Page 45 of Brutal Vows

Punishment. That is what he had whispered as he led me to his room, but so far, all he’s done is slowly prepare for bed, moving with a calm deliberation, leaving me standing awkwardly in the center of the room unsure of what to do next. The silky dress clings to me, and I know I can’t slip out of it without his assistance. I hesitate to interrupt his focus, which, thankfully, isn’t directed at me just now.

I nervously wet my lips as he steps out of the bathroom a few minutes later, clad only in a pair of snug black briefs, his masculinity boldly outlined against the fabric. I may be a virgin, but I’m not a prude. I’ve watched my share of porn but witnessing him almost bare before me stirs something deep inside me that those countless hours of viewing never did.

I’m not sure how to feel about it.

“Turn around, Gia,” he instructs softly, his voice carrying a gentle authority. Eager to escape my swirling thoughts, I comply quickly. A shiver dances down my spine as he lowers the zipper, the whisper of the clasp sliding along the fabric echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing softly down my arms, taking the fabric of my dress with them. His touch isn’t unfamiliar, yet this intense warmth spreading through me is entirely new. I’ve felt a spark of desire with every previous touch, even when the leather of his belt met my skin on the plane, but now, it’s different—deeper.

Vitali gently lifts my chin, and for a fleeting moment, I find solace in his steady gaze. There’s a ravenous longing in his eyes, an intimacy that mirrors my own. His lips lightly skim over mine. One hand tenderly supports my head, while the other carefully eases the white dress downwards until it pools in a shimmering heap of satin around my ankles.

“All I want to do is lay you out on our bed and feast on your pussy until you pass out from pleasure.”

He presses himself against me, and I can feel the solid weight of his desire. Every inch of him is evident, the thin fabric of his briefs futilely attempting to conceal his arousal. As he steps back, his eyes travel slowly over my nearly naked form, taking in every curve and contour. All I’m wearing now is my white satin thong. Although it isn’t the first time he’s seen me bare, there’s an intensity in the air that makes this moment feel profoundly different, and we both sense it.

“But your punishment comes first,” he tells me. “Take off your panties,bella.” He strides into the walk-in closet situated next to the bathroom leaving me frozen with indecision. “Now, Gia.” The hardness in his tone has mescrambling to pull off the flimsy fabric and I toss it to the side before righting myself.

When he emerges and sees that I am completely naked, a broad smile spreads across his face. “Brava ragazza,” he says, his voice smooth and rich, the Italian words rolling off his tongue with an effortless grace. The phrase sends a thrilling pulse through me, a languid heat sparked by his praise. In his hands, he holds a long coil of rope, the fibers pristine and neatly trimmed, catching the light as he plays with the edges. He inclines his head toward the end of the bed.

“Go kneel at the end of the bed.”

I comply without hesitation, not wanting to challenge him, and move to kneel in front of the solid, imposing oak four-poster bed. Its presence is commanding, the dark wood polished to a gleaming finish. My heart races with anticipation, a blend of nerves and curiosity swirling within me as I await what will unfold next. Despite his promise of punishment, a part of me remains unafraid, the unknown drawing me in with an intoxicating allure. Instead of trepidation, an intriguing sense of wonder fills me.

In a matter of moments, he has skillfully stretched my arms out along the full length of the footboard, securing them tightly with rope to each end. The way my arms are positioned elevates me slightly, causing my hips to hover several inches above the ground. He kneels before me, reaching between my legs to pull out a long, sleek black bar from beneath the bed. With the swift, practiced movements of someone well-versed in this routine, he expertly locks my ankles into place, spreading them wide apart.

A wave of unease ripples through me, my vulnerability stark and undeniable kneeling before him. He’s in control, and the realization that I am powerless to resistsends a shiver down my spine. My heart pounds in my chest as I part my lips to question his intentions, but I don’t get the chance. Swiftly, he slips a strip of fabric between my parted lips, working with deft fingers to knot it securely at the back of my head. The gag is snug, pressing against the corners of my mouth just enough to silence me, yet it doesn’t bite into my skin or hinder my breathing.

Standing back, he licks his lips as he stares down at me, admiring his handiwork. I try to talk, but all that comes out is a garbled mess of unintelligible sounds. Vitali smirks darkly, running the back of his hand gently along my cheek.

“Don’t worry,piccolla cerva,” he assures me. “You might end up enjoying this as much as I will.”

He reaches for something that is right out of my line of sight. I can’t help but squirm. An ominous crackling sound cuts through the room.What the hell is…my thoughts stutter to a halt as I catch sight of what Vitali is holding in his hand. At first glance, it appears to be just a metal rod, wrapped in leather. But as it comes more into view, I see exactly what it is.

An electric riding crop.

A cold bite of fear catches in my chest, rumbling down into my stomach. But entwined with it is something else—a thrill that scurries up and down my spine. My heart stampedes in anticipation despite myself.

“Gia,” he murmurs, his voice low and velvety as he drags the riding crop across my cheek, its leather edge caressing my skin before gliding slowly down the curve of my neck. The cool metal of the rod follows, tracing deliberate, torturous paths over my exposed flesh, while a blue light from the nodes flicker across me like a swarm of perverse fireflies. His hazel eyes lock onto mine, glinting with darkamusement that quickens my breath and sets my insides alight with a dreadful, delicious pain.

“Pwease” the muffled words slip out in a whisper as he continues his torturous journey. The rod sizzles against my nipple, sending a sharp current that forces a startled gasp from my lips. The electric sting winds through me like a tight coil, fusing sweet agony with raw desire at the very center of my being.

“There is no mercy here, little deer,” he purrs against the shell of my ear, his voice holds tenderness and a threat as he presses the rod against my other nipple. My sensitive flesh, pulled taut by both desire and terror, quivers under his ministrations, each wave of sensation ripping through me in a tumultuous blend of pleasure and pain that shatters my defenses. His gruff praise rings through the charged air, beckoning me ever deeper into this dark, depraved world.

“You belong to me, Gia. Every part of you.” His words sound like a warning or maybe a promise. The rod sparks once more before he withdrawals it, leaving me quivering in his dominant shadow. I am lost and found in the dangerous game he is playing. Lost to the naivety of my old self and found in the heat that he ignites within me with his cruel tool and wicked words.

My entire body shivers under his intense gaze, each brush of electric fire igniting my skin, sending my thoughts spiraling in a vortex of fear and defiant longing. Even as terror collides with desire and every nerve in me cries out for release, my resolve falters.

The riding crop embarks on a new, meticulous journey, its tip gliding over my breasts and trailing down my stomach in deliberate strokes.

“You will understand what it means to be mine. I promise you that,” he declares, pausing the path of the cropbetween my trembling thighs and above the delicate heat of my arousal. “You will learn that actions have consequences, and every time you disobey, I will be there to correct you.” Each word punctuates the charged atmosphere while the blue indicator on the handle sparks to life under his thumb.

A primal scream bursts forth from deep inside me as a cascade of tiny shocks erupts along my skin, each pulse both agonizing and bizarrely pleasurable. My hips jerk involuntarily, and I swallow hard, my body reacting as if it were a live wire to the merciless barrage of sensations.

“Remember” he growls, his voice rough as he presses the device deeper inside me, and I gasp at the unexpected intrusion. The rod slips in with unsettling ease, emboldened by the slick wetness that betrays my arousal, and if my skin weren’t already flushed a deep, stinging red, I’d be mortified by how quickly he has awakened this hidden desire within me. “…you are now my wife, Gia De Luca.” His proclamation resonates through the haze of pain and pleasure, a decree that transforms every lingering doubt into a fierce, undeniable surrender.

As the searing sensation wanes, a raw surge of inexplicable bliss floods me, blurring my vision while my heart hammers relentlessly against my ribcage. Every pulse of the cold electric touch sends ripples of exquisite torment through my body, causing me to convulse around the rod, each shudder intertwining pain with an unbidden pleasure.

“Good girl,” he murmurs near my ear, the satisfaction in his rough voice adding another layer to my overwhelming surrender. All pretenses fall away, leaving only the intense, unfiltered merger of desire and submission raging like a violent storm in my veins.

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