Page 17 of Vicious

“Like I said, the flogger needs breaking in. But I have a paddle that hasn’t been used in well over a year.” I brush some of her chin-length hair behind her ear, and she jerks her head away. “Or I could bend you over my knee and spank you. That one’s a classic.”

Glaring at me, she pulls the sheet up higher around her chest. “You know I don’t want any of it.”

“Yep. I tried waiting for you to come around, but that didn’t work.” I keep smiling through my annoyance, the expression well-practiced from dealing with clients at work. “So now I’m resorting to force. Which you’ll enjoy, if you let yourself.”

“Fine. Hurt me,” May says, and the waver in her voice—the indecision, the fear—goes straight to my cock. She finally drops the sheet, letting me take in the sight of her. She’s obviously cleaned herself up, but I can sully her beautiful skin all over again, as many times as I want, because she belongs to me.

There are bruises on her hips, and a few on her neck and collar. I can’t wait to add even more marks to her skin, marks she can’t easily wash away.

“Flogger? Paddle? Or just my hand?” I ask congenially. “Don’t worry about what I prefer, because I’ll enjoy all of them equally.”

“I don’t care what you enjoy,” she says, but I can tell she’s almost choking on the words. “Your hand, I guess.” She tries for casual, but there’s something in her voice that tells me just how affected she is.

Curious, even.

I move the tray of food farther up the bed so that it won’t jostle too much from our activities. I pat my lap, and I’m glad I’d opted for a simple pair of jeans and not the expensive slacks I’ll wear when I head out for my lunch meeting.

“Sheet off, over my knee, then,” I say.

“Over your—” She balks, shaking her head. “I’m not a child for you to put over your lap.”

“Did your parents spank you?” I ask, trying to sound scandalized. “I don’t think that’s pedagogically sound. Corporal punishment is highly discouraged in child-rearing.”

“And it’s encouraged in this sort of situation?” She’s stalling, which isn’t surprising.

I pull the blanket the rest of the way off of her, and she lets out the most adorable little squeak.

“What two consenting adults get up to is nobody’s business but their own.” I laugh at her outraged expression. “Or one consenting adult and one adult who is very aware of how precarious her situation is, and how easily something could happen to make her father lose more than just his job.”

The look May gives me is one of utter hatred, but she moves to gingerly lie across my lap. Her ass will look gorgeous covered in bruises, like the night sky, only better.

“None of this is consenting, and it never will be. But you don’t need to threaten Baba,” she says. “He’s…” Her voice cracks. “He’s probably going through enough as it is.”

Like I’d told May, Simon is on medical leave to recover from his gruesome “accident.” I know they won’t be keeping him around once the medical leave is over, and there have been rumors that some of his older cases will need to be reviewed. I don’t think anybody really wants to go through that level of trouble, though, so most likely he’ll be forced to retire, and everybody will pretend they didn’t suspect anything.

Of course, he’s probably also beating himself up over having lost his beautiful daughter to Giulio fucking Pavone.

I don’t know how Giulio Pavone knew I’d be interested in purchasing May, but when he’d reached out to me— “A friend of Savage’s is a friend of mine” —I couldn’t believe my luck.

This wasn’t how I’d expected to finally get May all to myself, but it’s definitely one of the better scenarios.

“You would’ve gotten tired of me if I’d just said yes to you, wouldn’t you?” May asks abruptly, looking up at me.

I run my hand over her ass gently. “Who knows. But a prolonged, drawn-out hunt certainly is sweeter.”

She squirms, her entire body going rigid as she starts to anticipate the first blow. I don’t think she knows what’s coming, though, not really. If she did, she’d know to relax into it instead of fighting against it.

If she’d come to me willingly, I might’ve taught her how best to deal with pain so it could be a pleasurable torment instead of something much worse.

May cries out when my hand slaps her ass the first time, her body as tense and unwilling as her mind.

Even just the first slap makes a slight blush spread out on her pale ass cheeks. I take a moment to push down on that redness, marveling at how she tenses even more.

“Was that too light?” I tease. “Should I have hit harder?”

Her head jerks up, dark hair falling into her face as she gives a vigorous shake of her head. “No. No, don’t hit harder,” she says. “I don’t…”

I wait for her to continue, but when several seconds pass without her speaking, I spank her again. She yelps and jolts again like I’ve just driven a live wire through her nerves, and I wonder what she’d sound like if I did apply a different type of stimulation to her.

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