Page 8 of Absolution (Favorite Malady Trilogy #3)

ABIGAIL

B lack spots dance at the edges of my vision, and my fingers soften on Dane’s forearm, no longer clawing at him as my consciousness wavers from lack of oxygen.

“Are you done already?” he taunts. “Such a fragile little dove. Shall I treat you more gently? I don’t want to break you.”

His hand drops from my nose and mouth, and I drag in a deep, burning breath.

“Fuck you,” I say on the exhale, voice hoarse.

The bedroom spins around me at the rush of oxygen back to my brain.

I start to struggle again, but he easily wrestles me to the floor.

A shriek tears from my throat when he grabs my wrists and pins them at the small of my back.

I thrash, but I only succeed in stimulating my hard nipples against the plush carpet, even through the thin barrier of my dress.

The familiar feel of hemp rope encircling my wrists draws a sound of feral denial from my chest, and he hums in pure, masculine satisfaction.

He makes quick work of binding me before grabbing my flailing ankles.

He pulls my body taut into a stress position, tying my ankles to my wrists so that I can’t do more than wriggle and curse at him.

His long fingers encircle my nape, and he presses my cheek into the carpet so that my shouts become garbled. His other hand caresses my jawline with reverence that’s so at odds with the ruthless way he’s handling my body.

“Such a filthy mouth,” he remarks. “I thought you were a pure, polite Southern belle. I’ll have to teach you how to behave properly. You’ll learn some respect and humility.”

“Respect is earned,” I seethe.

He cocks his head, considering me. “Is that what all of this is about? You want to make me work for your submission?” His slow grin is cruelly beautiful. “You’re the one who will struggle and suffer. I get nothing but sadistic enjoyment out of degrading you, pet.”

“Stop calling me that,” I snap.

He traces the line of my cheekbone, lingering over my freckle. “Never.”

His touch withdraws from my cheek, and then my collar dangles from his elegant fingers, swaying in front of my trapped face in a mocking rhythm.

“You’ll have to earn your diamonds,” he taunts. “You’ll beg me for them before I’m finished with you.”

“You can lock that collar around my throat, but it won’t tame me,” I hiss.

My body burns for him, rage-tinged desire coursing through my veins like fire.

My indignation isn’t fake—I will never meekly bend when he’s taunting me like this.

But my surging emotions are as powerful as the whitecapped waves on a stormy sea, drowning me in primal chemicals as my body struggles to defy his cruel control.

With Dane, I don’t freeze; I fight back. I’m safe to use my claws because he will never truly hurt me in retaliation.

This exchange is fully consensual, and that means I can lose myself in the power struggle.

I can indulge in the thrilling fear and intoxicating adrenaline, and they make the world come into sharp relief around me.

My senses come alive, and every inch of my flesh crackles and dances, my bound humming with sensual awareness.

“You think I’ve only planned to tie you up and collar you?

” he asks, sounding almost disappointed.

“You underestimate my capacity for sadism. I will strip you down and reduce you to a weeping, desperate mess. And then I’ll torment you some more, just because it pleases me to hear you whimper and whine. ”

Before I can issue a terse retort, the collar encircles my throat, and he draws it tight enough to make me choke.

He holds the tension for several long seconds, until my blood pounds in my ears.

Only when my body begins to soften does he ease the bite of the supple leather.

His fingers are gentle and tender as he buckles it into place and secures it with the small, rose gold padlock.

He traces the line of the collar around my neck. My nerves jump beneath his featherlight touch. The first traitorous shiver races over my body, and my cheeks flame.

Something silver glints in his hand: a pair of blunt-tipped shears.

“No knives for you today,” he says, as though it’s a kindness. “You’re especially feisty, and I don’t want to accidentally cut my pretty plaything. Every ounce of pain I deliver will be deliberate and by my design, not because of your pitiful struggles.”

I jerk against the restraints and release a growl of pure frustration when the rope tightens around my wrists and ankles. I’m just as helpless as he said, but I’m not ready to surrender.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn. “I like this dress.”

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you a dozen more.”

“I don’t want another one. I want this one.”

He shakes his head. “You should’ve thought about that before you decided to be so willful and disrespectful.”

Another rough, animal sound grates between my clenched teeth as he slips the shears beneath the hem of my dress.

The thin cotton parts easily. The blades are sharp, but the blunted design ensures that he won’t slip and cut my skin.

I can’t suppress another shiver as the cold blade slides up the length of my spine, slowly robbing me of any sense of dignity.

He snips the spaghetti straps, and the dress pools around me on the carpet. My back is completely bared to him, the scrap of my pale pink thong a mockery of modesty.

He takes a few indulgent minutes to trail his fingers down my back, stroking me in a slow, tingling slide that’s subversively calming.

I stiffen. I’m not his pet. I will not melt for this tender treatment.

His gentle fingers reach the base of my spine, and he takes a moment to tease me there, stimulating a sensitive patch of nerves I didn’t know I had. With every slow circle, it feels as though he’s circling my clit instead. The hard bud pulses madly, and I can’t help wriggling in my bonds.

I’m not sure if I’m trying to evade his sensual torment or stimulate myself against the plush carpet.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he rumbles.

“No.” My refusal is a husky groan, an obvious lie.

“No,” he agrees. “You don’t deserve such mercy.”

His touch shifts suddenly, and his fingers sink into my ass to part my cheeks. I’m terribly exposed, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him when he squeezes a drop of cool lubricant onto my asshole.

I can’t help closing my eyes, as though I can hide from what he’s about to do to me. He knows exactly how to devastate me, how to make me feel achingly vulnerable and small in his ruthless hands.

“Open your eyes,” he commands. “I want you to see what I’m going to do to you.”

Unease makes my stomach flip, a giddy sensation like riding a rollercoaster.

I open my eyes, and it takes me a moment to process what I’m looking at.

Even when I take in the shape of the silver hook, I can’t make sense of it.

One end is round and blunt, and the metal is about an inch in circumference.

The other end is shaped in a loop, and he’s tied a length of rope through it.

The whole thing is a bit bigger than his massive hand.

“What is that?” I ask, voice hitching slightly.

But I already know. I shake my head in wild refusal.

“Hush now, pet,” he soothes. “You’ll be much calmer in a few minutes.”

“Dane, no,” I whisper, and it’s a plea.

“ Master ,” he corrects me. “You’ll love your new leash.”

“You can’t…” I lick my dry lips and try again. “I can’t…”

His heartbreaking face settles into the cold, unfeeling planes that make me quiver. “I can do whatever I want, and you will take it all. You are powerless to stop me. Curse at me, plead with me, beg for mercy. I have none.”

The cold tip of the hook presses against my tight asshole, and I yelp in alarm.

He shushes me gently and stimulates my clit with his free hand.

He rubs me in the exact way I like, and my inner muscles clench in a pulse of desperate desire before softening to welcome penetration.

Unyielding metal slips past my tight ring of muscles, entering me in a slow slide.

The toy is slender enough that there’s no pain, but the degrading act floods my cheeks with hot shame. It churns through me, pooling low in my belly and turning to white-hot lust. Wet arousal coats my labia, dripping onto his hand where he relentlessly stimulates my clit.

The cool curve of the hook presses between my spread ass cheeks, extending up to my tailbone.

I tremble, unable to make a voluntary movement when he has my most vulnerable area harnessed in a perverted way I never could’ve imagined.

“Please,” I whisper. “I’ll be good. You don’t have to do this.”

The humiliation of my predicament is almost too much to bear, and he revels in my complete subjugation.

“But I want to do this to you,” he counters calmly. “I already warned you: I always get what I want. I know you’ll be good for me. You’ll be much better behaved now.”

He’s not finished with my torment. He has a seemingly endless supply of cruel implements waiting to subdue me. I never should’ve gone into the kitchen and allowed him time to plan all of this.

But it’s too late for regrets now. I’m trapped and thoroughly humbled.

An animal whimper eases from my chest when he holds up a black, egg-shaped vibrator on a thin silicone loop. His wicked grin cuts into me, and he presses a button on the small remote in his other hand. The egg buzzes to life, vibrating in an irregular pattern that I already feel in my aching pussy.

“Don’t…” I choke on the plea, even as I know it’s useless.

The power he holds over me makes my insides quake, but I’m molten for him.

There’s nothing I can do to stop him as he slowly presses the egg into my tight channel. My slick desire makes it slide into my swollen folds with embarrassing ease. It settles deep inside me, and the vibration is echoed by the unyielding hook that penetrates my ass.

A soft sob convulses my chest at the cruel hit of ecstasy.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Weep for me. You’re so pretty when you cry.”