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But what Saint says next has me gasping. “Where I’m from…itisa crime. A crime against you.” He sighs, heavy with burden.
What the hell does that mean?
“Where exactly are you from?” I’m speaking out of line, but his reaction confuses me. He almost looks…saddened by the fact.
He steps forward, and I’m engulfed in his spice as he towers over me. “A world you don’t belong in.”
The air suddenly sizzles, and a palpable electricity has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I have so many more questions, but he makes it clear that question time is over as he cocks his head toward the shower.
“You have ten minutes.”
I blink once, stunned he’s going to let me shower alone.
I don’t waste a second and quickly hobble toward the bathroom, sighing when I hear him march up the stairs and close the hatch behind him. With this newfound freedom, I don’t know what to do first. I have a bad case of cotton mouth, so I decide to brush my teeth.
When I peer at my reflection in the mirror, I stagger back, covering my mouth in horror. I barely recognize myself.
Caked in blood and my eyes wild, my soiled appearance scares me. Is this what I have become?
Unable to face the truth, I strip and toss my clothes into the corner of the room. The moment I step into the shower and turn the faucet to hot, I fold and relish in the feel of washing away my sins. The water runs red, but I coax it down the drain with my big toe.
My muscles uncoil from the warmth, and I melt into the feeling of being clean once more. The water feels wonderful, but when I turn, and the spray hits my ass, I flinch. Peering over my shoulder, I flush as bright as my ass cheeks when I see the red prints left by Saint’s hands. I still can’t believe he spanked me, but what’s most disturbing is I can’t believe my response.
Tears threaten to break past the floodgates, but I don’t have time to grieve.
Saint said ten minutes, and I know he won’t give me a second more, so I hurried to wash my hair and condition it as I lathered the vanilla soap over my body. I’m clean with two minutes to spare, so I turn off the water and dry hurriedly.
I’ve applied deodorant, some body lotion, and brushed my hair when I hear heavy footsteps up on the deck. He’s coming.
Stepping into my underwear, which fit, I thread my arms through the bra, and although the cups are a size too small, I hook it and arrange my breasts so they don’t pop out. Just as I reach for my dress, the hatch opens, and Saint appears.
I attempt to throw it on over my head, but he stops me.
“Wait.”
With my arms raised in the air, I pause, my chest rising and falling quickly as I catch my breath.
“Come here.”
There is no point in arguing with him, so I remove the dress and place it over the edge of the basin and walk toward him slowly. I stop when I am a few feet away.
Bashful to be standing in nothing but underwear, especially a bra that barely fits, I cast my eyes downward, unable to look at him. I bite my lip, unsure what he wants me to do.
“Kneel,” he commands.
Although every fiber of my being is demanding I fight, I know this will be over a lot quicker if I just surrender…so I do.
Gradually, I drop to my knees, averting my gaze as I’m embarrassed to be seen this way. But something changes in Saint. His exhalations are deep as he takes his time before he reaches down and caresses the cross at my throat.
My skin breaks out into goose bumps, but I remain passive, unsure what comes next.
“You look…beautiful,” he says painfully slow while I snap my chin upward, locking gazes with him. I was not expecting him to say that.
The feral look reflected in those green depths has me instantly dropping my chin. My cheeks blister. Using my hair as a veil, I hide behind it as I sit back on my heels, measuring my breaths and wringing my hands together.
Although this could be looked at as sexual, as Saint dominating me, I don’t feel objectified. I feel empowered as I’m the one in control. That doesn’t make a lick of sense, but neither does any of this.
I stay this way, awaiting his next move, and when I hear the distinct shutter of a camera clicking, one on a phone, I realize I’ve just found another means of communication. Him slipping up is slim to none, but stranger things have happened—like him leaving his key for me to uncuff myself with or…calling me beautiful.
