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"You will kneel properly," I say. "Your bottom resting on the soles of your feet. Your shoulders drawn back and your back straight. Your eyes cast to the floor in submission."
"Yes, sir," she snaps.
We'll see how quarrelsome she is when she takes the punishment she has coming.
"Good girl," I tell her, not letting her attitude ruffle me in the slightest. "Maintain that position until I tell you otherwise. If you move, I'll restrain and gag you."
I leave the bed and go to retrieve the bag of toiletries and supplies I brought with me. I fill a bowl with water and take some sandwich meat out of the fridge and approach Shepherd. He wags his tail when he sees me approaching with food and water. "Easy there, boy," I tell him. "We don't want to overdo it." Once he's settled, I go back to the bedroom and nod with approval when I see Olena's maintained her position but barely. I shut and bolt the door behind me, not interested in a curious dog's judgment or interference. She's slouching forward, her eyes little flames of fury.
"Back straight," I instruct. Her eyes grow ever narrower as she obeys, little splotches of fury showing on her pink cheeks.
I go to the bathroom and arrange the toiletries we'll need, but take the stout, wood-handled hairbrush out of the bag and bring it back into the bedroom. I like the way her eyes widen, and she looks at me with a bit of trepidation when I return. I hold her eyes, needing to draw this out. It's essential she learn her place, and in such a short time she's grown far too defiant. One night of pleasure, one night of comfort after the ordeal she's suffered, and already she's forgotten our roles.
It will be my fucking pleasure to remind her.
My eyes trained on hers, I roll up one shirtsleeve, then the other. I have a job to do. The longer she anticipates her punishment, the more effective my methods will be, and a proper dose of humiliation will help. I have no desire to really hurt the woman. I need her thinking long and hard about how she'll behave. Remembering with anticipation how this feels.
Fearful of disobeying me again.
"Why am I going to punish you?" I ask her, holding her eyes with mine.
"Because you fucking like it," she snaps.
I chuckle in response. "Ah, so you're asking me to punish you. Of course." My voice hardens. "Come here."Chapter 10Olena
I hate him so much, my blood pounds in my veins with lava-like intensity. He's enjoying this. He's fucking enjoying it. I can't believe he just laughed at me.
I don't know why I can't seem to get a handle on my attitude or mouth. Maybe I've let myself really believe he isn't capable of what he is. Maybe I'm so eager to see tenderness and humanity in my heartless jailor that I've neglected to remember how badly he could really hurt me.
The way he held me after last night's ordeal made me feel like I actually meant something to him. But I don't, no more than I ever did to anyone. To my father, I'm but a battle prize, the loot he's won and treasures as a mere material possession. He doesn't know anything about who I am or what I want in life, my hopes or dreams or fears. I'm just the daughter of the mafia lord. I mean no more to him than his piles of money or fancy cars.
I've never meant anything to anyone, and I feel that keenly now when I look into Maksym's cold, calculating eyes. As a sort of distraction, I let my gaze quickly roam over him... over the muscled, tattooed forearms now revealed when he's rolled up his sleeves. Prepared to punish me. In silence he crooks a finger at me.
"I said come here, Olena."
I rise clumsily to my feet, suddenly more conscious of being naked than I was back in the last room where we stayed. In here it's brighter and starkly furnished. The other room was darker and more intimate. There's some kind of history here, and it makes me feel self-conscious. But I will not falter. I will give him what he wants. For now. And once it's safe to do so, I will escape. I will not return to my father or to school or to anything familiar from my old life.
I will find a way to forge a new life. Away from everyone and anything that reminds me of the goddamn Bratva.
When I reach him, he spreads his knees and silently points for me to stand between his legs. His signature scent begins to work its magic on me, and despite my anger and fear, a low thrum of need pulses low in my belly. It angers me this time. I don't like how easily he can affect me with his raw, masculine beauty. He's so potent, one sip and my instinctive base desires begin to toy with me. One taste and I'm hungry for more.
