by Julia Sykes
I blinked, my full attention returning to her rather than remaining caught up in my memories. “You want to?” I’d beaten her with cruel indifference, all earlier joy in the game forgotten. Her request to try again surprised me.
“Yes. I’ll do better next time.” She straightened her spine, seeming to shake off the influence of my dark mood. “I know I can beat you.”
A half-smile tilted my lips. “Tomorrow,” I promised. “I have another game I want to play with my clever gatita.”
There was a way she could help me alleviate the darkness that had claimed my thoughts.
I stood from where we’d been seated at my desk and held out my hand. “Come.”
She took it without question and followed me docilely into the playroom. When I continued our progress toward the spanking bench, her steps faltered.
“Andrés…”
I paused and turned to her so I could cup her cheeks in my hands. I stared down into her eyes, attempting to impose my will on her. Instead, something like desperation gripped my chest.
“I need you to cry for me.” The rough words tumbled from my lips, almost beseeching. I wanted her consent. I wanted her to cede this to me willingly.
A fine tremor raced across her body, but she swallowed and nodded. “Okay,” she agreed quietly.
I blew out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I stroked her cheekbones with my thumbs. “I know it scares you, but you’ll enjoy this, kinky virgin,” I promised. “You will come to crave it.”
She nodded again, her eyes cautious. She was choosing to place her trust in me, choosing to give me what I needed. After thoughts of my lost loved ones had flooded my mind for the first time in years, I needed to harness control over the images in my head. I needed her to siphon off some of the pain inside my soul through releasing her tears for me.
I resumed our progress toward the spanking bench, and she didn’t hesitate this time. She compliantly draped her body over the furniture designed for her torment, and she didn’t struggle as I strapped her into place. I ran my fingers over the leather than held her trapped and helpless beneath me, already soothed somewhat by the sight of her at my mercy.
I left her briefly to retrieve the first implement for her torment from the ebony chest of drawers set against the wall where my whips hung, waiting to wring more exquisite screams from her throat.
I lubed up the plug and returned to her. This one was larger than the one I’d used when I’d cropped her. It would test her limits, but I intended to push her to the edge of what she could handle.
She jerked in her bonds when I touched the tip of the black toy to her asshole, and she remained stiff, even as I began to circle her clit with my forefinger.
“Relax,” I rebuked, spanking her pussy lightly.
She drew in a shuddering breath, and her tight ring of muscles eased just enough for me to penetrate her with the tip of the plug. I pressed it forward slowly but firmly, rubbing her little bud at the same time. Despite the fact that it began to harden beneath my fingers, she whimpered at the ruthless intrusion.
“Please,” she panted. “It’s too big.”
“Does it hurt, cosita?” I murmured, a hungry edge to the words.
“Yes,” she whined. “It burns.”
“Good. I like making you hurt. You like it, too. Your cunt is soaking my hand.”
A soft sob left her chest, and my tumultuous emotions began to subside. “Take it for me. You want to please me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice high and thin. She began to squirm on the bench, grinding her clit against my fingers. She got off on pleasing me, despite the discomfort I was inflicting. Or perhaps because of it.
“Good girl,” I praised, pushing the plug all the way in, so it was seated deep inside her.
She gasped, and her muscles tensed. I stroked my hand down her spine. “You’ll adjust soon. I’m going to train your tight little ass to accept me.”
As I continued to pet her, she began to relax. Her head dropped forward, her cheek resting meekly on the padded leather surface of the bench.
“Very good,” I rumbled. “I need more. You’ll take whatever I give you.”
She nodded, her silence communicating that she was falling into her quiet headspace. She’d find peace in surrendering to me, just as I’d find peace in her screams. She’d cry out the pain I couldn’t release from my own soul.
I flipped the small switch at the base of the plug, and it buzzed to life. She shouted her surprise, and her back arched as much as possible in her restraints. After a moment, she moaned and shuddered, finding dark pleasure in the sensation as her ass fully accepted being stretched and filled.
Satisfied that she was thoroughly in my thrall, I selected the whip I wanted. It was softer than the flogger I’d chosen for her when she’d tried to escape from me. This one wouldn’t elicit the same cruel sting, but it was heavy enough that she’d feel the impact thrumming through her. I didn’t intend to punish this time, but I would extract my pleasure from her.
Her eyes widened when they fell on the whip, but I shushed her before panic gripped her, placing a steadying hand on her lower back. The heat of my palm sank into her, and she shivered and quieted.
“This is going to hurt,” I told her smoothly, falling into my own intoxicating headspace. Desire for her flooded me, but I’d attain satisfaction from her tears rather than burning with the need to claim her pussy. I was thoroughly in control, power humming in my veins.
I threaded my fingers in her hair, tugging her head back as I leaned in to murmur in her ear. “Will you cry for me, sirenita?”
A small whimper teased through her lips, but she nodded as best she could with my grip on her hair. I eased my harsh hold and stroked the silken strands. She sighed, and her eyes drifted closed as she settled into submission.
I stepped behind her and swung the flogger. The first blow made harsh impact, and she jolted forward as she cried out. I didn’t pause to give her a reprieve. Instead, I worked her harder, until beautiful tears spilled down her face, glistening on her flushed cheeks. Her shrieks melted into tormented groans as the vibrating plug continued to stimulate her ass, her pleasure cresting despite the pain I inflicted. I drove her higher, until she relinquished all control on a sob. She shuddered, ceding everything to me as she released the sounds of my inner agony.
I stopped whipping her as my muscles finally relaxed, calm settling over my shoulders. I resumed rubbing her clit, finding her wet and needy beneath my hand. At the same time, I gripped her flame-red ass, reveling in the heat against my palm as I dug my fingers deep to mark her.
She shattered on a scream, her lithe body tensing and thrashing on the bench. Ecstatic sensation overwhelmed her, bliss claiming her senses. Just as I’d demanded, she gave me everything: her pain, her pleasure, her absolute submission to my will. She soothed the dark need in my soul, allowing the blackness to bleed out of me.
I leaned into her and kissed the delicious tears on her cheeks, reveling in the salty flavor of her complete surrender.
Chapter 15
Somehow, I’d lost track of time. Or maybe I’d been willfully ignoring it. I’d found too much pleasure in spending time with Samantha, either reading her comic books with her cuddled in my arms or indulging in increasingly challenging games of chess. My clever captive was a quick study, and she was becoming a formidable opponent.
I hadn’t felt the need to hurt her since I’d last taken her into the playroom, but that hadn’t stopped me from extracting pleasure from her body. With each passing day, I ached more to claim her fully, but I would wait until she was ready to give herself to me. The budding affection she displayed toward me and the trust she’d placed in me gave me hope that I wouldn’t have to wait much longer.
While she was growing closer to ceding her virginity, she was still a long way from complying with my brother’s demands that she work for him. She maintained her stubborn streak, but I couldn’t bring myself to tame it
out of her. I wanted her, not an altered version. Samantha’s willing, genuine devotion meant everything.
Now, the lightness in my soul darkened once again. Cristian had called me to a meeting, and I realized I was running out of time to win Samantha’s cooperation. Mere days remained before his deadline, and this meeting couldn’t mean anything good.
He’d summoned me to the brothel on the third floor of my building. It was almost as bad as the basement. The women held here against their will were drugged and empty inside, hollowed out by Bliss like Lauren.
When I entered the opulent room, the scent of sex and an aura of misery hit me hard. The decadent red velvet drapes and gold gilding on the walls didn’t mask the palpable despair that filled the space.
Cristian sat in a wing-backed chair, occupying it like a throne. Two bodyguards stood at his sides, and he held a naked woman draped on his lap. She trembled with fear, but I could scent her forced arousal. She must have been given a small dose to still be lucid enough to feel any emotion other than lust. Cristian did like to torment his victims. And he liked to torment me with such disgusting displays.
I schooled my features to a blank mask, resolving not to rise to his bait. It was imperative that I maintain control if I was going to defend Samantha.
“Is she ready?” he drawled when I stopped a few yards away from him, keeping careful distance between us.
My stomach knotted. “She will be soon. I need a little more time.” I tasted the lie on my tongue, but I kept my tone even to prevent Cristian from detecting it.
He cocked his head at me and twisted the woman’s nipples, pinching cruelly. She let out a tortured whimper, torn between pain and unwilling arousal.
My muscles tensed, and I found that I couldn’t ease the pent-up aggression from my shoulders. I barely prevented my fists from curling at my sides.
Cristian smirked. “Maybe I should find another use for our FBI agent until she’s ready,” he mused softly. “I think some time in the brothel might do her good. If you’re not making progress with her, maybe my other men can.”
I couldn’t bite back my snarl. “No one else touches her. I’ll kill anyone who tries. Samantha is mine.”
His dark brows lifted. “Anyone, little brother? Are you threatening me? You know that isn’t wise.” The warning was edged with malice, but his black eyes sparked with anticipation.
He wouldn’t hurt me this time. He’d punish me by harming her. He’d jump on any excuse to take Samantha from me, rescinding the gift he’d given me. Depriving me of my toy.
She was so much more than that. She wasn’t my little doll, my fucktoy to use for my own empty pleasures.
If Cristian had any idea what she really meant to me, he’d snatch her away in a heartbeat, just to find sick satisfaction in torturing me. Unlike my rules with Samantha, my brother wasn’t a fair man. He punished with impunity, just to fulfil his own sadistic desires.
“I’ll make sure she’s compliant,” I resolved, trying to convince myself as much as him. “I just need a little more time. The Bureau doesn’t know we have her. They aren’t closing in on us, so it can’t hurt to wait a little while longer.” I desperately clung to reason.
Cristian considered me silently for a moment, drawing out my agony. His lips curved upward. “All right, hermanito. Keep your toy. Just make sure she’s broken in soon, or I’ll see to it myself. I don’t think you want that.”
“No,” I growled out the staunch refusal.
He waved me away with an imperious flick of his fingers. “You can go. Get back to work on her.”
I managed to conceal my rage and panic until I reached the privacy of the elevator. Then, I punched the metal wall hard enough to leave a dent. My uncertainty threatened to drive me to madness. I had to protect Samantha, but that meant turning her into someone different. She wanted to be the hero; she was inherently good. She’d fight me if I tried to change the nature of her soul. I wasn’t even sure it was possible.
Gritting my teeth, I strengthened my resolve. Even an altered Samantha was better than seeing my sweet pet tortured by my brother. If he broke her, he’d break me.
I stormed into the bedroom, the door slamming against the wall as I flung it open with the force of my pent-up rage. I didn’t want this for her, for me. Cristian hadn’t left me with any other choice.
Her eyes widened with fear, and she scooted back on the mattress as much as her tether to the bedpost would allow. She wouldn’t be able to escape me.
The idea soured my stomach, stoking my frustrated fury.
“Wait!” she gasped out. “Andrés, wait. Please.”
The tremor in her voice stopped me in my tracks. I could grab her in a few long strides, but her fear froze me in place.
“You’re upset,” she said quickly. “I don’t like it when you’re like this. You scare me. Please, don’t…don’t hurt me.” Her crestfallen, betrayed expression made my soul ache.
A low, feral sound rumbled from my chest, and my fists clenched at my sides.
“Please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. What happened? Is it your brother? What did he—?”
“Of course it’s my brother!” I shouted. She cringed, but that didn’t stop me from closing the distance between us and grabbing her upper arms. I pulled her body against mine, snarling down at her when she tried to twist out of my grip. “He wants to see you. He expects you to be ready by now. But you’re not. I’ve been too soft with you.”
“You haven’t,” she squeaked, desperate. “You don’t have to hurt me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I bellowed. “He does. Why can’t you understand that? I’m not the one who wants to break you. I want to save you. I want to protect you. I can’t do that if you continue to defy me.”
“I haven’t defied you,” she gasped, shuddering in my grip. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“No,” I railed, shaking her hard. “I’ve given you everything you’ve asked. I’ve tried to make you happy here with me. I’ve indulged you and played with you when I was supposed to be training you. And now he wants to see you, and you’re not ready.”
“I am,” she insisted, her voice shaking with terror.
“Don’t lie to me, Samantha,” I warned on a growl. “You think you can manipulate me with your pretty tears? You think I’ll do anything you ask if you smile for me? I won’t allow you to play games with me. I’m in control. You belong to me.”
“You’re not in control.” Her pretty eyes began to shine. “You’re scaring me. You’re hurting me.”
I realized my fingers were digging into her upper arms with bruising force, but I couldn’t release her.
My heart stuttered when her expression softened, and she reached out to cup my scarred cheek. She’d never touched my face with tenderness. No one had. I flinched as keen, unbearable emotion assailed me.
She didn’t relent; she pressed her palm against my scar. The sensation of her tangible touch around the damaged tissue was exquisite torment.
“Talk to me,” she begged. “Tell me what happened.”
“What happened is my brother takes everything from me,” I said on a harsh whisper. “Abuela, Valentina. Now, he wants to take you.” I pulled her closer, until my face was an inch from hers. She filled my entire vision, my entire world. “He can’t have you. You’re mine.”
“Yes,” she agreed softly. “I’m yours. I’m not going anywhere. You won’t let Cristian take me away. I…I trust you.”
She traced the line of my scar with her fingertips, there was little physical sensation in my damaged nerve endings, but I felt the light touch deep in my soul. I shuddered and leaned into her hand.
My hold on her arms eased, and I embraced her, cradling her body carefully against mine.
“Sirenita,” I rasped, strained. “Lo siento.” I turned my face into her palm, kissing it in contrition.
“What happened to them?” she whispered. “The people your brother took from you. Your grandmother
and sister.”
My lips thinned in a grimace, but I didn’t tighten my arms around her. My Samantha was precious and fragile, and I’d handled her too roughly. I’d scared her. I kissed her palm again, placing my trust in her.
I braced myself for pain, and my confession tumbled from my lips. “Valentina…” My voice hitched on her name. “My sister. Half-sister. Cristian and I share the same father as Valentina. Our father kept her mother as his mistress after our mother passed away, but she died giving birth to Valentina. Father let Valentina’s grandmother live on our estate, so she could care for her. Valentina was my best friend. Her grandmother became mí abuela. I spent more time in their home than my own. Cristian was always jealous of our friendship, our little family. As the oldest, father was harder on him. He had more responsibilities, a legacy resting on his shoulders.”
I understood why my brother possessed such sadistic tendencies. He’d learned them from my father at a young age. That knowledge didn’t erase the years of torment I’d suffered at his cruel hands.
“Your father dealt in cocaine,” Samantha prompted gently, pressing me to continue. “He wanted Cristian to take over the business?”
“Yes. But then father died when I was sixteen. Heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.”
My jaw firmed. “He was not a nice man. But I had a home with Abuela and Valentina. Until Cristian took over father’s organization. He resented us, our family. Maybe if I hadn’t left him alone with father, things would have been different. But he always had a sadistic streak, even as a child. I wanted nothing to do with him. He scared me, so I stayed away.”
“What did he do?”
“He sold Valentina.” The dark memory left me on a strained whisper. I remembered the night the men had come to take her from our home, remembered the agony of Cristian’s beating when I tried to fight to keep my sister. “She was fourteen. He traded her for money, for bribes to secure his place as father’s successor. Well, he said it was for money. He did it to punish me. To punish both of us for our happy childhood. One that had been denied him.”