When Louis was brought to her room, it was to fuck her throat. Those were Will's exact words and Louis was obedient. Jocelyn had actually vomited, using her word as soon as the bile stopped spilling from her lips.
“Louis. Clean that,” Will ordered. The man jumped to do his master's bidding. Will stripped the soiled robe from Jocelyn and carried her to the kitchen, setting her on the table.
“Sorry,” she said with downcast eyes.
Will paused in wetting a soft cloth at the pump. He wrung it out and mopped at her chest with the cool damp rag.
“Nonsense. You have impressed me,” he told her, brushing her hair back. “I expected you to demand he stop after the first thrust. You have come a long way.” He rinsed out the cloth and filled a glass with the water for her to drink before using the cloth on the dirty streaks in her hair.
She drank greedily, trying to wash the burn from her throat.
Will took the glass and pulled it away. “Not too much. You'll upset your stomach again.” It flopped at that moment, agreeing with the Master.
“Yes, sir,” Jocelyn agreed, taking a sip.
“Better.”
