Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I grin, thinking of the uniformed men coming to put Domhnall in restraints and how they’ll haul him off to be locked up in a little room. Now that will be justice.
Fuck the past. For real this time.
Fuck anything he thinks he knows about me.
The satisfaction of fantasizing about him in cuffs is still easing the sting of last night’s denial when I hear the elevator’s soft ping.
Shit! I roll off the bed and sprint down the half hallway to drop to my knees, heartbeat racing right as the heavy doors open. I wince, face down at the ground. Only a little rug burn. Definitely worth it when I hear Domhnall’s pleased little harrumph as he looks down at me.
“I’m happy to find you in position.” I watch his shined black shoes and ironed suit pants step forward, and then a gentle hand lands lightly on my head before caressing his fingers through my hair. It sends a little shiver down my spine. Damn it. I’m supposed to be holding strong today. I don’t care if I’m starving for his touch. Focus. Escape. That’s all I care about. He just thinks he’s got the upper hand.
“And as for yesterday, all I can say is, very good girl.” His mouth caresses the rumbling words in a way that hits deep. “You were exquisite.”
I swallow hard. No one’s ever called me exquisite before… that I know of. I try to shake it off. I’m sure former-me had people calling her exquisite all the time.
But fuck remembering. He’s never going to tell me anything about myself, anyway. Yesterday made that clear.
Escape. It should have been all I was focused on from the beginning. He types in the code to that keypad every day.
A clever kitty could get her hands on it.
His hands comb through the back of my hair down my scalp before he moves on, and my eyes drop closed in spite of themselves. Goddamn him for his touch feeling so good. He latches his leash to the collar around my throat. “Come, pet.”
He mistakes my compliance for obedience as I turn around on the carpet, still on my hands and knees. I keep to his side as he heads back into the dungeon.
After our normal ritual of him feeding me breakfast from his hand, he swipes my mouth with a cloth napkin and gives me water from a glass, then puts aside breakfast.
“Today, we’ll finally be getting on to a proper scene,” Domhn says. “You’ll do exactly as I say. Respond yes, sir, if you agree.”
I bite back my instinctual fuck you, sir. “Yes, sir.”
“Excellent. You’re doing well already, pet.”
I roll my eyes at the floor as he leads me across the room. I keep my eyes down, half because I’m not sure I want to know what piece of furniture or torture implement he’s leading me towards until the last minute. I’ve told myself I’m going to comply all day like a good little pet so I can have my chance later, but dear god, now that it’s actually getting to the comply part…
“Stand up, face against the St. Andrews Cross.”
The what? I can’t imagine there being any sort of cross in this unholy place. But Domhnall drops a hand down to help me up. Ever the gentleman. I’d roll my eyes again, except now I’m half up from my hands and knees and he or one of the many cameras might catch me at it.
Soon I’m all the way on my feet and can’t help swallowing hard because I see exactly what he intends.
In front of me stands a six-foot tall wooden X with hand and ankle restraints, like some medieval interrogation device. I start to turn around for him to strap me to the damn thing, but his deep voice reminds me, “No. Facing the cross. Ass out.”
Jesus Christ, I don’t know why that makes me all but start to hyperventilate. If I’m strapped with my head facing the cross, and essentially, the wall, I’ll have no idea what the hell he’s up to behind me.
But I suppose that’s the point. If I start looking over my shoulder too much, he’ll just put a blindfold on, anyway. He likes it when I don’t know what’s coming. Sadistic bastard. Because with my ass and back to him like this, it has to mean there’s going to be more flogging.
My traitorous body is the only one that thinks that’s a good idea, all my muscles going suddenly tense in anticipation, including my clenching sex.
Domhnall obviously sees it because he runs a hand down my back. “Relax,” he murmurs. “We’re just going to play a little game.”
I let out a disbelieving huff of air.
“You may say red at any point, and I’ll release you,” he says as he cuffs my ankle securely to the bottom left of the X. The cuff is lined with some sort of soft fur, so there’s no chafing. I bite my bottom lip.