Chapter 12

Astrid

T he tear isn't one of sadness or fear. No.

I'm livid.

So much so, that as he slips out of me like I'm just his ejaculation station, I plot a calculated power move of my own. Relieved that he doesn't linger and cause more pain, I gather spit and launch a ball into his face, the strings of my venom connecting his mouth and mine.

The girls behind him gasp and my heart stutters a beat as I wonder what he'll do. I don't care if he kills me. He can even make it painful. I just want to hurt him before he takes me out.

But instead of the fear of his wrath, a sadistic smile crosses his face as his gray eyes dazzle me with a knowing crinkle. "Mm, my angel will need to be punished." His chest rises and falls rapidly, making his black tattoos dance unnaturally across his skin. The tip of his pink tongue licks up my saliva from his bottom lip, severing the tie between us. "I'll thoroughly enjoy that."

His spunk oozes from my burning hole, and I wish I could hurry to a bathroom to expel it all and clean my skin. Instead, he keeps his unnerving, jovial eyes on me as he pulls on his trousers with a hop, then slots his belt into the buckle. The women carefully glide off the bed and dress in silence. One by one, they edge out of the bedroom. Before the door is closed, Chloe spins and flips me off, then slips out of the room.

My eyes flick to the master, but his sole focus stays on my body. "You can leave," he tells the girl behind his bedroom door, and she nods, then scurries out, shutting it behind her.

Even though my chest tightens with anxiety, I huff out a breath and roll my eyes. Trying to convince him he's not bothering me, I blurt out, "Just hurry and get it over with!"

His smile broadens. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? But angel, I want to take my time with you."

Letting me relax, he breaks his gaze and wanders over to a large chifferobe angled in the far corner. All the furniture in the house looks ancient, and this is no exception. Black, with gold flecked trim, the dresser is piled with tall drawers and the master rummages through a few.

When he returns, he holds a leather strap that has big red silicone lips on the front of it. Pressing it to my face, he forces the gag inside my mouth, then binds it behind my head and neck. My mouth won't close, and I whine in protest.

"Nope. You don't get to speak, eat, or spit until you're sorry."

I'm shaking with frustration and unease as he clips a long dog leash to my collar and removes the wrist and ankle restraints from the cross I'm bound to.

My muscles tense once I stand, but he taps the backs of my knees with the heel of his foot until they buckle. I hit the carpet with a groan, kneeling in front of him. His branding on my skin aches as it stretches, a constant reminder of the man who thinks he owns me. Done with his chicanery, I grab at his waist to haul myself up or pull him down; I'm not sure which. Using my nails to dig into his arms, I scratch at the skin, but he quickly snares my wrists behind me.

He's powerful and strong. Especially when I fall to my side to use my legs to push him off me, but he's already clipped the wrist binds to my ankles. When he sits me upright, he cups his chin with a hand and stares at me. His lecherous eyes scan every inch of my naked body. Given my position, kneeling before him, my chest is pressed out and my nipples peak under his inspection.

It's cold being so exposed, but there's no choice for me. I'm completely bound. To make matters worse, he takes the end of the leash and wraps it around his bedpost, then waltzes into his bathroom casually, leaving me alone.

Sliding my thighs together, I try to get more comfortable. I really can't without falling over, though. And given now that it's dinnertime, my stomach growls with anticipation of my last meal of the day.

But I won't say sorry. Not to the monster.

It takes so long for him to return, I have to pee, but when I try to move, the chain catches on the bedpost, and I can't. Instead, I'm stuck in this awkward position with his cum inside of me. And drool forms around the silicone gag. So much, I'm unable to swallow it and it oozes into a puddle in my lap. It just makes me need to go to the bathroom sooner.

Dilan enters and sets a delicious smelling tray of food on a side table in front of a wing-backed chair, then turns to leave and pauses. "Oh. Hello."

"Hhhaaaa…" I moan out for help to get to the bathroom.

"Well, Mrs. Strauss. Your dinner tray is in your parlor."

The consort walks in from the bathroom freshly bathed and his white hair slicked back as if he just combed it. A set of silky red pajamas gleams in the dim candlelight of the room. "Thank you for dinner. We're not acknowledging that until she apologizes." He places a palm on Dilan's back and presses his lips to her temple, not even looking at me. I'm a desperate hostage on the floor.

She nods and smiles slightly at him. "Will you need anything else, darling?"

Easing onto his chair, he picks up a knife and fork to carve into his delicious smelling steak. "No, thank you."

"Goodnight, darling."

Dilan glances at me before leaving, giving me raised eyebrows and a slight nod as if to say, I told you to behave .

Honestly, the sound of his chewing and pressure in my bladder may make me comply. Temporarily.

The master appears extremely relaxed. He pulls his phone out of his front pocket and taps on the screen in between luxurious bites. But he doesn't pay me any attention at all.

I'm not sure why, but it truly bothers me. Here I was, trying to get out of his sights. But I think his indifference is the worst thing imaginable. Also, it's unsafe.

Some lilting melody plays through a speaker on his bedside table. I don't recognize the deep alto voice of the singer, but she jazzes the end of every note pleasantly. It's the only comfort I've had in this place.

Strauss takes his time to finish his meal, and as I get used to the song, resting my head on the mattress, he shuts it off. As if I'm not even there, he walks to the bed and takes off his shirt. Tossing it toward the foot rail, he then slides under the covers, then settles in with his book.

Involuntary whimpers rise from my chest as I know I'll have to go soon and may all over his carpet. His only action is to sigh and slam his book closed, then he turns off his lamp.

My arms hurt and my knees are starting to strain. Maybe I've pulled a ligament or something. He can't leave me like this for this long. I'll dehydrate from all the spit flowing out of my mouth!

Fine. I can say sorry . I won't mean it. And pretty soon, it won't matter what my words say. I'll shoot him with one of those rifles. Perhaps I'll even torture him first.

"Aaaarrrr!" I yell as loud as I can. It's only been an hour or so since he went to sleep, but he sits and turns on the lamp again.

"I'm sorry? Did you speak?"

"Aarrrr!"

He stretches arduously, then walks over to me and unbinds the gag from the top of my head, leaving the neck strap on. My jaw burns and clicks as I move it around. It feels amazing to have my tongue back inside my mouth.

"Now, try that again. What was that?"

Glaring at him as he bends over me, I scream, "Sorry!"

"And what are you sorry for?"

Heaving a frustrated sigh, I ramble out everything I can think of instead of what I want to say, like, I'm sorry I'm married to a monster . "Sorry for not watching you fuck your whores."

I know it's cheeky. It'll probably not get me any points, but he chuckles. Actually laughs. I didn't even think it was possible. It's almost frightening.

"Anything else?"

Scanning my brain, I continue. "Um, and talking when I'm not supposed to."

He nods once as he leans forward to undo the neck strap and my breath gets caught in my chest. The scent of him is on me again, and I close my eyes to make the fluttering in my belly stop. But his stubble tickles my skin as he murmurs, "I kind of missed you talking."

A gasp parts my lips. He missed me talking to him? Now my pulse skyrockets as he wraps his arms around me to loosen the restraints.

As my body slumps onto the ground, I starfish into a stretch. "I need a bathroom!" Muffled by the rug, I hope he heard me.

"Don't get used to lying in my room. You have your own through the parlor there. Boards cover the windows and the other door will be locked. There is a large tub in the ensuite, and you may eat your meals in the anteroom. But you'll be escorted to the tower if there's any danger."

Glancing up at him, he points to the adjoining door, and I roll over to get on all fours. Then I carefully stand. Straightening my naked shoulders, I swipe at the drool covering my chin and walk with as much confidence as I can fake into the next room, feeling his eyes on my backside.

It's definitely the nicest place I've ever had. The bathroom is ill lit, but it has a clawfoot tub, a toilet, and sink. Black damask wallpaper gives it an even eerier feeling, especially since it's only illuminated by candle sconces. The shadows of the dancing flames create specters around the room. It doesn't stop me from using it and taking a deep soak, too, trying to scoop out his remains from inside of me.

I shiver in the towel as I wander back into the first room. Though my eyelids are heavy from exhaustion, I spot a silver dinner tray on the coffee table and hurry to it. The stew is cold, but does what I need it to, along with the stale bread.

The bedroom isn't much, just mainly an alcove big enough for a queen bed. There's a fresh red shift dress lying out for me on the comforter. My fingers dig under my collar to scratch my skin briefly before I pull it on, then I slip under the smooth sheets with a belly full and a fresh smell in my hair.

A clang awakens me the next morning. Sitting up straight, I bolt to the archway into the parlor where Nari has dropped my breakfast all over the floor.

Posing with the tray by her side, she gives me a snide smile. "Oops. Guess you'll have to eat it off the floor like the bitch you are."

My eyes narrow at her and, before I can stop myself, I'm rushing at her with my full force, but she screams and hurries out of the main door and slams it behind her. Just as I snatch the knob and twist, she slots a key in and locks it. The wood creaks when I bang on it with a fist and yell, "You'll pay for this!"

"Good morning, my little angel."

Jumping out of my skin, I about face and stop breathing. The master wears a smug grin and stands with his arms crossed, leaning his back against our adjoining door. "Sir!"

"Trouble afoot?"

"She-she…threw my breakfast on the floor!" I wave my hand in front of the mess, but his eyes don't follow. Instead, he tilts his head and wanders them down my frame.

"I'll deal with her. But first, I'll deal with you and threats against the others here." He shoves off the wall and wanders over to the sofa on the far wall. Once he sits, he pats his thigh. "Come lay over my lap, my sweet girl."

Flames light up my cheeks with fury and some whirl deep within my core. "I'm not the one who started it."

"No, but you need to be spanked. And often. Lay over my lap so I can punish you."

I glance at the door between our rooms, but the man chuckles loudly and taps on his leg again. "You can't get out that way. And if you try, you'll be punished much more severely than some swats on your delectable ass. So bring it over here and bend over."

He's always so calm when he says things. It's terrifying. He's terrifying. Like he could shoot ice daggers with his eyeballs, and I'd die if I ran. Despite the rage settling inside, fear wins out, and I waltz over toward him. Leaning back as I step between his legs, he gently tugs my arm.

Where he touches sends sparks up my limb. He possesses some intoxicating magic and puts me under a spell that leaves me breathless, causing my thighs to dampen.

I hate it.

But I obey.

"Let's start with ten. Are you ready?"