The conversation continues without me as the focus.
Travis comes to mind again, and it’s too much. It’s bringing up old emotions in a storm that won’t go away. I feel trapped on this cushion, just as trapped as if he’d tied me up, and I can’t stand it. It’s like I can’t breathe. I should have left. I don’t want this. I can’t do this. “I want out,” I say, interrupting them.
Declan turns to look at me, his face blank. “If you want to come out, you’ll need to tell me your punishment instead.”
Anger crashes over me as tears prick the back of my eyes. “Fuck you.”
“Get out,” he says, so quickly it shocks me. But he’s not telling me. He’s speaking to the other man. The stranger’s eyes go wide. “Get the fuck out.”
Declan
The door closes with a hurriedness in Joshua’s steps and with barely restrained anger, I rise and make my way to her. She’s no longer kneeling. Her arms are crossed over her chest as she sits on her ass, hiding herself from me. I command her, “Up now.”
“I want to leave,” she bites out, not bothering to even look at me.
“Like hell you’re leaving before I redden your disrespectful ass,” I grit out, my teeth clenched as I bend down to grab her. My entire being trembles with the need to punish her for speaking to me like that, then she doubles down, her words striking me with a force I couldn’t predict.
“You’re a psychopath.”
It’s as if she’s slapped me. I’m far too careful as I rise, standing tall and commanding her, “Get up.” I practically snarl. Why does she push me? Does she think I won’t punish her? That I can’t punish her in a way that won’t trigger her like it did earlier. Or that I won’t?
Heat bristles and I stay eerily still, waiting. “Stand up now, Braelynn.” The sentence is spoken so softly she finally peeks up at me, her wide eyes reeling.
I don’t know what the fuck happened. Something’s gotten into her head. Did she think I’d go easy on her because another man hurt her? That she could push and I’d let her. Hell, does my little pet want a fight?
“Stand up now,” I repeat and she finally obeys. “That’s better.”
“I just want to leave,” she tells me and her voice trembles.
“Walk to the desk and get into position, now,” I command her, ignoring her plea to leave. “Do not make this harder on yourself than you have to,” I warn.
If she leaves now … I don’t think she’ll ever come back. Chaos brews inside of me. What the fuck happened?
When she swallows, the cords in her neck tighten. Her arms are still loosely crossed in front of her. I watch as she takes the first step and then the next to the desk. She moves her clothes and then presses herself down, her legs spread, exactly how I like her.
Good girl.
The relief I feel is unexpected. Taking a step and then another, I watch her. The nervousness washes off of her in waves.
“Do you like pushing me?” I question.
“No,” she answers immediately and her voice tightens. The hardened veneer of her expression crumbles in an instant. She’s on the verge of tears again.
“Then what the fuck was that?”
“I don’t know,” she murmurs and her breath comes in a shudder. She turns her head, to look away from me.
“No. You will watch me and I will watch you,” I order and with the harshness in my tone, she faces me. Something twists inside of me at the sight of her. Bent over, unraveling into utter vulnerability.
“That is my good little pet. Unravel for me.”
Her shoulders heave as she attempts to calm herself.
“I’ll pick your punishment for you.” I move each hand where she can grip to keep her steady. “Don’t move your hands off the edge of the desk.”
Instantly I know exactly what instrument I’ll use. The collection I curated for her can wait. The top drawer opens easily and a wooden ruler is lifted.
This will leave marks, welts perhaps.
“Every time you sit, you will think of how you chose to move from your kneel,” I tell her before shutting the door and coming to position beside her.
I nearly put it back, but then I remember the “fuck you” and name-calling. I bring it down against her ass in a swift strike.
Her lips part, her upper body comes up, and she cries out in both shock and pain.
Her hands, though, they stay right where they should.
With the ruler hot in my right hand, my left splays against her shoulder blades, urging her back down.
Tears brim and then leak easily down her reddened face.
“You will keep count,” I command.
“One,” she whispers and then pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, taking the tears with it.