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Chapter Sixteen

Cleopatra

“We were laughing too hard to be watching for Dame. We forgot we were even with a guard,” I explain.

“Doesn’t matter.” He paces before me, kicking up drywall dust as I go. “You knew the rules. I was so clear with you. It’s your safety on the line, for God’s sake. How can you not respect those rules?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What was it like? Try to explain it to me, because I don’t think there’s a single excuse you could come up with to make me think what you did was okay.”

“We switched stores. We assumed he was behind us.”

“You already know how I feel about assumptions.” He gives me a pointed look. “And you know exactly where they lead. ”

I swallow. Hard. I glance at the floor. “We were just being girls. Having fun.”

“Being girls? That’s your excuse?”

“Kinda.”

“Then let me use being a man who cares greatly for you as my excuse to punish you.”

I squirm in my seat. “I don’t think that’s necessary. Doesn’t everyone get off with a warning for first offenses?”

“Not in the house.”

My eye is drawn to the top of the dresser. There’s a folded fur blanket I don’t recognize. A tube of lube. And a mischievously shining gold object.

My heart jumps. Where have I seen one of those little gold things before?

My mind races back to a catalog Keith left out to make me—I don’t know—not me? Colorful pages of outrageous toys I never dared to try—until the realization hits me hard. On the dresser sits a butt plug. A plug intended for, well, your backside. My face burns with embarrassment, while a chill of anxiety sweeps over me.

"Hold on—is that thing...meant for me?"

His voice slides over me, low, amused. “Are there any other naughty girls sneaking through the streets of Italy no regard to their personal safety? If not, it’s all yours.”

With the sheer number of people in this country, most likely, but I’m not sure he wants a response, so I stay quiet .

He lifts it from where it lies, holding it before me. “Well, who does this belong to, baby?”

I stare at the implement, noting how much wider and longer it is than the finger that was once inside me. Is he really planning on putting that thing in such a tight and taboo space?

His fingers close around the jeweled handle as he stares down at me. “Take your clothes off. Now.”

This isn’t cute, like the time I stripped in the lair. This feels…dangerous. Shame burns my face. My fingers tremble as I peel off my jeans and shirt, until I’m standing before him in my matching bra and panty set.

His gaze devours me. His look of hunger turns me on, but I’m too nervous about the punishment to come to tap into the feeling fully. He spreads the fur blanket over the edge of the bed, covering the bedding. His attention turns back to me.

“Lose the underwear. I want to see every inch of my naughty girl when I’m punishing her.” His eyes are dark and serious, but their desire flame betrays his stoic demeanor. "Bend over the bed, Cleo," he commands, his voice steady and firm, leaving no room for argument.

I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. My body moves as if on its own, obeying his command before my mind can fully process it. I turn and bend over the bed, the cool silky fur of the bedding pressing against my cheek and breasts. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to believe I obey his commands.

“Spread those legs for me. ”

“I—I can’t—” My protest is cut short by a sharp spank that ignites fire across my ass.

I gasp and part my legs, cool air rushing over the wet heat of my pussy. I hear the cap click. Cool with lube, a finger traces the groove between my cheeks, then presses against my trembling ring. My first instinct is to clench, but sting and urgency keep me still. The fingertip slips inside, inch by agonizing inch, until it reaches its first knuckle. My pussy clenches in unison, a rush of shame and need.

“The plug is small,” he whispers. “It will stretch and fill you—and remind you to be my very good girl.”

My body feels like a wire pulled tight, thrumming with anxiety. Behind me, I sense Blaze moving purposefully, slowly.

I feel the metal tip press cold and smooth against my tight ring of lubed muscles. He pushes the tip inside my clenching entrance, fighting and pressing past my entrance. Everything inside me goes molten. A whimper breaks from my lips, small and desperate, as the plug stretches its way in.

Suddenly, I ache with need, needing to be filled by the gleaming object. A craving so persistent it wracks every corner of my being, from mind to body to flooding core. A strange intensity comes over me as the plug fills me, owning my thoughts and feelings, my full focus on the feel of it entering my ass.

My body quivers and tenses at once, greedy for the fullness, the burning stretch that sends licks of flames through my pussy. He keeps working until finally, only its jeweled, flared base rests against my skin, its solid presence inescapable. Filled and stretched to the point of breaking, I almost unravel.

He gives the plug’s handle a firm tug.

The sudden shift sends a jolt of electricity through me, a mix of pain and pleasure that tears a cry from my throat. He pauses, waiting for me to adjust, before continuing his ministrations with the plug in a rhythmic dance. I am overwhelmed by every sensation—the cool air on my exposed skin, his warm hand against my lower back, the plug filling me.

My empty, needy pussy.

"Feel it, Cleo," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through me. "Feel how much you crave my discipline.”

He smacks my ass, then grabs my curve in his grasping palm, squeezing till I’m up on tiptoe, crying out. Each movement sets off a cascade of sensations that leave me gasping. The world narrows down to this moment, this room, this man. I am acutely aware only of him. He smooths his hand lightly over my curves a gentle caress that contrasts sharply with the invasive presence of the plug. I arch into his touch, craving more, craving everything he can give me.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible. I'm not even sure what I'm asking for—for him to stop, to continue, to do something, anything to ease the overwhelming tension building inside me.

He leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. "Please what, Cleo? Please stop? Or please more?" His hand moves lower, tracing the curve of my ass, his fingers grazing the jeweled base of the plug. I gasp, my body convulsing as a wave of pleasure crashes over me.

"I—I don't know," I admit, my voice shaking. I feel tears prick at the corners

“I will give you more.” He smacks my ass. “Now, your punishment.”

My eyes snap wide, feeling shame, knowing he can see the gold jewel between my cheeks glinting. Isn’t this enough?

“I was clear about my rules. And what would happen if you break them.”

Behind me, I hear the rustle of his clothing, the clinking of his belt being removed. My mind races, imagining him standing there, his gaze roving over my exposed body. I feel vulnerable, exposed, yet there's a thrill coursing through me that I can't deny. The anticipation is almost unbearable, a mix of fear and desire that leaves me trembling.

The first strike of his belt lands across my ass with a sharp crack, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. The pain is immediate and intense, a line of fire blazing across my skin. I cry out, but the thick walls of our Italian hideaway swallow the sound. Before I can catch my breath, another strike lands, just as harsh as the first. Tears sting my eyes, but there's something else too—a heat that pools low in my belly, a need that grows with each biting lash.

"Count them, Cleo," he demands, his voice rough. "Let me hear how well you're taking your punishment."

I grit my teeth, my voice shaking as I comply. "Two. "

The third strike lands, and I choke out the number, my body jerking forward with the force of it. The plug shifts inside me, intensifying every sensation. I can feel my bodyresponding to the brutal dance of leather against flesh. The room is filled with the harsh music of my punishment—the crack of the belt, my strangled gasps, the whispered count after each strike.

Can I yell pineapple? Is that an option?

Five. Six. Each number is a victory, a testament to my endurance. The pain blurs into something else, something primal and raw. It's a fire that consumes me, burning away my fears and insecurities, leaving only a pure, unadulterated need.

The numbers are meaningless now, lost in the haze of sensation. I'm floating, adrift in a sea of pain and pleasure, each punishing strike now indistinguishable from the last until he reaches ten, the belt falling to the floor.

He’s suddenly leaning over me, the warm weight of him pressing against my bare back. My ass stings where the roughness of his jeans brushes up against it. His mouth is on my ear. “You’re such a good girl. You took your punishment so well.” And he’s kissing that spot on my ear, making me grind against the bed.

His fingers slip underneath him, feeling between my ass cheeks for the handle of the plug. He gives the handle a gentle press. His words are hot against my skin. “I told you I’d own every inch of your beautiful body.”

My grinding hips freeze. He wants to take me there now? I don’t think a vanilla-bean kinda girl could ever be prepared for that, but right now ?

The burst of a phone ringing makes me startle. He gives a deep groan, mumbling something about timing. His hand rests on my ass for a moment as he says, “I have to take this call. Don’t move a muscle.”

“Yes, sir.”

My cheek sticks to the damp sheet, my fingers still clutching the fur blanket. The hot stripes from the belt throb with heat. My muscles clench around the plug, my mind a whirlwind of nerves. The door closes behind him.

I think the bell saves me, that I’ll have some time to prepare. Instead, I find the wait daunting. I’m left, naked and alone, trembling with the anticipation of what’s to come.