Page 74 of Depraved
Dante reaches for my hand and brings it to his lips, kissing my palm as Matteo comes to stand on the other side of him, crossing his arms.
“Bill, you’re a jerk-off. You deserved that, but I believe in second chances, right, Matteo?”
“Absolutely. You’re a saint, Dante,” Matteo answers, and it reminds me of the way a cat plays with its food before it kills it.
Please don’t kill Bill.
Bill is shaking and trying to negotiate, but his words are lost between his tears. I look down at Dante’s face to see him smirking.
He likes Bill’s fear. But what’s more fucked-up is I like Dante’s power.
Dante stands and cracks his neck before buttoning his jacket. “You need to apologize to my girl. Go on, say you’re sorry, or you won’t see tomorrow.”
Bill nods his bleeding face and begins to mumble his words. “Please don’t hurt me. I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry. Okay. Please. I’ll say whatever you want.”
“Consider the broken nose more of a slap on the wrist,” Dante reasons as he takes my hand. “Now, what Matteo is about to do will serve as more of a permanent reminder not to touch those who do not belong to you.”
Dante’s jaw tenses as he says it.
He nods to Matteo before leading me past the seated area, my heels clicking in the silence. We get more than halfway to the staircase that leads downstairs, and I start to look over my shoulder, but Dante places his hand on my back. “No, Billy.”
My head stays forward as I hear a muffled scream come from behind, fading away as we walk down into the silence. The wide hallway is dark, with doors on either side. Behind those doors are fantasy rooms and rooms that cater to those with more particular needs.
My heart is beating out of my chest as we pass each one, trying to discern which one he’d take me to but already knowing deep down.
My fingers reach for my choker, stroking over the bumpy surface as my thoughts weigh heavy on me. I knew what these pieces on my body would mean, but what I didn’t anticipate was how much heavier they would feel when I forgot my place.
“I didn’t mean to call it a bracelet. I mean, I did, but because I didn’t want him to know anything about me, not because I was ashamed,” I whisper into the dark.
Dante says nothing as we stop in front of an all-black door, a gold plate fixed in the middle with the inscriptionEgo te Absolvo,which translates intoI absolve you.
This room is for punishing.
This room is for penance.
Dante takes a deep breath and places a skeleton key into the door, twisting the lock. He pushes the door open and steps aside for me to enter, refusing to look at me.
“What’s your word,” he breathes as I stand facing the room filled with whips and floggers that line the wall.
“Mercy,” I answer, tipping my chin up, intoxicated and drawn into the darkest parts of this man.
“Will you ask for it one day?” he whispers, bringing his lips to my neck and assaulting the flesh.
“Do your worst, Dante.” I walk inside the room all the way to the center.
I hear the door lock, but I don’t turn around. There’s nothing around me as I stand alone, waiting for what he’ll do, the pain he’ll inflict. My body’s begging for it, wetness slick between my legs and my nipples pushing harder against the fabric of my dress.
His footsteps grow louder as he gets closer until I feel his warm breath on me. Dante’s fingers find the clasp for my dress, and he unclips it, letting the front fall over like a bib. He dips his finger inside the fabric, cinching it down slowly over my body until it pools at my feet.
He gives me his hand, and I step out, dressed only in my jewels. I feel beautiful.
“You look gorgeous wearing me around you.”
Dante dips to pick up my dress and sticks it between my legs, wiping my center as a gasp leaves my mouth. “Your pussy is dripping. Begging to be fucked.” He tosses my dress to the couch and steps back. The sound of his belt buckle coming undone makes my eyelids flutter.
“Spread your goddamn legs.”
I take a step out, giving myself a wider stance.
