Page 13 of Christmas Mafia Prince
I dare to meet his eyes in the mirror. “I’m sorry, I panicked. I just… I find it hard to trust anyone.” Even saying that feels embarrassing, because by now he knows about at least several bad choices I’ve made, whether being with a guy like Happy, or hitting on a cop in jail.
I don’t know what to do about his controlled demeanor. I’m much more used to men who lose their shit at the first sign of things not going their way, yet here he is, a marble wall that may or may not collapse on me.
“You cannotpanic,” Damen whispers, pulling me against his firm body. “You may not flirt with other men. You are my husband, and youwillsupport me through this fucking holiday,” he says, placing his hand on my throat. I expect pain, but he presses on my Adam’s apple while his lips ghost over the side of my face.
I want him and don’t all at once. Whenever I look in the mirror and see him, I’m greedy for more, to undress him, smell him, spend the night under him. My mind might be waving a red flag, but even the most logical part of me considers swapping it for a white one.
Surrender to him, it whispers. Because maybe he means it. Maybe hewilllet me go after Christmas, and I’m just being silly. He has blackmail material on me after all. He wouldn’t need to kill me. I swallow against his hand.
“I just wanted… a safety measure.” My body shouldn’t be reacting to him with excitement, but I somehow end up aroused by things I should fear.
“There’s only one safety measure you have, and that’s me,” Damen hisses into my ear and leans forward, forcing me to put one knee on the sofa and rest my hand on its back. “So you better be a good boy and learn your lesson.”
I want to be a good boy. There might be spikes on my jacket, and steel caps on my boots, but deep down, I want a man to like me. Okay, love me.
I lean over the sofa, unsure of what he wants from me. “How do we fix this?” I whisper, taking nervous breaths. In this whole fucked up situation, somehow, the worst thing I can imagine him doing is leaving when that should be the ideal outcome.
Did I not want to be out of danger and Damen’s radar? Apparently not, because the thought of never seeing him again is making my own chest constrict.
“Simple. You need to acknowledge you did something wrong,” he tells me and takes one step away. “Lower your pants.”
As soon as he says that, so much heat floods my face I’m afraid to look in the mirror. He’ll fuck me now, and he will make sure Adriano hears how I sob for mercy. This will be a humiliating few minutes, but what choice do I have but to submit?
I slowly do as I’ve been told, now a little embarrassed that I already put on the jockstrap he bought me. I was so excited about wearing it for him, and now, I’m not sure it was a good idea. A thousand thoughts run through my mind, and I’m borderline angry with myself that I still want him to like the look of my peach.
“I’m sorry…?”
“If you’re sorry, you will accept your punishment,” Damen says, as I close my eyes, ready to bite my tongue. Sex shouldn’t bepunishment.
His palm collides with my ass with a loud clap that sends a wave of heat all the way to my head.
He… what? I curl my toes in my boots but defiantly meet his eyes in the mirror even though I stay in place. “Are you joking?” I lash out at him with a frown as I try to not think about the pain in my buttock.
“No. Show me that you’re sorry and take it. This is the least I deserve after offering you everything, just for you to go behind my back,” Damen tells me, his eyes appearing paler in the white light above us. His reflection is somehow even more imposing than the real man himself, standing behind my bare ass in his fancy clothes and with a determined look on his face.
I should be furious, because I’m not a child, but he seems so in charge, I’m finding myself calming down.
I’ve never beenspanked.
I’ve been hit, dragged over a floor or slammed against a wall. All that was violence, not punishment, and I most certainly never took it lying down, or bending over for that matter. Yet here I am, presenting myself to him in hope of making amends for what I did. My actions were thoughtless, but it’s true it could have put him in danger. Isn’t respecting the basic rules of our agreement the least I can do?
“And… if I accept the punishment, we’ll be good again?” I’m annoyed by how nervous I sound, but I like the idea of leaving this place with a clean slate.
“Then we will be good,” he promises, rubbing my ass in a circular motion that immediately makes my dick interested.
Oh no. My body is already betraying me again!
“Be a good boy, and I will make sure you’re happy,” Damen says and smiles when I stay put, bent over.
The promise alone makes me melt into a dreamland where my kindness and devotion are appreciated. Where I'm taken care of and not thrown away after making one mistake.
There’s a tremble to his breath now, and I close my eyes, inhaling at the same moment he does. The next slap comes whenwe both exhale, and the burn it leaves has me rocking back and forth. Damen isn’t playing around. He wants me to remember this for a long time.
For the next slap I bite down on my hand, becausefuck! And yet here I am, not fighting him, not giving him attitude, or even asking how many are left. I let him do what he needs to, ready to take it despite the pain.
And then there’s the confusing excitement every time I glance in the mirror and see myself with pants pooled at my knees, reddening ass up and so available he could shove himself in at any moment. This beautiful beast of a man stands right behind me, so close, so focused on my body.
As soon as I sense pre-cum dampening the front of my jockstrap, the next slap makes me whimper. I clench my thighs, curl my fists. It hurts. Undeniably. He’s not going easy on me. And yet there’s a flood of relief after every hit, because yes, I do feel like agood boy. Like I’m taking my punishment, showing him I understand I did something wrong, not just enduring a painful experience. He is trying to teach me a lesson, but not with hurt or humiliation.
