“Perfect,” he utters against my ear. For now. “Come look at yourself in the mirror, Honor.”
He guides me to the gilded full-length mirror hanging opposite the bed. My mismatched eyes blink at the body shape he’s created. If it keeps him happy, then the pain is worth it. He curves one hand around my throat and puts pressure against my lower stomach with the other, so his erection presses between my ass. He towers over my five foot three height, at almost six foot.
“You’ll need to wear it continuously with only an hour or two breaks for the next month to ensure you maintain this shape. After that we can start reducing it. It also helps you maintain control over your diet.”
Diet? What a joke. My stomach is clamped inside a vise—that’s control. Anger burns for a second before I douse it. Luckily, he’s too busy examining my body to notice. “I can’t wait to fuck you like this later.”
“Me too.” Gideon’s expectation of a wife. If he loves me, then he has rights to my body at any time. These were his words the first time I woke to him moving inside of me. When I said I do, I gave up my right to consent. It’s bullshit. I know this deep down. But going against the city’s knight of virtue and warrior of justice isn’t an easy feat. It takes time, planning, and courage.
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, and my stomach flops. That’s a bad sign. He has something else planned.
He turns and strides into the dressing room attached to our enormous bedroom. “Stay here.”
Where would I go? The only places I can escape are inside my mind, which makes him more violent. He doesn’t toleratedisconnection. I have to be aware of everything he does, every move he makes, and every demand he speaks.
He reappears with a large square black velvet box in one hand and a dress bag in the other. He hooks the bag on the top of the mirror and unzips it. A stunning black velvet floor-length gown spills out of the bag. He runs his hand along the material. The V in the neckline will plunge between my breasts, but not deep enough to reveal the trainer.
“It’s gorgeous, Gideon.”
“Only the best, as I show my wife off to the city’s elite tonight.”
He snaps open the box, revealing a complex set of rose gold chains and three clips. I swallow as my eyes rise to his.
He places the box on the floor and lifts the jewelry into the air between us. “This part goes around your throat.”
He unclips the gold heart locket he gifted me on my birthday and his arms brush my shoulders as he secures the snug thin chain around my neck. His eyes blaze with possessiveness. “Fold your hands behind your back.” I do so, weaving my fingers together and clenching them tight. His hands graze over my breasts, and he dips his head and sucks on my left nipple hard. I groan, a small concession I’m allowed and even expected to make noises of enjoyment. He lets it go with a pop, before he lifts one of the chains, ending in a small clip.
“These go here.” He pinches my erect nipple and snaps the metal clip onto the end, applying pressure until he’s happy with the tightness. My hands clench tighter to temper the scream in my throat. He repeats it with my other nipple, then he gives the chains a tug.
My breath stutters out. He glances at my face in warning. “Do they hurt?”
What do you think, asshole?I nod.
“Words, Honor.”
“Yes.”
He drops to his knees, and I squeeze my eyes closed. There’s a third clip. No prizes for guessing where that’s going. This is a new level of torture, even for him.
His mouth closes around my clit and he draws it into his mouth, manipulating the sensitive bundle to swelling before releasing me.
“Look at me,” he demands. My eyes fly open, and he grins at me. “Watch in the mirror.” He shifts to the side, giving me a full view of his actions. He scissors his fingers on either side of my clit, exposing it. “Brace yourself, baby.”
My hand cramps with how hard I squeeze my fingers. The last clip is attached to the central chain, and it tugs as he pulls it. He snaps it on, and I double over as sharp pain lances between my legs. My hands land on his shoulders to stop me from falling over.
He places his hands over mine and rises to his feet, forcing me to stand straight. The position pulls the chains taught. He finishes fixing a few more decorative chains disguising the whole thing like sexy jewelry, not torture.
“These have little metal teeth that grip tighter the more you tug them.” He demonstrates by giving a small pull on the central chain. “This way, you’ll feel my touch every moment tonight. The longer they remain on, the more restricted your blood flow, and the more pain you’ll feel when they come off. Don’t worry, I’ll be inside of you when that happens.”
Of course, he can’t pass up feeling the evidence of my pain. He unhooks the gown from the hanger and helps me inside of it before zipping up the back. He grins over my shoulder at the result. The pretty chains look like they are part of the dress’s design, while the waist clings to my figure, showing off the shape he’s created.
He selects a pair of heels, completing the outfit. He standsbehind me, once again trailing his hand between my breasts and catching the chains. My eyes prickle. The burning pressure is already too much, and the throbbing between my legs builds. How is this going to feel hours from now?
“Don’t ruin your makeup,” he snaps. I close my eyes and will away the tears. “Last thing. Your allowance for the night is three canapés of your choice and a glass of champagne. I don’t want you vomiting later when I take you.”
It’s more than some nights. I should be grateful. I guess we can’t have our guests suspicious of the fact that their golden boy is, in fact, the worst of monsters.
CHAPTER 2
