Chapter Twenty-Six #3
Getting my shit together, I snapped, “You have my word she’ll behave. And I have your word that you won’t interfere.”
“Ugh, fine. Oui, oui.” He threw up his hands. “It’s on your head.”
A wild, stupid idea popped into my mind.
He wanted proof she’d behave?
I’ll give him proof.
“Ilyana,” I said softly. “Please assure Victor that you’ve finally accepted your place and will behave.”
She flinched.
Shit.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Yes, Master H.” Swallowing hard, her eyes tightened. “I’ve accepted my place, Sir V.” The words literally looked as if they choked her. “I promise to behave from now on.”
Victor snickered, enjoying her little show. “And...” He arched an eyebrow.
Bastard.
Cunt.
Fuck, this is hard.
Inhaling deeply, condemning myself to hell all over again, I murmured, “Apologise to him, little nightmare.”
Fuck, I’m sorry.
So, so sorry.
Making her apologise to her rapist?
I’d hit my absolute lowest.
She dropped her gaze to the floor, her shoulders bunching. “And I’m sorry for my behaviour, Sir V.”
“Aaaand...” He dragged out the word.
“What else do you want her to say?” I barked.
He gave me a sharp look. “I merely want—”
“I won’t disrupt the balance again, Sir V.” With balled hands, Ily dropped to her knees as elegantly as a falling feather. “I won’t turn Peter against you. I belong to Master H and exist by your magnanimity.”
“Magnanimity, huh?” He smiled with an evil glint. “That’s a big word for a little jewel.”
Bowing her head, she committed to her role in ways that churned my guts. “I’m yours, Sir V.”
He sniffed. “Quite right.” Stepping into her, he rested his hand on her head.
She couldn’t stop a tortured moan escaping.
To let him touch her after what he did to her?
Jesus Christ.
It took all my fucking strength not to kill him.
Images of him thrusting into her from behind.
Foggy memories of him grabbing her hips and—
“I’m enjoying your obedience, my sweetling, but I do have to wonder if it’s because Henri has shackled your mind like he did when you thought he was a cop.” He grabbed her chin and yanked her face up. “What else has he been whispering to you, hmm? What other promises has he vowed?”
She blinked with blank eyes. “It wasn’t him, Sir V. It was...I saw the cave where...” Closing her lashes, she sighed. “I know what will happen if I don’t obey.”
He chuckled and let her go. Wiping his hand on his trousers, he smirked. “I knew Peter would lead my jewels there. I suppose he told you what extra activities I have him do for me, too?”
Extra activities?
What?
Crowding closer, I did my best not to rip Ily into my arms. “As you can see, Vic, she’s learned. Shall we—”
“No, Sir V,” Ily said quietly. “T-The altar spoke for itself.”
Altar?
The cave with the carved seats and a stone table shot back into memory.
The whole energy in that place had been sick.
Victor laughed and clapped his hands. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Perhaps I should invite all of you down for the next Diamond Kiss. If it instils this level of compliance, it might save me a lot of headaches. I do have nine new jewels to train. Perhaps a quick field trip to the Temple of Facets could fast-forward their education considerably.”
Diamond Kiss...shit.
Ily froze.
I turned into stone.
That damn fucking chit.
The back of my neck grew hot as Victor pinned his blue eyes on me. “You don’t happen to know who won that gift in the treasure hunt, do you? No one has come forward and it’s usually the first prize to be cashed in.”
Sweat rolled down my back.
If only Ily hadn’t found it in the wardrobe. If only I hadn’t asked what it meant. If only I’d found it first and torn it quietly into shreds.
No one would know what I’d flushed.
No footage would exist of me winning it.
“I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “No idea.”
“No matter. It’ll turn up eventually. And if it doesn’t, I’ll have my guards go through the recordings to see if it was lost or misplaced.
I like to skim the footage to keep abreast of what my guests are doing, but I don’t have the time to watch every little moment—especially now that you’re not nearly as entertaining with your mystery and secrets. ”
I laughed around the boulder in my throat. “Sorry I’m not giving you viewing pleasure anymore.”
“Me too. It was fun playing detective and figuring out who you are.”
“Who I am is grateful.” I lowered my chin, playing right into his hand. “I don’t know who I’d be without you guiding me, Vic.”
His eyes softened. He looked genuinely pleased. “And you’re so welcome, my friend. Right.” He clapped his hands. “Enough standing around talking. Let’s have some fun.” Marching into the centre of the pit, he clicked his fingers. “Come here if you please.”
Drained beyond belief and we hadn’t even started yet, I left Ily kneeling by the doorway and joined him.
My damn legs trembled. The bag holding my new whip dangled in my fingers.
I stopped beside him. The room ringed out like a perfect clock. Beneath my feet, a drain with rusty grates allowed an icy breeze to escape, hinting it wasn’t dirt beneath our feet but another room, another torture chamber. At each time marks where clock hands would go, certain apparatus existed.
At twelve o’clock, a giant cross waited for its next martyr.
Two o’clock, a strange looking chair with no bottom and a sling.
Five o’clock, a rack full of whips and paddles.
Seven o’clock, a device covered in cuffs and chains to trap the limbs of its victim.
Nine o’clock, a table, stained and pockmarked with unmentionable things.
Eleven o’clock, a bed with black silk sheets and four posts with hooks for collars and cuffs.
The rest of the room blurred as I spun a full circle and caught eyes with Ily still kneeling by the closed door.
My heart picked up speed, growing sicker by the moment.
I love you. I balled my hands.
She half smiled, fear tiptoeing through her golden gaze.
Tearing her eyes away, she looked at something at four o’clock. A round mirrored ball—large enough to splay someone over, glittered with shackles and chains.
Images of Ily tied down in whatever position I wanted shot into my head.
Parts of me rebelled.
Parts of me woke up.
My monster prowled with its shadows of depressing darkness, twisting me the fuck up for wanting any of this.
Victor beamed at his playground. “What do you think?”
I locked my quaking knees, ignored my aching cock. “Looks fun.”
“Oh, it is.” He winked. “Beaucoup fun. I look forward to teaching you how to use each one.”
My heart stopped.
“I think you should start with the St Andrew’s cross, seeing as you enjoyed Ily on a cross in my trophy room. This one can be tilted, flipped upside down, and widened...depending on your preference and access to what hole you require.”
I wanted to be sick.
I laughed instead. “Sounds good.”
“Let’s get the games going, shall we?” Victor strode toward the cross and quirked his finger. “Come here, Ilyana. Allow me to give your Master a quick demonstration.”
She flicked me a panicked look.
I shutdown all my terror.
Every molecule wanted to forbid her, but I nodded. “Go to him.”
I coughed.
Those three words gagged me.
Stuck like glass shards in my throat.
With a heartbreaking inhale, Ily obeyed.
With more poise and elegance than I could stand, she climbed to her feet, padded barefoot down the stone steps, and cut across the large pit.
Rachel looked up and gave her a quick smile.
Ily gave her one back.
With tight fists, she stopped before Victor.
She didn’t speak. She merely stood there...brilliant and brave, serene and submissive.
“You’re learning, my pet.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, Victor spun her around and pushed her against the cross.
She grunted as her back slammed against the hard wood.
I saw red.
I drowned in black.
I stalked forward, ready to tear his motherfucking head off.
And...stopped myself with agonising self-control.
Play along.
Distract him.
Do your part.
“Oh, I apologise, Ilyana. Did that hurt?” Victor smirked.
Keeping all her hate hidden, Ily bowed her head. “No, Sir V.”
He chuckled. “I have to say, I’m liking this improved version of you.” Pawing at the sash of her black dressing gown, he spread it wide and revealed her perfect body. She didn’t look at me as he tore it off her shoulders, leaving her bare.
He cupped one of her breasts, grazing his thumb over a nipple.
My restraint snapped. “Victor.”
“Yes, I know. Yours.” Letting her breast go, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it above her head.
Guilt and grief and godawful fury churned toxic in my stomach.
With a happy huff, Victor fastened her golden cuff onto a hook, then repeated the process with her right arm.
Once both hands were trapped above her head, he toed the leather buckles dangling near her ankles.
“It’s up to you how tightly she’s bound.
Personally? I just confine the wrists. It’s easier to do this.
” Grabbing her by the hips, he flipped her around.
She moaned as her cheek and breasts wedged against the cross, her wrists criss-crossing with the hook twisting on its length of chain above.
Tears shot to my eyes.
Followed by the hottest, sickest gush of lust.
Fuck, I grew hard.
Achingly hard.
With a heady groan, Victor ran his hand down her waist and cupped her ass.
“Victor,” I snarled.
God, what was this doing to her?
Being touched by the man who raped her last night?
Having me stand by and allow him?
Jesus Christ.
He chuckled and let her go. “With their ankles unbound, it gives them a bit of leeway to dance under the whip’s sting.”
My head rushed with static.
I couldn’t breathe.
Stay in the role!
Wiping my mouth, I choked, “I can imagine.”
“Oh, no need to imagine, mon ami. You’re about to do it.”
I shivered with equal parts desire and despair.
“Have you ever whipped someone, Henri?”
“That’s it, Onn Ree. See how they welt for you? You’re very good at this, my boy.”
Swallowing my past, I shook my head.
No way would I admit I could swing a flogger at seven years old. That my education in this filth started well before I could read.
No wonder my mind blocked it out so completely.