Page 3 of Master

Clutching the ring, it tears into my palm. Droplets of fresh blood trickle from my grasp and run down my arm, but I can’t feel the pain. My heavy footsteps carry me across the room. I reach the doorway to the hall just in time to hear the front door latching.

“El…” I call, clinging to the hope that she wasn’t able to find the will to actually walk from this apartment—and from my life—only to be quickly met with devastating silence.

“Fuck!” I roar, driving my bloodied fist through the wall.

Walking back into the bedroom, I pull open the drawer to the valet sitting atop my dresser and drop the now sticky, crimson ring into it. Pushing it shut, I exhale the breath I’ve been holding.

Never again.

CHAPTER THREE

SASHA

ABOUT ONE YEAR AGO

“Please...” I beg through sobs.

Shawn tightens his agonizing hold on the back of my neck in response, and I wince as my shoulders rise to ease the pressure. His fingertips dimple my skin as he pulls me back to meet his heated gaze. Staring down at me, he snarls, “If I had known you were this incapable of following instructions, I never would’ve taken your fat ass off Trevor’s hands. They are simple rules, Sasha.”

Denying him is against his rules—I know that—but I’m so sore from last night that I can’t fathom being able to tolerate him touching me again.

One morning. One measly morning in seven months that he didn’t get to push inside me.That’s all I wanted.

“What happens to disobedient little whores?” he growls.

“I’m sorry.” I feign an apology, hoping that he’s lenient.

“Stupid bitch. I didn’t ask if you were fucking sorry.” Using his grip on my neck, Shawn roughly leads me through the house and into the kitchen. My eyes dart around the stark white surroundings, seeking his form of punishment, as he opens multiple cabinets. A dark chuckle rises from his lungs as he pulls a silver cylinder from the top shelf.

“I only take my apologies one way,” he snarks as a devilish smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. He releases his grip to open the container and I rub the tender skin that is probably already bruising. The metal lid clangs when he tosses it to the granite countertop, and he pours out the contents of the container. Tiny grains of rice rain over my bare feet and bounce when they hit the cold tile floor. His gaze falls to the floor, and he demands, “Kneel.”

This can’t possibly be worse than the paddling I took a few nights ago when I didn’t dress to his exacting standards for dinner.

I hesitantly place my knee into the thin layer of uncooked rice, grimacing as I shift my weight to drop my other knee.

This is worse than the paddle. Far worse!

The thin grains puncture my skin like tiny shards of glass beneath me. Seconds tick by like hours as I try to ignore the stabbing pain in my knees and shins.

“You will learn to obey me,” Shawn whispers, his soft tone making his threat much more terrifying. Cupping my chin, he holds it firmly as he squats before me. His face inches from mine, he watches as my pained tears roll down my cheeks. “You can tell me now.”

“I… I’m… sorry, Sir,” I repeat my previous unwelcome apology between sobs.

“Don’t cry. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to teach you how to behave for me.” Shawn wipes his thumb across my cheek and rubs the salty collection of tears over my lower lip as he asks, “And what are you sorry for?”

“Denying… you… Sir.”

Pressing his salty thumb into my mouth, he rubs it over my tongue as he asks, “And are you allowed to deny me the pleasure I get from being inside you?”

I suck on his thumb as he pulls it from my mouth. He sloppily rubs my saliva over my lips as I answer, “No.”

“Learning already,” he praises as a slight smile spreads across his face. Shawn rises to his feet and asks, “Are you going to give me what I wanted?”

“Yes, Sir,” I quickly answer, painfully shifting my weight to one leg. I begin to push myself from the floor as his fingers work to hastily undo his belt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shawn gruffs, quickly gripping my shoulder and firmly pressing me back into the rice. My face contorts as the shards jam back into my skin. I listen to him undoing the teeth of his zipper as he crunches through the rice to close the distance between us. “You can get up when you prove you’ve learned your lesson.”

With my jaw clenched in agony, I open my eyes and find his pants splayed. The dirty blond tuft of his hair rests between the parted zipper, and he is rapidly growing hard in the tight confines of his boxer briefs.

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