Page 37 of The Enforcer's Possession
I’d escaped, had been free for almost three hours.And now I was going to pay for every single second of it.
Dante circled me slowly, his footsteps measured against the hardwood floor of the private room.I pressed my back against the wall, tracking his movement while my heart tried to break through my ribs.He’d removed his suit jacket, draped it over the back of the leather couch.
“You broke our agreement.”His voice stayed level, conversational even.That made it worse somehow.“We established rules.You accepted them.And today you decided those rules didn’t apply to you.”
“I needed --”
“You needed nothing.”He stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.“You wanted.You wanted to test me.To see if I’d really enforce the terms we’d negotiated.Well, Caterina, now you’ll learn what happens when you disobey.”
His hand moved to my throat -- not squeezing, just resting there, his thumb against my pulse point where my heartbeat hammered frantically.“Take off the dress.”
I swallowed against his palm.“Dante --”
“Now.Or I’ll do it for you, and I won’t be gentle about it.”
My hands shook as I reached for the zipper at my side.I pulled the zipper down with fingers that wouldn’t cooperate, let the fabric slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet.
I stood before him in just my underwear -- black lace I’d worn because it made me feel powerful, desirable, in control.Now it felt like nothing.Less than nothing.
Dante’s gaze traveled over my exposed skin with clinical assessment.Not desire.Not yet.Just cataloging what was his.
“The bra.The panties.Everything off.”
“Please.”The word escaped before I could stop it, and I hated myself for the pleading in my voice.“Dante, I’m sorry.I won’t do it again.”
“No.You won’t.”He reached out and hooked his fingers in the waistband of my panties, then tore them down my legs in one swift motion that made me gasp.The lace ripped.“But not because you’re sorry.Because you’ll remember what happens when you disobey me.”
He turned away for a moment, and I heard him moving something.When he faced me again, he held his leather belt -- expensive, Italian, the kind that cost hundreds of dollars and doubled as a weapon when necessary.
My breath caught.“What are you --”
“Turn around.Face the wall.Hands above your head.”
I should have refused.Should have told him to go fuck himself and his belt and his rules.Should have grabbed my dress and walked out.
Instead, I turned around.Raised my hands above my head.Pressed my palms flat against the cool wall and waited for what came next.
I heard him move behind me.Felt his hand between my shoulder blades, pressing me closer to the wall.Then something cool and metallic touched my wrists -- a hook I hadn’t noticed mounted on the wall, probably meant for hanging coats or bags.He secured my wrists to it with something that felt like silk rope, testing the bonds to make sure they’d hold without cutting off circulation.
“These will bruise.”His breath was warm against my ear.“The marks will remind you of this moment.Of what it costs to run from me.”
The first strike of the belt landed across my backside with a sharp crack that made me cry out.Not from pain -- not yet -- just from shock at the sudden violence.
The second strike followed immediately after, lower, catching the sensitive underside of my ass where it met my thighs.This one hurt.Real pain that made my eyes water and my breath come in short gasps.
Then his hand.Warm.Soothing.Caressing the spot he’d just struck with a gentleness that made no sense.
“You’re mine, Caterina.”His palm smoothed over the burning skin.“My wife.My property.Mine to punish when you misbehave.”
The belt again.Three strikes in quick succession across my thighs, each one harder than the last.I bit my lip to keep from screaming, tasted copper where my teeth broke skin.
Then his hands again.Both of them this time, kneading the abused flesh, his fingers dipping between my thighs with casual possession.
“And mine to pleasure.”His fingers brushed against me and I felt my body’s betrayal -- wet despite the pain, despite the fear, despite every logical reason to be repulsed by what he was doing.“Your body knows who it belongs to, even if your mind keeps fighting.”
I felt tears slip down my cheeks.Not from the pain.From the humiliation of how my body was responding, how I was already arching into his touch despite myself.
The belt came down again.Again.A rhythm of pain and pleasure that made my head spin.Each strike followed by his hands, by his fingers finding places that made me moan despite wanting to stay silent.
