Page 5 of Kristoff

He invades my space and holds his belt to my mouth. “Open,” he orders. If I keep giving in, he’ll keep taking, but if I don’t -I need to survive.

As soon as my lips part he shoves the worn leather between my teeth. “Hold that.” He spins me around until I’m facing the bars and can’t see him. My hands are yanked out to my sides. Each wrist is cuffed to a bar. I yank instinctively, but there’s no give. Did I really think there’d be any?

I bite down into the belt, holding back my plea. It would fall on deaf ears, I don’t doubt.

“Open,” he says again, tugging on the belt. My stomach rolls with the anger building inside of me. I want to scream again, but I’m not so stupid to realize that won’t get me anything but a sore throat.

I press my forehead against the bar. Readying myself. It’s not the first time I’ve had a belting, but that was drastically different. I had power. I could stop it at a drop of a word. I don’t think anything would stop this man.

Light fingertips trail down my back, over my ass. His motions stop and run to the side. He’s found my scars.

“You’ve been caned,” he says tracing the thin white scars on my ass. An overzealous Dom and too much wine. It had been a bad night. I’m lucky I only walked away with a few scars as a reminder.

“Yes.” I nod, no sense in lying.

“Why?” His question is full of curiosity - the demand isn’t there.

I crane my neck to look behind me at him, but all I can make out is his form. He’s too busy examining my body.

When I don’t answer him, he digs his nail into my ass. “Magdalena, answer me.”

“Fuck,” I breathe out when he releases my cheek. How the hell to answer him?

“Why were you caned?”

“It was a game, just some fun,” I answer, feeling the heat creep up my neck and over my face.

His hands fall away from me and I hear him shuffling behind me, but I still can’t make out what he’s doing.

The first fiery strap across my ass lets me know exactly what’s happening. The next and the one after that come rapid and low. I cry out and try to twist my torso, but there’s no getting away from him. The belt lands again and again, on my thighs, on my ass, across my shoulder blades. He works the belting over my entire backside, careful not to hit the tender spots over my kidneys. He’s meticulous and careful.

I promise myself I won’t cry. I’ve taken serious floggings and beltings before, I can make it through this. But I’m a liar. This is beyond what I’ve ever experienced - and no end seems to be in sight.

I lose count after twenty lashes, and full sobs break loose. If he took a match to me, my skin would feel less burn. Panic builds in me.

“I’m- Oh! Ow!” I scream, looking up at the ceiling. “Please! Stop!” I wiggle without result.

But he ignores me. Another half dozen lashes cross my ass before he ends the whipping.

I suck in a much-needed breath. Tears cover my cheeks, dripping down to my chest. My nose is running, but I don’t care. All I care about is getting air.

His absence is short lived. Pressing his body against my back, he pushes me into the bars. A hand dives into my hair, yanking back my head until it’s resting on his shoulder.

He licks my cheek. “Your tears are beautiful, Magdalena,” he whispers. “If you had come when I first called you-you would have only been chained to the cell. But every misstep is punished. Remember that.” His words are cold, clipped.

I nod, still whimpering like a fool. “Just let me go,” I say.

“Never.” He seals his promise with a warm kiss to my cheek. “Don’t struggle against your binds or you’ll tear the stitches in your shoulder. If I have to restitch them, I won’t grant you the privilege of being sedated. You’ll watch every stitch.”

Wait. He sewed up the wound?

“Kristoff.” His name hits me, finally, I remember what his father called him. “Please.”

His hands are on my ass again, making me hiss at the tenderness. He pulls my ass cheeks apart and shoves two fingers into my sex. I bite back the moan at being filled and try to wiggle away from him. I can’t help how my body reacts, but I will not allow him to worm his way into my libido.

“Wet. Koroshaya devushka.”Good girl.He pulls his fingers out and wipes my own juices across my sore ass.

He doesn’t say anything else as he replaces his belt and walks out of the cage. I twist, trying to see him. He can’t leave me like this, right? I yank at the cuffs, but the throbbing in my shoulder makes me stop.

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