Indebted - Piper Stone Page 0,46

girl. You need to understand why this is necessary.”

Hissing, she did as she was told, her nostrils flaring with fury.

I took my time lubricating the entire rubber piece, satisfied that she would soon better understand her place. As I twirled the plug, studying the bulbous toy, my hunger began to creep in from the darkness of my core. I ached to take her again, to plunge my cock deep inside her pretty pink pussy. The sight of her wetness, the light glisten on her swollen folds as I moved in back of her was almost too much to resist.

“You are to wear this at all times, only excepting necessary relief. I will require inspection every day, switching the plug to a larger variety when I feel appropriate. Understood?”

She gritted her teeth, nodding before bothering to answer. “Yes. Sir.” Her defiance was nothing but a continued challenge; however, in my mood I wasn’t prepared to endure much of her sass.

I pushed the tip to her entrance, twisting back and forth as I pressed my hand on the small of her back. There was no resistance, her dark channel prepared to accept her first form of punishment.

Then she gasped, dropping her head, her entire body shaking.

“Breathe for me.”

Her snarl was quickly sucked in, her glare cold and angry.

As I pushed the last of the implement inside, she dropped both hands onto the counter, taking several deep breaths. “Soon I will fuck you in the ass once again.”

She laughed, pursing her mouth as she found me in the reflection. “Why the hell not? Sir?”

If she wanted to rile me, she’d succeeded on several levels. I couldn’t allow her egregious attitude to go without acknowledgment, round two of her required discipline in order.

“You are difficult,” I said quietly, still twisting the plug in an effort to calm my anger.

“That is what you get, Mr. Masters. You may own my body, but you will never own my heart or soul. That’s not possible.” She gave me another nasty glare then closed her eyes. “Sir.”

I ripped open another drawer, grabbing a hairbrush. I’d equipped several rooms with various implements, but this was my private space, the brush used for the usual purposes. Why did she continue to mouth off? What did she hope to gain? I fisted her hair, forcing her to look at me once again. “I suggest you apologize to me.”

“Wasn’t it you who said the time for apologies had passed? Then why bother? How about fuck you?”

There’d been the few moments the night before I’d almost felt her melting in my arms, as if she could even learn to enjoy the arrangement that been made. Now I realized I was sorely mistaken. “Open your mouth.”

“Fuck you.”

My God. The audacity was unbelievable. I plunged the plug in and out several times, watching as her eyes glossed over from both anxiety as well as pleasure. “Open. Your. Mouth.”

She did so without hesitation, sticking out her tongue in the process.

I dropped the hairbrush, sticking my hand inside the drawer and searching blindly. Spots roared in front of my eyes as the rage continued to increase, my body shaking as the adrenaline rush crushed down on every blood cell. The soap was easy to find, my nails digging at the paper until I was able to free the bar, slamming my wrist against the lever on the faucet.

She finally realized what I was doing, her hands clawing at the mirror, her entire face beaming from the warm flush creeping up from her neck.

Yet she would not be broken, her attitude remaining, worn like a badge of honor.

I doused the soap with water, giving her a commanding look that needed no explanation. She stuck out her tongue, cursing at me with her eyes as I ran the bar back and forth across her tongue, finally sticking the soap further into her mouth. “Bite down.”

Alessandra did so begrudgingly, her body sagging as she hung her head.

The feel of the wooden handle was exactly what I needed, my hold becoming white-knuckled. My entire life had been about accepting the man I’d become, learning to control the anger that had taken everything from me. On this bright morning I’d already failed as I’d done from the moment she’d walked into my life. She was my possession, but I couldn’t forget that she could bring my whole world crumbling down.

She was my obsession.

The kind of sickness that was unforgiving, never allowing any breath or life, merely taking at all costs. I wanted