Page 10 of The Killer's Payment

The swats resume.

Nothing comes out of my mouth after that.

I should be shouting and screaming and giving him hell. But I don’t do any of that. I’m too shocked. Too stunned. Too afraid that the next word out of my mouth won’t be “enough” but “please.” So instead, I just whimper.

And I hate myself for that because I never thought I’d be a woman who whimpered. Never thought I’d submit to this humiliation. Never thought I’d be even a little bit turned on by being spanked like a spoiled child.

But with every slap, I become even wetter, even more desperate to have this brutal stranger inside me. Heat blazes across my ass, and I’m sure if I looked, I’d see red.

Blood rushes to my head, and I start to feel dizzy and lightheaded. I think this is a good thing, because now I’m not focusing on the pain, not focusing on my arousal.

Now I’m only focusing on when this humiliation will end.

It will end.

I know it’s the last one when his hand rests flat across my ass cheeks.

He shushes me. Shushes me! Then he clears his throat. “Are you ready to start being honest?”

My ass is on fire. My hair is in my face, sticking to my wet lips. And above all that, my pride has just been absolutely shredded because if his hand wandered even an inch lower, he’d discover how wet I am.

And to my horror, he does just that when I don’t reply, his fingers grazing the edge of my sex. He laughs, the sound low and deep as he teases my wet folds. “So you enjoyed that, princess? Fascinating.”

This isn’t right. None of this is my fault. I didn’t ask for this. I wasn’t sent here! I was abducted! “Fuck you.”

“What a dirty little mouth you have.” His hand returns to my ass, moving across my sensitive skin, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to soothe the ache or sadistically draw attention to it. Right now, it’s doing both. “Would you like me to show you a better way to use it?”

Heat shoots all the way up to my cheeks as the reality of his threat settles in. “You’re sick.”

“Sick?” He pulls me up now. Right up. Practically arranges me on top of his lap so that my legs are spread across his and we’d be face-to-face if it weren’t for the massive height difference. I can feel him, thick and hard between my legs and I try not to think about it and what it’s doing to my exposed flesh. “Sick? No. Curious? Yes. Confused? Yes. Aroused? Absolutely. Willing to do whatever I need to do to understand why you walked into my house like you owned the damn place and cried over the fact I didn’t fuck you like that was true? Definitely. Now tell me, what’s it going to take to get my explanation?”

I… I don’t have an answer for him.

More of that?

Worsethan that?

The way I feel right now, I don’t care anymore.

I don’t care if he sends me home. I don’t care if he laughs at me while he does it. So why the hell am I putting myself through this to protect a secret that just doesn’t seem to matter?

“I’m sold, bought, and paid for,” I tell him, feeling my eyes sting and closing them. “When you send me back, I’ll be even less free than I am now. Stuck with… with a man who can do far worse.”

That silence stretches out again, and the only thing capable of keeping track of time is the beat of my heart pounding in my chest.

“What?”

I open my eyes at the way his tone cuts through everything.

He’s looking down at me, face hard. Beautiful as always, but hard.

Does he think I’m lying?

My stomach drops at the thought.

Telling him has changed nothing.

He’s going to punish me until he gets the answer he wants to hear.

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