“Already making it worse,” he sings. Leo comes back around to the foot of the bed and points to the spot with the strap. “I don’t mind, to be clear. But you will.”
On leaden legs, conflicted between terror and want, I cross the room and stop at the bed. Bending seems impossible. I’m already naked, already trapped, but bending for him is awful. It’s awful, how much I want to do it.
Leather skims across my ass. “I can do it while you’re standing, but if you fall, I’ll start all over.”
I bend.
Leo disappears behind me and kicks my legs apart. This is worse. Yes. This is worse. My heart pounds, my chest beating against the blanket. Each thought freezes into a useless droplet and shatters. Fear closes my throat and makes my knees tremble. I expected pain. Of course I expected pain. He’s a Morelli, and they never sign deals that don’t hurt. I just couldn’t look at this future head-on. I couldn’t face it. And now it’s happening.
“So you haven’t been fucked.” Leo slides the strap across my ass. I can’t relax, but I can’t stay so rigid. “You’ve only had my fingers in your tight cunt. And the fear in your eyes tells me you’ve never been punished. That changes now.”
He stands to my left, gliding the leather across flesh that’s never been strapped. Never been spanked. Hardly touched. My next breath isn’t a full one, and the one after that is even less.
It’s so fast. Half a heartbeat. The leather lifts away and cracks down in a searing line. I suck in enough air to scream.
Leo laughs. “No, the Constantine brat hasn’t been punished.” With one foot on mine, he pulls my legs apart again. “Point those toes in. Good girl. You’re a natural.” The strap cracks again and this time I bite the scream in half. I’m not going to be the one who breaks down like this, not me, not me. “Pretty,” he comments. “Red stripes look good on you.”
I said I wouldn’t cry. I meant it. The covers ball up in my fists.
“I can see you trying not to cry.” Leo snaps the belt back again and this time it lights my whole ass on fire. My knees buckle but I don’t fall. No sound comes out of my mouth. If I make a sound I’ll cry. “No one would be surprised if you went back on your word. It hurts like a motherfucker.”
“It does,” I hear myself admit, and I also hear a swallowed sob in my voice. “It hurts so much.”
“Point your toes.” I have just enough time to register how gently he says it before the words are cut down by a vicious blow. A cry struggles up to my tongue but I keep my lips shut tight, chest heaving.
Leo puts two more lines of fire across my ass, hard and deliberate. I’m an idiot. So stupid. I didn’t see this particular cruelty coming. I didn’t want to see it. A tear breaks free, trickles down my cheek, and lands on the comforter. My toes aren’t pointed anymore. He’ll strap me again for it. I move myself back into the position and keep hold of the blankets.
“If it’s too much, darling, you can leave. Stand up and walk out the door.”
The invitation snaps me in two. Breaks me. The tears I’ve been holding back rush out, soaking the comforter, but I do not stand up. Leo is lying. I can’t stand up and leave. I won’t. I will do anything for my father, including this. More than this. I will bend over and take whatever depraved punishments Leo Morelli wants to give if it means keeping my dad out of harm’s way. There’s no stopping the tears now and they run in hot streaks down my face and drip down my nose. I spread my thighs another few inches. Point my toes. “Do it.” My voice is rough through the tears. “Hurt me. Do it. I’m not leaving.”
One sharp breath. I don’t know what it means. Don’t turn my head to look. His hand comes from nowhere, and Leo threads his fingers through my hair and pins me to the bed.
For five more strokes.
They last an eternity. Each sharp slap is punctuated by someone crying please please please and it’s me, it’s me, but I don’t recognize my own voice. I don’t recognize the woman whose hips rock into the bed. Not trying to get away from him, no, trying to feel his hand in my hair, trying to get contact where I need it. A little contact would turn this inside out, turn the breath-stealing pain into something different. It’s wrong. It’s fucked. I don’t care. I can’t stop.
Leo puts his fingers between my hip bone and the bed and prompts me up, giving himself enough space to reach between my legs.
Not with his hand.
With the strap.
The one he used to punish me with.
To my horror it feels good on my wet, swollen flesh. I don’t know how he’s managing to keep it where he wants it, pressing tight against my clit. All that matters is that he does.
“Yes.” His voice soothes and humiliates. “Fuck the strap.”
My hips jerk against it, senseless, wanting. My tears turn hotter with embarrassment. With the mortification of having to rock my hips into the same leather that made me sob. That made me wet. Leo keeps one hand on my head. It’s more intense than being bound, feeling his fingers in my hair. At least, I think it is. He hasn’t tied me up yet. An image of myself, panting and coming and restrained, makes me work myself harder against the strap.
“Come, or we can start over.”
He means he’ll take the wet strap from between my legs and punish me with it again, right here, right now. Leo would do it. He would degrade me with a strip of leather soaked my own juices, he would laugh at my tears, he would—he would—
I come so hard my knees give out and my vision dims. From the distant reaches of space, I try to keep myself upright. Try to keep my legs spread. He’ll fuck me now. That’s the logical conclusion of all this. He’ll take my virginity while my ass burns and my tears flow and I make these sounds, god, I can’t stop.
Leo tugs the strap out from under me. It comes free with a wet, slick sound.
I sense the motion rather than see it and half-brace for the final blow. It knocks my soul from my body, sends my mind spinning into nothing.
My sob turns into a moan, and I fall down onto my knees, my hands on the edge of the bed.
A moan.
Jesus.
Leo picks me up from where I’ve fallen and drops me unceremoniously onto the bed. I can’t see through tears, through the haze of pain and orgasm. He’s a dark tear in the fabric of my world. He’s headed for the door. I roll over onto my side. Push myself up. “Don’t go,” I manage.
It’s too late. He’s already gone.
14
Haley
The part that surprises me is the clarity.
My ass hurts. The pain sticks around. It settles into an ache, rather than a sharp snap. I don’t feel like sleeping. When I’m sure he’s not coming back I ease myself off the bed and go to check the damage in the bathroom mirror.
No bruises. Just redness over my ass and thighs. The strapping felt worse than it was. A person would have to be skilled, in order to do that. To hurt only as much as they intended.
And it was intentional. I rub my hands over the marks Leo left, that strange, clear feeling arranging my thoughts into an understandable pattern. He’s scary, yes, but he’s also trying to scare me. He goes out of his way to keep me off-balance. He never gives me solid ground.