Page 55 of The Mob Boss' Pet

“I left the room when I wasn’t supposed to. I’m sorry.” He trusted me to stay put. It’s such a small thing it’s hardly a betrayal, but to him it has more meaning. I was told to do something, and I didn’t. I disobeyed and, in his mind, it’s the same thing.

“You didn’t follow my instructions. Do you know what happens to men who do that?” His tone is darker than usual.

“You dip their feet in cement?” I ask with a smile.

The left side of his lips kicks up into a half grin. “You’ve watched too many movies.”

“That’s probably true.” I nod. “It’s all I can do up in that room every day.”

“Oh, you’re not happy with your accommodations?” His forehead wrinkles.

My throat clenches. I’ve said the wrong thing.

“It’s not that...” My voice trails off when his hands work his belt buckle open. “Vincenzo.” I look at the doorway. “People will hear. Someone can walk in and see!” I point at the two doors leading into the kitchen.

“Roberto will keep everyone out of the kitchen until he sees me again.” He tugs the leather strap from his pants. “Did you think you’d disobey and get away with it because you’ve been so good the past few days?” He stalks over to me, making me step back.

“I came down to the kitchen. I didn’t run away!” I point out, checking the doors again. Panic rises up in my chest. He’s going to punish me, and the entire house will hear it. They will all know Vincenzo took his belt to me.

“Bend over the kitchen table and pull your leggings down.” He snaps the belt across his open palm.

“You’re... Vincenzo, please.” I stare at him, but my feet are already moving to the table. “Not here.”

“No? You’d rather I take you into my office? Then everyone can watch.” His dark glare lingers on me, burning me with the reality that he will do just that. Because he can. Because my disobedience has taken away any rights I may have had. If I didn’t want this to happen, I should have stayed in the room.

He’s right. The past few days I haven’t earned a strapping and I’ve taken it for granted that I could maybe get away with it. He’s been firm with me, but he hasn’t been overbearing. And maybe the playtime last night made me forget exactly how strict he can be.

He swings the belt against his thigh.

I remember now.

“Please,” I say once more, hoping to tap into anything resembling pity.

He looks at the table. “Over.”

Tears build in my eyes. I want so badly to be angry at him for this. But it’s not like he’s hidden himself from me. I know exactly who he is. And this isn’t out of character for him.

I hook my thumbs into my leggings and push them down just below my ass. It’s the best he’s getting from me. I move a chair and lay myself over the table, grabbing the edge on the other side. I lay my cheek against the wood and close my eyes. I won’t make a sound. I’ll keep him from hearing my pain. It’s the only weapon I have.

I cry out with the first lash.

Fuck, it’s an inferno at the start.

Another lash has me up on my toes and my eyes stinging with tears.

“Please!” I suck in air between lashes, but he’s not interested in any sort of reprieve. He moves beside me, grabbing my hair and holding me down as he delivers half a dozen swats with his belt in rapid movements. The burn from the one melts into the next, until I’m not sure if the belt is on my ass or off.

He runs his hand over my back, softly petting me through my t-shirt. Tears drip from my cheeks onto the tabletop and my ass throbs.

“All done, pet,” he says quietly but doesn’t hurry me to my feet.

My mind clears and the familiar ache builds between my legs. While the belt lit my ass up, arousal was as far from reality as visiting the chocolate factory, but now that it’s over, now that he’s touching me and soothing away the burn, it’s all I can focus on.

“Come on up.” He tugs at my shoulders after several minutes pass.

When I’m on my feet again, he pulls my leggings up. His belt lays coiled on the table. When had he put it there?

His hands frame my face.

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