Page 41 of Dance with Death

I don’t know this dance, these steps, this performance.

How do I survive this?

He steps forward, suave and sleek in his pressed black slacks, crisp white button-up, and silk black tie. He grabs me by both shoulders, yanking me up to stand and whirling me around so he can sit on the stool instead. He lets go of me and begins to roll up his sleeves.

His eyes burn a hole through me. “Turn around. Lift your skirt.”

I hesitate.

Suddenly, I feel more vulnerable and exposed than I’ve ever been. I’ve felt my fair share of exposure and vulnerability at Nikolai’s hands, but fuck, everything here feels so wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong!

You’re sick!

I spin around slowly, putting my back to him as he switches from one sleeve to the other. My fingertips brush my skin as I grasp the hem of my dress, lifting it slowly. Inch by inch, I expose my bare ass to him.

He lets out a low moan behind me and my gut rolls.

“Bend over.”

Just do as you’re told.

I bend.

His hands land on my hips, his thumbs rubbing circles on my cheeks.

“TellPapàhow naughty you’ve been.”

“I don’t understand what you want from me.”

I yelp, wobbling in his hold as teeth sink into my ass, not playfully, but hard and bruising.

Nikolai’s done that before. If this is all this will be, if all I have to do is serve as the unwilling subject for Vigo to play out his sick sexual fantasies with, then I can do this. I can survive this. I’ve done it for years before with Nikolai.

Except…

There was something about the way Nikolai wanted me asme, rather than a doll without a name, a fantasy, that somehow makes that seem as though it were reasonable.

Reasonable?

Nothing in my life is fucking reasonable.

Vigo’s tongue runs over the deep bite and my muscles clench against it. He pulls back and a hand releases my hip to slap me there instead, making me shriek.

“Tell me,” he says again. “Tell me you’ve been a naughty little girl who needs to be punished.”

My lips purse, refusing to form the words, but his fingertips dig hard into my hip bones.

“I’ve been bad,Papà.”

He growls, “Sei una cattiva ragazza.”

What did he say?

Should I respond?

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