by Julia Sykes
I had to surrender to Andrés, but he wasn't giving me a choice. The restraints around my body weren't part of a kinky game, designed to help me let go of my inhibitions. They were punitive, a means of subjugating me, just as the collar had been. Everything I'd ever secretly longed for was being twisted. As perverted as it was to fantasize about my best friend tying me down and whipping me, that fantasy was sweet and practically vanilla compared to my horrific reality.
I didn't have a safe word. I couldn't do anything to stop this.
When the first hit landed, I shrieked into the gag, my entire body jerking against my restraints in an instinctive effort to move away. The cuffs held fast, and the belt around my waist kept me trapped against the bench.
I stared back at him, silently pleading.
Don't. Not again. I don't like this.
The initial sting of the falls striking my bottom was morphing into a deeper burn, leaving my skin smarting.
"Your eyes are so lovely," he said, studying me with purely masculine appreciation. My wide, shining eyes did nothing to dissuade him. If anything, he was getting turned on. His cock began to stiffen as I shook my head, my pleas muffled by the gag.
A hash cry tore from my throat when he brought the flogger down twice in rapid succession, hitting one cheek and then the other, leaving a scorching path where the thin leather falls raked across my skin.
He paused as I heaved out a sob, but he wasn't looking at my face anymore. He studied my bottom, lightly running his fingertips over my enflamed skin. The contact tingled and stung, and I whined in protest.
"So pretty and red," he observed. He gripped my cheek hard, his fingers digging into my tender flesh. I tried to wriggle away, but there was nowhere to go. "I want to see my fingerprints on your ass tomorrow," he said, as though explaining his actions made them rational. "The bruises from the flogger will remind you of your punishment, but this marks you as mine." He increased the pressure of his cruel hold, and my breath stuttered as tears began to stream down my face.
Finally, he released my cheek. I didn't have time to sag in relief before he brought the flogger down on me again, swift and merciless.
I threw back my head and screamed into the gag, but I couldn't do anything to stop him. He spread the burn of the stinging falls across my bottom and down my upper thighs, painting my flesh with hot red pain.
My entire body began to quiver as my muscles started to give out. I'd been twisting and tugging against my restraints on animal instinct, but I couldn't keep up even that much resistance. I went limp against the bench, trembling.
"Good girl," he said, his voice deeper than I'd ever heard it. "Accept your punishment. You know you've earned it."
My tears came faster. I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve anything that was happening to me.
But the gag kept my protest locked inside. I couldn't do anything but surrender.
I drew in a shuddering breath, submitting to the pain. As soon as I did, my mind entered a quiet, resigned space. Each blow still stung, but I noticed the heavy thud permeating deeper into my flesh. It was rhythmic. Hypnotic. My breathing began to even out as I focused solely on the sensation of harsh leather hitting my burning skin, the whoosh and smack of the flogger moving through the air before making contact. Everything else faded: thought, worry, emotion.
I barely registered when the blows stopped. I'd retreated to a protective place in some deep corner of my mind I'd never found before. My rapid-fire thoughts and volatile emotions couldn't touch me here.
I was dimly aware of Andrés' deep voice murmuring a soothing litany in Spanish as his calloused hands traced the contours of my motionless body.
The gag slipped from my mouth and the restraints fell away, but I didn't try to get up. I couldn't have moved a muscle, even if I wanted to. And resistance didn't even occur to me. That defiant line of thinking had been thoroughly obliterated.
He lifted me up and tucked me against his chest. My tears wet his skin as he carried me away from the bench where I'd been bound and whipped.
I was too exhausted and wrung-out to even register relief. I passed out in his arms before we made it back to the bed.
Chapter 10
I rolled onto my back and jolted awake with a gasp when my bottom throbbed. Wincing, I immediately positioned myself on my side. Something tugged at my neck as I moved. I reached up and touched my throat, finding smooth leather beneath my fingertips. Andrés had collared me again. I must have been totally passed out not to have woken up when he was locking around my neck.
I don’t have to keep you collared and chained to trap you here. I just like it. I like knowing you’re naked in my bed, waiting for me.
His sick words played through my mind as I remembered our terrifying encounter in the middle of the night. I closed my eyes as the full shame and horror of everything he'd done to me washed over me. He'd toyed with me, allowing me to try to escape just so he could punish me for it. He'd taken me to that awful room, strapped me down, gagged me; he'd rendered me completely powerless and flogged my helpless body.
Gingerly, I touched my bottom and winced again as pain flared. I twisted my head back so I could look down at myself. My breath caught at the sight of mottled purple bruises marring my pale skin. Five smaller marks formed a rough circular pattern on my left cheek.
I want to see my fingerprints on your ass tomorrow, he'd said. The bruises from the flogger will remind you of your punishment, but this marks you as mine.
I cringed and tore my eyes away from the brand he'd left behind. I didn't need the physical reminder of the pain for the punishment to be burned into my mind.
I wouldn't try to use the elevator again.
It would be stupid and pointless, anyway. If I had access to a computer, I could hack into the building's security system and override the thumbprint recognition, no problem. But without technology, I was powerless. Andrés had made it painfully clear that I wasn't cut out to be a field agent. Months of training in hand-to-hand combat hadn't helped me at all when it came to facing him.
He hadn't needed to collar me and chain me to his bed to keep me from trying to access the elevator. Even though I was alone in the bedroom, I wouldn't have tried to escape that way in his absence. The security system probably logged failed attempts to press the call button. He’d know if I touched it without him here to witness my transgression. I didn't want to risk another punishment for nothing.
My stomach rumbled, rousing me from my dejected state.
Survive, my body reminded me.
I had to keep going, keep fit. I'd never get out of here if I let myself waste away into weakness. I needed to keep my calorie count up and stay hydrated in case an opportunity to escape did present itself.
I sat up in bed and hissed when my weight settled on my bruises. Even the soft mattress was almost too hard to bear.
Grimacing, I glanced around the room. As I'd hoped, the food cart was waiting for me, the fancy platter covered to keep my meal warm.
I wasn't sure how long I'd been alone, but when I removed the cover, the bacon beneath was still warm, at least. I glanced out the windows and noted that the sun was up pretty high. Was that like, ten AM?
I wasn't sure. I wasn't exactly a nature girl, and surviving in the wild with the sun as my only clock wasn't a skill I'd ever had to acquire.
Even the nearly obsolete grandfather clock in the sitting room would have been preferable, but the bedroom door was closed again. Hell, I'd settle for a freaking sundial at this point.
Sighing, I bit into a particularly crispy piece of bacon. I nearly moaned at the rich, salty flavor.
Andrés might be a sadistic madman, but he was a sadistic madman with a great chef.
I tore my way through five strips of bacon before moving on to the most delicious spicy sausage I'd ever tasted. The breakfast was protein-heavy, and I wondered if Andrés had remembered what I'd said about being a meat lover.
Or maybe he was just trying to keep me slow and sle
epy with all this heavy, salty food, because by the time I'd devoured everything and downed a jug of water, I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes.
I was so tired, my brain weirdly fuzzy and slow. My thoughts were still firing, but not in as many directions as usual. My emotions—which should have been spinning in response to my dire predicament—were oddly subdued.
Idly, I wondered if Andrés had decided to drug the food, but I didn't believe he'd do that. No, he much preferred physically demonstrating my helplessness. As he'd said, he didn't need to use drugs to keep me compliant.
I wasn't sure how long I lay there, stray thoughts gliding across my mind from time to time as I settled into a state on the edge of sleep.
The click of the bedroom door opening roused me, and I sat bolt upright. I let out a little yelp at the sudden weight on my bottom, and I scrambled to cover my body with the sheet when I saw Lauren standing at the threshold.
"I just had breakfast," I said when I saw the cart she was pushing into the room. "I'm not hungry."
"I'm not here to bring you food," she said, her voice a hollow monotone. She was looking right at me, but her deep green eyes didn't spark with any emotion whatsoever. I might as well have been a statue she was talking to rather than another woman. She wasn't here to help me, even if she was a victim. She worked for my captor, regardless of whether or not she'd been brutalized and broken.
"Then what's that?" I asked warily, eyeing the items on the cart. There was a small silver pot and a stack of cloth strips, as well as what looked like cleansing wipes. I had no idea what I was looking at.
"Wax," she replied.
"Wax?" I repeated, still not following. Why would she have wax?
Something sparked in her eyes for the briefest moment. My stomach twisted when I registered it as pity.
"For your pussy," she replied bluntly.
I pulled the sheet all the way up to my chin and squeezed my thighs together, ignoring the flare of pain as I shifted my weight.
"No," I refused, sharp and immediate.
"I'm really good at it," she said, something like kindness softening her tone. "It will barely hurt. I do it all the time."
"Nope. Uh-uh. Not happening. You can leave now."
Her brow furrowed. "I can't do that."
"You totally can. Because I'm not getting my... I'm not getting waxed down there."
"You mean your pussy," she said, eyeing me strangely.
"I mean my lady parts, yes," I replied, my voice higher than usual. "They're not getting waxed. So you can go now, and take that shit with you." I gestured at the cart.
"Master Andrés doesn't like cussing," she said, setting the cart next to the bed.
"I know," I said bitterly, shifting my weight off my aching bottom. Something awful occurred to me. If Lauren wasn't my ally, was she my enemy? "You won't tell him, will you?" I asked desperately. I didn't want him to take me back into that scary room and hurt me again.
"No," she promised, her gaze softening with sympathy. "Just don't do it again, please."
I nodded, knowing she would probably get into trouble if he ever discovered she was keeping my transgression a secret. He was cruel, insane. What would he do to her if he found out she was showing me the smallest kindness? After my punishment last night, I was beginning to understand why Lauren was so compliant.
"Does he hurt you?" I asked quietly. "I don't want him to hurt you because of me."
She blinked at me, surprised. "Master Andrés is nice," she asserted for the second time.
"Okay," I said slowly, trying to wrap my mind around her warped headspace. "But does he hurt you? You can tell me. He hurt me, too."
"I wish Master Andrés would take care of me like he's taking care of you. You're lucky."
"Are you listening to me?" I demanded, my patience slipping. "I said he hurt me. He's not taking care of me."
She glared at me. "Do you want to be downstairs with the rest of us? Where they dose you with Bliss and make you beg them to rape you? Master Andrés is honest. He's fair. He's kind."
I bit my tongue to hold in a frustrated tirade. Lauren had obviously been driven mad. Through my frustration, guilt and pity twisted my gut. Piecing together what she'd revealed, Lauren was being regularly drugged and violated, but not by Andrés. I knew from my investigation that Cristian Moreno was involved in trafficking Bliss and using the sick drug to capture and sell women.
My stomach roiled. Andrés had claimed I'd beg him to fuck me, but at least he wasn't drugging me. We were locked in a battle of wills, and even though he'd won every round so far, I still had my wits about me to keep fighting. He might have forced me to surrender to punishment and wrung pleasure from my untried body, but I still had my mind.
"I'll help you get out of here, Lauren," I swore. "I'm going to get you out."
She stiffened. "I'm not going to help you escape."
"I didn't expect you to," I replied sadly. She was obviously too far gone to defy Andrés. She'd been broken a long time ago. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to help you. We'll get out of here."
She started at me, nonplussed. "I have a job to do," she announced after a few seconds of silence, as though I hadn't just made a passionate oath to set her free. "Lie on your back, please."
I blew out a long breath and complied. I could physically resist Lauren, but I didn't know what Andrés would do to her if I prevented her from following his orders. I remembered how he'd frightened the young man who'd defied him yesterday. Andrés had threatened to cut out his eye for looking at me.
I didn't want him to hurt Lauren because of my defiant choices. I'd choose another battle to fight with him, one that only involved the two of us and didn't risk collateral damage.
I stared up at the ceiling as she slid the sheet off my body, leaving me bare. I did my best not to squirm with discomfort at being stripped. I'd always been painfully modest, even around other women. I hadn't grown up with sisters or even female cousins, so I wasn't accustomed to anyone seeing me naked.
My cheeks heated, and I resolutely fisted my fingers into the sheet beneath me, preventing myself from slapping Lauren's hands away as she began to work.
The wax was almost painfully hot, but she was as practiced as she'd claimed. Every time she pulled a wax-covered cloth free, she'd apply pressure to my enflamed skin to alleviate the horrible sting that followed. There was nothing sexual about the way she touched me. She was almost clinical in the way she handled my most secret area, her eyes assessing her work rather than studying my sex.
"Done," she announced after a few uncomfortable minutes. She pulled away from me and started tidying everything on the cart.
"Thanks," I said automatically. "I mean. No, thanks. I mean, I didn't mean to thank you. That was totally fucked up. I mean, fuck. I didn't mean to cuss. Damn it. I just—" I stopped rambling before my social awkwardness could get me into more trouble.
Her hand settled over mine, squeezing gently. "I won't tell," she promised. "But you need to be good for Master Andrés."
"Why?" I challenged. "Because he'll beat me if I'm not?"
"Because he needs it."
I gaped at her. "He needs me to be good for him," I said flatly. "I don't know what kind of psycho world you've been living in, and whatever's happened to you, I really am sorry. And I am going to help you get out of here. But I'm not going to roll over and give up just because you told me to. I'm not going to behave for my sadistic captor who gets off on torturing women, no matter what you say."
She shook her head, her shining blond hair waving around her delicate face. "You don't understand him. You don't know him."
"And you do? Just how well do you know Master Andrés? What did he do to you, exactly?" Ugly emotions clawed at my insides: anger, bitterness, fear.
She lifted her chin. "He's nice," she insisted, as though that was the only way she was capable of thinking of Andrés.
Ice crystallized in my veins. What had he done to her to warp her so thoroughl
y?
“Thank you, Lauren,” his accented voice rolled through the room. “You can go now.”
I jolted and grabbed the sheet, jerking the fabric over my body. Andrés smirked at me as he stepped into the bedroom.
"You know you're not allowed to cover yourself, cosita," he said, more amused than stern. "Show me your pretty pussy. I want to see it."
Lauren hurried out of the room, but I couldn't focus on her retreating form. All my attention was riveted on the threat posed by Andrés. My body became very aware of his proximity, remembering the pain he'd inflicted the night before. My heartbeat picked up, my pulse racing. I wanted to pull the sheet all the way up over my head and hide like a child seeking protection from a monster.
But my bottom throbbed, a cruel reminder of what he was capable of if I disobeyed him. I'd already been naked around him pretty much since I'd gotten here. Why risk another punishment just to cover myself now? He'd look at me, one way or another.
Slowly, I curled my fingers into the sheet and forced myself to drag it off my body. His eyes went straight to my bare sex, and they darkened with hunger.
"Very pretty." He made a little rolling motion with his forefinger. "Turn over. I want to see my marks on you."
I glared at him.
He met me with a steady stare, waiting.
I huffed out an angry breath and rolled onto my front. It felt nice not having my weight on the bruises, anyway.
"On your hands and knees," he commanded. "Spread your thighs. I want to see my marks and my pussy."
My eyes narrowed farther, and I didn't move to comply. That was too much. He couldn't honestly expect me to present myself to him so wantonly. Not without putting up a fight.
Only, I didn't have time to fight. His arm snaked beneath my hips, pulling me up onto my knees.
"Hey!" I cried, indignant.
His hand cracked across my bruised thigh, and I shrieked.
"You will learn to obey me," he said calmly. "Spread your legs. Now," he added, the word imbued with warning.
My cheeks burning hotter than my thigh, I slowly eased my knees apart while he kept me in place with his arm braced beneath my stomach.