OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(101)
“Do you feel this, you sex bitch? Yes? Good. And how about this?”
He twisted one of my nipples, hard. I glared at him in response but said nothing. I would not give him what he wanted. I was determined to fight him all the way, in whatever limited ways that I could.
“This, my dear little sex kitten, is just the beginning of your punishment for what you did last night. And make no mistake; it will be a lengthy punishment, and it will be filled with your pain.”
He gave the same treatment to the same nipple again, then bent down and bit my other nipple so hard I was sure he punctured my skin and drew blood. I could not stop myself from screaming out.
That seemed to mollify him in some way, and he straightened again, smiled evilly, and took some steps away.
I didn’t see the next thing coming, but I felt the whiplash sharply against my outer right thigh. It was a shock, and I shrieked again.
He followed it immediately with another lash against my opposite leg, then landed a third directly along the center of my torso, from my solar plexus down to my pubes. He was grunting with every lash he laid, and I knew he was putting it all into each stroke, like a fucking tennis player serving aces. And fuck, did those lashes hurt. I don’t think he was breaking skin yet, but the pain and shock and burn of the lashes was all consuming, and I did not want to open my eyes to see.
He continued to whip me from different angles around the table—on my breasts, across my abdomen, on my inner and outer thighs, even landing one directly on my sex.
He seemed to be working himself up with each lash; his breathing was getting louder, and he was shouting, “Yeah!” with each stroke.
It was excruciating and humiliating, and by the time he was done, my shrieks had devolved into cries. My face was streaming with tears. I was having trouble breathing.
Finally, after I had lost count and was drifting somewhere in a mindless haze of pain and disembodied horror, he must have realized that I was no longer really with the program.
He threw the whip to the side and, flipping the switches to lock the cage and kill the lights, left the room.
Very shortly thereafter, I heard the cries of another voice, that lovely high soprano, but this was no ethereal song. This time, her sounds were in agonized rhythmic grunts and keening. I could only imagine what he was doing to her. It was a torture just to listen.
It could not have been good.
Chapter Twelve
Dom
When I got home after that awesome Storm church meeting—we finally had church back!—I had been so excited to grab hold of Sienna and hug her for minutes. I was so pumped. The meeting had gone great. After too many months without it, we were all back on the same page again.
Pres had had some hard moments in there. He’d been keeping mum about his daughter Zoe’s absence from the scene and his ties to Joey Ronn, the whole real reason our MC had been stuck working security for Ronn and Hardcore.
Without church, we’d all been hard-pressed, and I don’t think anyone knew what was really going on. But now, he’d come clean about all of it. And we were all of one mind now: find Zoe through Ronn and Fielding somehow, and nail those two bastards to the wall.
We had our brotherhood back. I felt like the very air had been purified. And I needed to share this feeling with my woman. She was intrinsic to this revolution, and I was feeling happy and grateful.
The problem was, when I got home, Sienna wasn’t there.
I saw her note almost immediately, and I groaned. Damnit, she was not supposed to go back to her place without me.
Okay, so I hadn’t said so to her in so many words, but I didn’t figure I’d have needed to.
I tried calling her, just to hear her voice, make sure she was all right. She never picked up.
I didn’t have the number for her landline—hell, I didn’t even know if she had a landline. I figured I’d best get my butt on the road and head over to her complex. I knew she’d only been gone a few hours at the most, but I did not have a good feeling about this, especially since she wasn’t answering her phone.
I grabbed my helmet, checked my gun in its holster, and headed back out. I powered up the bike and was on the road in seconds flat.
When I got to Sienna’s, I saw her car still in the lot. That didn’t signify much. I needed to see her, to know she was okay. I headed to her door—and noticed it was ajar when I got there.
That was not a good sign.
I went in with my gun in my hand. I didn’t call out for her, just in case Fielding was in there with her; I didn’t want to give him a heads-up. It didn’t take long to learn that no one was in the apartment. That’s what I had already begun to fear. My breathing started to come fast, and I realized the worst had probably come to pass. He had taken her. I fucking knew it.