Page 44 of Nowhere to Run

A low groan rumbled in his chest and I felt him throb beneath me.

But he didn’t stop. His palm came down again and again, each strike sharper than the last, the sound of flesh meeting mixing with my cries.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmured darkly. “Not until I’ve had my fill.” His voice was thick, almost reverent, like he was savoring every second of my suffering.

“Fuck, I love hearing you cry. Watching this perfect ass shake every time I strike it.”

The belt at my ankles kept me locked in place, at his mercy. Trapped. Vulnerable. Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t endure another blow, his hand slowed. His palm smoothed over my skin in a deliberate, almost gentle massage—a cruel contrast to the pain he’d just inflicted.

I trembled beneath him, body raw, breath shaky.

“Good girl, good girl,” he cooed, his touch warm and careful. “You took that punishment so well.”

A small, broken whimper escaped my lips as he continued.

“You understand why I did that, don’t you?”

I nodded, terrified.

His soothing words scared me more than the pain—they curled around me, pulling me deeper into his control.

“Tell me why I had to punish you,” he murmured, still rubbing my sore skin, his grip firm but almost… tender.

I hesitated, throat tight, voice cracking.

“I disrespected you,” I managed. “I… I told you to leave me alone.”

A quiet, shuddering sob broke free, a single tear slipping down my cheek.

His hand reached out, wiping it away, with a touch so gentle it made my stomach flip. “Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “See? You’re learning.” His lips brushed my temple, his voice a low purr. “Soon, you’ll be my perfect little slut.”

A thrill coursed through me, his words doing exactly what they were designed to—pulling me under, anchoring me to him. I chanced a glance at his face, heart hammering.

His eyes were dark pools of blue steel, his lips parted slightly as he stared at my ass. Mesmerized. He looked utterly entranced, staring at the marks he’d left with an almost reverent hunger. For a fleeting second, his expression softened. Like I’d pulled back the curtain, glimpsed something raw beneath the cruelty. A piece of him he didn’t mean to show.

But then his lips curved again, the wickedness returning. The moment was gone.

“Get up.” His voice was firm, commanding.

I tried to scramble off his lap, but the belt at my ankles left me flailing awkwardly, wiggling like a fish out of water. My balance wavered, body tipping as I struggled to find my footing.

“Bend your knees, sit up, heels under you,” he sneered, watching me with clear amusement. My movements were clumsy, and the moment I nearly toppled over, his brow arched, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He shook his head slowly, mocking.

“Look at you,” he taunted, voice thick with condescension. “Wriggling like a helpless little slut.” His smirk deepened, his amusement growing darker. “I love seeing you like this—so vulnerable. Completely under my control.”

His hand grazed my breast as I rose shakily to my knees, his fingers pinching my nipple hard enough to make me gasp.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, his tone low and dripping with menace. “I’ll train you. You’ll get plenty of practice being tied up, taking my cock, and accepting every punishment I decide you need.”

His grip slid down to my waist, steadying me as he reached for the belt at my ankles. With a deliberate tug, he unfastened the restraint.

I exhaled sharply, the brief taste of freedom almost enough to soothe the burn still lingering on my skin. I spread my knees apart for balance, trying to regain some semblance of control.

His eyes flickered. Like he could read my mind, sharp and knowing.

“You’ll behave now, won’t you?” he sneered, snapping the belt in his hand with a sharpcrack—a sound sharp enough to make me flinch.

A threat. A warning.

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