Chapter 4 #2
His blue eyes caught mine. There was amusement in them now. Something dangerous and smug, like he’d seen the exact movie reel playing in my head.
“Want to try that again?” he asked, dragging the belt slowly, deliberately, off his chest. The leather hissed against his skin like a promise.
I snapped my gaze away, cheeks burning. “Ugh,” I muttered. “I don’t want to talk to the old man, okay? You can’t make me.”
It came out more bratty than defiant, which only made his smirk deepen. His eyes twinkled dangerously.
“Actually,” he said, with a tone far too casual for what was about to come out of his mouth, “that’s exactly why I’m here. He said if you didn’t answer your phone, I was allowed to spank your sweet little ass with his belt.”
My mouth dropped open. “He what?” I practically shrieked.
Bash twirled the belt once, slow and showy, before letting it snap back into his palm with a sharp pop.
“You’ve got a decision to make, tiny tot,” he said, eyes glittering. “Choose wisely.”
I groaned long and theatrical before throwing my hands into the air. “Fine,” I snapped, stomping past him with dramatic flair. “But just so we’re clear, this is coercion, and I will be emotionally wounded forever.”
“Noted. You can bring it up with the Counselor at your next session,” Bash muttered, clearly fighting a grin as I marched to the bed.
I picked up my phone and angry scrolled—yes, that’s a thing. I punched the Reaper and waited. He picked up immediately.
“I swear to God,” he growled, voice sharp with frustration, “when I give you directions, your only job is to do what?”
I refused to answer and breathed hard into the phone like a stubborn teenager refusing to admit guilt. My chest rose and fell. I was not going to cry. I wasn’t. I was simply…processing with attitude.
“Kinsley Anya Marie,” he warned, using my full name with gravel and steel.
“I already told you,” I snapped, voice wobbling at the edges, “I have plans. You can’t expect me to drop everything—”
Sebastian snatched the phone clean out of my hand. “Brother?” he said, voice smooth as sin. There was a full minute during which the Reaper was sealing my doom.
“You got it. I understand the assignment and will gladly take this one for you. After all, I am my brother’s keeper.” He grinned at me as he said it.
I gasped as if he’d slapped me with a glove in the middle of a royal court. Everything happened so fast I didn’t have time to process it.
One second, I was still glaring at Bash in full-on brat mode—holding a massive grudge, and the next? The next, I was bent over the edge of the bed, palms braced against the mattress, my heart hammering in my throat.
Then—slap. The belt cracked across the lower curve of my ass. A loud gasp tore from my lips, sharp and unbidden, more from the shock than the sting. My body jerked, spine bowing instinctively as I tried to absorb the burn. It was hot, immediate, and then came a sweet sense of relief.
My head followed the movement. My phone was now lying face-up on the bed beside me.
Alek’s voice called my name softly from the speaker.
I froze. Bash’s eyes cut from me to the phone and back again, silently checking for my reaction.
And I read the room. I knew exactly what this was, and that I had done it to myself.
“I’m here,” I choked out, breath catching. The emotions I’d tried to swallow down earlier came rushing back like a flood—anger, hurt, frustration, shame. I was drowning in all of it.
“You’ll count them out. Understood?” Alek’s voice was steel over the speaker.
My body instantly reacted to the tone. It was achingly familiar. And, oh, so damned safe.
“Yes, Master,” I replied, soft and small.
Maybe…maybe a spanking would set me straight.
It usually did. The way my body responded to them still astonished me.
How the strike of leather could quiet my mind.
How everything inside of me, all the chaos and noise, would stop.
The leather brushed against my ass, a teasing stroke—and I shivered, breath hitching in anticipation.
Crack.
“Ow!” I yelped, flinching hard as the first blow landed. My body jerked, muscles tightening instinctively. It hurt in the best way. That snap of pain blossomed into relief. My chest heaved, the edges of my spiraling emotions dulled, adjusting and making room for this instead.
I glanced back. The Torturer was calm. Focused. Completely in control and in his element. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of stern expectation in the set of his jaw. Another lash landed.
Whack.
“Count them out, young lady,” he hissed.
“One!” I shouted, too loud, too panicked.
“Don’t raise your voice at Sebastian,” Alek barked from the phone. “This is your doing. You’ll do it the right way. Now start over.”
I took a sharp breath, swallowed the lump in my throat. “One,” I whispered as Bash brought the belt down again.
“Are you going to ignore me again?” Alek demanded.
Crack.
“No, Master. Two.” My voice trembled, but I could already sense the painful edges softening in my chest. I exhaled all of it. Let everything I’d been holding in for far too long go. Another strike from the Torturer landed.
Snap.
“Are you going to do as you’ve been told?”
“Yes, three,” I gasped, my body curling with the sting.
The pain focused me. Sharpened me like nothing else could. It pulled me out of my spiral and anchored me to them. To the rules that kept me safe—even from myself. To the structure I craved, even when I resented it.
Despite everything, this was care in the sharpest, strangest form. One I’d come to realize was as much a part of me as my gray eyes were. My breath was still shaky, but I focused on the comforter, letting my fingers dig into the plush fabric as I waited for the next strike.
Smack.
“Are your plans more important than my instructions?” Alek barked.
I flinched harder this time. That one burned—deep and bright. “No, Master,” I cried, my voice cracking as I counted. “Four.”
There was a pause. The next strike came slower, more precise, landing on that expanse of flesh that would leave a reminder for later.
Whack.
“Are we going to have a problem then?”
“No,” I gasped, answering the Reaper. “Five. No, we won’t, Master. I’ll do as you asked. I promise.”
The belt landed on the bed beside me with a quiet finality, like the period at the end of a sentence. I stayed still, ass stinging, chest rising and falling, pussy throbbing in the best way. It didn’t matter that this was corrective in nature.
My body responded how it wanted to. The way the Reaper knew it would. The Torturer knew it as well. So I refused to be ashamed over it. My throat burned, my lashes stuck with tears I gladly let fall. But damn, what a relief—the tightness inside me was gone.
I wasn’t angry anymore. The spinning had stopped, and I was better in every way. The Reaper had seen me. Claimed ownership over me, and that made all the difference. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t here in the flesh to dole it out. I had the next best thing—the Torturer.
And his delivery was brilliant. There wasn’t a single thing I’d change about it.
“Now,” Alek said, his voice softer—quieter. “You’ll let Bash cuddle you for ten minutes. Nothing more than a cuddle. Do not try to rub or grind my sweet little pussy on my best mate. Understand?
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, body trembling at his voice.
“Good girl. Then you’ll go downstairs. Marcus is waiting.”
“Yes, Master.”
The line went dead. I let the phone fall from my fingers. The silence that followed felt thick and sacred. The air had changed around Bash and me. I recognized it for what it was. Another step, another bond of my heart and soul to these men.
Sebastian didn’t say a word. He simply lay down beside me, his large frame moving with an ease I didn’t have in that moment. He tugged me into his arms, opening a mental space for me. And I stepped into it. Wholeheartedly.
Nestled against his bare chest, I let myself come apart. He could handle it. My body, still warm and tingling, clung to his as the first sob broke loose. He didn’t speak, but held me tighter, his arms solid and secure, one hand splayed across my back, the other brushing through my hair.
I cried and pieces of my soul broke free in his arms. He made me feel so safe and secure in that moment. Loved in a way that didn’t need words or promises or perfect understanding.
“Happy Christmas,” I whispered, breath catching.
He chuckled under his breath. Low and rich. “Only you,” he murmured.
I buried my face in his chest to hide my smile—half embarrassed, half overwhelmed. His skin was warm beneath my cheek, his heartbeat steady and calming.
“Let’s not pretend you haven’t wanted to spank my ass from the moment I moved in.”
“Moved in? Try even earlier than that. I’d say since before hell week.”
“Ah, yes. Hell week.” I sighed heavily. “We’ve come far, haven’t we?”
“Yes, tiny tot. We have,” he crooned, tightening his arms around me.
It was the first gift of Christmas. My not so reluctant executioner turned interim teddy bear—pressing soft, light kisses on the top of my head like he’d done this a thousand times.
“You did real good,” he said eventually, so quietly I strained to hear him.
I didn’t answer, but curled tighter into him, soaking in the warmth, the protection, the calm after the storm. We might be a strange family, built on blood and trauma and bindings invisible to everyone else—but we were a family all the same. And in this moment, I wouldn’t trade a damn thing for it.
Then my thoughts drifted—because that’s what they did when I was raw like this, stripped open and floating between too many emotions and raw clarity. They shifted to the man holding me. His palm moved in slow, rhythmic strokes over my back, tracing soothing, mindless patterns. But I knew him.
Nothing this man did was truly mindless. Every touch was purposeful. Every moment of silence was him letting me have space, without actually letting me be alone. If I concentrated long enough, I could almost spell out the words he was absentmindedly marking on my back.
So I did. And my heart cracked a little more. He completed it and started it once more, spelling out not only a word, but an entire message.
I love you, tiny tot.
He didn’t think he would ever love again. He still let the tragedy of his past torment him. Define what he could and couldn’t have in this life. He walked around like a man with blood on his hands and no one left to absolve him.
It shook me to think about. Especially when I compared it to the love I felt for my men. I could understand the depths of his devotion—his devastation.
I swallowed thickly, a sudden wave of emotion hitting me all over again. Tears spilled from the corners of my eyes, quiet and unannounced. What I wouldn’t give to take his pain away?
He stiffened, his touch pausing for a second. “You’re crying again,” he said.
“I know,” I whispered, voice shaking.
He angled his head, eyes flicking down to study my face. “Did I go too far?”
I blinked up at him and shook my head quickly. “No. God, no. It’s not that. You followed the rules. I know the rules. I could’ve used my safe word with you. I didn’t need or want to.”
He didn’t respond right away. He brushed his knuckles along my cheek, as if clearing the trail of salt away.
“I’m okay,” I added, firmer this time. “I am. It’s…all of this. You, this moment—it’s made me feel so much.”
He exhaled quietly, his gaze still searching, still waiting to be sure. And I offered him a small smile. Then, true to form, my mind flipped the script. Again.
Maybe…maybe I could find him someone. The perfect sub. Someone strong and brave and a little unhinged in the best way. Someone who could see him the way I did—as more than grief and ghosts. As a man worthy of the same kind of all-consuming, reckless love I had in spades.
He deserved that. Everyone deserved that. And I…I was going to make it my personal mission to deliver.
“Love you, Bashy,” I whispered, shimmying my body into his.
“Love you too, tiny tot,” he said, chuckling.