He stepped back, his hand leaving my throat, and I gasped for air.
For a moment, I thought about running. The door was right there.
“Don’t,” he growled, and something in his voice froze me in place. “You run, and I’ll make this so much worse. Understand?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
“Good girl.” His praise was mockingly cruel. “Now get on the bed. Face down. Hands above your head.”
My legs were shaking as I moved toward the bed. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to run, to dosomething,but my body obeyed him anyway, moving on autopilot, conditioned by his careful attention to respond to his commands. I climbed onto the bed and positioned myself the way he ordered. Face down. Hands stretched above my head. The sheets were cool against my overheated skin, soft and clean and utterly at odds with what was about to happen.
Behind me, I heard him moving. The clink of metal. The soft rustle of leather. My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst through my chest.
“Wrists together,” he firmly ordered.
I pressed my wrists together, and a moment later I felt cold metal encircle them. Handcuffs. He secured them to the bedpost, I realized, with a chain that rattled when I tested it. There was maybe six inches of give. Not enough to do anything useful.
“Spread your legs.”
Oh God.I hesitated, and his hand came down on my ass. Not hard, just a warning tap that made me flinch.
“I said spread them.”
I did. Slowly. Feeling my face burn with humiliation as I opened myself to him, vulnerable and exposed in a way that made my stomach clench with equal parts fear and somethingelse. Something darker. He grabbed my left ankle and pulled it toward the corner of the bed, securing it to the post with what felt like rope. Then the right ankle, spreading me wider, until I was completely immobilized. Face down, ass up, legs spread, and hands bound.
An offering.
That was what I was. That was what he made me.
“There we go,” he said, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. “Now you look like what you are.”
“What’s that?” My words came out before I could stop them, muffled against the sheets.
“Mine.”
The word sent a shiver down my spine. Not fear. Not entirely. Something worse.
Want.
I heard him move around the room, his footsteps lazy and unhurried. He was taking his time. Enjoying this. Savoring the anticipation of what came next. And then something landed on the bed next to my face. Leather. Black. Shaped like a paddle with a short handle.
I stiffened as my breath caught in my throat.
“Do you know what that is?” he asked, his voice coming from somewhere behind me.
I didn’t answer.
“It’s a paddle,” he continued, as if I had asked. “Leather. Flexible enough to sting without doing permanent damage. Perfect for teaching lessons to disobedient little thieves who don’t know when to comply.”
My fingers curled into fists above my head, the handcuffs rattling.
“I’m going to use it on you,” he said conversationally. “But not yet. First, I’m going to make you understand exactly what you gave up when you refused me. I’m going to show you whathappens when you choose defiance over obedience. When you choose your pride over my pleasure.”
He moved closer. I felt the bed dip under his weight as he climbed on behind me.
“I’m going to touch you,” he whispered quietly. “And you’re going to feel every second of it. You’re going to get wet for me. Wetter than you’ve ever been in your life. You’re going to beg me to let you come. And I’m going to say no.”
Oh fuck.
