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His large, warm hand came to rest on my stinging skin, soothing the ache for a moment before another swat landed. This one was harder. I yelped, my body jolting forward, my fingers tightening on the edge of the hearth. He established a slow, steady rhythm, each one a little harder, each one stinging a little more than the last. He was warming me up, preparing me for the belting to come.

I was no longer Alessia Caruso, the defiant Bellandi princess. I was Vesper, the stripper who had come for him in a private booth. I was the girl who had run from him on the highway. I was the woman who had tasted the leather of his belt.

I was his little pet.

And I was ready for more.

“Are you ready for my belt, little pet?” he asked.

My breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to say yes. I needed to say yes. But the words were trapped inside me, almost like a knot of shame and desire in my chest.

Before I could answer, I felt the whisper of his fingers against my inner thigh. I tensed, a shudder of anticipation rippling through me. His fingers traced an exploratory path upward, through the slick, swollen folds of my sex.

I was soaking wet. I hadn’t even realized it until now.

A dark, triumphant chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Look at you,” he murmured, his fingers gently parting my folds, exploring my slick heat. “So wet for me. Your body knows what it needs, even if you’re too proud to say it.”

A wave of heat washed over me, a blush of shame and arousal that burned from the tips of my ears to the soles of my feet. He was right. My body was a traitor, broadcasting my desires louder than any words I could ever speak. The shame of it was exquisite. I let out a shaky breath.

He withdrew his fingers, leaving me feeling achingly bereft. I heard the soft whisper of the belt moving through the air, and my entire body went rigid with anticipation. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the stinging bite of the leather.

It landed with a soft whistling sound, searing a line of fire across the fullest part of my bottom. I cried out, and before I could fully process the stroke, the next landed, just below the first, another blazing hot stripe of fire.

He didn’t pause. He didn’t give me a chance to catch my breath. He wielded the belt with a practiced, methodical rhythm, each stroke a precisely controlled measure of pain and pleasure, and after a few more strikes, his large, warm hand came to rest on my lower back.

“Little pets can ask for what they want,” he instructed. “But Daddy decides what they get.”

Then he held me down and gave me exactly what I needed.

The belt became a blur of motion, a whistling, stinging demon of leather that rained down upon my upturned ass with a relentless, unforgiving force. Each strike landed with a sickening crack, delivering a sharp, biting pain that made me scream.

I tried to buck, to escape, but his grip was like iron. He held me in place, one hand firm against my lower back as he made me take every last stroke.

Then, just as I thought I couldn’t take any more, the belt stopped.

The sudden silence was as shocking as the pain. I could feel the heat radiating from my bottom, a deep, throbbing ache that seemed to pulse in time with my frantic heart.

He ran his hand over my heated flesh, exploring me. His fingers traced the welts, each touch sending a fresh jolt of pain and a confusing wave of pleasure through me.

“Look at this beautiful, bright red ass,” he murmured. “All marked up from Daddy’s belt. All Daddy’s.”

His fingers dipped lower, tracing the cleft between my cheeks. He teased my bottom hole, lightly circling around it. The wicked nature of it sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my clit.

“One day, Daddy is going to claim this tight little hole, and you’re going to take it like a good little pet, aren’t you?”

His thumb pressed gently against the tight ring of muscle, not entering, just promising, making my entire body clench.

I could only whimper in response, my mind a jumbled mess of pain and rampant arousal.

He removed his hand, and I felt a sudden, inexplicable loss of his touch. Then I heard the leather whisper again. But he didn’t strike me with it. Instead, I felt the cool, smooth length of it encircle my throat.

He tightened it, just enough to make me aware of the collaring. Just enough to make my breathing hitch, to make my pulse leap against the pressure. A heady, terrifying rush of adrenaline surged through me. I was completely at his mercy, and I wanted more.

“Get on your hands and knees, little pet.”

My arms trembled as I pushed myself away from the hearth.

Sergei kept the belt loose around my throat as he guided me backward several steps onto the thick wool rug. I lowered myself carefully, first onto my knees and then my hands, my punished skin protesting every movement.