by Julia Sykes
It wasn’t love. I couldn’t love Dimitri, because he was incapable of loving me. Wasn’t he?
“Do you love me?” I asked in a whisper.
He considered me for a long moment. “You are mine, myshka. I will always want you.”
The place where my heart had begun to knit back together ripped open again. I had thought he changed for me. I thought we were equals. We would be together forever, but I would never be his partner. I was his possession, and I couldn’t allow myself to forget that.
Chapter 14
“You shouldn’t be in bed. I know it hurts, but the doctor said you need to move around normally while your ribs heal.” Dimitri closed the bedroom door behind him and approached me where I lay on the soft mattress.
“I know,” I replied hollowly. It was mid-morning, but I hadn’t gotten up yet. Over the last week, listlessness had taken hold. Everything hurt, and I found myself alone most of the time.
He reached out to cup my cheek, and I flinched away when I saw the dried blood caked on his knuckles. It wasn’t the first time he had returned to me with blood on his hands.
He frowned and resolutely touched his fingertips to the uninjured side of my face. “This won’t hurt you,” he said firmly. “I want to touch you.”
“No, you don’t.” I was distantly shocked to realize that I sounded almost petulant. Dimitri barely laid a hand on me anymore.
His lips turned down further. “You know I can’t fuck you. You are injured.”
I turned my face away, embarrassed by my show of sullenness. “I’m lonely,” I admitted softly.
He ran his fingers through my hair. “I miss you too, myshka,” he murmured.
My heart squeezed. “You miss me?”
He gave me a small smile. “Yes. I’m sorry I have been away so much. I will be able to spend more time with you soon. I just need things to stabilize. Not everyone believes a son should inherit his father’s position. Not in our business.”
“Oh.” I didn’t like the reminder of Dimitri’s bloody lifestyle, but I was somewhat mollified by his admission that he actually missed me when he was away. It was the closest he had ever come to admitting he had feelings for me.
“I have some time now,” he offered. “Would you like to see the new stables? I will take you to see your horse.”
“Yes!” I immediately regretted my exuberant outburst when pain pierced my chest. Dimitri squeezed my hand – the one without the stitches – in a show of comfort. I smiled through the ache.
Outside. I was going outside. To meet my horse.
In the aftermath of my brutal encounter with Dimitri’s father, I had all but forgotten about our discussion over dinner. Dimitri had an entire stable built just for me. To make me happy. And he missed me.
He might not be capable of love, but he definitely cared.
* * * * *
The sun was shining brightly, but the light breeze chilled my skin. The pretty pale green cotton dress Dimitri had given me wasn’t enough to keep me comfortable. When I had last been outside, it was in the heat of late June. How long had I been Dimitri’s captive? I shivered.
“Are you cold?” Dimitri asked, his voice softly concerned.
Before I could answer, he wrapped his arm around me and rubbed away the goose bumps. His touch warmed more than just my skin, and I forgot about my worry over the changing seasons.
It took nearly fifteen minutes to walk from the house to the stables. We weren’t even halfway there when my breathing became slightly labored, and my ribs ached. I resolutely ignored it. It was far too beautiful out on Dimitri’s vast grounds to return to the confinement of the bedroom. For the first time since he had taken me, I felt… free.
The musty scent of hay on the wind was like coming home. I inhaled deeply and broke into a light jog to close the final distance to the stable. The resultant, jarring pain in my chest was nothing compared to the swelling of my heart. It expanded until it strained against my lungs, so full of emotion that I thought it might burst.
The immaculate structure was nothing like my family’s ramshackle barn. The smells were the same, but the setting so distressingly different. Everything was both familiar and foreign. A wave of homesickness rolled through me, and I reached up to touch my cross pendant. The reminder of my family brought tears to my eyes. I realized I hadn’t even thought of them in days. Possibly weeks. All I ever thought about was Dimitri and when he would return to me and what he might do to me. I even spent much of my time thinking of how I could make him happy. His pleasure had become the sole purpose of my existence. At some point, appeasing him for the sake of my own survival had cost me my free will.
He caught up with me and pulled me into a gentle embrace, careful not to squeeze too hard. One large hand cupped my nape, tucking my face against his strong chest.
“Don’t cry, myshka,” he cooed.
The simple, sweet gesture made me come undone.
No one was coming for me. My parents might be looking, but they would have found me by now if Dimitri hadn’t made it impossible. And now that he directly controlled his father’s violent organization, it was less likely than ever that someone might rescue me.
My last shreds of hope leaked out of my eyes in fat, wet drops. He was the reason I was no longer with my family, yet I clung to Dimitri for support as sobs wracked my broken ribs.
“It’s okay,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
My mind tacked on his unspoken word: forever.
I don’t know how long I cried against him, but eventually Dimitri lifted me up in his arms and carefully cradled my body against his chest. At first, I thought he was going to carry me back to my cell, but we headed deeper into the stables. A hot stream of air blew over me, and I blinked the water out of my eyes.
Dimitri had stopped beside one of the stalls, and a gorgeous dapple-grey gelding poked his head over the door to sniff at me.
I automatically lifted my hand to his nose. After a moment’s inspection, he leaned into my palm. The velvety feel of his fine hair against my skin was so achingly familiar that I almost started crying again.
Dimitri reached into his pocket and pulled out a peppermint treat. I took it from him and offered it to the horse. I sniffled away the last of my tears, and gave the big grey a small smile.
Horses always had a calming effect on me. Before I was taken, I went to the barn whenever I had a bad day. Something about being with them soothed me.
The gelding snorted against my palm, demanding more food. Forgetting my emotional upheaval, I giggled in delight.
“What will you name him?” Dimitri asked, his voice imbued with warm satisfaction.
“George,” I said instantly. I had always thought it was a friendly, jolly name.
He chuckled. “Isn’t that a human name?”
“Horses are people, too,” I said the well worn line with familiar sternness. I had spent a lifetime correcting people. Horses were more than pets. They had their own personalities and strong wills that should be respected. Otherwise, you would get a bite or a kick. A horse could be broken with a whip, but you had to earn his love.
George’s lips teased at my hand, looking for another treat. “Greedy boy,” I said indulgently, taking another from Dimitri and offering it to my new friend.
“I think he likes you,” Dimitri grinned down at me. “Do you like him?”
I patted George’s forelock with affection. “Yes. I can’t wait to ride him. He’s so beautiful.”
“You have to wait at least five more weeks,” he said firmly. “But you can come see him whenever you want. If I’m working, Roman will bring you out here.”
“Did you mean what you said before?” I asked, remembering what he had told me over dinner on the night of the attack. “You want me to teach you to ride?”
“Would you like that?”
“Yes. I miss being around horses. Thank you.”
“Come on. Say goodbye to George.” Dimitri began to carry me away
from the gelding. “You have to help me name my mare. What do you have in mind? Ellen?” He mocked.
A gorgeous bay mare kept a haughty distance in the next stall. She didn’t come to greet us like George had. I held out an insistent hand to Dimitri.
“Give me a treat.”
Smiling, he pressed another against my waiting fingers. I held it out to the mare. She sniffed at the air and then deigned to extend her neck far enough to snatch it off my flattened palm. I decided I liked her haughtiness. She would be good for Dimitri.
“Boudicca,” I declared. “Her name is Boudicca.”
“The warrior queen?” Dimitri asked, proving he knew his history.
“Yes. It suits her.”
“The Romans defeated her, you know.”
I shot him a smug smirk. “Yeah. Good luck with that.”
His lips still vibrated with laughter when he brought them down on mine.
I was finally coming to accept that the estate was my home, not my prison. Ever since Dimitri had gifted me with the stables, I spent as much time outdoors as I did indoors. I no longer dreamed of rescue or a future that didn’t include Dimitri. He had made it clear that was impossible.
But even though it wasn’t what I once thought I wanted, my life wasn’t at all unpleasant. I spent my days with horses, as I had always done. And I spent most of my evenings with the most gorgeous man I had ever laid eyes on. A man who was – in his own way – devoted to me.
He had certain expectations for my behavior, but was it really so terrible having him hold me and care for me? I had once resented it, but truthfully, it was nice being taken care of.
As I brushed George’s silky coat to a glossy shine, I idly wondered when Dimitri might deem me fully recovered. It couldn’t be long now. I ached for his carnal touch, but he wouldn’t even allow me to satisfy him. His show of concern over my healing was sweet, but I couldn’t deny that I missed the dark pleasure he gave me.
“I see you two are getting along well.”
I jolted at the sound of his deep, accented voice. Conditioned joy at his arrival made my heart flutter, and I flung myself into his waiting arms. He chuckled and gave me a light kiss.
“I missed you too, myshka.”
My stomach did a little flip, just as it did every time he admitted that he missed being with me.
“I thought you might want to ride today,” he commented casually.
My chest tightened as my breath caught, but it didn’t hurt my ribs at all. “Really?” I asked excitedly. “I can ride?”
It didn’t even register that I was asking for his permission. He grinned down at me.
“Yes. I will, too.”
“And you still want me to be your trainer?” I could hardly believe Dimitri was willing to take instructions from me.
His eyes glittered, and he caught my hand in his. “Come. I want you to explain the tack to me.”
Something about the way his lips curled at the corners made trepidation prick at the edges of my mind. I didn’t have time to contemplate it before he tugged me along into the tack room. The place was shiny and new, without a speck of the perpetual dust that coated my family’s barn. The concrete floor was pale grey rather than musty yellow, and the polished wood paneled walls practically gleamed.
“This place needs some dirt,” I muttered.
“You want it dirty?” There was a dark edge to Dimitri’s teasing tone, and I recognized the predator at my side.
Somehow, I had romanticized our erotic encounters over the last several weeks of celibacy, but now I remembered the fear that accompanied Dimitri’s sexual games.
I tried to put some distance between us, but he held me fast, pulling me toward the sawhorse in the center of the room. A saddle was situated on it, where I had placed it earlier to treat the leather.
“I don’t know how these things work,” Dimitri said in a mocking voice that belied his claim of ignorance.
His hand suddenly pressed between my shoulder blades, and my body folded over the side of the saddle. I caught myself by wrapping my fingers around the legs of the sawhorse. My stomach clenched when I saw the short lengths of twine from the hay bales that were already secured just where my hands had fallen. He had prepared this trap for me.
I tried to push myself up, but Dimitri was already there, grabbing one wrist and knotting the twine around it.
My sexual obedience was rusty after being neglected for so long, and I struggled, my free hand clawing at Dimitri’s fingers in an attempt to slow his progress. He calmly grasped it and redirected it to the opposite leg of the sawhorse. Within seconds, I was tied down. My breath came in sharp gasps as fear flooded me. Fear that made me wet.
I twisted against my bonds, and the twine dug into my skin. It was thinner than the ropes Dimitri had used on me in the past, and its bite was crueler.
His fingers closed around my jaw, and he lifted my face to his where he crouched in front of me.
“Do not fight me.” How could I have forgotten that chillingly stern countenance? I swallowed hard and went still. He smirked. “I want you to train me.” He put sardonic emphasis on the word. “Is this the proper way to use the saddle?”
“Dimitri, please.” I panted out the plea. It was too humiliating. This was meant to be my domain, and he was taking it from me.
His lips brushed across my cheek. “I forgot how sweet you sound when you beg,” he whispered in my ear. “I have missed you, myshka.”
The sentiment warped with his new meaning. He missed degrading me.
My rippling core told me I had missed it, too.
He held a short, rigid rubber bar up to my face. It had metal circles hooked through either end, which had short leather straps extending from them.
“And this is called a bit, correct?”
My eyes widened with horror.
“Don’t do this to me,” I said desperately. The illusion of being more than his sex slave was shattering. He had given me clothes and freedom to move around the estate. With the horses and my cross pendant, I thought he had given my soul back.
But it had never been mine. He had claimed it long ago, and he never intended to return it to me.
He pressed the rubber bar against my teeth. I twisted my head and snapped at his hand. He evaded my bite and took advantage of my open mouth, pushing the bar between my lips. It shoved in as he secured the straps with a buckle at the back of my head. I worked my tongue against it, trying in vain to spit it out.
The tip of a crop touched beneath my chin, lifting my face so my eyes met his. I glared up at him, breathing hard. His hand tightened around the handle of the whip.
“I use this to show my pet who is Master.” He was no longer asking. His cocky smile told me who was truly in charge of training.
Familiar defeat rolled over me. There was no point fighting him. He would always win, and there would never be any escape. And my body responded to his twisted treatment. I wanted him to whip me. That knowledge broke me.
I had agreed to be his willing slave. I would accept that role, because I had no other choice. And when it came down to it, I enjoyed being his slave. I enjoyed being hurt and fucked and petted and held. Dimitri had seen my true nature from the very beginning. It was time I embraced it.
I dropped my eyes and took a deep, calming breath. His fingertips trailed down my cheek.
“You are so beautiful. I cannot wait to ride you.”
The dichotomy of being both cherished and tormented muddled my mind, and I sank deeper into defeat, welcoming it.
Satisfied with my submission, Dimitri stepped behind me and quickly unfastened the buttons on my jeans, yanking the rough material down my legs along with my barely-there black thong. Cool air washed over my heated, desire-slick pussy. I was ready for him to fuck me, but he made me wait. I had no power, no say in how or when he gave me pleasure. The gag prevented me from even begging for release. He truly had mastered my body, and in that moment, my mind was thoroughly in his thrall.
/> I cried out at the first snap of the crop against my flesh. It elicited no more than a light sting, but I was no longer accustomed to Dimitri’s erotic torture, and the sensation took me by surprise. I twisted against my tethers on instinct, and the twine abraded my delicate skin.
He shushed me gently and ran the tongue of the crop down the length of my spine. I shuddered and then stilled, surrendering.
I expected another blow across my ass, but the crop tapped at my inner thigh. Dimitri made a clucking sound, and I instantly understood what he wanted. Balancing myself against the saddle, I widened my stance as far as my jeans around my ankles would allow, opening up my sex to him.
A harsh sting flared on my clit when he flicked the whip against it. My shocked shout morphed into a strangled groan when he began tapping. Heat built steadily as the light kiss of the crop teased my abused bud. The sting turned to a pervasive burn, flames licking at my pussy in tandem with the whip. I lost myself completely, overwhelmed by sensation. The cruel ecstasy of the pleasure/pain he gave me overtook what was left of conscious thought, and I mindlessly arched back into him, silently begging for more.
“Come for me, pet.” A sharp snap against my clit sent me over the edge, and I screamed out my orgasm. The sound mingled with his low, satisfied laugh. He gloried in my utter defeat. And so did I.
I slumped over the saddle, sucking in deep breaths. Before I could fully recover, he reached over me and clipped long leather straps to the rings at either side of the bit gag.
Reins. Humiliation pooled low in my belly, feeding the heat at my core. I didn’t make a sound of protest.
His hard, thick cock sank between my swollen folds, and he tugged on the reins. The bit pulled deep into my mouth. My body shifted back to alleviate the pressure, and he penetrated me impossibly further.
Just as he had longed to do, he rode me hard, pulling back on the reins every time he fucked into me. Pain flared inside me at his harsh treatment after the long emptiness of my recovery, but I found perverse pleasure in it. Rough cries left my chest on each thrust, and blissful tears wet my cheeks from the intensity of our sexual reunion.