XXX - 145 Enslave: The Taming of the Beast by Cathy Yardley Page B

His blue eyes burned incandescently every time he looked at her.
He was going to punish her. She didn’t know how, and the dreadful anticipation carved into her, leaving her raw.
“What were you going to do with this, Nadia?” he had said, his voice taunting yet furious. “Planning to kill me with a paring knife?”
She hadn’t responded. She hadn’t needed to.
Why didn’t you try killing him when you had the chance?
Not that it would have worked , she thought as she padded silently after Dominic. He would have easily been able to disarm her. But when he was having sex with her, he wouldn’t have suspected it. She could have gone for his throat, for his eye. She could have done something to kill him. Done something to eliminate the threat that was looming over her family.
She felt tears edge from the corners of her eyes, and wiped them away hastily.
You didn’t think about it when he was fucking you, did you? You couldn’t think of anything else .
She bit her lip, hard, the pain keeping her emotions at bay.
You let him do this to you. You failed them all .
Dominic had left with the knife, anger evident in every inch of his carved body. “I can’t just leave this unpunished, Nadia,” he said, and then he’d shut the door, locking it. She hadn’t slept, waiting for morning and his promise.
Would he hurt her? Would he hurt them? God, what had she done?
He led her to the large, tile-floored foyer. Was he going to throw her out, naked, to find her way in the desert? Where were they anyway? She felt her palms begin to sweat.
He turned to her. “The floor here is filthy,” he drawled, his eyes still trained on her like a hawk. She glanced down. The floor was anything but—she doubted there was a speck of dirt anywhere in the house. She waited.
He pulled out a bucket filled with clear water, and a washcloth, the size that one washed her face with. She glanced at him.
“My punishment is to clean your floor?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.” If anything, she felt relieved. Manual labor was easy. It was…
“You’re not quite finished yet,” he said softly.
She paused in reaching for the washcloth, looking at him speculatively.
He was handing her a pair of stiletto heels. She stared at them in bewilderment. “You want me to wash the floor in these?”
“Among other things.”
She shrugged. She’d be on her knees most of the time anyway, she reasoned as she slipped on the imposing looking shoes. Besides, it would obviously give him some prurient satisfaction, and anything that…
“You’re not through yet,” he interrupted her train of thought. “I’ve got one more piece of equipment for you.”
Her eyes widened as she stared at the contraption he held in front of her. “What is that? ”
“You put a leg in each strap…” he explained, then smiled, slowly, harshly. “Here. I’ll just put it on you.”
She swallowed hard. Between the straps was a pink plastic dildo with some kind of attachment on it, like a little Y near the base. The device was not quite as large as Dominic, but still large enough to give her pause. He expected her to wear that thing—no, to take that thing—as she knelt down in the torturously sexy high heels, scrubbing his floor.
This was the real punishment. And she got the sense it was just the beginning.
He knelt in front of her, guiding her hands to his shoul ders, lifting her feet as he slipped the straps over first one foot, then the other. He eased the toy up between her thighs, and she felt the cool plastic graze her sensitive flesh. She was still a little tender from her bout of lovemaking with…
Sex , she corrected herself. Not lovemaking . She was still tender from fucking Dominic.
“Hmmm. Might need a little help here,” he muttered, as if he were a mechanic. Then, without warning, he started rubbing her pussy, spreading the lips of her labia and massaging her clit with ruthless intensity.
She gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he circled her