FALLING FOR THE PACK'S OUTCAST

4

A Y L A

My palm flew instinctively to my burning cheek, the heat pulsing beneath my fingers in sharp, humiliating waves. I tasted fear at the back of my tongue, bitter, metallic, yet I forced myself not to make another sound.

Her eyes narrowed at me like I was something foul on the floor.

“Get on your feet,” she said.

Her tone alone carried enough command to crush bone.

I scrambled up immediately, unsteady, my legs trembling so badly they nearly buckled beneath me. My hand remained pressed to my cheek, trying to soothe the sting still radiating across my skin.

The woman’s nostrils flared.

“Who the hell do you think you are,” she hissed, stepping close enough that I could feel her breath on my face, “to cry and make noise in here without permission?”

My eyes snapped up to her before I even realised what I’d done. The words replayed in my skull, permission? I needed permission to… cry?

I didn’t get to finish the thought.

SLAP.

Her hand crashed across the other side of my face so viciously that my ears rang. Pain bloomed in a hot, brutal line. My head whipped sideways, tears bursting instantly from the impact.

“How dare you look at me,” she spat.

I winced hard, instinctively bowing my head, dropping my gaze to the floor so fast my neck ached. My heartbeat thundered painfully in my chest, loud enough that it drowned out everything else.

She clicked her tongue in disgust.

“You will do well to behave yourself.”

I didn’t dare move. I didn’t dare breathe. I stood there like a shaking statue, hoping, praying, that if I stayed still she wouldn’t hit me again.

But her attention shifted.

Her cold gaze swept toward the two maids who were still bowed, small and trembling.

“Well?” she barked. “Don’t just stand there like fools.”

Both maids flinched.

The elderly woman jabbed a finger in my direction, her voice slicing through the room.

“You strip her.”

My stomach dropped straight to the floor. The air in my lungs vanished. For a second, the whole world tilted sideways.

One of the maids hesitated only a heartbeat before moving. Her face were pale, her hands already shaking as she approached me like I was some dangerous object she was terrified to touch but more terrified not to.

“And you…” the elderly woman snapped at the maid nearest the bathing chamber, “run the bath immediately.”

The other maid scurried away at once, nearly tripping over herself in her rush to obey.

The approaching maid's fingers trembled as they reached for the laces at the back of my dress. I stood frozen, every muscle locked in place, my breath shallow and ragged. The sting on my cheeks throbbed in rhythm with my pulse, a constant reminder of the slaps that had cracked across my face.

I didn't dare shift, didn't dare even flinch, terrified that any movement would draw the elderly woman's wrath back to me. Her presence loomed like a storm cloud, heavy and suffocating, her eyes boring into us all.

The maid's hands fumbled with the ties, pulling them loose with quick, jerky motions. The fabric of my dress loosened around my shoulders, and she tugged it down inch by inch, exposing the bare skin of my back to the cool air of the chamber.

Goosebumps prickled across my arms as the material slid over them, pooling at my waist. I kept my gaze fixed on the stone floor, counting the cracks in the tiles to steady myself, but my mind raced with humiliation. Stripped like an animal, handled like refuse, my body no longer my own.

She knelt briefly to work the skirt down my hips, her breath coming in short gasps, as if she feared the elderly woman might strike her next. The dress fell to the floor, leaving me in just my thin undergarments, the shift clinging to my skin from the earlier sweat of fear.

The maid rose and hesitated, her eyes darting to the elderly woman for approval before she gripped the hem of the shift. With a swift pull, she yanked it up and over my head, the fabric scraping against my tender cheeks as it passed.

Now I stood there, utterly bare, the chill of the room raising hairs on my arms and legs. My breasts rose and fell with each terrified breath, n*****s hardening against the draft. Between my thighs, I felt exposed, vulnerable, the faint warmth of my own body heat the only shield against the stares.

The maid stepped back, folding my discarded clothes into a neat pile with mechanical precision, her face flushed and averted.

The elderly woman's lips curled in a sneer, her gaze raking over my naked form like I was filth she needed to scrub away. “Wash her properly,” she commanded the maid, her voice dripping with contempt. “I will go and see if we have something decent for her to wear.”

The maid bowed her head slightly, murmuring a soft “Yes, Mistress.” her shoulders hunched in submission.

The elderly woman turned her eyes back to me then, a look of pure disdain twisting her features, eyes narrowed to slits, mouth pinched in warning. It promised more pain if I so much as whimpered.

Without another word, she left the chamber, her footsteps echoing down the hall like retreating thunder.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the sudden silence pressed in on me. The other maid, the one who had run the bath, emerged from the adjoining room, steam curling from the bathing area like ghostly fingers.

She glanced at her companion, then at me, her expression a mix of pity and fear. “Come,” the maid whispered, her voice barely audible, as she gestured toward the bath. My legs felt like lead, but I moved, compelled by the lingering threat in the air, my naked skin prickling under their watchful eyes.

I stepped through the arched doorway into the bathing chamber, and my breath caught in my throat. The room sprawled out before me, vast and opulent, nothing like the cramped, drafty space back home where my family squeezed into a single tub, fighting over lukewarm water from a rusty pump.

This place gleamed with marble floors veined in gold, walls lined with shelves holding crystal vials of oils and soaps, and a massive copper tub sunk into the center like a throne for bathing.

Mirrors framed in ornate silver reflected the steam rising from the water, and beside the tub stood a row of basins, sponges, and brushes, every luxury imaginable, mocking my simple life.

The maid who had stripped me, her face still pale and averted gestured toward the bath with a trembling hand. “Please step in,” she murmured, her voice tight with urgency. I nodded mutely, my bare feet padding across the cool tiles, each step sending a shiver up my legs. The water lapped invitingly at the edges, scented with lavender and something sharper, like herbs meant to cleanse deep sins.