Page 58 of Cruel Master
He moves to the cabinet and pulls it open. “Do you remember what the punishment is for disrespecting your master, doll?”
It’s Saldar’s words in Hadrian’s voice, and it’s all wrong. Now that the light is brighter, I recognize the demonic tattoos on his hands. Saldar’s hands. Hadrian’s hands.
No.
No.
When he holds up the butt plug and the burning lube I hate so much, it’s like he’s slapped me across the face. No. Hadrian can’t do that to me. Saldar did—several times in the early days, before I learned to watch my tongue. But Hadrian? No. No way.
My brain finally connects to my mouth. “Where am I? What are you doing? Why am I here?”
The questions I’d almost given up on having answered pour out, all the more urgent now. “Is this revenge? For what I did?”
He stands over me, and his bulked-up body fills my view. How in the hell did he get so ripped? I used to pester him to come to the gym with me, but he never would. Not what is important right now, but still. Jesus Christ.
“We’ll discuss that when I’m ready. I’m going to unlock you now, and I want you to roll over like a good little doll.”
Good little doll.
It should sound ridiculous, delivered in his light, cultured accent, but somehow, it doesn’t. It sends a shiver deep into my bones. There’s no demon suit now, no props scaring me into submission. Just the only man I’ve ever loved, treating me like his personal sex object.
It’s there, of course, the sick desire I can never escape. Even now,even fucking now, my clit throbs at the words. But as he unclicks the restraints, giving me movement back, the rage floods into me full force. It’s Hadrian. New tattoos and bulk or not, he’s still Hadrian. He doesn’t get to keep me captive, and he certainly doesn’t get to stick anything in my ass. Fuck this.
I launch myself off the altar, head flying up toward his face.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Hadrian
I’vegrowntoousedto peaceful obedience from Juliet. I knew my revelation would change things, but even so, when she launches a headbutt at my face, it catches me off guard. I lurch back just in time, but she doesn’t stop. She slams her fist into my ribs, and it actually hurts.
I’m ready, though. Months ago, I asked Jacob to show me some basic catch-and-restrain maneuvers, and we practiced them on and off until Juliet arrived.
“You motherfucker. How dare you—”
Her fist flies out again, this time aimed at my face, and I catch her wrist. With my new strength, it’s easy for me to use her momentum against her, spin her around, and bend her over the altar, arm twisted up behind her back.
She screams, an ear-splitting howl filled with fury, and kicks her leg back. It connects with my shin. Pain ricochets up the bone, and my adrenaline surges.
I don’t fucking think so. I press her body hard into the altar, raise my hand, and bring it down full force on her ass. The crack is deafening, and she screeches her fury as I do it again. And again. And again.
This wasn’t on the menu for today, but as my hand lands again, leaving bright red prints, I realize I don’t actually care. Saldar was all cold precision and planning, but he’s gone now. There’s only Juliet and me. This is real, she’s mine, and if I don’t make her understand that today, she might never understand it at all.
She squawks and thrashes at first, but as my hand starts to really hurt, she falls still. How many was that? I have no idea. God, there’s a freedom in facing Juliet as myself that I hadn’t bargained for. And when she mumbles, “Please. Stop,” it’s a direct line straight to my cock.
I made her say that. Not her demonic construct. All me, and she knows it.
I give her ten more hard smacks, drinking in every little whimper, then stop. A few deep breaths, and I trust my voice enough to say, “On the altar, doll. Face down.”
There’s a moment where I’m sure she’s going to fly at me again, but after a few long seconds, she drags herself onto the altar. Rich, heady satisfaction fills me. She’s obeying me. This is actually working. I fasten her restraints quickly, before she can change her mind, and run a finger over her red, raw ass.
She whimpers, and I lean down so I can whisper in her ear, “Until I tell you otherwise, the only words I want to hear out of your mouth are ‘Yes, Master.’ Is that clear?”
There’s that long silence again. I’ll have to do something about that if it continues. But finally, as if it hurts her to say it, I get a clipped, “Yes, Master.”
Oh, how I love hearing that applied to me.
“Good.”
