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I can hear the sound of a drawer beside me opening, but I can’t see what he’s doing. I shiver in anticipation, my whole body trembling.
“You are a smart girl,” he murmurs, running a hand appreciatively along my side. He stands above me. I close my eyes, needing to shut this out. It’s shameful to lie before him naked and vulnerable, and I can’t get away.
“Open your eyes, Sadie,” he orders. Reluctantly, I obey, my gaze finding his. He stands between my legs, his hands on my knees. Gently, he guides my legs further apart and to my surprise, kneels. His mouth, his eyes, the intimacy of his tongue and gaze so close to the most private parts of my body terrify me.
“Kazimir,” I whisper, begging. “Please, no.”
“No?” he asks. “You don’t even know what I’m going to do.”
That’s what scares me the most. I don’t respond, though I beg him silently.
Shaking his head from side to side, he smoothes his hands up my naked inner thighs. “Krasotka,” he says. “Your very tone of voice and straight spine speak defiance. It imbues your thoughts and words. And I’ve already explained to you,” he pauses, bending down and nipping the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. “I will train you to obey me.”
He drags his tongue along my thigh upward. My body clenches in fear and anticipation.
“No,” I whisper, but when I try to close my knees, he pinches my bottom so hard I scream in pain.
“Yes,” he breathes, the heat from his mouth tickling my sensitive skin. “If you close your legs again, I’ll whip you before we leave for dinner.” His gaze boring into mine, I know he means what he says. Hell, he’s eager. Without another word, he continues his exploration of my inner thighs with his tongue and lips and teeth, nipping, grazing, licking, suckling. I’ve never touched myself, but as he continues, the need to relieve the pressure between my thighs builds to almost painful.
“Mmm,” he whispers. “My little kisa’s pussy weeps for me. Let’s see what those pretty lips hide.” I cringe. It sounds so vulgar, but I can’t focus on this as he sweeps his hand upward and parts me. Holding tightly to my thighs, so tightly I can’t close them, he flicks his tongue between my folds. I want to die of embarrassment, as if he’s stripped me naked in front of an audience. It’s so intimate, so personal, I can’t handle the intensity of this.
“Please, Kazimir,” I whisper. “Sir,” I plead, giving him what I hope he wants. “Nooooo.”
Ignoring my pleas, he licks and suckles. My hips writhe, my back arches. He’s mastering my body without my consent. “Nooo,” I beg, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. Blood pumps through my veins and my pussy tightens, contracts, throbs, until finally he stops. Though I begged for him to stop, my body hangs on the precipice of something blissful, and to my horror, the sudden cessation of pleasure makes me long for more.
Standing, he wipes a hand across his mouth and groans. “Anything else I taste tonight will pale in comparison, krasotka.” Bending down to the bed, he lifts something he retrieved from the drawer. It gleams in the overhead light. Some sort of metal?
“On your knees,” he orders, encouraging me with a slap to my thigh.
“What are you doing?” I ask him. “What is that?”
A scowl and shake of his head is my only warning as he reaches for the clasp of his belt and unfastens it. With a rapid tug, he yanks the belt from the loops, doubles it in his hand, and before I can process what he’s doing, he lifts my legs straight up in the air. The leather lash falls on my naked backside once, twice, three times.
“On. your. knees,” he thunders.
I scramble to my knees to obey and escape the flare of pain. I fall to the bed and cringe, as my backside is now on full display. But he doesn’t punish me further with his belt. I hear him slide it through the loops of his pants and fasten it. He wants me to know he can. “If you think I’ll hesitate to strap you with my belt in front of any of my brothers or Dimitri, you are mistaken,” he warns, fisting my hair. I scream when he yanks it. “In fact, the very idea makes my cock throb.”
“Chest down.” He presses his palm on the small of my back. I fall to the bed and lie prostrate. I can’t defy him, can’t question him any further. Maybe I was wrong when I told him he wouldn’t break me with punishment. He’s done nothing but punish me, and here I am, putty in his hands. The knowledge both terrifies and saddens me and I don’t try to stop the wail he tears from me. I’ve overcome so much in my life that I can barely protest when he forces himself on me, forces me to obey him. The sadness comes from the loss of hope. I hoped he would be the one who wouldn’t do this to me. I hoped he would be the one to treat me with dignity. And I was wrong. So wrong.
