Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
A punishment position, one that allowed full access to the tender areas of her body. She lost control of her breathing, her tongue pushing against the gag as her skin broke out in a cold sweat.
She must’ve hesitated too long, because he grabbed her hair and forced her to the floor on her stomach. With his knee digging against her back, he wrenched her arms behind her, forcing her hands in a reverse prayer position and securing them in the cuffs. Then he grabbed the long wooden paddle.
Tremors assaulted her arms and legs, and her throat sealed up. Didn’t matter how high her pain tolerance, this was going to hurt like a motherfucker. She might’ve fantasized about Matias spanking her, choking her, and fucking her to near-death, but the truth was, she didn’t enjoy pain. Unless…maybe…it was inflicted with love.
There’s no love here.
Her reflexes begged her to fight him off, but experience had taught her that tensing muscles beneath a strike resulted in days of painful bruising. So when he removed his knee from her back and replaced it with the heat of his hand, she let her body go limp and focused on breathing deeply.
Before she drew her second breath, a whistling scream cracked the air, and the paddle made contact in a fiery explosion of broken skin.
CAMILA HOWLED AGAINST THE GAG, her teeth sinking into rubber as Matias swung again and again. He’d skipped the goddamn warm up and slammed her straight into a body-twitching, skin-burning overload of agony.
Kneeling at her side with his weight braced on the hand at her back, he struck her ass and the backs of her thighs with deep, swift, penetrating thuds. Had she been standing, the first hit would’ve knocked her over. As it was, it felt like he was beating her into the floor.
Stop! Dios mio, es demasiado. It’s too much. Her screams garbled against the gag as every hit vibrated through her like a muscle-thumping bass note, chattering her teeth and blazing fire down her legs. Please make it end. She wanted to curl into a ball, close her eyes, and dream all of this away. And never wake up.
The fucking wooden paddle didn’t let up, its rigid width covering such a huge impact area she felt it everywhere. Each heavy, hard-hitting blow stopped her heart and lingered long after the next thud. Her vision blurred, her lungs wheezed, and her bladder felt like it was going to burst.
No más, por favor. No more!
She attempted to slow down her breathing, but she couldn’t tune out the anguish. So she tried to experience it as an observer, focusing on where each burning sensation originated, where it ended, what shape it was, and how deep it sank into muscle and bone. The exercise pushed her through the worst of it, but eventually, dizziness set in, endorphins flooded her bloodstream, and darkness invaded the edges of her consciousness.
Just when she thought she would pass out, he tossed the paddle in the chair. “If you need to pee, do it now.”
He didn’t move to unchain her. Piss on the floor then? Maybe he got off on that brand of humiliation, but she was in too much pain to give a fuck. Except, when she tried to release her bladder, it wouldn’t relax. She concentrated harder. Nothing. Was it shock? Stage fright?
She bit down on the rubber ball and glared at him through her tears.
Caked in blood, expression vacant, eyes cold, he was death and hell and the devil that ruled it all.
Hooking a finger through the ring on the collar, he dragged her to her knees. For an ignorant moment, she thought he was finished.
Without meeting her eyes, he arranged her lethargic, aching body against the post. On her knees, back against the column, and shins bracketing the base, she felt a tug at her wrists. Heavy deadness pulled on her eyelids. She blinked, tried to keep hold of awareness, but she had no fight left.
The smack of a hand across her cheek snapped her awake, and her attention fell on his bloody shirt. Oh God, this is still happening.
Her breaths came in asthmatic bursts. She tried to pull her arms forward, but they remained where they were, hugging the post at her back and locked with metal rings.
Saliva pooled around the ball in her mouth and trickled down her chin as her entire body shook beneath a rush of adrenaline and whatever morphine-like chemicals her brain had released. She wished she was drugged or drunk. Or dead.
He picked up the cane, and she swung her head left and right. She couldn’t do this. No more pain. Please, Matias!
Like the paddle, he didn’t ease in. The cane flew through the air and landed on the front of her thigh.
“Noooo” ripped from her throat in a keening, indistinguishable wail.