I submitted, and it worked. But my god, what a price – I don’t know if it’s worth it. No, it is worth it. It has to be worth it. I have to ensure that however this ends, it is worth the cost of my soul.
I feel the bed dip as he lies down beside me, on his back. He doesn’t pull me to him, he doesn’t offer comfort or apology. He simply exists next to me.
The silence stretches, thick and heavy with unspoken words and conflicting emotions. My body aches in the most delicious, terrible ways. The soreness in my knees from hours of kneeling is now a dull background throb to the much more immediate, much more profound ache between my legs.
I can feel the heat radiating from his body beside mine. I want to curl into it, I want to scratch his eyes out.
“Look at me.”
His voice is quiet, stripped of the earlier fury and degradation, but no less commanding. It’s the voice he uses for business. The voice of undeniable authority.
I don’t want to obey. My defiance is a limp, pathetic thing now, but I cling to it. I keep my eyes closed, my face turned away.
I hear him shift. His fingers, strong and warm, grasp my chin, forcing my head to turn toward him. I have no choice but to open my eyes.
He’s propped on an elbow, looking down at me. He’s still wearing his shirt that he fucked me in, and then demanded two executions. His expression isunreadable. The fire is banked, the ice has melted. There is only a deep, unsettling intensity.
“You will not speak to me like that again, ever.” He says, his tone flat, factual. “You do not get to call me by my name. I am ‘Master’ to you. You will not grumble, you will not forget your place. Do you understand?”
The words are a command, but there’s a question in his eyes. A challenge. He’s waiting for my rebellion. He’s almost willing it.
The fight rises in me again, a feeble spark. “Or what?” I whisper. “You’ll fuck me into submission again?”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That is not a punishment, Dumpling. That is a reward. For both of us. Your punishment was the guard at the door, your punishment was the cold fear in your gut. You will not like the next punishment. It will not involve my cock, but it will give you an inkling of what your mother is experiencing every day in Oblivion. Do you understand?”
The threat is more effective than any physical act could ever be. My defiance crumples. I see the truth in his eyes. He means it.
I give a tiny, jerky nod, my lower lip trembling. “I understand.”
He searches my face for a long moment, his thumb stroking my jawline. He seems satisfied with what he finds. The tension leaves his shoulders.
“Good,” he says, and the single word is a benediction and a life sentence.
He lies back down and, this time, he pulls me to him. He manhandles me without ceremony, turning me so my back is to his chest, folding his body around mine. One heavy arm drapes over my waist, his hand splaying possessively across my stomach as his legs curl behind mine, caging me in.
I am surrounded by him. His heat, his scent, his power. It should feel like a prison. It feels like a fortress.
We lie in silence again. My mind is a whirlwind of shame, anger, and a deep, unsettling craving for the very thing I profess to despise. The diamonds in my nipples press against the skin of his arm with every breath I take and I can feel the steady, solid thump of his heart against my back.
“The diamonds were not simply a trick I played on you.” His voice rumbles against me, low and quiet in the dark.
I freeze, listening, hardly daring to breathe.
He turns me enough that I am forced to look at him and I can make out he’s holding that necklace, toying with it.
“They highlight my ownership over every bit of your flesh,” he continues. “They’re a reminder that I have and will control every bit of your life. Your past, your present and your future. Remember it.”
I gulp as he takes my hand, as he makes me hold that tiny vial.
“Do you know what this is?” He asks.
I shake my head. Is it some relic? Some holy thing?
“This is your ruin.” He states. “Your virgin blood and my come. I took it and turned it into a memorial for us both.”
A memorial? That bastard locked up my blood in that thing he hangs around his neck? Words fail me. Everything fails me. I just lie there, dumbfounded, wondering if I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.
The first thing I am aware of is the warmth.
