Let me see.” Roxie gently lifted up Beatrice’s shirt and tsked disapprovingly, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.

Roxie led her into the small bathroom down the hall and helped her clean the lashes on her back. Steffy slipped into the room then with a frown,

“It’s soon time, Bea.” She sighed.

“Yes, so Lord Bates continues to remind me.” Beatrice grumbled.

Steffy would turn 18 two weeks after Beatrice and they would be auctioned off together. The auctions were held once a month and, luckily for Steffy and Bea, the auction date was set for a week after they both turned 18.

“I’m not sure I want to make it to 18.” Steffy confessed in a small voice.

Beatrice and Roxie’s heads snapped towards Steffy, their eyes wide.

“Don’t say that, Steffy.” Roxie sighed.

“It’s true. Look how things turned out for Lucy! She didn’t believe in all the mate saving business and it turns out that she was right. She was sold off two days after her 18th birthday as a sex slave and died a year later. I don’t want to end up like her.” Steffy sobbed.

“We have to have hope, Staffy.” Beatrice said, reaching for Steffanie’s hand.

“How can you still have hope after everything that Lord Bates’ has done to you? You’ve gotten it worse than any of us.” Steffy said, looking at Beatrice in awe.

“It’s easy to have hope when it’s the only thing that you have left.” Beatrice said,

Two days later, Beatrice was shipped off on another assignment. Madam Grace woke her with the same gracefulness she always did, a cool bucket of ice water or a harsh slap to the face, depending on her mood. Beatrice groaned and pulled herself from the mattress, following Madam Grace downstairs. As she drug Beatrice’s frail body down the steps, she whispered harshly in her ears,

“You better not screw this one up, Beatrice. If I can form a contract with the royal family, I’ll never want for anything again. If you succeed and get me this contract, I’ll make sure that Lord Bates doesn’t buy you in the auction. If you fail, I’ll give you to him for free.”

“I understand, Madam Grace.” Beatrice replied, hoping beyond hope that she was telling the truth.

At the bottom of the steps was a man dressed in a purple suit and a velvet blue cloak with a hood lined in fur. His aura exhumed power and confidence.

“This is our best maid, Lord Hayes.” Madam Grace bowed to the man before her.

“What’s your name?” Lord Hayes asked Beatrice.

“B…Beatrice Maison, sir.” She replied.

“I am Lord Alaric Hayes, first royal guard to the Alpha King.” The man introduced himself. Beatrice bowed respectfully to him, “Come along.” He gestured for her to walk ahead of him and held open the door.

Beatrice looked at Lord Hayes through her lidded eyes, cautiously walking ahead of him and through the door he held open for her politely. Another elegantly dressed man opened up the back door to a car and gestured for Beatrice to sit inside. Lord Hayes sat in the passenger seat and turned in the chair to look at Beatrice,

“The Alpha King has been feverishly looking for his mate for two years. He has ordered all unmated of age she-wolves to present themselves to him, but none of them have proved to be his mate. He is now extending his search to the servants and slaves, hoping to find her hiding among them.” Lord Hayes explained.

“I am not 18, yet.” Beatrice hesitantly replied.

“The auction is above the royal law. He cannot command the orphanage to submit their of age she-wolves to him before they are sold and, once they are sold, he cannot command his people to present their property to the King. Thus, he must hope that he can sense his mate before she is of age.” Lord Hayes said,

Beatrice had no response. The idea that she was mated to the Alpha King of the realm was laughable, ridiculous. She was nothing and she would be lucky if she was mated to someone who was wealthy enough to buy her freedom from the realm. She would be lucky if Madam Grace kept her from being bought by Lord Bates. She would do whatever she had to do to make that happen.