Page 18 of Brutal Savior

He might as well be speaking Swahili, but I nod anyway. Jacob leaves me gaping around whilst he ducks into another room and returns with a wooden chair that doesn’t fit in. It’s like something out of a Victorian school, varnished and with an ornate back. No cushion. He places it beside me. “Sit.”

Weird, but not worth arguing about. I sit, then jump up with a hiss when my ass touches the seat. The pain that had faded to a dull throb reignites, sizzling back into a furnace. “I can’t. You spanked my ass, remember?”

“That’s the whole point. Sit there, or I’ll make you.”

I swallow, staring between the chair and him. I should just do it, but if I start letting him order me around, where does it stop?

“What, you’ll spank me again? How original.”

“You’ve had enough of that for now, I want you to be able to sleep tonight. Now, sit.”

“No.”

He lets out a long sigh, and I can’t tell if it’s genuine exasperation or just played up for my sake. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out four metal circles attached to very short chains. Does he walk around with manacles in his pocket? No, he must have collected them along with the weird wooden seat.

He sets about fastening them to the chair, which I now realize has special holes cut into the legs and seat for just that purpose.

He talks as he works. “If I’d known I was bringing home a brat, I’d have had all this ready.”

Brat? Seriously? His slow, deliberate movements are starting to get on my nerves. He’s too calm, carefully setting up the stupid fucking chair like he’s got all day. I glance at the door, then sprint toward it.

Reaching it, I turn the little handle. Nothing. I glance up, expecting to find Jacob looming over me, but he’s exactly where I left him. Fiddling with one of the restraints. Not even looking at me.

His big hands should be clumsy with the delicate work he’s doing, but they’re not. He threads the final restraint through its slot, opens the cuff, gives it a satisfied tug, and stands up. His eyes widen in mock surprise when he sees me beside the door. “Oh, you tried to escape through the front door. How original.”

God, I want to scream at him. Throw things. Say “fuck you” again and again and again until the words lose all meaning. But he’s advancing on me with that menacing smile, and it’s more terrifying than I want to admit. I dodge to the side and race off, trying to slip past him, but before I’ve gone two paces, he’s got me again.

He’s fast. A bear that moves like a fucking cheetah. It’s a deadly combination, and as he carries me kicking and scratching to the stupid chair, I wonder how I’ll ever get away from this man. Running isn’t going to work, and he could overpower me with one finger half awake. I’ll have to be smart, and that’s not a word I associate with myself.

My poor ass screams in protest as he thumps me onto the chair with more force than he damn well needed to. I scream right along with it as he forces my arms down by my sides and into the waiting restraints and then does the same with my legs. Strapped to a goddamn chair again, but this time, it’s much, much worse.

The restraints give me no room to move, my arms held down at full extension, putting more pressure on my ass. I can hardly shift around to relieve the pain, which is growing worse by the second. “Let me out of here, you fucking—”

His hand clamps over my mouth. “Jesus Christ, you can talk.”

I mumble against his hand as he studies me. “You’re going to listen for a bit. From right now, every word you say is an extra minute in this chair. Nod if you understand.”

I’m already desperate to stand up. The ache is unbearable. Even five minutes would be torture. As much as I want to scream and yell, I want to get out of this chair more. Yelling will have to wait. I nod.

He blows out a breath. “Thank you.”

He pulls his hand away from my mouth. I clamp my teeth together and shift on my seat, catching his attention. “You like the chair?”

It takes everything I have not to respond. Instead, I settle for glaring at him, which makes his lip curl up. “There’s a good little brat. Learning already.”

Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths.

When I manage to stay silent, he continues. “This chair is where you’ll sit to reflect on why you were punished. After a punishment, I expect you to come here without being told and sit down until I tell you to stand up. If the punishment happens out of the house, you come here as soon as we get home. Nod if you understand.”

I jerk my head up and down woodenly.

“Good. When you go willingly to the chair, you won’t stay in it long. You’d already be out of it if you’d sat when I told you to.”

He pauses to let the impact of that sink in. I silently curse out Quinn from five minutes ago. That girl was such an asshole.

“Because I had to make you sit, it’s twenty minutes today, and that’s me being very kind because you didn’t know the rules. If I have to force you again, it’s an hour. In the chair, you don’t speak. You think about what got you into the chair and how to avoid it in the future. Got it?”

I nod again, though my head is filled with revenge. One day, I’ll stick spikes to this fucking chair and tie him to it.

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