17. Ana
17
ANA
I knelt uncomfortably on the floor between the two men, one hand tethered to the table, the other holding me up as I tried to find a comfortable position.
Valentin looked down at me, his brow furrowed, before rising abruptly. A moment later, he returned with a pillow. “ Lève-toi .” Get up.
Awkwardly, I shuffled until I knelt on the pillow, furious at myself for not being more furious. I couldn’t let go of the fact that Valentin and Angelo hadn’t hurt me. I mean, Valentin hurt me, but he hadn’t damaged me—hadn’t injured me. And I didn’t think he would.
I let myself wonder what it would be like to allow myself to cede control, to do as they asked and let them play with me, let them take care of me, as Angelo promised. And for a moment, before I came to my senses and metaphorically slapped myself silly, it didn’t sound so bad.
While I mused, Valentin waited, one eyebrow cocked.
Fuck him.
“Slut,” he growled, and it was so fucking hot and demeaning at the same time, I didn’t know how to react. I was losing the control I’d fought my entire life to hold on to, the perfect facade of a mafia princess that my father had beat into me.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer though.
Valentin crouched down beside me, crowding me back against Angelo’s leg until I couldn’t move any further, my arm stretched to where it was chained to the leg of the table.
He pinched my chin hard and turned my face toward his. “Say, thank you, ma?tre .”
I lifted my chin, but his grip was unrelenting. When I pressed my lips together in a grim line, he smiled with cruel amusement.
“Perfect obedience, princess,” he said.
I sneered, even as my stomach dropped with fear. “Go fuck yourself.”
My stomach growled, ruining my defiance.
Valentin waited, and when I didn’t speak, he stood. “On your hands and knees, Ana.”
Somehow, it was scarier when he used my name.
I didn’t move.
Four hands reached out and maneuvered me, my knees still on the pillow, but now with my ass up and bared to them. I trembled with humiliation and fear.
“Count to ten,” Valentin said softly, following his words with a sharp crack! to my ass.
I jerked away, only for him to drag me back. I couldn’t go far, not with my wrist flush against the table leg. Fingers tangled in my hair, caressing my scalp, and I wanted to cry at the comfort offered, only for it to be interrupted by more agony when Valentin spanked me again. Heat spread over my ass, the impacts turning into a delicious burn, punctuated by agony.
“I said count, Ana.”
No. This was fucking ridiculous. Why had I thought for even a moment I might enjoy this?
“Get your hands off of me,” I snapped.
Valentin responded by spanking me again, while Angelo gently stroked my hair. The combination of pain and comfort overwhelmed me, and a sob burst out of my chest before I could stop it. Why couldn’t I disassociate like I always had before, when my father beat me? Why was I so fucked up?
“That’s my girl,” Angelo murmured as he slid his thumb over my temple, gently caressing my skin. “Let it out.”
I jerked my head away from him, only for him to tangle his fingers in my hair and yank me back into place.
A tear fell.
And then another.
And Valentin’s blows continued. “Your punishment doesn’t start until you begin to count,” he said, his voice low and dark, cutting through my confusion even as I burned with agony, each spank as painful for my psyche as it was for my skin.
When I couldn’t stop the tide of tears, I knew I had to end this before they discovered how weak I really was, how broken, how desperately I loved Angelo’s soothing touch on my face. How comforting their attention was, even as Valentin hurt me.
“One,” I whispered.
“That’s my good girl,” Angelo said, his voice warm with pride.
“Two.”
I counted, each breath shuddering as I fought to hold back the sobs that threatened to burst out of me. My father had beat me harder, done worse, so why did this feel so different?
“Ten.”
I didn’t move, even though my arms trembled with exhaustion and all I wanted was to collapse onto the floor, humiliated, miserable, confused, hating the heat that gathered between my thighs, my clit throbbing in time with the agony of my burning skin.
“Up,” Valentin ordered, his voice gentler than before. When I didn’t move, he gently pulled the cushion forward, moving my knees toward my hands, then lifted the wrist attached to the table until I had to sit back on my haunches.
I winced, pain lancing through me as my ass brushed against my calves.
“Attention,” he murmured. Careful.
Angelo tilted my face up toward him, stroking a finger over my cheek as if I were precious to him. “Say thank you to your ma?tre , angel.”
My mind warped back to Grégoire, how he’d drugged me so he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to me, how he’d blamed me for being so hot, for teasing him, when all I wanted was to survive the summer and return to Yorkfield, the feeling of his cock driving into me while I was unable to move, unable to protest, unable to do anything but close my eyes and lock my soul deep inside where he couldn’t get to it.
Fuck Angelo. He’d sent me off to a rapist instead of protecting me. He wasn’t in charge of me, another man who wanted me on my knees and obedient instead of?—
Angelo raised an eyebrow as my breathing sped up and panic roared through me.
“Angel?”
I was stuck, cuffed to the table. I yanked on my wrist, ignoring the pain of the metal cuff scraping against my wrist. “Let me go,” I whimpered as my vision narrowed and my breath came out of me in short, panicked, puffs. “Please.”
No matter how hard I pulled, my wrist remained fixed to the table. They’d caught me, trapped me, and now they were going to fuck with me like Grégoire had or beat me like my father did. Or worse. I had to get out. I’d been so fucking close!
Warm hands covered my cheeks and turned my gaze toward Angelo’s. His grey eyes held my gaze. “Breathe, angel. Can you do that with me?”
I shook my head, jerking away from him. Arms surrounded me from behind, a hot body pressed against my back, and the two men held me.
“I need you to breathe with me,” Angelo continued, refusing to let go of my face. “In for five, out for five.”
Fire streaked across my ass. Valentin had spanked me. “Breathe, slut.”
I took a shuddering breath in, counting to five, then let it out.
“That’s a good girl,” Angelo murmured, not letting go of my face. “Again.”
I inhaled again, then exhaled as he counted with me, the rough texture of his fingers against my face grounding me as I stared into his eyes filled with nothing but concern.
I don’t know how long we breathed together, calming me, centering me, as I recovered from my panic, but when I finally jerked my face away from him again, he let me.
“Now, angel. Thank your ma?tre .”
My eyes flew to Angelo’s, shocked and horrified. After sending me into a panic attack the first time, he was insisting on making me call Valentin my master?
I shook my head. Angelo cupped my cheek. “Ana, say thank you.”
This time I couldn’t hold back the tears that streaked down my cheeks. “Thank you, Valentin,” I whispered.
Angelo grasped my chin, forcing me to look back up at him despite my tears.
I hated how safe I felt, even as humiliation burned in my cheeks.
“That’s not what I told you to say, angel,” he murmured gently, not an ounce of judgment in his voice.
Exhausted, my ass burning from my earlier spanking, emotionally worn out from everything that had happened, I dropped my eyes.
“Thank you, ma?tre ,” I whispered, humiliated and horrified at how easily I was giving in.
“You’re welcome,” he rumbled from behind me before releasing his arms from around me. “Now let’s get you fed.”