“Please… don’t leave me here… please…”
He looks at me with a cruel smirk. “I’m not planning to go anywhere for a while, Lia.”
Then he grabs my dress by the collar and… rips it.
In one single movement, he’s torn it clean to the hemline, and the pieces of cloth fall to the ground, leaving me entirelynaked apart from the panties that feel practically pasted to my folds from my embarrassing wetness.
A moment later, he rips those off too. I’m stark-naked, my arms pulled up over my head, my tits out and vulnerable. All I can do is squeeze my legs together, trying both to protect my folds from Logan, and to prevent him from seeing how fucked-up my reaction to him is.
Why doesn’t this feel like it did when Carmelo was the one doing it to me? I remember how dry I was, how much it hurt. It wasonlypain, sickening and violating.
That’s how it should be with Logan too, and yet… my body feels like a bundle of raw nerve endings, and I’m aching for him to touch me.
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just turns around me slowly, like he’s examining every single part of me. I practically jump out of my skin when he wraps a hand around one of my ankles, and… pries it away from my other leg.
“Logan,” I hiss out.
“Shhh, little brat,” he soothes, running his hand up and down my spine, which only causes more wetness to pool between my legs. “Be a good girl for me, Lia. For once in your fucking life, be a good girl for me.”
Biting down on some strange mix between a string of curse words and a desperate plea for him to keep going, I swallow nervously as he forces my legs apart, before grabbing another chain, and wrapping it around my ankle. He loops the other side to the hook, and before I know it, my right leg is pushed up high, revealing absolutely everything.
“Oh, my god, Logan…”
I don’t think I’ve ever been more mortified. I twist my face into my arm, and it’s like I can actually feel the heat rising on my cheeks.
But he grabs my chin and forces me to look back at him.“You’re not crying.” He actually looks disappointed.
“Fuck you!” I choke out.
“Too bad.” He runs his hands up and down my face and neck, before going back to tweak my nipples. “How can I make you cry?”
“Fuck.You!”
He keeps his teasing touch on my nipples, looking maddeningly unconcerned with my swearing. It pisses me off that I don’t have any effect on him. It pisses me off that I can’t even make him pay for having made me naked and helpless. And it pisses me off that I’m nowhere near as angry asI shouldbe about being naked and helpless.
In fact, I suddenly realize I’m not really angry about that part at all. There’s something very relaxing about not having had to make this decision. About him touching me the way he wants to. And not being able to prevent it.
The shame, the self-hatred, the sense of violation that I’d felt when he’d fingered me before—I don’t feel that anymore. I’m embarrassed, but it’s a kind of embarrassment that only makes me more desperate for his touch.
“Fuck you,” I say again for good measure.
His lips twitch into a little smirk. “You know, Lia, I think I’m starting to understand you. You’re a real brat, aren’t you? The kind of brat who’s secretly just begging for a punishment. Too bad I didn’t figure that out earlier. I wouldn’t have wasted all my time stalking you when we were kids.”
“St-stalking me?” I gasp.
He ignores my interruption. “I wouldn’t have sat there in the cafeteria listening to you call me a loser. No, I would’ve taken you straight over my lap and spanked that fat ass of yours. In front of the whole fucking cafeteria.”
“What the…” I’m so furious I can’t even think of a single thing to say. Except, “My ass isnotfat!”
He snorts, then walks around to my other side. I expect him to pinch me again, and steel myself for the pain, but instead, his palm cracks against my bottom, causing a loud echo in the room.
“Ow! Fuck!”
Another smack on the opposite cheek. “Asshole!”
Smack. “Language, Lia.”
“Fuck you! I’m not a brat!”
