Page 10 of Violent Delights

Chapter 7

Liana

What the hell is happening to me? I’m so confused, overwhelmed with questions and an anxiety that runs deeper than mere bewilderment about my current situation and how I got here.

This is fucked-up on so many levels that I don’t even know where to start. When he comes at me, his strong hand clutching around my throat just enough to send a warning without really hurting me, I’m not only horrified because he’s threatening me.

I’m not just afraid of him - I’m afraid of myself.

I should be nothing but terrified, I should scream for help and at least try to fend him off, until I can’t fight him. I should cry, I should kick him, I should head for the door and try everything within my power to get out of this room, to escape.

That is how I should feel.

Scared. Horrified. In panic and tears.

I should not be excited about this. I should not be turned on.

Nothing about this is appealing. I was ambushed, drugged and kidnapped to a spooky attic, and am being held down and intimidated by a daunting stranger.

A man who looks like a fucking god.

A man whose hand feels alarmingly good braced around my throat.

No!

I close my eyes, trying to shake off those sick thoughts.

What is wrong with me?!

“Look at me!” he barks, as soon as my eyes shut.

I oblige immediately, met with his dark gaze right in front of my face. I can’t help it. He looks fucking gorgeous.

Did someone set this up for me? Is he being paid to fulfill a fantasy so dark that no one ever dares to explore it?

Is that why I can’t be entirely scared of him? Because I don’t believe it’s real?

But who would do such a thing? No one even knows about those twisted dreams I’ve had. No one knows that I’ve been fantasizing about something like this for years. No one but Luke, and I’m positive that he has nothing to do with this.

Unless this is his way of punishing me. Did he hire someone to make this come true, only to scare the hell out of me and show me how sick I am for wanting this?

Is that it?

My stream of thoughts is interrupted by a sharp pain when the man, who I am to call Master, lifts my face up to his while still holding my throat.

He looks at me, wondering, waiting, studying every inch of my face. I have never been looked at like this before. There is an intensity to his gaze that is new to me, and for the first time in my life, I begin to understand what people mean when they say that someone’s look is piercing. He observes me with such depth that his gaze feels like a touch, just as much as his hand does.

“Now, you will listen to me,” he whispers. “From now on, you’re mine. You’ll do as I say, no backtalk, no objections, no arguing. It’s as simple as that. You’ll forget everything you were outside of this house. Your name, your friends, your family, your hobbies. You’ll just exist to please me.”

He pauses for a moment, waiting for me to react to his insane demands, but I don’t give him anything but a blank stare.

“You no longer have a name,” he adds. “From now you’ll just be Pet. My Pet. Understand?”

Again, he pauses, waiting for my reply. I suggest a nod, but can’t move my head enough, because he’s still pinning me firmly in place.

“Yeah,” I croak, annoyed at the weak sound of my voice.

I thought this is what he wanted to hear, but instead of a pleased smile, he squeezes my throat even harder, taking my breath away for real this time. I moan in pain and my arms fly up, instinctively reaching for his arm in an attempt to get him away from me. Of course, this is futile. He doesn’t even flinch or acknowledge my defense in any way, but his pressure doesn’t loosen.

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