OWN HER: A Dark Mafia Romance(44)

Carla's breath caught in her throat. This was going to hurt a lot more than their last session, and it would be more humiliating too—other patrons were already starting to gather in a loose semicircle around them, waiting for the fun to start.



But there was nothing she could do about it now.



“Yes, Master,” she agreed meekly.



Gio nodded once, reared back, and brought the flails forward hard. They connected with Carla's stomach and the pain came a split-second later, so sharp and dizzying that her flesh momentarily felt like shattering glass. Her own ears were surprised by the volume of her scream, long and high and jagged, like nothing she'd ever uttered before.



There were several giggles from the crowd as Gio brought the whip down again, this time on Carla's breasts. Razor-like agony bloomed in them, and her left nipple burned as though someone had put a heated dashboard cigarette lighter over it.



Yellow, water, yellow word, say it, just say water, her mind yammered crazily. She felt a sickening lurch in her midsection when she looked at the studs on the whip's handle and thought about them inside of her, but her skin felt like it was on fire and her brain screamed that she couldn't take another smack from the flails.



Just a few more, she thought, steeling herself. Just a few more and he'll stop, you can take it, just be strong and take it and he'll stop...



The whip whistled through the air and cracked against the front of her thighs, sending jolts of pain slithering up through her body like venomous snakes. She let out another long shriek. She'd endured injuries before, but never anything as calculated and relentless as the blows from this horrible instrument made specifically for torture.



There was nothing she could do—no gun to reach for, no self-defense move that would allow her to escape her bonds and strike out at her attacker. All power had been taken out of her hands, replaced with a total paralysis that vapor-locked her every thought, that was somewhere between terror and exhilaration.



Her only escape, the only sliver of self-control that existed to her anymore, was a set of two words and the numbing certainty of what would happen if she uttered them.



The whip came down on her thighs again and the flails seemed to find the same hateful lines they'd made before, the hurt cutting even deeper into Carla's muscles until she imagined the leather cords stinging down into her bones. In that moment, she knew she couldn't endure another strike, no matter what came afterward. She would do anything to make it stop, anything at all.



“Water!” she screamed.



Gio froze, the whip poised over his shoulder, ready to deliver another lash. He slowly lowered his arm and reversed the whip's position in his hand, moving toward her.



“All right,” Gio said. “If that's what you want.”



She looked down at the bulbous end of the whip handle and suddenly wished she hadn't said anything. The closer he got, the bigger and uglier it looked and the more she dreaded having it inside her. But it was too late now.



She'd set things in motion that couldn't be taken back, and all that was left for her to do was hang on and take whatever Gio gave her until it was over. This thought was accompanied by a giddy tang of adrenaline, and she was surprised by the sudden realization that she was damp between her thighs.



Her brain was stuck in fight-or-flight mode, and she could do neither. Somehow, deprived of those two doors, her emotions seemed to overflow, pushing through some inner border and spilling out of her as raw desire.



Gio pressed the studded dome of the whip against Carla's inner thigh, tracing a delicate line up to the area between her legs. On its way up, it briefly connected with one of the thin red welts created by the lashes and Carla hissed at the stinging sensation. Then the whip's head pressed against her quivering folds, then pushed past them, entering her.



Carla cried out again as she felt the metal studs dig into her G-spot. It was rough and painful, but there was something so filling and inevitable about it that Carla felt a strange pang of satisfaction deep in the pit of her stomach. She'd never felt anything like this before, the agony or her unexpected enjoyment of it, and this realization brought a mixture of shame and elation.



“Take it,” Gio growled insistently, his face inches away from her own. “Take it all the way inside you.”



“Yeah, take it!” a voice from the crowd called out mockingly. Several others laughed.



Carla let out a ragged gasp. She could feel the inner walls of her pussy burning as they stretched around the whip's rounded head.



The feeling tearing through her helpless body was primal, transformative, almost religious. The familiar world she'd known before was being brutally reshaped to accommodate Gio, the laws of physics warping and shifting beneath her skin.