Her Savior (Beauty and the Captor 2) - Page 25

He stood up and unfastened my wrists. I pressed back hard against the wall, stalling his access to my wounded back. When he made no move to reach for me, my gaze darted up before I could catch myself. I looked away, back down to the ground fast, but not fast enough.

“I don’t think you understand your place here, slave. You are a thing, to use as I see fit, and you’re going to learn that right now. Get down on your knees, face against the floor.”

No, I couldn’t do it. By the way, his erection was pressed against his pants and the way he made no move for the whip he’d tossed on the floor at some point, it was clear what he intended. He was going to use me. He was going to force himself into my body—a place where Derek had been the only one to enter. And he’d never taken me by force that way. He’d given in when I’d been the one to push for it. I’d felt complete with him inside me. Only him. Not this monster.

It was foolish. It might have been the most witless thing I’d ever done because I knew from my first step away from him, I would fail. He’d catch me and he’d punish me. But I did it anyway. I ran.

Back down the hall, he’d made me crawl along. I passed my cell and still, he hadn’t caught up. He was walking toward me with a slow, easy gait. I ran into the only door I could find and yanked on the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Like a complete idiot, I kept tugging. Eventually, I gave up and darted back to my cell, slamming the bars shut and praying the lock would miraculously engage.

It didn’t.

I backed up into the corner and slid down to the floor as he pushed it open. When he closed it behind him, there was a tiny click. I almost didn’t hear it over the sound of my heartbeat thudding in my ears. Someone was watching. It was the only explanation. Someone was watching and controlling the locks on the door. The eyes watching me on a camera somewhere though seemed inconsequential in comparison to the stormy clouds looming over me now.

I wanted to feel the sting of his hand or the cut of his whip. Something predictable. Something I knew I could handle. But he used neither. Instead, he held out his hand to me and nodded at it encouragingly.

It was a trap. Of course, it was a trap, but what choice did I have? So, I took it, my ice cold hand latching onto his much warmer one. I waited for him to yank me to my feet, but he didn’t. He pulled me gently, slipping a hand beneath my other arm to balance my weight.

He didn’t let go when I was all the way up. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me gently against his chest. His free hand moved to stroke my hair while the one that still clasped mine drew tiny circles across my wrist. It wasn’t like when Derek had shown me kindness though. There was no confusion in my head, no softening toward this man. My senses were on high alert and they were telling me this was just another ploy. I was the mouse, and the cat was toying with me.

This was the calm before the storm let loose its fury.

As if on cue, he spun me around and grasped both my wrists in one big hand, pressing hard against my lower back. I cried out as he reawakened the lashes once again. He pressed harder, and my knees wobbled precariously.

With a twist of his wrist, he bent my elbows and pinned my hands between my shoulder blades. Burning pressure on my shoulder joints. My elbows. One wrong move and every joint was poised to snap. Even my trembling tugged at them. He had me trapped. He leaned in. I could feel the whisper of his lips against my ear.

“You’re going to pay for that, slave. I was going to fuck your pretty cunt, but now…”

He tugged on my wrists and my knees buckled. I fell hard on them with a thud that resounded all the way up my spine. I cried. I was so fucking sick of crying, but I couldn’t stop.

More pressure. He bent me over until my cheek scraped against the stone floor—just like he’d wanted me. The whip. He was going to whip me, and probably ten times worse than he had before. But the sound wasn’t right. There wasn’t a whiz, it was a zip and…

“No!” I screamed. It wasn’t his whip. God, it wasn’t his whip. His penis pressed against my rectum for a split second before he rammed forward. Pain. He was inside me. Burning. Too big. Too much. Agony.

Tags: Nicole Casey Beauty and the Captor Erotic
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