Page 46 of Gilded Locks
“Because choices like this are not conscious. They’re borne of blood, sweat, and tears.”
“Blood?” Her stomach dropped and she swallowed. “Please,” she begged. “I already told you I’d cooperate.”
“Yes, and that’s what this is. A test of your word. You will cooperate and give me—us—exactly what we want.”
Her insides shook as she tried to imagine what that might be. “I won’t break my word.”
“I want to believe you but, so far, you’ve only proven that you’re a liar. So I’m afraid I’ll need a bit more convincing.”
A lone tear trickled down her cheek, and he swiped it away with such contrasting gentleness she had the urge to rush into the shelter of his arms. He sensed her need, and took the choice from her, pulling her close and hugging her tight.
His lips pressed into her hair and he whispered, “Hush now. Tears will only make me want more.”
Her fist tightened in his shirt. She wanted him like this. Safe. Protective. Gentle. But that wasn’t how this would go.
“Enough now.” He abruptly turned her away from him and stepped back, leaving her shivering before him. Bare. Exposed. Unguarded.
He moved to the wall and opened a cabinet. Various items dangled from bronze hooks, and he sorted through the rack like one might drag a finger over a bookshelf of their fondest stories. He selected a long, reed-thin leather crop, and she staggered back.
“What are you doing with that?”
“Relax.”
“How do I do that when you’re holding a horse whip?”
“You do it with self-discipline.”
She wasn’t feeling very disciplined at the moment.
“If you run,” he said as her eyes darted back to the door, “I’ll catch you. And when I do, I’ll be hotter, which means I’ll likely whip you harder. If you submit now, it won’t hurt as much.” He stroked his hand over the reed-thin whip and took her hand, opening her fingers to feel the weight. “You’ll learn to relax, not because I mean to dismiss your fears, but because I know it’s easier when your body stays nimble.” He swatted the whip across her palm and she gasped, closing her fingers in a protective fist.
He casually stroked the leather-wrapped whip, never breaking eye contact. “You’ll learn to trust us, Goldilocks. You’ll come to discover that when you’re obedient and well-behaved, life will operate more in your favor. You’ll also learn—because I sense your opposition—that we enjoy a challenge. Whether you give us one or not, the outcome will be the same. Your submission is a requirement. The level of pain is up to you.” He paused, using the folded leather tip of the crop to lift her chin. “Trust my advice is meant to make things easier, not harder.” He turned away. “Keep your eyes on me.”
She looked at him with a mixture of desperation and hate.
He pointed the crop toward the wall where a bolster stood in front of a padded bench. “Kneel for me.” When she didn’t move, he swung the crop against the leather bolster, jolting her into motion, but she couldn’t bring herself to kneel. What sane woman would surrender to a beating with a horse whip?
“On your knees, Goldilocks.”
She was frozen, paralyzed with shock that he actually wanted her to voluntarily submit to a beating. “I can’t—Ah!” The whip struck into her thighs fast and sharp. She dropped to the bench.
“Head down.” He pressed her shoulders forward and pulled her arms back. “Hold your ass open so I can see when you tense.”
She was trembling so rapidly she could hardly make sense of his directions, but he didn’t wait for her to obey. He merely positioned her the way he wanted and told her to stay.
The folded tip of the crop traced slowly down her spine, tripping over each protruding vertebrae. “Say the word and I stop. We can have you back to your family by midnight.”
He moved behind her, folding his body over hers and pressing into her with his impressive weight. The bulge of his denim clad erection pressed over her ass as he ground into her hands. Warm breath teased her ear. “The word…is stop.” He ground himself harder. “Do you want me to stop and send you home to Daddy, Goldilocks? Is this too hard?”
She shook her head, unsure if she was allowed to say no.
He pressed her harder into the bolster with the weight of his rocking hips. “I asked you a question, little thief.”
“I don’t want to go home.”
“Good.” He released her and backed off. “Then let’s begin.”
The whip came down on her thighs, leather singing through the air before the sharp kiss of impact bloomed into burning heat. She yiped under the swift force and reflexively jolted, her natural instinct to escape pain more powerful than her force of will in that moment.
