Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
"You gave me an order? So sorry, master. I thought I was only allowed no food or privileges, so I've been pacing the room to get a little exercise."
Tossing me a defiant glare, she flounces on the bed.
My palm itches to spank her defiant ass again, to teach her the lessons she needs to learn, but I don't want my reactions to be predictable. I reach for the buckle of my belt and quickly unfasten it, my eyes on her. Swallowing hard, she bites her lip. She thinks I'll whip her or fuck her. I could do either of those things, and I will. But for now, with limited resources, I'll use what I have. I consider tying her ankles with my belt, but it won’t hold as well as I need.
I'll need a few more tools. I pick up my phone and dial Demyan.
"You need something?"
"Tools, yeah. A ball gag. Clamps. Thigh cuffs. Spreader bar." I hold her gaze. "Condoms."
She doesn't flinch, still glaring at me.
"Anything else?"
I think it over, then give him a list of a few more things I'll need.
"Yeah," I tell Demyan. "Make it clear to your girl she stays out of this." I tell him what she's done, and that I suspect she'll come to Olena's defense.
"Consider it done," he tells me. I disconnect the phone.
If Larissa were mine, I would punish her soundly for interfering. I'd make damn sure she knew her place. But she isn't mine, so my only choice is to defer to Demyan.
"Hungry, malen'kiy?" I ask Olena.
"Don't pretend to be all tender with me."
"Tender?"
"Little one, like I'm your precious plaything."
I can't help but smile at her. "Oh, but you are."
"Captive or plaything?" she says. "You get off on hurting women? That's sexy to you?"
She's treading on ice so thin it's beginning to crack. I feel my lips curls up in a sadistic grin. "You have no idea. Now answer the question. Are you hungry?"
She clamps her lips shut, but her stomach betrays her with a growl. I order food, and when it comes, keep her in bed but prop her head so I can feed her.
"You'll find though I can be a stern master, if you behave you will be rewarded. Be a good little girl for me, and this doesn't have to be as difficult as it could be."
"Let me go, and you might not die."
She's far too defiant.
I take the rest of the food and place it on the table, grateful the tools I requested have arrived. I lift her head and plant a gentle kiss to her forehead, noting how she knits her brow in confusion. She doesn't know whether to expect a punishment or a caress from me. This is exactly where I want her.
"So pretty," I say softly, brushing her curly hair off her forehead. "Your defiance brings vivid color to your cheeks and lights your eyes with your fire." Leaning down, I bring my mouth to her ear, while tracing the curve of her jaw with my finger. "I wonder if you'll flush like this when I fuck you? I wonder if your eyes will shine like stars in the sky when I wring orgasm after orgasm from your body? Hmm? Or perhaps you'd like to go over my lap again. I can spank you just so that your pain becomes pleasure. Would you like that, little one?"
Her body goes rigid at the promise of pleasure and pain.
"Tell me, Olena," I drawl in her ear, while I gently stroke one bare thigh, letting my finger rise higher than what's proper. "Do you touch yourself? Do you know your body's pleasures?"
"Stop," she whispers.
"Stop what? Touching you? Or speaking?"
"Both," she says in a choked whisper.
I chuckle, unfastening her cuffs at her wrists only long enough to draw her clothing over her head. I quickly snap the cuffs back in place, then take my time perusing her body.
While I do, my conscience plagues me. I've murdered people. I've tortured men who deserved punishment, before slicing their throats or pulling the trigger. But women... I've never tortured a woman before.
Think of Taya. Helpless and terrified on the verge of losing her life.
We are at war, and this room is the frontline.
Fortunately, Olena makes it easier for me.
"You don't want to do this," she says, taunting me. "You know you don't. I can see it in your eyes, that you're not the type to hurt a woman."
I reach for her hair and gather it in my hand, yanking her head back, but it doesn't subdue her like it ought to. "You don't know a thing about me."
Still, even now, she doesn't fear me. A part of me admires that. But I also know it's time she fucking learned to fear me.
"Enough of that mouth of yours."
"Let go of me, you fucking bastard," she hisses. No more pleading or trying logic. She's given way to full venomous fury, not at all afraid of being punished.