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CHAPTER 32

ZAIYA

Edwin’s grip on my hand never loosens as he leads me through the hotel, my breasts bouncing too much without a bra on. My pink top gathers every scrap of light in the dim corridors, too bright in a place built on darkness and secrecy. People look at me as we pass, their attention going right to my chest and lingering too long.

Whatever he’s dragging me to, I’m unprepared for it.

Of course Edwin is dressed perfectly for the club, head to toe in black. His shiny shoes strike the carpet with a steady rhythm, muffled in the hallway of playrooms.

We stop at the very end, in front of the only black door. He uses a key card to open it with a quiet click.

Inside, the room is a fancy dungeon. Black damask climbs the walls while black marble covers the floor. Besides a bed with too many places for restraints to attach, there are several strange pieces of furniture with purposes I don’t understand.

“Welcome to the Black Room,” he says, as if naming it seals my fate.

The door closes behind us, and I’m shut in here with a mix of nervous curiosity and the awareness that my body is about to be ruined.

“I’m disappointed you didn’t feel you could come to me when you needed to.” He steps closer, and his presence alone pushes me a step back. “Your life was at risk. I would have protected you without question, but perhaps I failed to show you how deep this connection goes.”

Maybe I should have called him when I ran or when I escaped the tunnels. But he definitely didn’t give me a reason to believe he cared after last night.

I don’t care to argue my case. It never worked with my parents and I’m sure it won’t work with him.

This punishment isn’t as frightening.

His hands move over me slowly, removing my clothes piece by piece until there’s nothing left between me and his gaze. I stand with my arms hanging awkwardly at my sides, hands trembling because this room is far beyond anything I know, but curiosity has already begun reaching for it.

“You don’t trust me,” he says.

Every reason not to trust him flashes through my mind in quick, orderly succession. Threatening my life. Stalking me. Coercing me into strange rituals. Practically kidnapping me…

And yet he’s killed for me.

“I want to.” The words sound foolish as soon as they leave me.

“Perhaps this will help.”

He guides me to the center of the room where a rope hangs down from the ceiling with a hook at its end. I want to argue when he binds my wrists together and fastens them to the hook above my head, but the ache between my legs tells me not to.

The stretch pulls me off balance, my feet barely steady on the cold marble. My skin vibrates with nerves when fear and curiosity mingle.

His patient gaze moves over me.

“Your pussy got so wet when I fingered your ass.”

I wince at the memory of his dirty violation and the confusing pleasure that followed. My gaze drops to the floor, but two fingers lift my chin.

“Did you like it?”

My breath stutters through my nose. I don’t trust my voice. I can’t speak the words he wants to hear.

The first spank comes without warning, and my cry escapes before I can swallow it. Pain spreads across my ass and dissipates just as quickly. Edwin watches closely, as if this is the answer he wanted.

“Did you like when I opened up that tight little asshole, Zaiya?”

I bite my lip to hold back everything I want to scream.

He moves behind me and grabs my cheeks to spread them, digging his fingers into my flesh as he exposes me deeper.