Mastering the Virgin Box Set Five: A BDSM Ménage Erotic Romance novel Chapter 50

Five Years Ago

The farm stirs to life. Cocks crow. The horses champ. Farm-hands pull on rough working clothes and from the farmhouse, the scent and sizzle of bacon emerge.

Brett makes his way to breakfast, but as he passes the stables, pulls up short. “Chad? What are you doing? That’s Jenny’s job. Is she ill?”

Chad tosses the fork into a straw bale, taking the handles of a wheelbarrow destined for the muck-heap. “Jenny’s gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

Chad puts the barrow down, grief on his face. “What part of the word ‘gone’ don’t you understand? She’s left.”

“She won’t be coming back?”

“No. She won’t.”

Brett digests this then, “She didn’t say anything, didn’t say goodbye to everyone, but you knew?”

Chad shudders a sigh, only a heartbeat from tears. “She wanted to go. She didn’t want to make a fuss.”

Brett lays a hand on his shoulder. “Chad, I…. Don’t know what to say. I know the two of you had problems but….”

“Leave it,” he snaps, then, “Sorry Brett. I’m upset. Do me a favour would you. Tell everyone else for me. I don’t think I can face it.”

“Yeah, sure. Of course. Would you like me to bring some breakfast out to you?”

“No, I couldn’t stomach it right now. But thanks.”

Brett vanishes into the farmhouse to relay the news.

In the background, Tom, unnoticed, pulls back into a barn. “Christ. Oh, Christ….”

And dropping onto a bale, he sits, rocking, his hands covering his face.

*****

James

And once more, unbearably, we wait.

And it is excruciating.

My Green-Eyes. My beautiful Jade….

What does it take to stop these bastards?

I don’t want food and left to myself, would survive entirely on coffee, pacing the room, muttering to myself….

Until Michael pushes something at me, a sandwich.

“I don’t want it.”

“You’ll damn well eat it. You’re stressed to hell and wired on caffeine…. And you’ll be no use to her if you make yourself ill.”

He’s right of course, and I choke the thing down, then wash it on its way with more coffee.

Michael looks ill himself, forcing down a sandwich with me, I think mainly to make the point. His face is normally…. I think a woman would call it ‘chiselled’. Right now, he looks gaunt.

Guilt?

They were with him when they were taken….

…. Not his fault….

No point saying anything. We need to get them back….

Richard endlessly checks his phone. And when he’s not looking at it, he sits with it on the desk, one hand in contact….

In case it vibrates?