But his touch...he’s caressing me. Why is he caressing me?
“You’re doing so well, kitten. Taking your punishment so well. Just five more. You’re going to give me five more. Tell me you understand.”
My lip trembles, but I nod and then manage a watery, “Yes, sir.”
“Feel your Master’s touch. Memorize it.” His fingers move from the heated flesh of my ass cheeks down, down, down between my legs. In between. Skirting by my asshole, massaging as he goes. My breath hitches as he begins to tease at my sex.
He lingers, his fingers rubbing along my lips, whispering against my clit and making my sex clench and spasm around nothing, missing his cock. “Please,” I whisper, not knowing what I’m asking for. More of his touch? His forgiveness?
But my words have the opposite effect. He snatches his hand away. “Count.” His voice is ice cold again, and then comes the pain ripping across my ass as another blow lands.
“Six!” I screech. “May I have another, Sir?”
Another two land, one after another, never in the same spot twice, so I don’t know where to brace to expect it. I dance on my toes at the burning heat that feels like it’s searing through my flesh.
But that’s when it hits me, clear as day: There’s nothing to do other than to give myself over to it. To stop fighting. To give myself to him, in spite of his anger.
Because this is Logan. My Logan. In spite of everything, I have to still believe, underneath, I haven’t broken what we have—Daphne and Logan. He’s not a beast, in spite of what I once thought. He’s not using the full weight of his strength in these blows. He’s being the Master, still caring for me even as he doles out punishment.
And to Logan, my Logan, I can trust and abandon myself over to whatever he has to give. My entire body relaxes as I give in.
When the next spank comes, it reverberates throughout my body. It still hurts. It hurts a hell of a lot. But I allow myself to feel the sting, the heat, and to ride it. To ride it all the way through my body and out again until a strange euphoria settles over me.
“Eight,” I gasp. “May I please have another, Sir?”
Hesitation, and then the next comes. There’s the pain, no less sharp for the euphoria, but while my feet are planted on the ground, I’m also floating. Floating so high. My breathing slows, my grip on the couch flexes and then releases.
“Nine, may I please have another, Sir,” I manage in a rush, anticipating the last, all fear and confusion gone.
And when the last blow comes, it makes my body sing. For one shining moment, I feel so alive, my body electric, the world and all its worries a million miles away. I’m floating above it all. Safe like a cloud.
And then comes his touch. Hot where it already burns but then slipping between my legs and stoking another kind of fire. My face drops to the side of the couch. I’ll go wherever he leads me. My body is pliant. I’m warm wax to be molded. “Thank you, Sir,” I breathe.
“Damn you,” he hisses. “Damn you.”
His warm heat disappears from behind me. I blink in confusion, still spiraling down. When I look over my shoulder, all I see is him disappearing up the stairs.
What? Usually he never leaves my side after we— After a—
I swallow and stand up, wincing at the sting in my ass. My hands immediately go to my backside, but every touch hurts. I want to sit down. I feel woozy. I’m overwhelmed. I want to be in Logan’s arms.
But he’s not here. Why isn’t he here?
Then there are footsteps on the stairs and my eyes fly up to see Logan coming back down, jar of salve in his hands. My entire body relaxes at the sight. He is going to take care of me. Tears spring to my eyes but I blink them back.
But then the jar of salve comes flying through the air at me and I lift my hands and catch it barely in time.
“I’ve called you a taxi.” Logan’s voice is low and arctic, his face blank of all emotion.
“I- I don’t understand.” And I don’t. Everything still feels fuzzy after the places he just took my body. “This is my house.”
Emotion lights his face now, but it’s not one I like. A cruel smile curls his lips. “Your house. But kitten, your father sold me this property, too. All that was once yours is now mine. I own you.”
His words snap me out of my daze. “Dad would never sell Thornhill! My mother is—!!” My eyes shoot to the window. I can’t see my mother’s resting place from here, but it’s right out there. My mom is here, forever. All our memories are here. Dad wouldn’t— He couldn’t—
“Your father sold your ancestral home without a second thought to save his precious company,” Logan continues. “Without even consulting you. That’s how much he values you and what you care about.”
“And what are you going to do with it? Bulldoze the mausoleum and light my childhood home on fire to get your unholy revenge?”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Logan rages, storming towards me, stopping only inches away from me, his face right in front of my face. The scars on his face are pale, but the rest of his skin is flushed and angry. “Your family took everything from me!”
I start to shake my head but he’s not done, “And you,” he growls. “Bella donna. Beautiful poison.” He spits the last word and turns away.
His words gut me, scooping me out like an ice cream scooper.
For a long moment, there’s only silence in the room, both of us breathing hard. We are destroyed things. Broken. Irreparable.
A sudden ping startles me. Logan pulls a phone out of his pocket. He doesn’t look at me. “Your taxi is here.”
My taxi. Just like that, he’s kicking me out. Of my own house. That he bought out of revenge. This is so messed up.
I walk towards the door. What’s there left to say?
“Don’t forget the salve.”
I look back at him searching for...something, anything in his eyes, but they’re hard, blue stone.
I snatch the salve from where I’d dropped it on the couch before. And then I’m out the door. It’s only after he slams it behind me and I’m in the taxi zooming away from my childhood home that I remember Belladonna. The company. The research.
Everything I worked my whole life for—he now has control of it. A man who hates me and my family.
I look out the window. It all seemed so important, so vital, only weeks ago. Like there was nothing more important in the world. But now, as I glance out the back window, my ass smarting even though the seat is soft and plush, all I’m hoping for is a glimpse of him.
Five
Present Day
Logan
I watch from an upstairs window as she drives away. Am I fooling myself or do I see her hand pressed against the glass of the window as she looks back?
I turn away. “Fucking idiot,” I roar and look around for something else to smash but I’ve already tossed and smashed her precious Thornhill to ruins. Shards of expensive vases and mirrors and plates and glass litter the marble floors. I’ve ripped paintings off the wall and slashed through the precious canvases. I played Nine Inch Nails on full blast in the ballroom while I spray-painted the tapestries and drew obscenities on the statues.