Page 21 of Cruel Master
She lets out a tiny sigh as she slides off the altar, pausing for a moment, hands flat to the stone, steadying herself. “No, Master.”
“Good.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and wait. Performing personal tasks with an audience is humiliating. This isn’t as bad as it could be, but her hesitation shows me she’s not keen on the idea. Or maybe she’s just struggling with obeying me at all.
Whatever her issue is, she overcomes it, stalking over to the bucket and giving herself a good scrub with the sponge, back to me. I could make her turn to face me, but she’s doing as she’s told, so I let it slide. If I wanted that, I should have insisted on it in the first place. Changing the goal posts and making unreasonable demands isn’t going to work.
I’ll have to be careful how I word my instructions.
Juliet is the sort of person who showers twice a day, three times if she works out, so she must be glad to clean off the sticky sweat. She shoots me a quick glance, then angles herself to wash off the last of the painful lube. She’ll be sore for a while longer. I have some cream that will ease the sting, but she’s not getting it this time. I want her to feel her punishment as she tries to sleep.
She uses the trickle of water to rinse off the suds as best she can, shivering as the icy water hits her skin. I’m proud of that particular detail, and it wasn’t easy to achieve. Above Juliet’s prison sits a vat of purest Nordic spring water, cooled to Arcticlevels. She always wanted to visit some of the icy, fjord-type countries. Now she can have the next best thing.
Task complete, she turns to face me. Again, I’m struck by how little she seems to care about her nudity. Her hands hang down at her sides, as though she’s assessed the situation and decided she’s got bigger problems than showing her skin. The bravery of it is almost daunting. I won’t break Juliet with silly tricks.
I scan her body and frown as I notice something that wasn’t there when we were married. A cluster of circular scars on her inner thigh. What the hell? I need to ask her about them, but it’s too soon for conversation. Still, the shape and placement of them gives me an uneasy feeling. I push it to the side for now, as Juliet speaks.
“So, what now—” She pauses just long enough to make it deliberate. “—Master?”
Sassy, but nothing I can punish her for. At least she’s playing this game by my rules, working out what she can get away with.
I don’t hesitate for a second. “Thirty with the strap. Bend over the altar.”
She flinches but doesn’t look surprised. Maybe it’s even a relief after what I just did to her. Given her tastes, this is familiar territory. The sort of punishment, she might even enjoy. I struggled with the possibility of that during the planning stages. If she enjoys pain, how can I give it to her as a punishment? But it’s important I fulfil the role of Master to the fullest.
And a master needs a heavy right hand.
I’ve practiced this, but I’ve never done it to a real human. Juliet swallows, her lips part, and she draws in a breath before walking jerkily to the altar. To anyone watching, she would be the terrified victim and I the looming monster. But my hands shake as she bends and flattens her body on the stone.
I might be more nervous than she is. At least she’s done this before.
Fuck.
At that thought, my hands stop shaking. Other men have left their marks on her body. Now it’s my turn, and I’ll make sure she knows the difference between playtime and true ownership.
I use my thumbprint to open the cabinet. She’ll be looking, of course, so I grab the strap and close it again fast enough that she’ll only have caught a glimpse of the contents. I don’t want to give too much away. By the time I turn around, she has her gaze averted, staring at the far wall. It doesn’t fool me.
A memory rears up, slamming into me before I can guard against it. Her twenty-fifth birthday. I told her, in the sternest tone I could manage back then, not to look in the closet, as her party theme was a surprise. I knew she wouldn’t listen, waited, and caught her red handed in the act of snooping. We laughed about it, and I kissed her.
Maybe I should have spanked her for it instead. I won’t make the mistake of showing mercy again.
The strap sits heavy in my hand as I line myself up with Juliet. “Count the strokes. If you miss one, it’s two extra.”
“Yes, Master.”
She gets the words out quickly this time, voice breathy. Nerves, or excitement? It could be both. I draw in a breath and bring back my arm.
Time stops as the strap falls. There’s the impact, a loud crack, a moment of silence. Then, Juliet jerks, and her hands fly back to cover her ass. “Ow! Ow, that’s…”
She twists to face me, and there it is. Real fear. A bright red stripe marks where the strap fell, and deep satisfaction fills me. She might have done this before, but not like this. There are nosafe words here. Nonot so hard, please, sir. I’m going to give her what other men never could.
“You missed the count. That’s thirty-two.”
“What? No. I—”
I bring the strap down again, and she howls. “Ow. One! One.”
Again.
Again.
