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The dim light of the early morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Arrow House, casting a soft, golden glow across the opulent bedroom. The rich, mahogany furniture and plush, deep-red fabrics seemed to absorb the sunlight, creating an ambiance of both warmth and secrecy. You stirred beneath the silken sheets, their cool, smooth texture a stark contrast to the heat that had built up between your bodies during the night. Each brush of the fabric against your skin was a tangible reminder of the world you now inhabited.
Life had taken an unexpected and irrevocable turn when Thomas Shelby had stormed into it, his presence as commanding and unyielding as the roar of a Birmingham gunfight. His influence was inescapable, a force that shaped your every moment. Now, every day began and ended with his shadow looming over you, a constant reminder of the power he wielded. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of the morning dew seeping in through the slightly parted drapes.
You couldn't help but shiver slightly, not from the cold, but from the anticipation that always accompanied the thought of him. Tommy Shelby was a man of many faces—an astute businessman, a ruthless gangster, and a masterful dom. His control over you was absolute, a silent agreement that had been made with just a look and a whisper in the dead of night. It was an arrangement that left you breathless, both in fear and in longing.
As your eyes adjusted to the dimness, you could hear the faint rustling of papers and the soft clink of a whiskey glass from the adjoining room. Tommy was up, as he always was, orchestrating his empire with an iron fist. You knew better than to disturb him unbidden; instead, you waited, your heart racing in the quiet, for the moment when he would summon you. It was in these moments of stillness that you felt the weight of his control most acutely, a heady mix of submission and desire coursing through your veins.
The door creaked open slowly, and there he stood, silhouetted against the morning light, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. "Good morning, pet," he said, his voice a low, authoritative growl that sent shivers down your spine. "It's time we discussed your duties for the day.”
Your breath caught in your throat as Tommy's gaze pinned you to the bed. His presence was intoxicating, a mixture of danger and allure that left you both trembling and yearning. You sat up slowly, the sheets pooling around your waist, revealing the delicate lace lingerie he had chosen for you the night before. The sight seemed to please him, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.
"Look at you," he murmured, stepping closer with measured, deliberate strides. "So eager to please, aren't you, pet?" His words were a low purr, each syllable dripping with control and ownership. You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from his, your body already responding to the power he exuded.
"Good girl," he praised, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline before tilting your chin up. "You know your place, don’t you?" His touch was electrifying, a promise of both pleasure and discipline. You nodded again, your voice caught in your throat.
"Speak," he commanded softly, his thumb brushing over your lips with a tantalising slowness. The rough pad of his thumb contrasted sharply with the softness of your lips, sending a shiver through your entire body. "Tell me who you belong to."
"To you, Tommy," you whispered, your voice trembling with a potent mix of submission and anticipation. "I belong to you."
"That's right," he said, his smirk widening into something almost predatory. His piercing blue eyes never left yours, locking you in a gaze that held both promise and peril. "Every inch of you. And you know what I expect, don’t you?" His hand moved with deliberate slowness to your throat, not squeezing but resting there with a possessive weight. It was a gesture that was both intimate and dominating, a reminder of his absolute control over you.
"Obedience. Complete and utter obedience," he continued, his voice a low, authoritative growl that seemed to vibrate through your very core.
"Yes, Tommy," you breathed, the words escaping your lips as a vow, a complete and unwavering surrender. The air between you crackled with electricity, the tension almost palpable. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the solid strength of his presence enveloping you like a cocoon.
"On your knees, pet," he ordered, stepping back slightly to give you room. You slid off the bed, the cool floor against your knees a harsh contrast to the heat pooling in your core. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with submission and need.
"Such a pretty sight," he murmured, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, teasingly. "Do you know what I do to pretty little things like you?"
"N-no, Tommy," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I use them," he said simply, his voice a velvet caress. "I make them mine in every way imaginable. And you? You’ll take it all, won’t you, pet?"
"Yes, Tommy," you replied, the words spilling out in a rush, your body aching for his touch, his approval.
"Good," he said, his shirt now discarded, revealing the hard planes of his chest. He stepped closer, his hand tangling in your hair, tipping your head back to meet his gaze. "Because a good whore knows her place. And today, your place is right here, serving me."
His words were a command, a promise, and a thrill all at once. As you knelt before him, ready to give yourself over completely, you knew that in this world of smoke and shadows, of power and peril, there was no place you'd rather be than at the mercy of Tommy Shelby.
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room where Tommy and John sat, deep in conversation. You stood quietly to the side, ready to attend to their needs, your eyes trained on Tommy, awaiting any signal from him. The atmosphere was tense, heavy with the weight of Shelby family business.
"Pour us another drink, pet," Tommy instructed, his eyes never leaving John's as they delved into the intricacies of a recent deal. His voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of command that you couldn't ignore. You nodded obediently, stepping forward to retrieve the ornate crystal whiskey bottle from the polished sideboard. The weight of the room's tension pressed down on you, making your hands tremble slightly as you grasped the bottle.
The conversation between Tommy and John was intense, laden with the gravity of their latest venture. As you carefully tipped the bottle to pour the rich, amber liquid into their glasses, a few drops escaped, splashing onto the dark mahogany table. The mistake felt monumental in the charged atmosphere.
Tommy's gaze snapped to you instantly, his piercing blue eyes narrowing with a mixture of irritation and disappointment. The room seemed to grow colder under his scrutiny. "What did I say about being careful?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous, each word enunciated with deliberate menace. The question wasn't just about the spilled whiskey; it was a reminder of the standards he expected you to uphold without error.
"I'm sorry, Tommy," you stammered, quickly wiping the spill with a cloth. But the damage was done.
"That's not good enough," Tommy said, standing up. "You need to learn to be more attentive. And it seems the only way you'll learn is with discipline."
John watched silently, his interest piqued. Tommy's hand gripped your wrist, pulling you to the centre of the room. He sat down on a sturdy chair, his eyes locking onto yours. "Over my knee," he commanded, and you complied immediately, laying yourself across his lap, your heart pounding in your chest.
"John," Tommy said, his voice calm but imbued with an unyielding firmness, "I apologise for the interruption, but it seems a demonstration of discipline is necessary."
John's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and approval as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. A smirk played on his lips, adding a layer of casual cruelty to his otherwise relaxed demeanour. "Go on, Tommy. She needs to know her place."
Tommy's hand found the back of your neck, holding you in place as he adjusted your position over his knee. The anticipation was almost unbearable, the room silent except for the crackling of the fire.
"You've been a very naughty girl," Tommy murmured, his voice a low growl. "Do you know what happens to naughty girls?"
"They get punished," you whispered, your voice trembling but laced with a hint of desire.
"That's right," Tommy affirmed, his voice a velvety murmur that sent shivers down your spine. His hand, rough and calloused from years of hard-earned authority, caressed your backside with a deceptive tenderness. The touch was almost soothing, a prelude to the discipline that you knew was coming.
Then, without warning, he delivered a sharp smack. The sound of the impact echoed through the room, a stark contrast to the quiet tension that had filled the air moments before. The sting spread through your body like wildfire, a sharp, searing sensation that caused you to gasp involuntarily. Your skin tingled, the pain mingling with a rush of adrenaline and a complex mix of emotions—embarrassment, submission, and a twisted sense of satisfaction.
The force of the smack left a lingering burn, a physical reminder of Tommy's absolute control over you. Your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching in response to the authoritative touch. Tommy's hand remained on you for a moment longer, the heat of his palm against your tingling skin.
Tommy continued, each smack firm and deliberate, his voice a constant presence. "You will learn to be more obedient. To follow orders as I ask. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Tommy," you replied, your voice shaking with a mix of pain and arousal.
John watched with a predatory gaze, his eyes never leaving your form as you endured each calculated smack. His posture was relaxed, but his attention was razor-sharp, taking in every detail of your reaction. The room seemed to hum with the electric tension between the three of you.
"Tommy," John finally commented, his voice laced with a dark amusement. "I think she’s enjoying this a bit too much." A smirk curved his lips, adding a layer of mockery to his observation.
Tommy paused, his hand resting on your reddened skin, the warmth of his touch a stark contrast to the sharp sting that still resonated through you. His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, searching for the truth you couldn't hide. "Is that true, pet? Do you enjoy being punished?" His voice was low, almost a purr, but it carried the weight of an expectation that you answer honestly.
Your cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, the conflicting emotions swirling within you. The vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming, but you couldn't deny the truth. "Yes, Tommy," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The confession felt like stripping away another layer of yourself, exposing your deepest desires to his unrelenting gaze.
Tommy's hand slid between your thighs with a deliberate slowness, his fingers brushing against the sensitive skin there. The heat radiating from your core was undeniable, a testament to your arousal that you couldn't hide. He found the dampness easily, his touch both possessive and probing. "You're soaked," he observed, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, filled with a mix of amusement and satisfaction. The sound sent another shiver through you, intensifying the already potent cocktail of emotions swirling within you.
His eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making it impossible to look away. "Maybe we need to remind you of your place in a different way," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl that promised both pleasure and discipline.
John stood up, his eyes never leaving your form as he approached with a confident, almost predatory stride. The sound of his boots against the floorboards echoed in the room, each step adding to the mounting tension. He reached you, his presence imposing as he looked down at you with a smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We can show you what real punishment is," he said, his voice rough with anticipation, the promise of something darker and more intense hanging in the air.
Tommy's hand remained firmly between your thighs, his fingers teasing the edges of your most sensitive areas, heightening your awareness of the power dynamic at play. The tension was almost unbearable, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation and fear. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles, each touch sending jolts of electricity through you.
John's presence loomed over you, his eyes dark with intent. He reached out, his hand cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. His touch was rougher than Tommy's, a stark contrast that sent another wave of conflicting emotions through you. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for disobedience. You complied immediately, your eyes wide and brimming with both trepidation and eagerness.
Tommy's fingers pressed deeper, finding the core of your arousal. "You're going to learn," he murmured, his voice a velvet promise, "just how thoroughly we can discipline you." Tommy’s hand withdrew suddenly, leaving you aching and wanting, a deliberate and cruel act to keep you on edge.
John's grip on your chin tightened harshly, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Let's see how well you can take what we give," he said, his tone a mixture of challenge and anticipation. He released your chin and stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours.
Tommy kept you in position over his knee, his hand threading through your hair, pulling your head back to look at him. "You see, pet, this is what happens when you disobey, or you can’t do as you’re told," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of authority and desire. "You get punished, and you learn your place."
John's hand joined Tommy's, both of them exploring the exposed skin of your behind with a synchronised rhythm that was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. Their hands moved skillfully, alternating between firm, punishing smacks and gentler, teasing caresses. The duality of their touch created a heady mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless and trembling.
"You're such a good girl for us, ain’t you?" John said, his voice low and commanding, a dark promise woven into his words. His hand traced over the reddened skin, the warmth of his touch a lingering reminder of his authority. "So desperate to be used?"
"Yes, John," you replied, your voice filled with a mix of fear, longing, and a desperate need to please. The words felt like a vow, binding you further into the web of their control.
John's hand came down hard, the sting of the impact sending a sharp jolt of pain through you. The sensation mingled with the heat pooling between your legs, a potent reminder of your arousal. "That's a good girl," he growled, the approval in his voice making you shiver. "Now, tell me how much you need this."
"I need it so much," you gasped, your body trembling from the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. The admission felt like a release, a surrender to the overwhelming need that had built within you. "Please, don't stop."
Tommy's fingers brushed against your sensitive skin, teasing you with an almost unbearable precision. "Remember, pet," he said, his voice soft but unyielding, carrying the weight of an unspoken promise. "I control your pleasure and your pain. Don't ever forget that."
Your heart raced wildly, the intense connection between the three of you creating an undeniable mix of pain, pleasure, and absolute submission. This wasn't just a lesson; it was a deeply ingrained reminder of your place, of the power dynamics that ruled your world.
Tommy shifted slightly, making sure you felt every movement, every deliberate touch. His fingers danced expertly over your skin, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. You whimpered, the heat between your legs building to an almost unbearable level. Your breath came in short, ragged gasps, your body trembling with anticipation.
"Please, Tommy," you begged, your voice barely a whisper, each word laden with desperate need. "Please, let me..."
Tommy's chuckle was dark, filled with a mixture of amusement and control. "You're so desperate," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "So needy. But you need to learn that your pleasure is a privilege, not a right."
His fingers continued their relentless teasing, bringing you right to the brink. Your body tensed, every nerve ending on fire, the promise of release so close you could almost taste it. The overwhelming need to climax consumed you, your senses attuned to every flicker of his touch.
John watched with a predatory gaze, his eyes never leaving your form. He seemed to drink in every reaction, every twitch and gasp. "Tommy, she looks like she's gonna break," he commented, his voice rough with anticipation, a dark thrill evident in his tone.
Tommy's grip on your hair tightened slightly, pulling your head back to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear. "Do you want to come, pet?" he asked, his voice low and commanding, each word a test of your obedience.
"Yes, Tommy," you gasped, your body trembling with the desperate need for release. "Please, I need to."
Tommy's fingers pressed harder, his touch pushing you right to the edge. You were so close, your body ready to explode with pleasure. The world seemed to narrow down to the point of contact, to the overwhelming sensation of his fingers against your skin.
And then, just as you were about to tip over the edge, Tommy's fingers stopped. He pulled his hand away, leaving you teetering on the brink, denied the release you so desperately craved. The sudden absence of his touch was almost painful, the denial more intense than the pleasure had been.
"Your punishment is over," Tommy said, his voice calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. "But remember, your pleasure is something I control. You'll get it when I decide you've earned it."
You whimpered, the denial almost as intense as the pleasure had been. Your body ached with unfulfilled need, every nerve ending screaming for release. The sharp ache of disappointment mingled with a deeper, more profound longing.
John smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Tommy, you're a cruel fucker," he said, a dark chuckle escaping his lips, the sound sending another shiver through you.
Tommy's hand caressed your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Discipline is necessary," he replied, his voice soft but firm, a gentle reassurance amidst the harshness. "And she'll learn to appreciate it."
He lifted you from his knee, setting you gently on your feet. Your legs wobbled, the aftershocks of denied pleasure making it hard to stand. The weakness in your legs was a physical manifestation of your submission, a reminder of the control they held over you.
"Go to your room, pet," Tommy ordered, his eyes locking onto yours with a commanding intensity.
You nodded, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Yes, Tommy," you whispered, turning to leave the room. Each step felt heavy, the weight of their control pressing down on your shoulders.
As you walked away, you could feel their eyes on you, the weight of their dominance a palpable presence. Despite the humiliation, there was a part of you that craved this, that needed the discipline and the reminder of your place.
And as you closed the door behind you, you knew that this was only the beginning. The Shelby brothers were not done with you yet.