Page 34 of Captive Ruin

“No.”

“Why not?” I ask, hating the plaintive note in my tone.

“I like them on you.”

I take a subtle breath, then try for a calm voice. “They make me feel…”

“Yes?”

“…vulnerable, and… helpless.”

“Mmm. That’s why I like them on you.”

Bastard. Absolute bastard.

“Lie on the bed and spread your legs for me.”

My stomach sinks. Yet more torments; will this never end?

I don’t want to lie down. I don’t want to even be in this room with him here. This is my space, and it’s private. He’s intruded everywhere.

It’s not just the bed. It’s that I’m already having issues getting this man out of my head, and that was before this evening. Now I have to lie down, and spread for him? Like I’m willing?

It’s too much. I’m not sure I can.

My hesitation doesn’t please him. His hand closes on the back of my neck and he leans in, his lips near my ear. “Amelia.” He says my name softly. “You’re going to lie down on the bed, and you’re going to spread your legs for me. If you don’t do it now, I’m going to spank that pretty little pussy of yours.”

My breath catches, my thighs pressing together. I try to persuade myself that’s in defense, but the justification comes after the reflex. I know he’ll do what he threatens. He’s followed through, every time.

There’s no choice but to climb onto the bed, crawling forward on my knees, awkward and ungainly with my wrists bound. I hate these goddamn cuffs.

What sort of man binds a woman to make her helpless?

Millions of them, my mind replies. Throughout history. All of them assholes.

Kneeling on my bed, I look back at him. “I can’t lie down wearing these things.”

Yet even as I speak, he’s already unfastening one of the cuffs, like he was always going to.

“Now you can.”

Am I supposed to thank him for that?

He doesn’t tell me again, but waits for me to move of my own accord. I lie down on my back, thinking on the way he makes me complicit with all he does to me. I’m losing this battle, I know I am.

He has all the advantages.

“Hands above your head, please.”

I reach up toward the headboard, guessing what’s going to happen before it does. “It’s fucking irritating the way you keep saying ‘please’ like I actually have a choice.”

“Civility costs nothing.” He threads the loose cuff around a bar, then reattaches my wrist. A shiver runs through me. I’m bound again, even more helpless than before.

“Not to you, maybe,” I mutter. “It sure seems to be costing me a lot.”

“Still claiming you don’t like this?” He gives my thigh a little slap. “Spread.”

Frustrated, I open my legs until my feet are shoulder-width apart. Glaring up at him. “No, I don’t like this.”