It’s at once scary and erotic.
"I said," he says in a curt, stern tone, "did you know that Gray was working for someone else?" I feel the cold leather on my body, and I'm frozen. I don't know how to answer the question. And I know my time is up. I tense, ready for the strike, but nothing can prepare me for the way it feels.
I expect it to burn, I expect excruciating pain like he's taking a whip to me, but he's doing something different. He slides the leather over my skin, until every cell feels as if it's primed. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out and I’m not sure what I’d say if I could. My hands reach wildly in front of me until I feel his pants. I anchor my fingers in his clothes because I feel like I’m going to fly away if I don’t. I stop breathing when he lifts his arm. But when the belt finally lands with a swish and a whap, the bite of leather is nothing but a sensual caress.
He does it again, and again, and again. I feel if he continues, I'm going to climax right over his lap. My cheeks flush at the thought. I’ll never be able to look at him again. The whole situation is vaguely disturbing, my emotions perplexing and unpredictable. Anxiety knots inside me because I’m out of control and he’s taken full command.
I don’t trust him, but I have no other choice.
If only I could be sure of my own reactions, but even those betray me. It’s impossible to calm my erratic pulse, my mind an unruly jumble of fear and hope.
“Dario,” I finally manage to breathe, though I don’t know why I’m calling his name or what I’m asking.
His hands find my breasts again. I hear a little moan that rushes over my skin like the rumbling of thunder. I don't realize at first it’s coming from me.
“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, baby? I believe you, Vivia.” As he speaks, he traces his rough fingers over the softest, fullest part of my breasts, weighing and worshipping them as if I’m as delicate as fragile glass. The juxtaposition of the hard punishment just moments before and the tender way he touches me now makes a flicker of disquiet hum along my nerves.
Suffice it to say, I have never been touched like this before. Whereas Gray’s sexual advances were bold and fearless, there was an unpracticed, selfish flavor to them that put me on guard. He wanted to take. Dario, however… my God, the way he touches me it’s like his life’s purpose is to pleasure me, and he knows exactly how to do it.
The interlacing sensations of fear and arousal make me pant. I’m dizzy and lightheaded, still helplessly prone over his sturdy, unyielding lap. Far back in my mind, I'm aware that this is intentional. In no way has he let me off the hook. He hasn't softened even an inch. This is all part of his plan to master and manipulate me.
And goddamn, is it working.
I’d promise undying devotion, I’d give him anything he wants, hell I'd give him my firstborn child if he only touches me again. I need him to satisfy the yawning need, the almost feral pressure between my legs that’s driving me mad. I would fall down and worship his cock if it brought me relief. The wait is interminable.
As I moan and make a complete fool of myself, mumbling incoherently and begging for him to touch me, he alternates lashes of his belt with sensual touches across my naked ass, between my pulsing legs. The pressure builds, and builds, until I can't breathe.
Somewhere in my state of half-consciousness, he loops the belt gently around my neck. I should be afraid that he's going to strangle me, or at least threaten to. He definitely could. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility.
But no. It's only another one of the tricks up his sleeve.
He tightens it so that my pulse races, a delicate play between fear and sensuality as he touches my nipples and fondles my breasts with such languid, skilled strokes, it’s as if he holds a magic wand.
"Did you know," he whispers, punctuating every word with a salacious swipe of his fingers, “that Gray was on someone else’s payroll? That was the question, Vivia.” His fingers freeze right above the place I want him to touch. “That was the question I asked you.”
I whimper and squirm, but I can’t reach his fingers on my own.
"Of course," I tell him. "Of course I did. I assumed he worked for my brother at one point, and I knew he wasn't poor. He never told me what he did, and I didn't ask questions."
"Why not?"
That’s an easy one. I answer in one breath.
"Because when you grow up the way I did, you realize that sometimes it's better not to know."
He rewards me with another brush of his fingers, driving my need up even more. I wantonly writhe against his hand, unable to stop myself from wanting more, harder, faster.
"Answer this next question honestly," he says, a latent threat in his tone. He pauses all movement, his voice tight and commanding. “Did you give your virginity to Gray?"
Slowly, wordlessly, he removes the belt and fists it. I clench in anticipation.
I throw up a shield to my mind so fast my body tenses. What does that have to do with anything? No, God, no, anything but that. I hate that he’s asking me.
I don't want to tell him the answer to this. Again, knowing full well that I'm going to be punished, I clamp my mouth shut and close my eyes. He shifts me on his lap, my only warning to prepare for more punishment.
The belt falls so hard I lose my breath. I feel as if I'm being split in two. I scream until I lose my voice, garble words in a hoarse cry as he lashes me with barely a pause between strikes. I lose count of the strokes. I'm submerged in pain. I want it to stop, and I don't know how to make him.
I'm crying freely now, tears falling onto the wooden floor. The tiny wooden cabinet absorbs my screams as if it were meant to. This is why I am here. No one will hear me scream or come to my aid. If Dario decided this was my last day on Earth and it was his duty to take my life, no one's coming to my rescue here.