I push out of bed, keeping her in my peripheral vision, and reach for the duffel bag Orlando’s had brought here. I take out a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved top way too small for me and toss them at her. “Here. Put them on.”
She eyes the clothes suspiciously, then sits with her arms crossed on her chest. “Go on. You can give me some privacy to dress.”
I shake my head at her. “Now why would I do a thing like that? I’ve already seen all of you. What benefit is there to pretending otherwise?”
I watch as her back goes rigid, and slowly shake my head, heading back toward her. “Maybe,” I say slowly, fully aware of how resistant she is and how necessary it is that I teach her to obey me, “I didn’t make myself fully clear earlier.”
I watch as her face turns ashen, and I can't help but think to myself how pretty she is. She wipes her hands on the bedspread as if her hands are clammy. Almost as if she doesn't realize she's doing it, she presses her elbows into her sides, as if trying to make her body as small as possible, to avoid attention or to somehow make herself disappear.
None of it bothers me. I have a job to do, and I'm not going to let her sway me.
I sit on the edge of the bed and give her a contemplative look. “Any freedom you had before you came to this cabin is gone. Anything that was yours, well and truly yours, before you came here? Gone. Life as you knew it? Gone. All that we have left is this one opportunity.”
She shakes her head and scans the small interior of the cabin. "I don't understand… "
"We’re in the cabin surviving. I am your captor. You're my charge. If your brothers knew you were here, they’d kill you. Without a second thought. If the people who tried to kidnap us knew you were here, they wouldn’t be as merciful. They’d probably take advantage of you, rape you, take turns using you, send pictures of you to your family, and then they would kill you. Maybe they would kill me first and make you watch. Maybe they would make me watch as they abuse you. Before they killed me, too.”
I grind my teeth together because I can't help the way those images affect me. My body tenses, adrenaline coursing through my veins as if the picture I painted is about to happen. I don't like that idea. And in a short time, I imagine what it would be like to beat those men. To break their bones. To make them bleed. I draw in a slow, steady breath to calm my fury.
She flinches and recoils, obviously noting my anger and attributing it to her own actions. I don't bother clarifying. I want her afraid of me. I want her to obey.
"I spanked you earlier. I have literally zero qualms about doing it again. In fact, since we're being honest here, I fucking hope you give me a reason. Over, and over, and over again." The image of her splayed out over my lap, crying for mercy while she scissors her legs and braces herself for every slap of my palm against her naked skin, makes me so hard it's painful. I lean closer to her.
"So go ahead, beautiful. Make your choice. Disobey me and give me shit, and give me a reason to punish you. Or obey me, and we’ll get through this night together. Have some food. Make some preparations for the days ahead. It won't be as amusing to me, but we have time."
She rubs her arms together as if she's cold and shivers a little. When she speaks, her voice is a little shaky and husky. "Fine. I'll dress in front of you. Would that make you happy?"
Her words sound as if she wants to defy me. As if she wants to hold herself aloof… but her tone is barely audible. She’s afraid.
I gave her a smile, and almost actually feel it this time. "Elated.”
She flinches when I reach my hand to hold hers. I slow my touch, not surprised she doesn't welcome it. I flick a wisp of her hair behind her ear and drag my thumb down her cheek until I cup her jaw. Vivia Montavio will be putty in my hands in a matter of days.
I bend my head closer to her and contemplate kissing her. I can already taste the sweetness of her mouth, the seductive warmth of her lips. Our breaths mingle. I remember how she responds to praise.
"Be a good girl for me," I whisper. "Can you do that?"
Her gaze is frozen on my lips. She doesn't breathe. The sound of her swallowing is audible, as she quietly nods her head.
"I can do that," she whispers back. I cup the back of her head. I move closer to her. Her eyelids flutter like the beating of butterfly wings before she closes her eyes.
I kiss her forehead.
When I pull away from her, she looks stunned. Her lips are slightly parted. I want to kiss them.
We’ll get there. I want her questioning what I'll do next.
When I glance at the window, it’s getting dark outside. We’ll have to play later.
"Maybe you need a little help.”
I lift the top and snap it open. She's so on edge she flinches.
“Arms up." I half expect her to defy me, and I'm curious what her response will be to being dressed as if she were a child. But she does nothing but obey. Her slender arms reach heavenward, then she holds my gaze as I slide the top over her head and guide her hands through the arm holes.
"No bra?”
"I thought you girls hated those things."