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CHAPTER THREE

SASHA

ABOUT ONE YEAR AGO

“Please...” I beg through sobs.

Shawn tightens his agonizing hold on the back of my neck in response, and I wince as my shoulders rise to ease the pressure. His fingertips dimple my skin as he pulls me back to meet his heated gaze. Staring down at me, he snarls, “If I had known you were this incapable of following instructions, I never would’ve taken your fat ass off Trevor’s hands. They are simple rules, Sasha.”

Denying him is against his rules— I know that— but I’m so sore from last night that I can’t fathom being able to tolerate him touching me again.

One morning. One measly morning in seven months that he didn’t get to push inside me. That’s all I wanted.

“What happens to disobedient little whores?” he growls.

“I’m sorry.” I feign an apology, hoping that he’s lenient.

“Stupid bitch. I didn’t ask if you were fucking sorry.” Using his grip on my neck, Shawn roughly leads me through the house and into the kitchen. My eyes dart around the stark white surroundings, seeking his form of punishment, as he opens multiple cabinets. A dark chuckle rises from his lungs as he pulls a silver cylinder from the top shelf.

“I only take my apologies one way,” he snarks as a devilish smirk pulls at the corners of his lips. He releases his grip to open the container and I rub the tender skin that is probably already bruising. The metal lid clangs when he tosses it to the granite countertop, and he pours out the contents of the container. Tiny grains of rice rain over my bare feet and bounce when they hit the cold tile floor. His gaze falls to the floor, and he demands, “Kneel.”

This can’t possibly be worse than the paddling I took a few nights ago when I didn’t dress to his exacting standards for dinner.

I hesitantly place my knee into the thin layer of uncooked rice, grimacing as I shift my weight to drop my other knee.

This is worse than the paddle. Far worse!

The thin grains puncture my skin like tiny shards of glass beneath me. Seconds tick by like hours as I try to ignore the stabbing pain in my knees and shins.

“You will learn to obey me,” Shawn whispers, his soft tone making his threat much more terrifying. Cupping my chin, he holds it firmly as he squats before me. His face inches from mine, he watches as my pained tears roll down my cheeks. “You can tell me now.”

“I… I’m… sorry, Sir,” I repeat my previous unwelcome apology between sobs.

“Don’t cry. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes to teach you how to behave for me.” Shawn wipes his thumb across my cheek and rubs the salty collection of tears over my lower lip as he asks, “And what are you sorry for?”

“Denying… you… Sir.”

Pressing his salty thumb into my mouth, he rubs it over my tongue as he asks, “And are you allowed to deny me the pleasure I get from being inside you?”

I suck on his thumb as he pulls it from my mouth. He sloppily rubs my saliva over my lips as I answer, “No.”

“Learning already,” he praises as a slight smile spreads across his face. Shawn rises to his feet and asks, “Are you going to give me what I wanted?”

“Yes, Sir,” I quickly answer, painfully shifting my weight to one leg. I begin to push myself from the floor as his fingers work to hastily undo his belt.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Shawn gruffs, quickly gripping my shoulder and firmly pressing me back into the rice. My face contorts as the shards jam back into my skin. I listen to him undoing the teeth of his zipper as he crunches through the rice to close the distance between us. “You can get up when you prove you’ve learned your lesson.”

With my jaw clenched in agony, I open my eyes and find his pants splayed. The dirty blond tuft of his hair rests between the parted zipper, and he is rapidly growing hard in the tight confines of his boxer briefs.

“I’m not a monster, Sasha. I will not force you to swallow my cock.” He pushes the hair from my tear-stained cheeks and tucks it behind my ear. For as cruel as he can be, in this aspect at least, he treats me better than Trevor—or his friends—ever did. Staring up at him, my throat bobs as I swallow hard, and he shares, “You’re going to do it willingly because you want to show me what a good little submissive you are. Because you want to prove you’re as devoted to serving me as I am to helping you be better.”

Lifting my hands from my trembling thighs, I grip the waistband of his pants. I pull them down his thighs, and his hard length springs free. Wrapping my hand around the base of his shaft, I run my tongue along the ridge of the head before sucking him into my mouth. He groans in pleasure as I quickly slide my lips over his length, repeatedly filling my throat with all of him. Hollowing my cheeks and desperately needing him to come, I suck his cock with such vigor that spittle runs down my chin and over his balls.

“You really are fucking sorry,” he grits through his heavy, labored breaths as he fights his need to come. He fists the edge of the counter for balance as he spills his sour seed onto my tongue. I choke it down, hoping to remove the vile taste from my mouth. “That’s it. Swallow every drop of your breakfast.”

Shawn tucks his spent cock back into his pants and gestures for me to get up from the kneeling position. Rising from the floor is nearly as excruciating as suffering through the punishment. Grains of rice fall from deep dimples they’ve made in my skin, and the hollowed pockets of skin throb.

“When I get home from the office and want to fuck my pussy or my ass, what are you going to say?”

“Yes, Sir,” I hastily answer with a quick nod.

“And if I bring home a friend to see what a good girl you are?”

Sucking in a sputtered breath, I try to hold back my tears when I reply, “Yes, Sir.”

A proud smile beams across his face, yet his eyes remain devoid of emotion. “And why is that?”

“Because it’s my job to please you, Sir.”

“That’s better. You might turn out to be a decent submissive yet,” he imparts as he walks from the kitchen. Without breaking his stride, he calls over his shoulder, “Clean yourself up nice for me so I can show you off. Isaac and I will be here about seven.”