Chapter 14
He draws me against his chest, and then he’s towering over me, his thick cock pressing against me.
He’s so fucking hard. Starving for me. I made him snap, and there’s this tiny surge of something like triumph before he drags me to the chair, pulling me across his lap, manhandling me like I’m weightless.
And this time there’s no one to save me.
Mero and Talarin stand watching, their eyes too wide, their nostrils too flared, their cocks already hardening against their robes, and I know none of them are going to stop this.
I don’t kick, I don’t struggle or scream, and Arrek draws my skirt up and rips my panties off, his breath ragged, and the first spank comes down so hard I twist, jolting up against the flare of heat as the crack of flesh on flesh fills the room.
Oh fuuuuuck.
Before I can process the blooming pain, his hand comes down hard again, cracking against my skin, and I wrench against him, twisting, gasping at the sudden fiery ache in my bottom.
The bells on my collar jangle. His hand presses against the small of my back, easily keeping me in place, and I wince, tightening, waiting for the next brutal strike, but it doesn’t come.
I’m panting over his lap. Then that big palm gently cups my ass cheek where he spanked me, his cock throbbing hard against me. My face burns with shame and the aching need between my legs. I want so badly for him to touch, to play with, to fill, but he keeps his hand against my ass.
“Why are you being punished, pet?”
I shiver, looking to Mero, to Talarin, for any respite. “I used my hands to drink,” I gasp out, and my voice is so much shakier than I thought it would be.
Mero sits down in his chair, turning it to watch me, with a front-row view of my humiliation, while Talarin stays standing, his eyes fixed on me, his cock completely hard, tenting his robes. I fix my gaze on the floor.
“Count,” Arrek growls, then spanks me again, harder, and I screw up my eyes at the pain.
“Three,” I whimper out.
His hand comes down again, striking the same place on my right ass cheek. I twist, pulling away, trying to escape it.
“Four,” I gasp. I grit my teeth, closing my eyes tight, feeling a tear squeeze out. Just six more. Just six more. I can get through this.
His hand comes down, but this time he doesn’t spank me. He rests his palm over the place he just struck. Then his finger slips between my legs, a shocking rush of sensation. I turn my head as he brings his finger to his lips and tastes my wetness, his nostrils flaring.
“Still enjoying this, are you, pet? A little too much.”
“Please,” I gasp, and I’m not sure what I’m begging for.
I get another hard spank, and this one makes me yelp, a sound I’ve never heard come out of my mouth before. I don’t understand why it feels so fucking right to be here, pinned over his lap, and I kick, the bells jingling, knowing there is no escape. The inevitability of the blow makes my head spin.
I almost forget. “Five,” I blurt out, quickly, before he can add more for disobedience.
His hand comes down the instant the word is out of my mouth, targeting the same spot. Flesh cracks against flesh, and pain flares.
“Fuck! Six!”
“You’ve got a dirty little mouth, pet. No more cursing.” His voice is dangerously growly, and I stare at the same spot on the floor. “And you thank me for the next one.”
That sends a rush of shame through me, the humiliation making heat spread between my legs, and I don’t know what is pain and what is aching need.
His hand cracks down against my sore, inflamed ass, and tears are running down my cheeks. It is so much more intense than I expected, so much more painful. “Thank you,” I whimper out. “Seven,” I finish, gasping, my ass cheeks tensing together as I wait for the next blow.
“Thank you for what?”
My head is swimming. It’s so hard to form thoughts. “For spanking me,” I manage.
His answer is cracking his hand down again, and though the pain flares, he lands the slap against my other buttock, where fresh pain lands. “Eight. Thank you,” and this time some part of me means it through my sob for not placing the blow against my already tender flesh.
The last faint chime dies away. I don’t know if he growls or chuckles, and then his fingers trace my bruised flesh.
“You look very sexy with my handprints on your ass,” he snarls, and there’s a note of pride.
“Thank you,” I gasp out again, before I can think, and instantly I feel his touch against my slickness, rewarding me for my submission. I gasp out, and my hips press up against his touch instinctively, making him laugh again, low and cruel, even as his cock throbs harder.
Just two more.
Just two more and I can go back to… normal, or whatever normalcy had developed, if any of this can be called normal. He makes me wait for them. Each second, each tear dripping down to the floor.
Just two more.
His hand slaps down against my ass, finding a new place to mark.
Fuck.
“Nine, thank you.”
Then I tense for the final blow. It comes down with a snap, softer, not tender, but not meant to take my breath away. “Ten, thank you,” I gasp, relief flooding over me.
I let myself go limp over his lap, my body relaxing, tension leaving me as I focus on the pain, feeling it, the hot, burning sensation that was almost unmanageable. The heat between my legs. The needy emptiness. Every breath I take in, I smell his scent. That masculine scent. Him.
“Tell me the other rule you broke.”
His voice is too flat, too cold, with an edge of dominance that scares me so much more than the growly heat when he had lost control. Because this man is now completely, terrifyingly in command.
My mind races to the dungeon below. But he can’t know. He can’t know. Not for certain.
Unless he watched the security cameras.
I keep quiet.
His hand comes possessively down on my bottom, squeezing my tender flesh. Then he lifts it and spanks me again, sharp, insistent.
“When I ask you a question, you answer me, pet.”
I look over to Mero, but he’s simply sitting back in his chair, watching me with flint eyes. Talarin has an edge of something in his eyes I don’t yet know, but it’s far from gentle.
“What are you talking about?” I say, my body completely tense once more, waiting for another disciplinary blow.
“You know you’ve been bad, pet. Admit what you’ve done, and I’ll only give you twenty more spanks.”
Fear shoots through me, icy cold. A whimper leaves my throat. I could stand ten. I could stand ten, barely.
“If you don’t answer me truthfully, it will be forty.” A pause as my mind races, reeling at the number. “Say it, pet. It will be a relief.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His hand rests on my reddened flesh again, the slightest touch making me buck, trying to pull myself away, but his other hand keeps its tight grip, pressing me down against his throbbing manhood.
“You weren’t allowed to check the cameras. That’s in the contract.”
His silence greets my words. His hand doesn’t move.
There’s a tiny flicker of hope. He can’t punish me for going downstairs, not if he watched me on the camera in breach of the contract.
I look to Mero. “I went down there,” I say. “The door was open, and the contract says you can’t look at the cameras. Tell him he can’t punish me for that.”
Mero says nothing.
Arrek gently strokes my ass. “I didn’t look at the cameras. I knew you couldn’t resist exploring if we left you alone. I knew that room would be twisting in your mind, an itch you would have to scratch.”
“No,” I whimper. “Please.”
Panic grabs me now, along with something else. Something urgent. Something like what I felt on that ninth blow, when I’d almost collapsed against him. Something craving that feeling of being totally in his control.
“Please. It really hurts… Please, just be gentle.”
“No.”
That one word, hard as a hammer against an anvil.
“You’re much healthier now. It’s time for you to learn what being our pet means.”
There’s a creak from the leather chair. I snap my head around, looking at Mero for some relief.
“We’re doing live-ammunition training now. It’s not safe for you to be going where you promised you would not. It’s time for you to learn discipline.”
I whimper, looking to Talarin, then back to Mero.
“It’s time for you to learn that you need to do exactly as you are told, and that if you don’t, there will be consequences. My battle-brother will not break your flesh. He will not misstrike and hit your hip bones. This will be painful for you, Nell. But it is for your own good.”
Then he stands, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a stick.
My eyes go wide.
I twist. The bells jingle, a cacophony, as I try to escape. This time Arrek doesn’t laugh as he holds me down. There’s an iron to him. A dominance I knew was in him but never felt, and now I am fully, totally in his attentions.
Mero comes forward, and at this height I can see his length wrapped in the cloth of his robe, tenting it, so obscene. He places the stick before my lips.
I keep my mouth shut.
“Open,” he commands.
I look up through my lashes, knowing my makeup is streaked.
“Please,” I say.
“Open. This is the last time I’m going to repeat myself, pet.”
My lips open, and he places the stick between my teeth. I bite down on it, and Arrek positions his hand on my flesh.
Talarin steps forward. I look, hoping for a last reprieve, but he sits down in the other leather chair, watching me. His eyes go from my face to my bare ass and my pussy, and he breathes in.
And I know.
I know that he smells more than sheer panic. He’s testing the air, and he sniffs again, pointedly, tasting my scent.
I wish I could keep it only terror, so that he might stop it. But I know he tastes that horrible, shameful need. The need to be overwhelmed by the beast.
He just sits back in his chair and watches.
The first blow comes down before I’m ready for it. I give a muffled yelp. Then the next and the next, three in quick succession on my bare bottom.
By the fifth, there’s drool dripping down the stick and onto the floor, and he pauses to press his fingers against the lips of my pussy, rubbing, feeling the wetness. His cock throbbing so painfully hard.
Then he spanks me again and again.
I buck. I twist. I try to escape, the bells jingling madly, and then the stick falls from my mouth. He stops and reaches down, grabbing it and holding it in front of my lips.
I don’t even try to resist. I just let him.
But as my mouth opens, his hand stays, and as the pain blooms in my bottom, sweat on my brow, tears down my cheeks, I wonder, somehow, is the twenty done? Or is he stopping it early?
Then there’s the rumble in his chest as he speaks.
“From now on, you are going to understand what it means to be our pet.”
I bite my trembling lip.
“From now on, you do not use the washroom without our permission. You no longer have free roam of the estate or our manor. Leaving your cage is a privilege, one that you must earn. You will only be allowed outside for walks.”
I can feel my freedom shrinking, the walls closing in around me. I want to beg him for the time outside that keeps me sane.
“When you’re walked, you will be leashed at all times. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I say instantly, hoping I can avoid the pain.
His hand comes down across my bottom, just resting there, but I flinch and jerk in fear.
“Yes, sir,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” I repeat instantly, as if he’s planted the words in my head.
“You will present yourself perfectly. Flawless makeup every day. Not a hair out of place.”
His hand comes down between my legs, and he starts playing with my slit, then finds my clit, his hand soaked with my juices, slowly circling it.
“When I snap my fingers, you will open your mouth and take my cock, no matter what you are doing. Say it.”
“I’ll suck your cock whenever you want,” I gasp out.
“Good pet. But you have eleven more to go.”
I moan in fear as he puts the stick back between my lips. I close my teeth around it, and then he punishes me, his hand coming down over and over.
I’ve lost count. My eyes are streaked with tears, my teeth clenched around the stick from the pain, and all I can think is that I’ll do anything, anything for him, the second he commands me, if only to avoid another punishment like this.
I twist my body, fighting, but then I have no more energy. I go limp, and he does not relent, spanking me twice more in hard succession.
Then his hand closes around the stick. I’m gripping it tight between my teeth.
“Release,” he says.
My mouth opens, and he takes the stick. Drool drips down onto the floor.
There’s a crack, like a branch breaking.
He snapped his fingers.
His grip releases, and he leans back, as I sob, my pussy clenching around nothing, drool dripping from my lips, and I yearn to serve.
But as I stand, unsteadily, looking down at that thick, throbbing length, I crave it. I want it. I want to kneel before him and take every inch into my mouth. I want to serve him so bad.
But the word comes out of my lips before I can even really think it.
“No.”