Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to be in pain,” I whispered back, my throat too tight to speak more assertively. “Please, Dante, I—”
“Master,” he corrected. “I’m your master, pet. Your husband. When we’re together like this, you’ll address me with the proper respect.”
Despite my terror, I bristled. “You’re not my husband. Luca is.”
He clicked his tongue at me, chiding. “That was a foolish thing to say, darling. You are my wife. You will learn to love being mine. Before we’re finished here, you’ll admit that you belong to me. You’ll know that I’m your true master.”
“No one is my master,” I hissed. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
I’d said the same thing to Luca on our wedding day, when he’d kidnapped me and forced me into marriage.
I hadn’t won against him.
Looking into Dante’s beautiful eyes, I feared that my loss this time would be far more devastating. I was naked and chained, completely helpless to prevent him from whipping me. He would do whatever he wanted to me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
He shook his head, dark curls tumbling around his perfect face. “I admire your spirit, but you will learn when to yield to me, Nora.”
He stepped away, and I sucked in a ragged breath. I released it on a scream when the first strike landed, the leather falls kissing my bottom with a loud slap.
He made a low sound of disappointment. “I barely tapped you. You’ll take a lot more by the time I’m finished with you.”
Terror flooded my mind, seizing control of every inch of my body. I didn’t want this. I had to get away.
I twisted and yanked against the restraints. The metal cuffs dug into my wrists with bruising force, and my eyes burned. I blinked rapidly, barely maintaining the willpower to prevent the tears from falling in thick, desperate streams.
The whip touched my spine, just at the base of my skull. The heavy falls dangled down my back, brushing over my hypersensitive skin. A strangled cry of animal fear tore up my throat. More pain than I’d ever known was coming, and he would enjoy inflicting it.
His hand spanned my stomach, stilling my frantic struggles. He traced the line of my spine with the whip, a gentle caress.
“Hush now, pet. Calm. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You’re the one who’s hurting me,” I accused through chattering teeth. I stopped yanking against the cuffs, but my entire body shook.
“Yes, and you’ll take the pain for me,” he replied calmly, as though I was the one being irrational. “But I don’t want you to cause yourself harm. You’ll damage your wrists if you keep pulling against the chain like that.”
He was right; my wrists ached already. If I continued struggling, I’d tear my skin away, possibly even damage the delicate tendons.
I had no hope of fighting him if I couldn’t use my hands once I was free. Because even though my brain acknowledged the futility of attacking him, the primal part of me wanted nothing more than to claw his eyes out, to protect myself in whatever way I could.
He continued to stroke me with the whip, petting me with the implement that would torture me. The gentle sensation of the soft leather sliding down my back was completely at odds with the way my body was braced for pain. The dichotomy muddled my mind, sensation and expectation polar opposites.
I tried to breathe, and my lungs seized. A choked, hitching sound caught in my throat: the threat of a harsh sob.
I swallowed it down and gritted my teeth, searching deep inside myself for a shred of defiance. Fear would not break me. Dante could play his sick mind games, but he wouldn’t touch the core of who I was. I couldn’t allow it. I didn’t think my soul would survive it.
He brushed a kiss over my cheek, communicating his satisfaction at my capitulation; I’d stopped struggling.
He moved behind me once again. I had less than a heartbeat to brace when I heard the whoosh of the flogger cutting through the air. Then fire raked across my bottom, a harder hit than the first.
I bit my lip, holding in the terrified cry that wanted to escape. Truly, it hadn’t hurt more than when he’d struck me with the newspaper. In the moment, the fear that clawed at my brain was far more potent than the slight burn of the whip.
I could master the terror. It would not rule me.
I would survive this. I would endure, like I always did.
“That’s better,” he approved, noting a change in my posture. “You’re very brave, Nora. But you still think you’re in control. You aren’t. Not with me. Let go.”
A harsher lash, a deeper sting. A hundred needles pierced my skin before the pain sank into my flesh in a heavy throb. He took up a steady rhythm, landing twin hits on each side of my bottom to kiss my tender skin with heat. I pressed my lips together and breathed through it, letting the pain wash over me, until it was a low buzz that blanketed my mind.