Chapter 15
Dante
Satisfaction was a warm buzz in my veins, a slight high from dominating my beautiful wife.
Beautiful, but too thin. I wouldn’t allow her to starve herself.
Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes remained downcast as she took the last bite of her breakfast from my hand.
She was deeply embarrassed by what I was doing to her, but that only made me enjoy it all the more.
Nora was my responsibility now, and I wanted to care for her.
If that meant making her shudder and blush, even better.
The darkest parts of me craved this from her, and I wouldn’t deny myself.
I didn’t feel a shred of remorse or hesitation; she was mine, and I could do as I pleased.
We were well matched. I could feel the warmth of her wet cunt on my thigh, making my pants damp where she sat on my lap.
I wondered if she still tingled with arousal as I fed her or if it was residual lust from being punished.
She’d been turned on by my discipline. I relished the prospect that humiliation also incited her carnal desire.
I brushed a kiss over her pink cheek. “Well done, pet.”
She stiffened in my arms, chafing at the praise. She probably interpreted it as mockery, but I was truly pleased with her. I did enjoy toying with her, but I wanted her to be healthy. It mattered to me that she ate a full meal. I wouldn’t watch my wife waste away.
I touched my fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to mine, locking her in my earnest gaze. This wasn’t a game. Not this time. Her wellbeing was too important.
“I’m going to take care of you, Nora,” I vowed. “I’m your husband.”
Her lush lips pulled back from her white teeth in a small snarl of contempt. “You’re not my husband. Luca is. You’re just a monster intent on torturing me.”
Something hot and possessive swelled in my chest. Luca had stolen my bride, and not simply by kidnapping her and forcing her into marriage. He’d somehow acquired her loyalty, possibly even affection, in the short time he’d held her captive. He’d taken what was mine.
Drawing on years of practice, I kept my expression carefully cool and unperturbed. “You think this is torture, darling?”
She didn’t know the first thing about true suffering. I would shelter her from harm. I would protect her from everyone who might hurt her. Except me.
I would never brutalize her, but she would suffer for me. In the woods last night, she’d been breathtaking as she’d screamed in my ropes and begged for mercy.
If it weren’t for that bastard Vitale, I would’ve been the first man to touch her virgin pussy. The orgasm I’d forced from her quivering body would’ve been her first with a man. I would’ve been the one to introduce her to sexual pleasure, to own that piece of her soul forever.
Luca would pay dearly for that. I had plans for him, once he arrived to try to take Nora back from me. He would fail, and I would bring him lower than he ever could’ve imagined. Death was too merciful for my most hated enemy.
She didn’t answer me, and her eyes sparked with spite.
I hadn’t broken her to my will. I had no desire to crush her spirit completely, but she would learn to obey me.
I needed her to be more malleable by the time Luca arrived, or she would spoil my plans for him.
He would come for her soon. I had no doubt that he was currently gathering the men and firepower necessary to launch an assault on my fortified estate. He might be here in mere hours.
I needed to accelerate her obedience training.
I guided her off my lap, setting her on her feet before taking her hand in mine. “Come on, little bird. Time to show you around your new home.”
She hissed in a sharp breath, and I watched as she caught her lower lip between her teeth, holding in a retort. My wife was no longer calmly composed, but she was still resisting me, tempering her responses to maintain some small sense of control.
But she had no control, not in this house. Not with me. It was time she understood that. I would imprint the lesson deep in her psyche, so she would know that I owned her, body and soul.
I led her out of the dining room, and she followed with light, graceful steps. She truly did have a dancer’s form. I’d have to ensure that she had a space to practice. I intended to spoil my pretty wife, as long as she remained compliant and submissive.
As long as she knew that she belonged to me.
Not Luca, the bastard.
I dispelled the sour thought and reminded myself that my revenge was imminent.
His attachment to Nora would only make him that much more vulnerable.
If he shared the glimmer of affection that she seemed to harbor for him, I would be able to wound his heart while I shattered his pride.
I would break him in every way imaginable, and Nora would help me do it.
My wife would serve me well.
As we made our way through the massive house, I acted like her gracious host, showing her the two sitting rooms, games room, study, whiskey lounge, indoor pool, and sauna.
The only room where she dared to take her eyes off me and glance around was the library, as though she couldn’t help herself.
I didn’t bother to suppress a knowing smirk.
Her old man had told me her hobbies when I’d asked—dance, piano, and reading. I’d already searched her bedroom at her father’s house, and once I gave her free reign of the library, she’d find her own copies of her favorite books tucked onto a shelf I’d reserved just for her.
I decided to save the music room for later, when I’d show her the piano where she could play for just for me. That would have to wait.
We had many years ahead for me to enjoy her musical talents. Luca might arrive any minute now. It was past time to drop the pretense and take her to our actual destination.
I led her to the end of the long hallway and opened the door to the darkened room. I ushered her into the darkness, ensuring that she was in front of me. With one arm wrapped around her waist, I tucked her tightly against my front, trapping her while I turned on the light.
She tensed as soon as the low golden lights illuminated the ominous space. Her head whipped around, something between a wild inspection of her surroundings and an instinctive refusal to accept where she was.
I splayed my hand over her abs, feeling her muscles jump and dance as she squirmed in my restraining hold.
“Let me go.” Her demand was breathless, hitching slightly as fear flooded her senses.
I nuzzled her hair and inhaled her soft, floral scent, imprinting the memory in my brain.
She was scared this first time, so deliciously frightened and powerless in my arms. My na?ve young bride had no idea of the pleasure I would wring from her in this room, when I toyed with her for hours at my leisure.
She would cry in pain and ecstasy, and I would savor her tears.
I surveyed the room as she trembled against me, looking at it through her eyes.
The massive bed would be familiar enough to her, save for the numerous restraint points on the black metal frame.
The large domed cage was obvious, too, but I doubted she’d ever seen the rest of the bondage furniture that waited for her helpless body to be strapped down for wicked torment.
Would she even conceive of how I’d bend her over the spanking bench or how I’d cuff her to the St. Andrew’s Cross?
If she didn’t understand their particular function, it would be easy enough for her to interpret my intentions based on the wall of impact implements to our right.
A varied selection of single tail whips, floggers, canes, and more cruel toys of my own design were hung in an artful pattern, each one waiting to lash her with a particular flavor of pain.
“Please…” She squirmed against me. “Don’t hurt me.”
“Oh, you will suffer for me, little bird. You’ll sing for me.” I’d never heard a more beautiful sound than her scream of despair and ecstasy when I’d compelled her to come in my ropes. I would force it from her again and again, a lovely song just for me.
Keeping her pinned with one arm banded around her, I reached for the second drawer on the tall black cabinet to my left. She jerked when I slid it open, the soft sound magnified by her fear.
“What are you doing?” she demanded shakily.
I didn’t respond. I simply picked up the thick metal cuffs by the chain that attached them and swiftly grabbed her right wrist. The polished stainless-steel cuff clicked into place, shackling her.
She cried out in alarm and tried to pull free, but I used the leverage of the short chain to hold her steady while I grabbed her left wrist and secured it with quick precision.
She twisted her entire body, shimmying free from the cage of my arms. I let her go, keeping only the chain hooked around two of my fingers. The simple hold anchored her to me, and she jerked and cursed as I easily led her into the center of the room.
Suddenly, she stopped dragging her feet and launched herself at me, small hands curled into fists. I’d denied her instinct for flight, and now my little pet wanted to fight me. She was so delicate and fragile. She’d hurt herself if I didn’t get her fully under control.
I would always take care of my wife.
Keeping the chain in my fist, I lifted her hands above her head, preventing her from punching out at me.
With my free hand, I grasped the hook that hung from the ceiling and locked it through the short length of chain, leaving her dangling by her wrists.
She kicked out at me, so I stepped away, enjoying the pretty jangle of metal as she struggled.
I crossed to the corner and grasped the opposite end of the chain, which extended from where I had it running through a metal ring directly above her head.
I pulled on it slowly, watching as her flailing movements became gradually restricted, her body drawing taut until she was forced to stand on her toes.
A wicked image of her wearing pointe shoes in this position flashed across my mind. Yes, I’d keep her in that predicament another day. Soon.
As it was, she couldn’t do more than stretch her body to its limit and quiver, waiting for my next move.
“Are you uncomfortable, darling?” I asked, teasing her.
“Fuck you,” she seethed.
I laughed, delighted at her fire. Taming her would be a pleasure.
“Not yet,” I reminded her. “Not until you beg.”
She pressed her lips together, as though sealing the words inside forever.
My low, cruel chuckle rumbled through the room, and she shivered as though it was a physical touch.
She was truly breathtaking, her lithe body barely concealed by the black lace I’d dressed her in. The robe parted slightly between her breasts, and it was short enough that it barely covered her shapely ass in her current stressed position.
“Should I show a little mercy?” I asked, soft and reasonable.
“I doubt you’re capable of mercy,” she hissed, turning her head to the side as she struggled to spear me with her hazel glare.
I clicked my tongue at her. “So hostile. You don’t know me at all, my pretty bride. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”
I loosened the tension on the chain by two inches, allowing her feet to stand flat on the black tile floor. When she was in the position I desired, I secured the chain and went to retrieve the next item for her torment.
Her wide, fearful eyes darkened with confusion as I approached with the long metal bar and knelt before her.
She tried to kick at my face again, but I released a small, warning growl and grabbed her ankle.
Her weight dropped on her bound wrists, and she cried out at the flash of pain.
I stared up at her, keeping my firm hold on her ankle as she struggled to find her balance on one foot.
Her eyes shot daggers at me, and she bared her teeth like a trapped animal.
I brushed a kiss over her calf, communicating my pleasure with her.
She was responding to my games beautifully.
I secured a leather cuff around her trapped ankle, then grabbed the spreader bar.
The cuff was attached to one end of the bar, and now that I had her secured, I could move her where I wished.
I lowered her bound foot to the tiles, pushing her legs wider apart.
The second cuff was around her other ankle within seconds, forcing her to remain open for me.
Completely vulnerable to anything I wanted to do to her.
I skimmed my hands up to the backs of her knees, my fingertips teasing into her inner thighs. She whined and writhed, making music with the chains. I stared up at her from where I knelt between her feet, a position of supplication where in reality, I held all the power.
Her lovely eyes glittered, and her chin quivered before she quickly bit her lower lip.
So, my pretty wife didn’t want to cry for me.
That wasn’t her decision to make. I wanted her tears. I wanted her to come completely undone and cling to me—the only person who could put her back together again once she shattered.
I leaned forward and ghosted a kiss over her clit, feeling the tight bud through the barely-there panties I’d bought for her.
She gasped and tried to rock her hips away from me, but she had nowhere to go.
Reveling in her helplessness, I tongued her clit, teasing her.
A ragged scream tore through the room, a sound of pure frustration and rage.
It went straight to my head, and I laughed as pleasure swept through me.
My cock stiffened, but that desire was secondary to my craving for her submission.
I could take her body when she was truly mine, once she gave herself to me fully and eagerly.
Until then, I would find my own twisted release in tormenting her, dominating her.
“Stop,” she groaned, jerking against her bonds but unable to move away from my mouth.
I pressed one final kiss to her cunt and relented. There would be time to make her come later.
“You haven’t earned an orgasm yet,” I told her, getting to my feet.
Her eyes burned into mine. “I don’t want an orgasm, you sick bastard. I want you to let me go.”
“I’m not nearly finished with you, pet.” I patted her cheek, and she snapped at my fingers as I quickly pulled them out of range.
I grinned. She was delightful.
And she was all mine. This wouldn’t end until she admitted that absolute truth.