Page 24 of UnTrained: Volume Two
His fingers trace a path along my arm, so light I might imagine it if my senses weren't so heightened by darkness. I shiver under his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips.
"So responsive," he murmurs, his voice closer to my ear than I expected.
The bed shifts as he moves.A drawer opens, then closes. I strain for a hint of what’s coming next, but I can’t make out much until the leather brushes over my leg.
I open my eyes partway to see what Aiden is doing. I can’t even help it. It’s practically a reflex.
Aiden is holding a short leather strap in his hand, trailing it over my skin. The sight makes me freeze and, oddly, clench in anticipation at the same time.
But overwhelming those two emotions are a sense of shame. I disobeyed his order.
I squeeze my eyes closed again amid a jumble of feelings.
“Lana.” Aiden’s voice is deep, commanding.
“Yes, Sir?”
There’s a beat of silence, then another as he runs the strap over my skin.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”
I bite my lip. “I, um. No, Sir.”
“Hmm.” Even with one deep syllable he manages to convey a sense of disappointment.
My stomach seizes. Should I have told him I peeked?
“Open your eyes, Lana,” he says, before I can decide if I should blurt out my one moment of dishonesty.
As I meet his gaze, he crosses his arms over his chest, the leather strap in one hand. He studies me for a few moments before he speaks, and when he does, his tone doesn’t invite any argument.
“Roll onto your stomach.”
I scramble to obey.
“Place a pillow below your hips.”
I’m clumsy as I attempt to wrestle the pillow into place. My heart races, needing to please this man.
When I still, Aiden runs a hand over my bottom. “You wondered about punishment, Lana.”
I shiver at his words.
“This is what a punishment looks like, sweetheart. Not because you opened your eyes when I asked for them closed. But because you didn’t tell the truth.” He lifts his hand, then runs the strap across my skin.
It occurs to me just how open I am in this position. How vulnerable.
How powerless I am to stop him.
How much I don't want to stop him.
21
"I'm going to give you five strokes," Aiden says, his voice firm but not cruel. "You will count each one and thank me afterward. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," I whisper, my voice muffled against the sheets. My fingers grip the bedding, anticipation and nervousness battling within me.
"What's your safeword?" he asks, reminding me that even in punishment, I have power.
