Page 151 of Sin & Sapphire

I adjusted my body, my legs together, feet on the floor, hands shoulder’s width apart on the mattress, grateful for my daily yoga practice that made this downward dog-like position more comfortable than it could have been.

My arms trembled the longer I held the position. “Boris, I have to pee,” I whispered.

“Why the fuck would you think I care?” He pulled my panties down, baring my ass, then rapidly spanked me, hard. I didn’t move, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of protesting as I clenched my fingers in the mattress and bit down on my bottom lip to hold in my cries of pain.

The pressure in my bladder grew as he tormented me, peppering my upper thighs with slaps.

“Please, I have to use the bathroom,” I gasped. “I’m going to?—”

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch,” Boris said. “Did you think that offering yourself up to me would mean I’d treat you like an equal in private? I might have to pretend respect for stupid sluts like you in public, but here? You’re nothing.”

He increased the intensity of his spanking, humiliating, like I was a tiny girl, nothing like the times that Valentin had turned me over his knee.

“Boris,” I begged. “Please.”

“Nothing but a stupid slut, giving herself to those men and then thinking her charming smile would help her,” Boris said. “You’re nothing, Ana Costa. I’ve had you for an entire day, and your men have yet to contact me. Absolutely fucking nothing.”

They wouldn’t come because they didn’t care. To them, I was nothing but a toy to be discarded when they were finished playing.

“Disgusting slut,” Boris muttered, then shoved his arm around my waist.

“I’m going to pee.”

“Hold it, bitch.”

But I couldn’t. A drop slipped out, and then a torrent, and then I was pissing on myself and my mattress and his shoes.

“That’s disgusting, Ana,” he said. “Look at you, piss dripping down your legs because you can’t even control your bladder.”

I whimpered as shame rolled over me. Memories of Valentin and Angelo’s care, even when they made similar threats, rolled through me and my heart for the millionth time that day.

“Stand up and straighten yourself out, you worthless cum bucket,” he snarled. I did, wincing as I dragged my wet panties up and over my hips.

Shaking with shame, I stood there, my shoulders hunched and my head bowed.

“Come upstairs for breakfast,” Boris said. “You can brush your teeth up there too.”

“Like this?” I asked, gesturing to myself.

“You pissed yourself,” he said. “You can wear it.”

I straightened my shoulders, understanding the game. He’d do his best to break me down, blaming me for making him do it.

But I was AnafuckingCosta. My father had been equally cruel, tormenting me and treating me in equal measures, keeping me confused and begging for his affection.

It had worked, until I’d met Valentin and Angelo, who radiated the same cruel violence, but applied it consistently in a way that built me up and made me stronger, rather than making me feel small.

Realization swept through me. I’d only had the strength to leave my three men because they’d helped me find it.

And I’d betrayed them.

I held onto that nugget as I followed Boris into the elevator, ignoring the bodyguards that surrounded us, too well trained to wrinkle their noses at the smell of the piss dripping down my legs and onto my bare feet.

Boris led me into his apartment, gesturing for me to sit on the sofa.

“I’m wet,” I said flatly. “That’s gross.”

He shrugged. “Then stand. Coffee’s on the counter.”

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