Page 44 of Twisted Obsession
“What is your problem?” I shouted, my voice ringing through the room with frustration.
“This,” he said, gesturing emphatically from my head to my toes, as if I were the root of his troubles. “You look like a whore. Every man can see your tits and your pussy.”
“You can’t tell me what I can or can’t wear!” I retorted, my anger boiling over. His words stung. How dare he compare me to a whore?
Before I could storm away, he swiftly hoisted me over his shoulder, carrying me with determined strides to the bedroom.
He dropped me to the floor with a suddenness that left me struggling to regain my footing.
As he loosened his tie, his gaze fixated on me with an icy intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Take the fucking suit off, Lara,” he commanded, using my name instead of the affectionate nickname he usually reserved for me.
“No.” My defiance was palpable, matching the fury in his demeanor.
“If you don’t remove it, I will,” he warned, yanking his tie free from his shirt and tossing it onto the bed with a dismissive flick before working the buttons on his crisp white shirt.
We locked eyes in a tense standoff, neither willing to back down. Then he moved with purpose, deftly untying the strings of my top and bottom, pulling them free with a swift tug. The strings dangled from his hand as he reached to unbuckle his belt, smoothly sliding it through the loops.
"On the bed," he ordered, his voice a low growl.
I flinched at his command but didn’t resist, understanding the inevitability of the moment. I climbed onto the bed, never breaking eye contact with him.
“On your stomach. I want that pretty little ass of yours in the air,” he instructed, his voice a low, commanding growl.
I rested my cheek against the cool mattress, arching my hips skyward, presenting mypretty little assto him like an offering.
“Do you understand why you’re being punished, Lara?” His voice was a low growl, a thunderous rumble that echoed through the room.
“Why don’t you enlighten me?” I snapped, my voice laced with sarcasm, a futile shield against his dominance.
Whomp!
The belt landed with a sharp crack, a line of fire blazing across my flesh. It stung, but I absorbed the pain, refusing to let it control me.
“Firstly,” he growled, “you put Yuri in an uncomfortable position, forcing him to contact me.”
“Yuri is a grown man,” I retorted, defiance burning within me. “I think he rather enjoyed the view.”
Whomp!
I gritted my teeth, the second lash biting into me with a fierce intensity. My breath hitched, but I held my tongue.
“Every man in this hotel got an eyeful of your body,” he said, his voice a low, menacing snarl. “I warned you what would happen.”
Whomp! Whomp!
The belt struck again, two rapid blows that sent waves of agony crashing through me. Now it was really starting to hurt.
“Dmitri, please stop,” I begged, tears streaming down my face, the saltiness mingling with the sweet taste of my lip gloss.
Whomp!
This time, the belt bit across my thigh, a brutal kiss of leather against skin. I bit down on my lip, stifling the scream that bubbled in my throat. The welts on my flesh throbbed and burned, a symphony of searing pain that brought a stinging haze to my eyes.
I wanted to scream, to give voice to the physical torment, but I refused to show him my pain, to grant him the satisfaction of witnessing my pleasure intertwined with my agony. Instead, I bit down on my lip, my teeth sinking into the tender flesh, drawing blood just to stifle my moans.
Dmitri traced his fingers over the welts, his touch a brutal caress. A hiss escaped my lips, the sound morphing into something else entirely as he dipped a finger inside me.
