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The only other part of the film Quill slowed down for was the women. Saskia was surprised three women at the party had actually engaged in this. The women were different, though. They giggled at doing something naughty and forbidden.
She’d heard their laughter at the time, but had thought they were only standing nearby. She’d known it was nervous laughter and had wondered if they just didn’t want to piss off the men they were with by objecting. Now she wondered if they’d somehow been coerced to join in. Perhaps they’d thought it better to be the aggressor than the one lying naked and vulnerable in the box. And yet, everyone had watched them do what they’d done.
The women had hesitated. The men hadn’t. The men, by contrast, showed no shame. They’d felt entitled. Of course, if a woman was spread-eagled near them, ready and waiting, it was practically their birthright to plow that field.
In the film’s background, Saskia watched couples slip behind the large Greek columns together—not quite brave enough for an orgy, but far too bold for a polite gathering.
Quill skimmed through the last three sessions and then shut off the video.
“I plan to watch it at my leisure, later,” he said as he stroked between her legs, giving no doubt as to what he planned to be doing while watching. “How many, Saskia?”
She didn’t bother playing dumb. “T-twenty-two, Master.”
“That’s an insane number of orgasms for four hours,” he said. “You’re insatiable. Unfortunately, that also means you’ll be paying for them with twenty-two cane stripes. If only you’d kept count like I asked, you could have had them for free.”
“I’m sorry, I just lost track. Please...”
Quill shook his head. “No. You know when I lay down a law, that’s it. You have no excuse. I’ll spread them across your thighs, and ass, perhaps a few over your breasts. And I won’t go harder than you can take. Let’s get this done.”
“You don’t sound like you want to. If you don’t want to, I sure as shit don’t want you to.”
His eyes narrowed. “Watch your mouth, little girl. I neverwantto punish you, but I want your defiance even less.”
He turned off the video and pressed the appropriate buttons to make the screen slide back down into the floor. The paneling closed over it. He set the remote on the night table and crossed to the other end of the room. His fingertips skimmed the cane as if it were a dear friend he’d lost touch with.
Of course he wanted to punish her. Just like he’d wanted to entrap her and enslave her, and all the rest of it. He wasn’t possessed. No one pulled his strings. Who could possibly pull this man’s strings?
“Saskia?”
She reluctantly unfolded her limbs and climbed out of the bed, following him to the corner.Quill secured her arms over her head and then stepped back to look at her, circling her a couple of times as if he were imagining this on a canvas. Abruptly he came back to himself.
He nudged her legs apart with the tip of the cane.
“You will count them out loud.”
Saskia jerked in the chains as the cane sliced the air—before it even struck her. When it did, it seemed to send ripples of pain that vibrated across the room. The sharpest sensation was the cry it tore from her throat.
“O-one.” Her lip trembled when she spoke. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever been this afraid of him before. Even the time he’d been angry. The idea of even surviving twenty-two lashes of the cane, especially a cane wielded by Quill was more than she thought she could cope with. Tears slipped down her cheeks.
“I told you that doesn’t affect me,” he said.
Of course it didn’t. He was heartless and soulless. A fucking sociopath with pretty things.
“I know, Master.”
Somehow, despite his lack of anything approaching compassion, the remaining lashes were lighter. They still hurt like hell, but it was a hurt that one could cope with. She counted each one dutifully, each one getting her closer to the end of her punishment.
In between each strike she mentally berated herself. Why couldn’t she just remember to keep track of the orgasms? At least she hadn’t lied and made up a number. That would have been worse when Quill watched the feed and counted them himself. And she didn’t think she was a good enough actress to feign a counting error.
Finally, the word “Twenty-two” fell from her lips. Quill let the cane slip from his hand onto the ground. His special precious cane with its own spotlight rattled against the hardwood like a viper.
He unchained her and led her to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”
He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a first aid kit. “I didn’t break skin, but I’m going to put a cream on the welts to take the sting out.”
Saskia barely breathed as he sat beside her and began smoothing the cooling cream over each mark he’d left across her skin. She could hardly believe he was doing this. He never took care of her after. It was always Marcus who’d been tasked with the comfort side of things. It had made everything with Quill feel incomplete, as if Saskia couldn’t get herself to fully bond with him because he never directly offered her the comfort she needed.
“Sit up, and let me get the ones on your breasts.”
