Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Positioning himself behind me, he brushed his hard cock against my ass cheeks. “We both know that it was precisely like you.”
There was a tug against my lower back from his pull on the corset laces. He continued. “You obviously have never been shown true discipline. That is about to change.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as another tug on the corset laces rocked my body. I so badly wanted to scream, My name is Antonella! It’s my sister you want! It’s my sister’s actions you want to punish. My sister is your bride, not me.
I pulled my lips between my teeth to keep from crying out. My father did not share an explanation or his reasoning for why he was ordering Antonia to marry Matteo. He shared nothing with his daughters. I assumed it was to curb the same behavior Matteo referred to, but I could be wrong. Not understanding the true motivation, if I alerted Matteo to who I really was and ruined my father’s plans, I could face far worse punishment.
Punishment like my mother faced.
The corset loosened, then floated to the top of the trunk as the heavy weight of my unsupported breasts pulled against my chest because of my bent-over position.
Shame, fear, and vulnerability washed over me as if someone had drawn a warm blanket back, exposing my naked skin to the chilled air.
Then came anger.
Anger at my father for being a cold-blooded bastard.
Anger at my sister for selfishly putting me in this position.
Anger at myself for allowing it all.
Rising on my knees, I covered my breasts with my arm as I faced him and spit out, “Fuck you and your discipline!”
With his leather mask, bare chest, breeches, and boots, he looked like a ruthless medieval executioner. His lips slowly curved into a smile. “You have no idea how badly I was hoping you’d say that.”
His hand whipped out to fist my hair. Shoving me back into a kneeling position, where I stared in horror at the riding crop he held high.
Then, in a flash, he brought it down on my ass cheek.
I couldn’t even cry out. My mouth opened but there was no sound, just a pitiful sucking noise as I forced breath back into my lungs. If I hadn't known he was holding a riding crop, I would have thought he'd tapped a live electric wire against my skin.
He whipped me three more times in rapid succession. The pain escalated with each one.
I clenched my jaw to keep from giving him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out or beg. But with each strike, it was getting harder and harder to remain quiet. My skin burned from the pain and humiliation.
My body jerked at the feel of his palm rubbing over my ass instead of the kiss of the crop again.
He moved his hand in strangely soothing circles, as if by rubbing my skin he could dissipate the pain. “It won’t work.”
My words came out as a distorted hiss through my clenched teeth. “What won’t work?”
“You trying to defy me by keeping silent.”
He pulled on my hair, wrenching my head back as he leaned over me. His lips brushed mine. “It only makes me want to punish you harder.”
Releasing my hair, he raised his whip hand again. This time striking me just under the curve of my ass, on the top of my thigh. My body rocked forward. He struck again on the other thigh.
I moaned.
Instead of hating myself for breaking, I felt a rush of warmth inside my chest where the tightness I usually felt from stress and anger eased. The leather tongue of the riding crop came down on my flesh several more times. Now the pain was a pulsing heat, the leather drawing my blood closer to the surface of my skin. I was aware of every touch, every breath, every nerve ending. My world was shrinking to nothing more than raw, primal sensations. My mind, usually a chaotic tumble of thoughts and worries, was … silent.
All I could focus on was my body and the strange, creeping pleasure I was feeling as the hot pain turned into a pulsing warmth.
I moaned again, this time deeper and longer.
“That’s it, babygirl. Admit it. You like to feel the sting of the leather on your pretty little ass.”
He struck again and white sparks erupted behind my eyelids as my inner thighs clenched.
Again, he stopped to rub my skin. “Let me hear you moan again. Tell me how much my dirty girl wants this.”
My back stiffened as I bristled.
He chuckled. “Still going to be stubborn?”
Without warning, he slid the riding crop between my open knees and whipped it upward, slapping my pussy.
This time I cried out and slammed my legs closed, curling up on my side.
“Get back on your knees,” he commanded.
“No! You have to stop! You’re making a mistake.”