For now.
Two could play at a game like this. He'd met his match.
I sauntered over to the table as if I didn't have a care in the world. When I leaned over, all bets were off, the same nausea from before setting in. I wasn't entirely certain I could go through with this. Pain wasn't something I was accustomed to. The earlier spanking had been merely a taste.
When I heard what sounded like his buckle being jingled, I stiffened and couldn't help but look in his direction. He was removing his belt. Jesus. Christ. He was going to whip me with his freaking belt. Tears immediately formed in my eyes, my heart racing as the terror skittered into every joint.
Oh, please. Oh, please.
I knew no amount of begging was going to help. The jarring sound of his footsteps caused near panic. I gripped the sides of the table, digging my fingers in until they ached.
He moved behind me, hovering only inches away. And stood there. Waiting.
Watching.
Adding to the horror.
But I remained quiet. He was testing me. He was challenging me again.
Michael ran the tips of his fingers down my spine, moving slowly to the crack of my ass. "Your bottom still has a nice glow."
Fuck you. Fuck you to hell! I bit my tongue, holding back the tears but a single one slipped past my lashes. He wasn't going to see me cry. Nope. It wasn't going to happen.
"I'm going to give you thirty lashes, Francesca. That should help you understand that I do mean what I say. I will protect you in this house, but you will not attempt to maim or kill either myself or my men. If you do, there will be no second chance."
I knew he meant what he said. This wasn't a threat but a promise.
"Yes. Sir." I issued the words through clenched teeth, closing my eyes as he patted both ass cheeks.
The sound of the belt whooshing through the air seemed to take forever, as if by some magic he'd been forced to stop. I felt lightheaded, refusing to breathe or think. The second the thick strap was brought down across the center of my bottom, I didn't even react.
There was no pain. Not even a tingle.
I shifted my hips, finally taking a deep breath. The second whooshing sound wasn't as terrifying.
Until the belt was slapped against my ass.
Holy. Fuck.
The pain bloomed along the base of my toes, shooting up through my legs and exploding in my bottom. "Oh!" The yelp was strangled, and I pushed up from the table, gasping for air.
"Relax," he commanded, pushing his hand against the small of my back.
My mouth remained open, my toes curled as I tried to slide back down to the cool and comfortable surface. I was in some kind of shock, my mind lost in a fog. The snapping of his wrist dragged me back into reality. The pain was just as intense, but I was able to bite back the sound even though I struggled to remain in position.
He caressed my bottom, moving his hand around in lazy circles.
I tried to take another deep breath, floored as he delivered three or four strikes, one coming after the other. How could he enjoy this? How could he do this kind of thing to a woman?
"Oh, God. Oh..." My moan wasn't nearly as loud, my throat closing once again. I was going to die lying on this table. There was no doubt in my mind.
I could still hear his heavy breathing, could almost tell his mind was reeling.
"You're doing very well. I shouldn't have to do this. I should be able to have a conversation with you."
He was actually trying to rationalize with me? "Fine. Yes. Okay."
Another four strikes were followed by a reprieve, allowing me to rest. I could no longer feel my legs, the anguish to the point I felt numb inside. My mind fell into another place, quiet and beautiful. I knew my bottom was bright red, that the spanking was continuing, but I accepted what was happening. I was strong. This man-this monster wasn't going to break me. I heard the guttural sound erupting from his throat and knew he'd tossed the belt onto the floor. I bristled because my instinct told me that this was far from over.
"You can get up now," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
I pushed up from the cool wood, loathing the fact tears had stained my cheeks. I was overwhelmed with anger, grief, sadness, fear-every emotion that there was. After managing to stand, I shifted slightly, biting back a primal scream. Then I lunged toward him, pummeling his chest with my fists.
"How could you? How could you dare do something like that? I don't belong to you. I don't belong to anyone!"
If he was surprised or angered by my outburst, he didn't allow me to see any hint of expression.
But he did react.
Michael tossed me over the table, his hand wrapped firmly around my neck, the pressure enough I had difficulty breathing.
"Who do you think you are, Francesca? I know who you are, a princess who'd lived a life of comfort. You're misguided and nasty, refusing to accept anything but what you require in life. Well, sweetheart, do you know what happens to little girls who act entitled?"
Huffing, I kicked out, connecting with some part of his body. "Fuck. You."
He leaned over, yanking hair from my face. "They. Get. Fucked."