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I nudge my leather shoe between her knees and force them apart until just a hint of her pussy peeks through. From my trouser pocket, I produce the rosary necklace I’ve been carrying all day. An ornate design with a white gold cross flanked by sturdy obsidian and shungite beads. It’s lengthy enough that when I drape it over her shoulders, it dangles between her breasts. I could wrap it around her neck twice and still have room to play.
Ivy glances down to examine the jewelry as I curl the beads in my fist. She may understand the significance of religion and punishment, as it is deeply ingrained in our society, but she could never know the extent of it like I do. I want this necklace to feel heavy on her soul, always. A constant burden she must carry around like the weight of her sins. A permanent reminder of who she is and who she belongs to.
“Never take this off,” I tell her. “Do you understand?”
When she doesn’t answer, I tighten my grip and increase the pressure around her throat. Her hands come up to mine, panic blotting out the light in her eyes.
“I understand.” She winces. “Please.”
I relax my grip, and without thinking, my free hand comes to rest on her head, petting her hair until her eyes flutter shut. It wasn’t my intention to calm her, but it appears that’s exactly what I’m doing, and I can’t understand it. How can she possibly find any solace in my presence? Doesn’t she realize what she’s signed her life over to?
“You defied me.” My voice is unusually gruff. “Again.”
She opens her eyes, and she does not need an explanation. She understands exactly what I’m referring to.
“It’s demeaning,” she clips out.
“It’s the life you agreed to. You knew the rules when you pledged yourself to The Society.”
“As if I had a choice.” Her voice wavers, and moisture clings to the edges of her eyes, but she’s trying desperately not to let it fall.
“We always have a choice.” I tilt her chin up and stare into her eyes. “You still have a choice. You could choose to run at any moment, but you should know it would be a wasted effort. I would track you like a bloodhound, and I would always find you and bring you back to me. This is a promise I can make you. But it is only one of many. I think you understand there is no limit to my power over your life. There will be much bigger battles to come, so why choose defiance over something so small?”
Her shoulders tremble as she forces the words between clenched teeth. “After everything you made me do already… I just couldn’t. Not that.”
“I think you will discover the lengths you are willing to go in order to please me will surprise you over time.” I smile down at her coldly. “But for now, you may repent by giving me three Hail Marys.”
She seems disoriented by my request but follows through regardless. Bringing her hands together in a prayer position, she watches with curious eyes as I weave the rosary beads between her palms. She bows her head before me and recites the words in Latin with a mastered perfection.
“Good girl.” I praise her as I step closer. So close, her cheek brushes against the aching throb pressing the fabric of my trousers.
When Ivy feels it, her eyes fly open, and everything else seems to disappear. I’m lost and bewildered as I stare into her strange eyes, and she seems to be aware of this as she sucks in a breath.
Abruptly, I sever the odd connection by turning away and stalking to the nightstand, where I have left the items required for tonight’s ritual. When I return with the blind mask I ordered especially for her, Ivy gives the tiniest shake of her head, but she should know her pleas are useless.
I secure the heavy silver mask over her face, obscuring her vision from the world around her. Her chest heaves as she draws in a breath, her nipples crying out as they poke upward. For a moment, I can’t do anything else but stand there and admire her. She can’t see me now, and I have been waiting all night to indulge.
Her body has all the qualities I admire in a woman’s flesh. Soft skin. Perfectly rounded breasts. Curved hips. They are not anything I haven’t seen before, yet those features look more enticing on her than any other woman I have ever had the pleasure to look upon.
Perhaps, it is simply because I know she will only ever be mine.
I lean down and help her to her feet again. Her fingers wrap around my arm, clinging to me as her guide when I lead her toward the bed. It’s the strangest sign of trust I don’t expect, and I find that disarms me too. But her trust wavers when I pull her arms up over her head to secure them to the rope around the bedpost.
