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The frustration is so deep that I want to make up for it now, in real life, but even I know that if I attempt to hurt him, I’ll pay the price.
His fingers travel from my chin to my neck, eliciting shivers and goosebumps. I expect him to choke me or something, but he grips me by the shoulder, his gray eyes darkening just like in the nightmare. “Bend over.”
“W-why?”
“I said if you talk back, you’ll be punished.”
My lips part at that word.Punished.A war explodes in my chest and my thighs shake as I try to bargain, “But I didn’t mean it.”
“I don’t care. You defy me, you’re punished. It’s as simple as that.”
“I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Unless you know your punishment, you’ll continue to do it.”
“Just give me a chance.”
“I have been lenient since last night, Lia, but you keep defying me and pushing against me.”
“No, I don’t.”
“There, a mere example. You don’t seem to understand the reality of the situation, and I’m happy to engrave it deep in your bones.”
His tone, though quiet, chills me to the deepest corner of my soul. “Adrian…please…”
“Every minute you waste of my time will be extracted from your flesh.” He grabs me by the shoulder, forcing me to stand up. I release the cup of coffee with a pained sound.
My legs shake as he pushes the chair away, its creaking sound on the floor mimicking the scratching sound on the walls of my heart.
Instead of waiting for me to do as he’s commanded, Adrian flips the tablecloth that holds all the plates and moves it away with one merciless tug. Dishes clank together and the cups of coffee spill on the material and drip on the ground.
“Adrian…” I say, in an attempt of one final plea. “Please.”
“It’s too early to beg, Lia. Save it for when you actually need it.” He palms the middle of my back and pushes me down against the table. My cheek meets the cold wooden surface, and I try not to start hyperventilating here and now.
I hate how my body is in a completely alert mode. How a weird zap is tingling at the bottom of my stomach, clenching it,awakeningit.
Adrian, however, is sure, confident, each of his movements holding a purpose that’s designed to be met. He reaches to my front and undoes my scarf belt, then my button.
I briefly close my eyes as the cloth slides down my legs and bunches around my ankles. I try to forget what he’s seeing, my position—bent over with my ass in the air and in his full view.
It’s not difficult when his hand meets my backside.
The first slap reverberates in the air, harsh and ugly. Even though I’m still wearing panties, my ass cheek catches on fire.
On the second slap, my entire body reels forward on the wooden surface. I grip the edge of the table with rigid fingers as the flaming pain increases.
His hand is hard, merciless, with the sole purpose of punishing me, of cementing his authority under my skin.
But in that display of authority, as calm and commanding as it is, he shows me a part of him I haven’t witnessed before.
Control.
He thrives on it. In fact, he’s punishing me to ensure that I don’t challenge it—or him. And with each slap against my ass, he’s etching it into my whole being.
I wish I didn’t react to it. Better yet, I wish I viewed it like I did in the nightmare—as a violation. Instead, a shock of sensations explodes on my skin with each of his ministrations. It’s like something has been dormant and he’s probing it, awakening it.
My body’s reaction to his touch scares me more than his punishment. More than the nightmare.
