Chained - Zara Novak Page 0,41

fixed the collar around my neck, using a small key to lock it around me properly. He then threaded the chain through a hoop on the collar and pulled it taut until I was forced to move closer to the wall. Vincent pulled on it a few times as though to test the strength. He seemed satisfied with the result.

He then produced two more shackles. Both of these went around my wrists. Once they were safely around me, he slid pins into the shackles and locked them.

“Master,” I began, but he simply put his finger against my lips to silence me. I had no idea what to expect next, but I didn’t expect what did happen. He walked out of the room and left without saying another word.

The door was still open. I could hear his footfall echoing away into the castle. I looked back at the chain leading from my neck to the ring on the wall above me. Though my wrists had shackles too I could currently move my arms as normal. I wrapped my hands around the chain and yanked it a few times, wondering if I could pull the ring from the wall.

As things stood, I didn’t have enough slack to get back to the bed, which was a few feet away from me. Was that part of this punishment? Make me spend the night on cold stone?

I was already freezing. I shivered at the thought. Vincent was cruel, but was he that cruel? There was no point in purposefully giving a slave pneumonia.

All of the worst scenarios started to run through my head. I didn’t even notice his return until he walked into the room, holding a chair with a velvet padding. Vincent came forward and set the chair down a few feet away from the wall. He sat down on it, facing me.

“Come,” he said, patting his lap gently. “Lie down.”

I glanced at the belt in his hand and swallowed. So, this was the punishment. I walked forward across the stone, the chain rattling through the ring on the wall, and lay down over his thighs. My breath was already racing from nerves.

Vincent’s weight shuffled on the chair as he prepared to punish me.

“Tell me slave,” he said. “How should I punish you?”

I froze. I hadn’t expected that. “I don’t know, sir.”

He chuckled. I could feel his cock rock hard against my stomach. “Give me a number.”

I understood. How many times should he brandish my ass with that leather? He’d already taken his hand to me, that I had actually enjoyed, even if it did hurt. This though? This was a whole different story.

“Three?” I guessed.

Without warning the first strike came down.

Crack.

The belt snapped through the air, doubled over in his hand to make a loop. It connected with my ass perfectly, painting the tender white flesh with a band of red-hot fire that burned through the skin.

“Fuck!” I said, roaring out the pain. I clenched from head to toe, my feet and hands balling tight.

He brought it down again.

Crack.

This time the leather caught the tops of my thighs and my pussy. I swore louder this time, even going as far to curse my master himself. The pain from the belt lingered on my skin in a way his hand hadn’t. It was sharper, as though it penetrated further.

And he brought it down one more time, the leather christening me in the fires of discipline.

Crack.

He stopped and I heard my breath racing. I could only focus on the heat blaring on my ass and the weight of his cock bulging against my stomach. He was getting off on this so much.

“Just three, slave?” he said. “You have already lost three days.”

“Days?” I stammered, glancing over my shoulder to look back at him.

“Thirty days in the chain,” he said flatly, painting the reality of the situation for the first time. “That is the punishment for disobeying my word.”

“Thirty?!” I said. “That’s insane! You’re a—”

His eyes darkened, the threat of his power cutting me off.

“Fortunately, I am a forgiving master. I believe in second chances, and every slave should have the opportunity to prove how sorry they are. Each strike of this belt takes one day off your total time. You have 27 days remaining.”

It was only then that I realized how sick and twisted this bastard actually was. It was up to me to decide how bad my punishment was.

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Are we leaving it at that then?” he said. “27 days?”

I tensed my