Page 16 of Christmas With The Kings
Crack.
“Ow!” I yelped, flinching hard as the first blow landed. My body jerked, muscles tightening instinctively. It hurt in the best way. That snap of pain blossomed into relief. My chest heaved, the edges of my spiraling emotions dulled, adjusting and making room for this instead.
I glanced back. The Torturer was calm. Focused. Completely in control and in his element. His expression was unreadable, but there was a hint of stern expectation in the set of his jaw. Another lash landed.
Whack.
“Count them out, young lady,” he hissed.
“One!” I shouted, too loud, too panicked.
“Don’t raise your voice at Sebastian,” Alek barked from the phone. “This is your doing. You’ll do it the right way. Now start over.”
I took a sharp breath, swallowed the lump in my throat. “One,” I whispered as Bash brought the belt down again.
“Are you going to ignore me again?” Alek demanded.
Crack.
“No, Master. Two.” My voice trembled, but I could already sense the painful edges softening in my chest. I exhaled all of it. Let everything I’d been holding in for far too long go. Another strike from the Torturer landed.
Snap.
“Are you going to do as you’ve been told?”
“Yes, three,” I gasped, my body curling with the sting.
The pain focused me. Sharpened me like nothing else could. It pulled me out of my spiral and anchored me to them. To the rules that kept me safe—even from myself. To the structure I craved, even when I resented it.
Despite everything, this was care in the sharpest, strangest form. One I’d come to realize was as much a part of me as my gray eyes were. My breath was still shaky, but I focused on the comforter, letting my fingers dig into the plush fabric as I waited for the next strike.
Smack.
“Are your plans more important than my instructions?” Alek barked.
I flinched harder this time. That one burned—deep and bright. “No, Master,” I cried, my voice cracking as I counted. “Four.”
There was a pause. The next strike came slower, more precise, landing on that expanse of flesh that would leave a reminder for later.
Whack.
“Are we going to have a problem then?”
“No,” I gasped, answering the Reaper. “Five.No, we won’t, Master. I’ll do as you asked. I promise.”
The belt landed on the bed beside me with a quiet finality, like the period at the end of a sentence. I stayed still, ass stinging, chest rising and falling, pussy throbbing in the best way. It didn’t matter that this was corrective in nature.
My body responded how it wanted to. The way the Reaper knew it would. The Torturer knew it as well. So I refused to be ashamed over it. My throat burned, my lashes stuck with tears I gladly let fall. But damn, what a relief—the tightness inside me was gone.
I wasn’t angry anymore. The spinning had stopped, and I was better in every way. The Reaper had seen me. Claimed ownership over me, and that made all the difference. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t here in the flesh to dole it out. I had the next best thing—the Torturer.
And his delivery was brilliant. There wasn’t a single thing I’d change about it.
“Now,” Alek said, his voice softer—quieter. “You’ll let Bash cuddle you for ten minutes. Nothing more than a cuddle. Do not try to rub or grindmysweet little pussy on my best mate. Understand?
“Yes, Master,” I whispered, body trembling at his voice.
“Good girl. Then you’ll go downstairs. Marcus is waiting.”
