Page 25 of Cruel Master

“I told you no,” I protested. “I told you to stop.”

“Normally, I’d allow you the use of a safe word,” Gaven replied. “We discussed it previously—do you remember?”

I stiffened at his reminder, but I did, in fact, remember. It’d been the night of our wedding—when he’d explained what safe words were and how they would be beneficial to us. We’d never gotten to the point, though, of using one.

“Now, though, I don’t want you using such a thing to escape from your punishments.”

“What if I really get scared?” I asked. “What if I think you’re going to kill me?”

Gaven’s thumb paused over my clit and his eyes darkened. His brow creased and he leaned forward, hovering over me as he glared down at me. His hand left my pussy and shot up to my throat, circling and squeezing.

“If I wanted to kill you, Angel,” he said, his words distinct and cold, “I could do it at any point and there would be nothing to stop me. No action or word could keep me from ending your life.”

His fingers pressed into the side of my throat, clamping down tight—not cutting off my airflow, but making me dizzy nonetheless. A beat passed and then another and another. Finally, his grip eased and I felt my clouded mind clear the slightest bit.

“Red,” he said. Confused, I stared at him, waiting for an elaboration. It took a moment to get one. “That can be your safe word.”

“Red?” I repeated.

His hands curved under my body and lifted me from his lap as he stood. I swayed into his chest, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“We’re not a true Dom and submissive,” Gaven said. “There’s trust in that relationship—I don’t trust you.” My heart slammed into my ribcage and I dipped my head. Of course, he didn’t trust me. He had no reason to. I closed my eyes at those words, though, surprised by myself and how much they actually fucking hurt. “But I’m not a complete monster,” he continued. “And if anything—I respect the unspoken contract, so you’re right. From now on, you will have a safe word. You may use the word ‘red’ whenever you truly feel as if it’s something you cannot handle.”

“What if I say it and you don’t stop?” I asked as he strode across the room and stopped at the side of the bed.

His blue eyes touched mine again as he eased me down and laid me on the mattress. My body compressed into the surface and I retracted my hands from his neck. “Go to sleep, Angel,” Gaven finally said after what felt like forever.

He moved back, stepping away from the bed.

“I thought you were going to let me come?”Was it over now?I didn’t understand.

“I did,” he replied. “I allowed you to come while I watched. That was your reward for being so brave.”

I sat up, but my fingers curled into fists. “What about you?” I asked, gesturing to where his cock still tented his pants.

“I’m always in control, Angel,” Gaven replied. “Even of myself.”

Before I could ask what the hell he meant by that—if that was an answer to my earlier question or a warning—he turned and left the room. My insides coiled and immediately retracted at the pressure against my ass and lower stomach. I jumped at the sensation. He’d left me, and he’d left the reminder of him behind—stretching my dark hole open, a constant sign of what was likely to come in the future.

Gaven claimed not to be a monster, but what else could he be but a cruel beast hell-bent on tearing me apart from the inside out to make me regret my actions?

Well, I wouldn’t,I thought to myself. I regretted nothing. Not running. Not saving him. Not anything I’d done to survive while I’d been gone either.

I’d done it all and I hadn’t broken from it.

From the shattered pieces of my life, I’d picked myself up and I’d fought on.

I wasn’t weak. I wasn’t without my intellect. And whether Gaven realized it or not, he wasn’t completely in control. Not always. The second it slipped, I’d be there and I’d find my path to freedom. I’d done it before, and I could do it again.

12

GAVEN

Evangeline Price was in my head. A dangerous place to keep her, but she was there, nonetheless. More days passed and through her own merit—eating when she was ordered to, no more fits like before—she slowly earned privileges back. Sheets and a comforter for the nighttime. A nightgown—a thin one without underwear—that outlined her body perfectly as she stood by the window and watched the sunset each and every night.

She’d grown accustomed to the pear of anguish in her ass and had taken it splendidly again and again as I removed it for her to clean it and allow her breaks to wash and other things. After the third day of it being inserted, I decided that it was likely time for me to prepare her in other ways.

That decision was how we found ourselves at a standoff with her arms crossed over her chest as she glared at me with that spark of resistance in her eyes.

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