Lauren's fingers moved with cold efficiency. She unbuckled his belt, the leather sliding free with a sharp snap that made Ryan flinch hard. The belt hit the marble floor with a clatter.
A tiny, broken whimper slipped from his throat so soft, so soaked in shame that even Lauren barely caught it. "P-please… no…"
His head stayed bowed the entire time, chin glued to his chest, tears dripping straight down onto the tiles. He couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at anything. His arms hung limp at his sides, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white, but he made no move to stop her.
Lauren tossed the belt aside like trash. Her hands returned to his waist, working the button of his dirty jeans open with a single practiced flick. The zipper came down next slow, deliberate. The sound seemed deafening in the locked bathroom.
She hooked her thumbs into the waistband and shoved the jeans down his thin legs, leaving him standing there in nothing but a pair of old, stained boxers.
Then her gloved hand roamed lower.
She cupped him through the thin fabric, not gently, not roughly... just possessively, like she was inspecting something she now owned. Ryan's entire body jerked. Another soft, humiliated whimper escaped him, barely louder than a breath.
Lauren tilted her head, studying the trembling boy in front of her. Her voice came out low, dark, and mocking.
"Are you even a man?" She gave a short, humorless laugh.
"I mean… I've never seen a man this scared. Not like this." Her fingers pressed a little firmer, feeling him shrink under her touch.
"I know men are bastards. Cowards. Liars. Every single one of them. But you… you're showing a whole new side, aren't you? Shaking like a little bitch in heat, crying because I touched your cock through your underwear."
Ryan's shoulders heaved with silent sobs. His head dropped even lower, forehead almost touching his own chest. Fresh tears fell faster, splashing onto her gloved hand and the marble floor.
He wanted to disappear. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. The shame burned hotter than any bruise his father had ever given him.
"Please…" he whispered again, voice so cracked and tiny it was almost nothing. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…"
Lauren didn't remove her hand. She kept it there, palm warm through the glove, feeling every terrified twitch and tremble.
"Look at you," she continued, tone dripping with cruel amusement.
"Eighteen years old and you piss yourself the second a woman touches you. Pathetic."
She squeezed once just enough to make him gasp then finally pulled her hand away. "But that's fine. I don't need you to be brave. I don't need you to be strong. I only need you to stay exactly like this… soft, scared, and completely weak."
She stepped back half a pace, eyes raking over his half-naked, trembling form, chest rising and falling too fast, pale skin, legs shaking so badly he could barely stand.
"Strip the rest off," she ordered, voice hard again. "Or I'll do it for you. And if I have to do it, I won't be nice."
Ryan's hands moved slow, hesitant, shaking violently toward the waistband of his boxers. Tears streamed down his face without pause. He couldn't stop crying. Couldn't stop the soft, broken whimpers that kept slipping out.
His head never lifted. He couldn't bear to meet her eyes.
Lauren watched him with that same cold, unyielding stare the Ice Queen who had just castrated a man's son and now stood here, calmly breaking a boy who had never done anything to her except exist.
Ryan's hands froze at the waistband of his boxers. Fresh tears poured down his face in thick streams as his whole body convulsed with violent sobs.
"P-please… don't do this…" he cried harder, voice cracking into a high, broken whimper. "Please don't… I'm begging you… I can't… please…"
Lauren's eyes narrowed, cold and unimpressed.
"I just parcelled someone's cock to his father tonight," she said flatly, voice like ice water.
"You know that's not the problem here. I've cut off more cocks than you've even seen of yours in your entire pathetic little lifetime. So stop crying like it's the end of the world. It's just skin."
Ryan still hesitated, shoulders shaking, head bowed so low his chin nearly touched his chest. His voice came out tiny and desperate.
"I'll do anything… please… I'll do anything you want… just not this…"
That was the moment Lauren's control thinned.
In one brutal motion she surged forward, slammed him back against the cold marble wall, and wrapped her gloved hand tight around his throat. Not enough to choke him unconscious just enough to pin him there, fingers digging hard into soft skin.
Ryan's eyes widened in pure terror, a strangled gasp escaping his lips as his hands flew up instinctively but didn't dare push her away.
"I just give an order," she hissed, face inches from his, voice low and venomous, "and here you are making me repeat myself again and again like some disobedient little bitch."
Ryan trembled so violently under her grip that his teeth chattered. Tears streamed nonstop over her knuckles. His chest heaved in rapid, terrified bursts. He looked so small, so completely broken, that something unfamiliar flickered across Lauren's face for half a second a crack in the ice, gone almost before it appeared.
She stared at him, feeling every frantic flutter of his pulse against her palm.
Then, abruptly, her temper vanished.
Lauren released his throat and stepped back, exhaling once through her nose. Her expression returned to its usual cold mask, but the edge was slightly blunted.
"Fine," she said, voice still hard but no longer boiling.
"I'm waiting outside the bathroom. Wash yourself properly. Use every product on the shelf. I want you to smell like me when you come out... clean, expensive, and mine. No excuses."
She snatched a thick black towel from the heated rack and shoved it into his trembling hands.
Without another word, Lauren turned, unlocked the bathroom door, and stepped out. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Ryan alone in the massive marble space.
He slid down the wall the second she was gone, collapsing onto the cold floor in a sobbing heap. His hands clutched the towel like a lifeline while broken cries tore out of his chest.
Outside, Lauren leaned against the locked bathroom door, arms crossed over her chest. She could still hear his soft, muffled weeping through the wood pathetic, continuous, helpless.
She should have been annoyed.
Instead, she found herself listening, head slightly tilted, a strange new tension coiling low in her stomach.
The boy inside was shaking apart from nothing more than her voice and a few touches, and for the first time in years something that wasn't pure rage stirred in her chest.
Lauren Voss didn't do gentle.
But right now, she was willing to wait five minutes.
Just five.
>>>>>
Ryan finally stepped out of the bathroom, bare feet leaving wet prints on the dark hardwood floor. Water still dripped from his damp hair, sliding down his neck and chest in slow rivulets.
A thick black towel was wrapped tightly around his waist, hanging low enough to reach just below his knees. His skin smelled expensive now a sharp, clean scent of black orchid, vetiver, and something darkly smoky that screamed Lauren's personal line of products.
He kept his head down, shoulders hunched, one arm clutched across his stomach like he could hide himself. Fresh tears clung to his lashes even after the shower.
Without glasses the world remained a terrifying blur, but he could still feel her presence like a blade pressed to his throat.
Lauren was waiting on the edge of the massive bed, legs crossed, watching him with those unreadable steel eyes.
She rose slowly, peeling off her black leather gloves one finger at a time, letting them drop to the floor with soft thuds.
Before Ryan could even think of backing away, she closed the distance, planted both hands on his chest, and shoved him backward.
He hit the silk sheets with a startled gasp, bouncing once. The towel stayed precariously in place, but his legs splayed slightly from the force.
Lauren climbed onto the bed immediately, knees bracketing his hips as she straddled him, her weight pinning him down without mercy.