Chapter 5
The silence in the compartment hit like a ton of bricks as a dangerous whirlpool seemed to swirl in Remington’s eyes.
“What did you just call me? Say that again!”
Lizetta used to call him “Remi” all the time. But after that night, he forbade her from calling him that.
Marriage was supposed to be the epitome of equality, yet this was the first time Lizetta addressed him by his name. How ironic and sad.
Lizetta faced his icy glare, her pale lips trembling as they parted, her voice crystal clear despite the nerves.
“I said, Remington Dashiell, let’s get a divorce.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, everything went black before her eyes, followed by two loud slaps.
By the time Lizetta realized what happened, she was sprawled across Remington’s lap, her rear end smarting from two firm spanks that he had delivered with real force.
Frozen in disbelief, Lizetta was a cocktail of shame and anger, “Let me go! Remington, you jerk! What gives you the right to hit me, mmph!”
Lizetta struggled and kicked only to receive even more forceful spanks in return.
The pain in her butt brought back memories of the last time she got a spanking – when she was fifteen and developing fast, so she bound her chest tightly with cloth, not out of shame but for fear her dancing wouldn’t look good if she grew too large.
Remington discovered her secret after over a month, and after getting scolded by the doctor for the hard lumps that formed, she ended up over the arm of the sofa in the study getting her rear end swelled up.
The pain in her chest and butt was so bad she had to lie on her side for days, walking around like a zombie, mercilessly mocked by him.
Spanking was his way of teaching his little sister a lesson, but she was no longer his little sister.
“Lizetta, use your brain to think before you speak! Do you think marriage and divorce are some kind of joke?* His warning voice boomed above her, “Tell me! Where are the earrings?!”
Remington sneered, knowing just how much she treasured that pair of earrings. He was also well aware of how much she relished being called “Mrs. Dashiell“.
–
Now she was casually saying she lost them and wanted a divorce did he look like someone who would buy that?
“I lost them! Are you getting deaf in your old age?!”
“Fine, Lizetta, you’d better hope I don’t find them!”
He yanked her up from his lap and pinned her hands behind her with one hand, suddenly leaning in to press her
against the car seat.
Lizetta fought back, but the difference in strength between men and women made her helpless under his weight.
His large hand slid under her thin chiffon dress, beginning a thorough search from the neckline down. It grazed her chest, then her slender waist.
Suddenly, his knee parted Lizetta’s legs, and his searching hand slipped further in, inch by inch. Through the thin fabric, it felt less like a search and more like a humiliating tease.
Who would hide earrings in such a place! Lizetta let out a high–pitched moan, “Ah, they’re really not on me; stop touching, ah, let go!”
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Chapter 5
Remington’s patience was wearing thin with every word from her. Her dress was torn open from the neckline, instantly splitting down to her navel.
Lizetta turned pale, frantically trying to cover herself, “We’re in the street!”
But then, two more sounds, and her dress was completely torn, falling away from her body. Before she knew it, Lizetta was hoisted up and straddling his lap.
Her bare legs against the cool fabric of his suit pants, her exposed back to the air, she struggled briefly only to be held down even tighter.
It was clear that he was getting hot under the collar, pinching her waist and deliberately making her feel it.
“You’re insane!”
“So this is just because I won’t have kids with you, this whole charade?”
Anyone passing by the window could see her, looking indecent sitting on top of a man. Just like the high society rumors, Lizetta was a born seductress, climbing into Remington’s bed at eighteen.
Overwhelmed with shame and anger, Lizetta shook her head, her words weak, “It’s not about having kids. I already told you, I didn’t mess with the condoms!”
The sound of a zipper being pulled open was amplified in her ears, and Lizetta hadn’t expected him to get serious.
She used her hands and feet, struggling fiercely, “Let me go! You bastard!”
She lifted her right foot to kick him, but her ankle was suddenly caught firmly in his grasp, his voice laced with a hint of menace.
“Need that foot? Want to dance in the future? Don’t you want to have kids? Now that I’m offering, you don’t want it?”
The pain in her foot was nothing compared to the agony in her heart.
He had been keeping his distance since they got married, unwilling to be close or have children. But now he seemed to have changed his tune – did he find out about Joseph’s condition in the hospital room?
