My mouth falls open. It was hard enough to count the strikes on my ass; I don’t know how I’ll even speak to count these. But Viktor narrows his eyes, and I know what he’s going to say next.
“Don’t make me ask again,” he says coolly. “What was that one,printsessa?”
“One,” I whisper, and then the belt comes down again.
“Two!” I scream, pain and pleasure blossoming through my groin and thighs. He doesn’t pause, coming down a third time, and I realize with a dawning horror that my body is responding—and that I’m not going to be able to stop it.
I can’t call out the fourth. When the belt strikes my clit, the pain transmutes into something else, a pleasure so sharp and brilliant that I see stars behind my eyes. I scream, dragging on the bindings on my wrists as I feel an orgasm like nothing else sweep over my body, twisting it and making me writhe on the sheets, tears burning in my eyes from the intensity of it. Mid-climax, Viktor brings down the fifth lash, and my throbbing, sensitive clit takes the brunt of the blow, the sensory overload so intense that I can barely stand it.
I can’t breathe, I can’t think, I can’t do anything except writhe and gasp with the last aftershocks of pleasure, my body trembling so hard that I can’t stop it. Vaguely, I see Viktor ripping open the fly of his pants, his heavy erection gripped in his fist as he moves towards me, stroking hard and fast.
“You came without permission,printsessa,” he says darkly. “You haven’t earned being fucked like a proper wife again, or even sucking my cock on your knees like you’re meant to. So take this instead.”
His hand is a blur, jerking himself so roughly that it must hurt, and the groan that comes from his lips sounds almost painful as he points the swollen head at my face. I’m not ready for the rush of heat that explodes from him in a matter of seconds, his cum shooting out and coating my forehead, my nose, my lips. I taste the saltiness on my tongue, the heat coating my skin. I gasp, some of it dripping into my mouth as he shoots over my skin, again and again, finally shoving the tip against my lips and cheek as he wipes the last of it on my skin, his hips thrusting as the last drops slip out.
I can hear him panting. I half-expect him to untie me, but he doesn’t. He shoves himself back into his pants, glaring down at me with an expression that’s almost menacing, and then he turns on his heel, stalking away.
He leaves me there, tied to the bed, drenched with his cum.
And yet, after what he just did, I’m so exhausted that I can hardly bring myself to care. My eyes droop closed, and in a matter of seconds, I’ve passed out completely.
* * *
When I wake up,I’m alone in bed. My eyes flutter open, and when I go to rub them, I realize I’ve been untied—I’m laying on my side, and my hand is free. My face feels clean too, soft and smooth, without any trace of what Viktor left there last night before he left the bedroom.
Which means sometime during the night, while I was passed out, someone came and cleaned me up.
That thought is almost as humiliating as anything else that happened last night—maybe even more so. I have no idea who it could have been. The idea of Viktor coming back in and cleaning me up himself seems ludicrous, but the thought of it being anyone else is horrifying.
Slowly, I pull myself out of bed, blinking as I see a note on the bedside table. It’s written in Viktor’s sharp and slanted handwriting, and I peer at it, noticing that it’s still early in the morning.
I expect you to be downstairs for breakfast. I have a meeting shortly after when Liam Macgregor arrives. Don’t do anything to embarrass me.
I crumple the paper up in my fist angrily, throwing it across the room. Gritting my teeth, I stand up, wincing as every muscle in my body protests as I walk towards the bathroom to shower. I want to wash everything Viktor did to me last night off, but the aches and pains remind me that I’m in no shape yet to be doing all of the things that we’ve been doing these past days, both before and after I discovered the truth.
Although—I still can’t get the look on his face last night completely out of my head. He’d looked so startled and confused, as if nothing that I’d said made sense. Maybe it was just a ploy again, a way to throw me off, but in that brief moment, he’d looked so unguarded.
I shake my head, shrugging it off. It doesn’t mean anything, most likely, and I don’t have the energy to analyze it any longer. I barely have enough to get myself through the day.
The shower, at least, helps a little. I stand under the hot water for as long as I can manage without being late, letting it stream over my skin until I feel warm and pink and clean, and then I towel off gingerly, trying not to look too closely at the welts on my breasts and thighs where the belt struck me. It’s only made my body all the more a minefield of things to make me feel as if the skin I inhabit isn’t mine anymore. I turn away from the mirror as quickly as I can, wrapping my hair up in a small towel before heading back into the bedroom to dress.
Don’t embarrass me.I’m sure that extends to my choice of clothing. If I had my way, I’d put on a pair of leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, clothing that’s loose and comfortable and won’t chafe any of the healing or newly bruised places on my body. But I know that isn’t going to please Viktor, so I settle for something else in the array of clothing that appeared in the wardrobe—another wool sweater dress, this one in a deep cranberry color that I know he’ll like. I quickly braid my hair, slipping on my leather flats and taking a deep breath before making my way downstairs.
Sofia and Ana are already at the breakfast table, a spread of pastries and dishes of eggs and other breakfast foods between them on the table. They both look up as I walk in, Sofia giving me an encouraging smile.
“How are you feeling?” She gets up to grab a plate for me, and I shake my head quickly.
“I can get it. You don’t have to get up.” I reach for the plate, my stomach twisting at the idea of eating anything at all, but I know I haven’t had enough recently. Viktor is going to start getting upset at me for that too if I’m not careful—he’ll want me to put on weight, look more like the woman that he married. For all my defiance, after last night, I don’t know how much more of his “discipline” I can take.
I put a croissant and a few spoonfuls of eggs onto the plate to start, slipping into a seat next to Ana as I pick up a fork, poking at the food as I try to convince myself to take a bite.
Sofia glances over her shoulder, as if to make sure that no one else is coming into the dining room and then leans forward a little, her voice low. “How are things with you and Viktor, Cat? I mean really? You can talk to me, you know. You did a lot for me when I was trying to come to terms with my relationship with Luca. I want to be here for you, too, if you need it.”
I want to tell her the truth so badly. But I know that’s not an option. There’s nothing she could do, even if she wanted to, and it will only make things worse. I can’t make things worse for myself—I just don’t have the ability to bear it. I’ve been as strong as I can manage, and now I have to simply survive until something gives.
“It’s fine,” I say quietly.
“Are you sure?” Sofia’s eyes narrow in concern. “Cat, you don’t have to hide things from me—”