“I don’t know,” he said, proving at least that he wasn’t a mind reader.
“I’m counting that as a lie, then.”
Annette went rigid, waiting for the inevitable. She couldn’t even bring herself to beg him to protect her from Brian. It was obvious the two men had known each other for a long time. Who was she to presume the Russian could care more about her safety than his demented friend’s amusement?
“No, you will not,” Anton said. He stood from the chair and moved closer. He touched the side of her face and met her gaze. “Kiska, I think the depths of the places you want me to take you are unknown even to you.”
He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her lips. Annette felt her body go slack, despite the threat of the knife still at her back. And she opened to him. She kissed him like he was the only person who could save her. Which was probably much more true than she wanted to admit.
Anton pulled away first and took a couple of steps back from her. He gave her the most unnerving stare for the longest time. Then finally he sat back down. “Truth.”
Brian threw the knife on the ground, then he gripped the front of Annette’s throat and leaned close to her ear. “This isn’t over. We will play again someday.”
But not today.
“Don’t look too relieved, pet. He’s mad now, and you still haven’t had your punishment.”
Brian went back to the row of objects Anton had lined up earlier and selected the shiny silver clamps. She shrieked and jerked in her bonds when the metal snapped closed on her nipples.
“If you think that’s bad, wait until they come off,” Brian said.
Annette closed her eyes and breathed slowly in and out until the pain faded away. While her eyes were closed, she could detect absolutely no movement or sound. Brian waited for her to open her eyes again, then he picked up each item still on the ground in turn, inspecting it like Goldilocks looking for the perfect mattress support.
“I don’t like these options,” he said. “How about my belt?”
Anton nodded once, his eyes never leaving her.
Annette flinched as the belt ripped through the loops.
“While he punishes you, I want you to only look at me. Do you understand, kiska?”
“Yes, Master.” She wasn’t about to be stupid right now. As awkward and strange as it felt to refer to him that way when sex wasn’t involved, this moment it felt more than real. There was nothing silly about this moment.
She jumped when Brian popped the belt at her. He laughed and moved behind her. A strangled cry left her throat when the belt connected with the back of her thighs. Even with the power of a full grown man behind it, it was so much worse than she had anticipated. Even a single blow caused the tears to begin to slide down her face.
“Have you ever been struck before?” Anton asked.
Annette shook her head. “No, Master.”
“Not even as a child?”
“No. My parents didn’t believe in it.”
“Hmmmm. If they had you might not be such a little liar now.”
She didn’t have anything to say to that. She knew she’d been coddled and protected as a child. Even the whisper of pain had not dared to disturb her bubble of safety up until the moment her parents had died. Then she’d had to figure out how to be an adult quickly. They’d had an inheritance, but it didn’t last long because she didn’t learn enough about money until it was nearly too late. Annette had been concerned for her sister’s future and had pulled them back from the brink weeks before they would have been homeless and hungry, to say nothing of the final blow to Janette’s education.
The growing sting of the belt ripped Annette out of her thoughts. She was sure she felt the welts forming—overly sensitized flesh going warm and raising as if trying to escape the confines of her skin. All she could do was cry. Suddenly, she couldn’t think about anything but the pain Brian delivered and Anton’s inscrutable stare. If her wrists weren’t bound, she would reach out for him, no matter how pointless the act would be.
The tears crept silently down her cheeks for what felt like forever.
The blows came harder as if Brian were disappointed she hadn’t started begging. But she couldn’t process words any more. All she could do was sob.
“She’s had enough,” Anton said.
“Are you fucking kidding me? I barely got started,” Brian whined.
“I said she’s had enough. I want to be alone with her.”
“Aren’t you going to use the cream? She’s at least softened up.”
“Not now. Go.” Anton pointed imperially at the door.
Brian ripped the clamps off Annette’s nipples, and she shrieked, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if the pain was from the way he’d just yanked them off or if it would have hurt no matter how it was done, but he hadn’t been kidding about it being worse coming off. Of course he would squeeze one last bit of sadistic glee out of the day to spite Anton.
“I knew you wouldn’t break her. All talk, no action,” Brian said, shooting a disgusted look Annette’s way as if Anton’s choices were somehow her fault.
Anton got up from the chair and stalked Brian across the floor. “I said get out!”
Brian left, and Anton slammed the door behind him. Then he returned to the chair and sat and just watched her.
47
Anton felt his pulse about to pound out of his chest. When they’d first come downstairs, he’d had every intention of pushing her so long and hard both with pain and then with pleasure, that she would break completely. He’d had an almost romantic notion of destroying her only to rebuild her in the image that he wanted to see each day.
But it was harder than it looked. He’d played hard with women before. He’d drawn blood. He’d left marks that never disappeared. But it had always been with women who were deeply masochistic and had begged him for those things. He’d always been happy to deliver whatever his bound plaything of the week wanted to take. This was very different, and though he thrilled at the idea of owning her, he couldn’t bring himself to break or destroy her.
What if he couldn’t build her back? What if she never forgave him? He could turn her into a terrified robot, but that wouldn’t bring either of them any real pleasure. He had to make this work because if it didn’t, Brian would kill her, and Anton couldn’t watch and protect her every second.
Annette cried more quietly now, but still she cried. She hadn’t uttered a word since the last question he’d asked her.
“Why didn’t you beg me to stop him?” he asked finally.
She looked up. “Would it have made a difference?”
He shrugged. Maybe. Maybe not. It might have driven him on. He’d been so angry about the way she’d tried to play him out by the pool. To an outside observer it was such a small thing, especially in her situation. But it was a sign of things to come, a sign that even as his captive, he didn’t have full control of her. And something about that thought had driven him over the edge. To finally have something that wasn’t a game, and she thought to play him.
In the end it was her resolution to be brave that had broken him. He couldn’t watch her suffer like that. His work at the spa had been about bringing pleasure or at least comfort. He wasn’t a sadist in the way Brian was. And he didn’t really think his little cat was a masochist.