Page 16 of Taken By the Soldier
I sprint toward the woods, ignoring the pain of my bare feet running over twigs and rocks. I hope to lose him in the forest, but just as I reach the tree line, a strong arm circles around my center and I’m pulled against a solid wall of muscle.
“Oh, princess, I wish you wouldn’t have done that.” Luka is winded but speaks steadily enough. His breath dances along my earlobe.
Terror lances through me as I struggle, but he subdues me with a sudden, hard slap to my backside. Even through the layers of my jeans and panties, the blow packs a fierce sting. The cry that escapes my throat is wrought from both pain and shock.
If you step outside the front door without permission, I won’t hesitate to turn you over my knee.
The words he’d spoken moments ago crash upon me, and I go still, hoping I can talk my way out of this mess. But as my panic deepens, my ability to speak and think calmly flees, and I shout out to him, not caring if any of our neighbors can hear (or are currently witnessing) our little disagreement.
“I won’t be your wife, and I sure as fuck won’t sleep with you! Let me go!” I attempt to twist around in his arms, fully intending to knee him in the dick again. His grip, however, is viselike, and I’m barely able to move an inch.
“Judith, listen to me,” he says in a booming voice. “I’ll be doing you a favor to get the bedding over with.”
A favor? The absurdity of his statement causes my blood to boil hotter. I renew my struggles, but my efforts only earn me two more sharp swats to my bottom.
Shame fills me at the idea of being taken over his knee for a proper spanking, and heated pulses wave through me, stealing my breath and leaving me quivering in his hold.
Will he really drag me back inside, punish me, and then fuck me?
“Pl-please don’t be-beat me,” I stammer, going limp in his arms. I feel like such a coward, surrendering to him so quickly and begging for mercy. I used to eat bullies like Luka for breakfast in the courtroom. Just last year, multiple news articles named me as a rising star prosecutor, calling me ‘utterly fearless’ for building a solid case against mafia boss Vincent Fry and helping to put him away for life. I’ve endured intimidation and death threats from some of the most powerful, corrupt men in the country, only for a Zasforran soldier to make me crumble.
He turns me around to meet his eyes but maintains a tight grip with one arm surrounding my waist. He brings his other hand up and I wince, expecting a slap to the face. Instead, he brushes my wild curls behind my ears before grasping my chin.
“I’m not a monster, Judith. I would never beat you,” he says. “But I will warm your bottom if you’ve been disobedient. There’s a difference, as you’re about to find out.”
He picks me up and carries me back inside, heading upstairs and straight for the bedroom. The bizarre feeling of safety I’d experienced in his arms last night rushes through me again, and the confusion this produces leaves my eyes burning.
The dark expression he wears as he places me atop the bed causes the back of my neck to prickle. He strokes my hair gently, and my endorphins go into overdrive. Leaning over my body, he places a hand on my leg, and his touch ignites a sweltering fire of passion I didn’t know I possessed.
Good God, what is wrong with me?
I’m his prisoner and everything about this is wrong.
To my astonishment, he sets about checking my feet for cuts. “Looks fine, just a little red.” Next, he gathers my hands in his and opens my bandages with great care, then rolls up my jeans and gives my knees the same treatment. “The salve has worked wonders,” he explains as he disposes of the bandages.
A glance at my knees and palms shows no evidence of any injury, and I wonder what’s in that salve. Cuts like those would’ve taken a week or longer to heal with regular antibiotic ointment.
Luka continues running his hands over my knees and palms, then moves to stroke my inner thighs, his touch full of promise. I stare at him, trying to reconcile the desire that’s warring with my anger.
Oh God.
Do I truly desire this Zasforran barbarian? The throbbing between my legs indicates the answer to that question is a bigyes, even as my rational mind rebels against the very notion of surrender.
“You’re all healed,” Luka says, rising up. His eyes lock with mine, and the resolve in those stunning blue depths causes my insides to flutter. “Now, I told you what would happen if you set foot outside the door without permission, didn’t I?”
I flush all over. “Yes, but—”
“Tell me,” he says. “Tell me what I promised would happen if you went outside.”
My mouth goes dry, and I struggle to form words. “You-you said you wo-would sp-spank me. But—”
“That’s right, little girl. I said I would spank you, and as you’re about to find out, I’m a man of my word. I won’t tolerate disobedience in any form from my own wife.”
“Please,” I whisper, even as heat unfurls inside me, and the pulses between my thighs come faster. “I-I’m sorry.”
I’m not truly sorry, am I?
The apology just spilled from my lips because I’m scared.
