Page 19 of Shackled

I wonder if she’s ever been whipped. If I were going to give her a spanking, I’d use my hand. But I’m not here to turn her on, or me, for that matter.

I wonder if it will make her talk or arouse her? Maybe it’ll piss her off.Maybe both.

I’m already hard as fuck by the time the leather’s through the loops. I make sure to take my time, so she hears the sound of the belt unbuckling and the whir of it being pulled completely off.

I loop it and fist the buckle.

“Let’s go, Isabella. Let’s hear what you have to tell me.”

She tries to look over her shoulder as if to make sure her senses haven’t betrayed her.

“I told you. No one knows I’m here. I have no more information to tell you.”

I don’t know if she’ll ever actually tell me the truth. She lies as easily as she breathes. I suppose it’s part of her charm.

It’s go time.

The first strike snaps against her ass, a measured, deliberate stroke. Though she comes up on her toes, she barely makes a sound. The sight of the red stripe across her ass makes me hard as fuck.

“Are you sure about that?” I ask, bringing my hand back before I lash her again. I lay down two, three, four hard slaps across her ass until the skin is striped a red-hot pink, but she only shakes her head and wiggles her butt.

“I told you,” she says in a singsong voice. “And whipping me is only going to turn me on, not get more information.” She sticks her butt back out. “So go ahead. Give me all you’ve got. Please tell me you’re just warming me up, and you’ve got more than that.”

Saucy little bitch.

I won’t let her bait me, but I won’t let her shame me, either. I snap the belt again and again, still careful not to hit too hard, even as a little voice inside my head asks me why?

Why am I afraid to break skin? To really, truly hurt her? I need answers, and I fucking need them now.

The next lash makes her cry out. I open my hand, let the belt’s tail loose, and snap it again. She flinches but still only wriggles in her restraints and taunts me. “Now that’s what I’m looking for. There you go. If you’re trying to turn me on, you’re doing an excellent job.” The low purr of her laugh makes me smash my teeth together before I slap the belt across her ass, the hardest strike I’ve given her yet. It satisfies me to see the raised welt of the leather. To hear her cry of pain.

“Tell me,” I snap. “What do you know? If you know nothing, why did you come to Viktor? You’re contradicting yourself, Isabella.”

I whip the belt across her butt again, crisscrossing where I left off. The good thing about a belt is that it builds in intensity, each strike magnifying the last. I’m no stranger to a little bedroom kink. I know how to make it sting and how to make that sting last. A man can be questioned with muscle. A woman needs a much finer touch.

When she still doesn’t answer me, I kick her legs apart, loop the belt again, and slap it against her bare, perfectly pink pussy. She hisses in a breath and squeezes her eyes shut, but I don’t miss the glint of wetness on her pussy lips. I swallow hard, ignoring the heady haze of arousal that threatens to blind me.

I slap her again and again, but she doesn’t move. I fucking swear, with her low moan and the way her eyes have fluttered closed, she’s on the edge of subspace, for Christ’s sake.

I toss the belt down and reach for her hair. I fist it and yank her head back. “Tell me.”

Her mouth flies open, but she doesn’t say a word.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to find out who matters to you. I’ll try different methods to get the truth out of you. Pain, fear, maybe even well-earned pleasure.”

I’m determined to break her down mentally, the most effective way of extracting information from most prisoners. At that, her eyes fly open, her pupils dilated with heated arousal. She licks her perfect lips.

“Please do,” she says in a breathy whisper.

Alright, this isn’t working.

I go back to my knife and slowly, deliberately sharpen it in front of her. The sound of metal scraping metal heightens the tension in the room, and I swear she looks excited.

“Knife play?” she asks in the same voice one might croon about a delicious delicacy. “Mmm.”

I press the blade between her breasts, the cool metal making the skin it touches turn white.

Her breath quickens, her chest rising and falling. Her eyes, wide and luminous, lock onto mine with a mixture of fear and arousal.

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