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I fucking wish I could give him what he’s demanding, because he’s right, that sort of moneywouldcompletely change my life.
But I don’t have the video; I didn’t film them. He asked who’d bother to frame me, and I have a bit of an inkling about someone who’d want to hurt me, but at the same time, if he knew where I was, if he’d gotten close enough to shoot those videos, he wouldn’t stay in the shadows and wait. He would have come for me.
Marius sighs, tired with my silence. “Don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”
On that note, he draws his arm back and flings the crop down to my leg. My back arches, and a soundless, surprised gasp escapes me.
I’m wearing loose, beige cotton shorts that reach my mid-thighs today, and the crop fell right at the hem. I can already see a slight blush on my skin.
It stung a little, sure, but it also did other things. Things I wouldn’t admit out loud if my life depended on it. Shivers run along my skin, settling in my core. My nipples harden under my shirt. I don’t want to acknowledge the undeniable awareness. The arousal.
I never understood that type of kink, incapable of processing why people liked to be tied up and beat each other for fun. But while my mind stays firmly against it, my body has other ideas.
Marius doesn’t speak this time. He slaps his crop on my other leg, then my arm, and my belly, systematically, his eyes fixed on mine. I school my expression into one of indifference, refusing to give an inch. It doesn’t hurt enough for my body to betray me with a scream. And while I am certain my nipples are pointed right at him, he can’t see it. Blessed are padded bras.
“Is this how you get off? You beat innocent girls, telling yourself they deserve it? You should have been born during the witch trials of Salem.”
“Is that what you are, Sarah, a witch?” His eyes flash. “Maybe I should try a little fire.”
I gulp. Something tells me he’s not kidding.
“All the fire in the world won’t make me able to tell you whatI don’t know.”
"Then let's start with whatyou do know," he counters.
Shit.
If he wants me to list enemies, I only have one, and he's an hour away. The last thing I need is for Marius to go poke around in my old town, find Brandon and let him know exactly where I am.
"If you're as innocent as you like to pretend, are your secrets worth all the pain I could inflict on you?"
An hour ago, I would have thought that the answer was no. I would have caved, and then I'd have to beg him not to tell Brandon where I was. He would have earned power over me just because he knew my secret. And now I know what Marius is; the last thing I need is for him to hold something over me.
After feeling the sting of his leather riding crop, I know I don't have to tell him shit. I can take it. In fact, I quite like it. I'll have to conceal that, but that's not a problem. It's hardly my first time fighting pleasure inflicted upon me without my consent.
I steel my resolve.
"Bring it on, asshole."
16
MARIUS
She's not going to cave; not under my crop. I know that the moment she smiles up at me, chest open, eyes full of defiance. This isn't nearly enough to make Sarah Andrews falter.
She likes it. I'm certain that if I were to peel those horrid, loose shorts off her legs and shove my hand between her thighs, I'd find that she's fuckingdrenched.
There's no logical reason why I administer the next four lashes, other than because she wants them, and deserves them.
She doesn't make a single noise, though her body doestense a little.
I'm wasting both of our time with the tool in my hand, so I set it down next to her glass.
"I see you’re familiar with this type of game. How unexpected." I make my way back to my nightstand, taking both the whip and the cane, this time. "Who did you play with?"
My nostrils flare in distaste. I don't like the thought of her being trained by some idiot. And he would have been an idiot: she's single at what, nineteen? That means he let her go, fast.
Or they started far too early. I don’t like either theory.
