still own. If I give them up, he’ll stomp all over them and me, then toss me aside to die in a locked room.
“Very well. It seems you’re in a hurry to start your punishment.” Adrian lets my head fall on the pillow and runs the tip of his belt down my naked back. I shiver as my body’s memory of him kicks into gear.
If there’s anything I can’t deny about my fucked-up relationship with him, it’s definitely the physical connection. We have more chemistry than I could ever imagine, and I hate that right now. I hate that he has this hold on me or how much I crave his touch after weeks of being starved.
I hate that I miss his callous handling of my body.
I hate that I love our difference in size and how easily he can overpower me, throw me down, and own me.
His hand bunches around my panties and he rips them off. I gasp as the ruined material brushes against my folds before he throws it away. It doesn’t matter how many times he does it, how many destroyed pairs of panties I have. It doesn’t get old and he never fails to turn me on.
“When I order you to do something, you don’t think about it, you don’t try to defy me, you fucking do it. Is that clear?” His words are as calm as the up and down motions of his belt on the hollow of my back and the curve of my ass.
“Then you should’ve gotten a toy, not me.”
A swish echoes in the air before the belt comes down on my ass. I cry out as the burn settles on my skin and zaps straight to my core. It’s been a long time since he took his belt to me or touched me sexually, and my body—that has been revolting against the lack of stimulation for weeks—is now resurrecting from the ashes like a phoenix.
“Don’t talk back to me.”
“I won’t let you break me,” I manage between strangled pants. “If you wanted an obedient pet, you should’ve gotten a different wife.”
My self-worth is the last thing I have, and I will fight till death before I let Adrian take that away, too.
“You are my wife, Mrs. Volkov, and I will whip and fuck that fact into your body until you act like it.”
Swish. Slap.
Swish. Slap.
I gasp, my lips trembling at the ferocity behind the hits. He really is out to punish me and isn’t pulling any punches. But the most embarrassing part is that I don’t only feel the hit on my ass. It’s simmering under my skin and sending pulses to my aching core.
“You will not talk back, whether in front of me or anyone else in the brotherhood.” Slap. “You’ll keep your thoughts to yourself.” Slap. “You will not go against me in public again.”
Slap!
I’m sobbing by the end of his words, my voice hoarse, my heart hammering so loud, I’m scared it’ll spill on the mattress and leave me vacant once and for all.
“Is that clear, Lia?”
“Yes…yes…” I’m telling him what he wants to hear so he’ll end the torture. It’s not only about the welts. It’s about the frightening friction in my core that heightens with each of his merciless lashes.
“Good.”
I release a breath when his large palm touches my assaulted skin and he slowly kneads my ass. That usually means he’s done torturing me—or close to it.
His hand slowly parts my thighs as far as they can go with the cast, and I can’t help the moan that escapes as his fingers brush against my soaked folds.
“I see you’ve missed your punishments, Lia.”
I burrow my face into the pillow to muffle my voice. I don’t want him to hear me so wanton like this, and most of all, I don’t want him to know he has this hold on me.
“Deny it all you like, but your body belongs to me.” He cups me harshly. “This cunt belongs to me.” He slaps my burning skin and I whimper. “This ass also belongs to me. But if there’s still any doubt in your mind, by all means, say it, and I’ll punish it out of you.”
My breathing is chopped and fractured, and it’s not only because of the pain. It’s his words. Damn them and damn me for letting them have this effect on me.
“Shouldn’t I continue punishing you, Lenochka?”
“No…”
“Then do you belong to me?”
I purse my lips.
He raises his hand and brings it down on my