5. Chapter 5
C lara
I stand before him in nothing but my bra and panties, the clothes I willingly gave him in tatters on the floor.
There was nothing like the stab of iciness that shot through me when he snicked open his switchblade.
I felt the stab of it cutting through my stomach, shooting out through my every wakening nerve as he sliced my dress and slip into pieces.
He took my sandal-style high-heels shoes and dissected each strap, one at a time.
It’s amazing how naked he made me feel as I watched him.
My nipples peak harder, tighter until my every breath scrapes them against the interior of my bra.
“Turn around.”
His amusement ramps up the burn of my humiliation. I don’t dare disobey, too busy praying he’ll be content to leave me with what I still have on.
But no, as I shuffle around, turning my back to him, the caress of his fingers slips between my bra and my skin. He cuts through the back, and the two halves around my ribs spring open, followed by the release of each shoulder strap falling off.
I grab my chest. I’ve never been so naked in front of anyone, not since sprouting breasts.
“Be a good girl,” he cautions. “Move your hands.”
How crazy was it, despite the cold terror accompanying each gliding caress of the cool blade against my skin, my body isn’t afraid but aroused?
It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever endured.
The prickle of goosebumps spreads over me, up my back and down my legs.
My belly keeps twitching, and so do my thighs.
The same flush of hot humiliation burning in my face now spreads to my chest, my stomach, and my sex.
“Move your hands, Princess,” he repeats.
I can’t. The minute I do, he’ll take my bra away, then he’ll see how thoroughly pleasant this un pleasant situation actually was.
Appalled, I quickly shake my head, only to have my entire body erupt with my awareness of him. He closes the distance between us, and his jacket brushes my back just before the heat of his hand settles on my shoulder.
“With every disobedience, Princess, this will get worse, not better. Think,” he cautions, the warmth of his breath brushing the nape of my neck. I shiver. “What happens when there’s nothing left for me to take away?”
I can only think of one thing.
“You’re going to rape me.”
I said it frankly, with only the slightest tremble to show just how badly I’m shaking inside. My breasts feel heavy, needy. My nipples ache to be touched. God, the low pulse throbbing now between my legs…
“No.” He tsks. “You’ll want it when I fuck you.”
I wet my lips, not doubting him for a second.
“I’m not a little girl.”
“You are now. You’re my little girl, and in a minute, I’ll be forced to treat you harshly because of how naughty you’re being. Do you want me to stop?”
Why did I feel so caged? Like any choice I made right now would only lead me deeper into this rabbit hole, pulling me down.
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Obey me. If you want me to stop, sign the contract. Otherwise, your only option is to move your hands or be punished. Don’t worry,” he says, the sultry softness of his tone doing terrible things to the wanton pulse beating between my legs.
“You’re not the first little girl I’ve taken under my protective wing. ”
Haltingly, I shake my head.
“Call me Daddy when you’re naughty, Princess.”
I blanch, and my too-tight chest kicks out a strangled laugh.
“No, I… That’s absurd.”
“Move your hands,” he orders for the last time. “Or is Daddy’s little girl being naughty for a reason?”
Every inch of me is prickling and tingling, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m unnerved or turned on. I shiver when he leans in close to my cheek.
“Clara, sweetheart… do you need Daddy to spank your bottom?” he whispers.
My ass clenches against my will. I’m mortified, horrified. He can’t be serious… he just can’t.
Losing my nerve, shaking, I lower my hands, letting him take my bra and drop it on the floor.
The subtle scrape of the retreating cloth teases my breasts so exquisitely, I lock my mouth to keep from gasping, willing myself not to feel, but I’ve never been good at pretending.
I can’t ignore Viktor any more than I could ignore the unbearable throb of my neglected clit.
“There’s Daddy’s good little princess.”
He’s laughing at me. I can hear it in his voice as he circles to stand in front of me, his handsome lips locked in a smug smirk that dares me to disobey.
Every nerve I have is singing and sparkling as he slips his fingers into the elastic of one leg hole.
The back of his hand brushes my pubis as he gathers the crotch of my panties in his hand, pulling it taut.
I swallow another gasp, but the pressure against my clit is anything but unpleasant.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sign? Are you sure you want to be a naughty girl for Daddy?”
As he slips the knife in his other hand between the bunch of my panties and my skin, I can’t lie, not even to myself. The cold of the blade makes my body sing. I’m so ashamed.
“No.”
He cuts through the crotch of my underwear so abruptly, I don’t know how he keeps from slicing into me. Before I can do more than yelp, he’s cut through the waist elastic as well before tossing my ruined panties to the floor.
“Are you crazy?” I cry, giving in at last to every belatedly modest instinct begging me to cover myself.
“Hands at your sides,” he drawls.
“You could have cut me!” I accuse, ignoring his request as I hug my breasts and cup my pussy, hiding as much as I can from his view.
“Did I?”
I honestly can’t tell. My skin is alive with the lingering caress of his cool knife gliding across my mons and the echo of his yank as he whips my panties away.
My legs shake, but the thundering of my exhilarated heart is all I feel—the thumping, throbbing of my pulse in every erogenous zone.
It’s everywhere—my neck, my belly, my sex.
I’ve never been so aroused, not even by my own hand.
“You are quickly backing me into a corner, and I’ll have no choice but to spank you,” he warns. “Is that really what you want?”
It’s too much. Lunging at him, I shove him back and run for the bed.
Grabbing the blanket, I have it half off before his strong right arm hooks me from behind.
He lifts me off my feet and ignoring my shouts and struggles, swings me around.
I lose my grip on the blanket, but that isn’t half as alarming as suddenly finding myself tossed over his lap as fast as he can sit down.
This is ridiculous.
It’s surreal.
He can’t possibly want to do this to me.
But he is. He’s big, so much bigger than me, and he’s strong. I buck and twist, fighting his hold with everything I have, but I’m only exhausting myself and ensuring he has plenty of reasons to tighten his hold.
He pins my legs between his.
I rear up, scratching for his eyes, but he’s just as fast as he is big and strong. No matter what I do, he counters it. He has my hands locked behind my back, my legs captured, my body clamped across his lap, and I can barely move.
“Naughty, naughty, naughty little girl.”
I’m worn down to nothing, but at those words, I wrench back into the fight. Screaming for all I’m worth, I struggle to get away… right until his hand cracks down on my bare ass.
I’ve been hit a million times. I’m a connoisseur of domestic violence, but it’s never been like this.
He doesn’t stop at just one swat. Over and over, the flat of his palm meets the swell of my flesh, igniting the sting only belts leave behind.
God knows, I’ve suffers it enough times to know what that feels like.
I wear the marks on my back, belly, and thighs.
I’ve lived in fear of that kind of beating most of my life, but this is different. Lying pinned, with his hand meting out a brisk tattoo of hard, stinging slaps all over my ass, I discover a whole new world of torment, unlike anything I’d felt at my father’s hands.
This is punishment, yet it’s almost gentle. As much as it stings, he isn’t hurting me, and believe me, I’ve felt the difference more times than I care to recount.
“Ah!” I run out of energy to fight long before his arm does. Drooping over his lap, I lay in wide-eye, open-mouth disbelief as swat after swat builds the unbearable sting into an absolute bonfire of hurt.
Finally, his hand comes to rest on the swell of my scorched ass, caressing first one cheek, then the other.
“Is this what Daddy’s little girl wants? To be spanked on your naughty bare bottom until you’re crying and pleading for a chance to be good?”
I’m not pleading, and I’m sure not crying. It will take far more than a hot ass for me willingly to shackle myself to this man for the rest of my life.
“Fuck. You,” I snarl. My backside burns hotter and stings more since he stopped spanking me. With more determination than strength, I throw everything I have into getting off his lap.
He lets me go. I never would have fallen on the floor otherwise. I know he’s playing with me even as I crab-crawl to get out of arm’s reach. He’s up off the side of the bed, his fist in my hair before I make it very far.
I yelp as he yanks me to my knees and manage only one wild swing before he has my wrist in his other hand.
He spins me around, and I fall over the footrail of the bed.
Tired as I am, I actually stop to rest when my face hits the mattress.
Panting, I give him all the time he needs to catch my wrists and pull them down through my legs.
I hear the click of the chain again, just before he locks my wrists to a railing bar. He has my left ankle next. The muscles up the inside of my thigh strain as he stretches me. I didn’t know there was more than one manacle on the bed until he binds me to the left bedpost again.
Too late, I kick and shout, but he already has my right ankle. With a clink of chain and the snap of yet another manacle, I’m fixed to the far-right bedpost. I can’t move. I’m trapped, bent over, and spread wide, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him as he smacks my defenseless bottom.
“Something tells me I stopped too soon. No worries, Princess. Not only does Daddy know how to bring little girls to heel, I know exactly what to do for your filthy little mouth.”