Chapter 5
Aria's POV
I lasted two days before the frustration got so bad I broke the no-touching rule. It was the middle of the night. The collar was quiet, the door was shut, and I was certain Draven was nowhere near my room, when I slid my hand between my legs under the sheets and tried to finish what Draven kept starting.
It took less than a minute of circling my clit before the door opened and the lights came on.
“Really?” his voice was calm, almost bored. “You lasted longer than I expected.”
I immediately yanked my hand away like the sheets were on fire. “I wasn’t—”
“Don’t insult us both.” He walked into the room with the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up, his expression completely unreadable. “Get up. The dungeon. Now.”
My stomach dropped hard. “You’re seriously dragging me to the basement because I touched my own body?”
“You broke a rule you agreed to follow.” His gaze hardened. “Move.”
I climbed out of bed and followed him down the cold stone stairs. My heart was pounding so loudly that I was certain he could hear it.
The dungeon smelled of leather, stone, and something darker that I could not identify.
In the center of the room stood a large X shaped cross covered in deep red velvet. Metal rings were attached to each end.
Draven pointed toward it. “Back against it. Arms out. Legs wide.”
I glared at him.
“Fuck you.”
The collar zapped once, sharp enough to make me gasp, and I stepped up to the cross because the alternative was another shock.
Soft leather cuffs locked around my wrists first, then my ankles, spreading me open until I was completely stretched and helpless.
A black blindfold covered my eyes a moment later.
Darkness immediately surrounded me.
“This is bullshit,” I muttered, my breathing already becoming faster. “You’re a complete psycho, you know that?”
“I have been called worse.”
His footsteps moved around me.
Something soft brushed against my skin, and I realized he was holding a leather flogger.
“The rule was simple, no touching yourself,” he said. “You broke it. Now you learn what happens when you choose to disobey.”
The first stroke landed across my thighs, more thud than sting.
I jerked against the restraints. He kept them light at first, warming my skin in slow, steady hits. From across my stomach, the sides of my breasts, the sensitive insides of my legs. Every impact made the velvet against my back feel hotter.
“Still think it was worth it?” he asked between strokes.
“Yes,” I lied through clenched teeth.
The next ones came sharper.
The tails of the flogger bit just enough to force a cry out of me. My skin was starting to burn in the best and worst way. Then the flogging stopped and his mouth was suddenly between my legs.
I almost screamed.
His tongue dragged slow and deliberate over my already swollen clit, lips sealing around it while he sucked in short, mean pulses.
“Shit. Draven—”
He pulled off right when my hips started rolling. “Not yet.”
The flogger returned, sharper now, painting fire across my breasts and the soft skin of my inner thighs. I was shaking, wetness dripping down my own legs, the blindfold making every sensation ten times worse. He punished me like that three separate times, while flogging me until I was gasping, then his mouth was back on my clit, tongue and lips working me right up to the edge before he stopped cold.
“Please,” I heard myself sob on the third round. “Fuck, just—please—”
“Please what, little pet?”
The nickname hit harder than the leather. My whole body clenched. “Let me come. God, just let me come.”
He gave a low satisfied sound and put his mouth back on me for real this time.
No teasing.
Just relentless pressure and the flat of his tongue and two fingers sliding inside me while he sucked.
The orgasm ripped through me so hard my vision went white behind the blindfold. I screamed his name, body thrashing against the cuffs, every muscle locking as the climax kept rolling.
When the aftershocks finally faded, I was hanging in the restraints, sobbing for air, completely wrecked. Draven unbuckled the cuffs one by one, catching me when my legs gave out. The blindfold came off last. I blinked up at him, eyes watery, skin marked with pink stripes that already throbbed.
He cupped my face with both hands, thumbs brushing the tears off my cheeks.
“My little pet,” he said quietly, almost gentle. “You’re starting to understand.”
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself.
But the words wouldn’t come. My body was still pulsing, terrifyingly wet and sore and already craving the exact surrender my brain kept rejecting. He carried me back up the stairs like I weighed nothing and laid me on the bed in my chambers.
“Sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow we continue.”
I lay there after he left, marked, aching, the memory of that cross and his mouth and the way he’d called me his little pet looping in my head on repeat. Every shift of the sheets made the stripes on my skin sting, and every sting sent a fresh pulse of heat straight between my legs.
I hated how completely he’d owned me on that velvet cross.
I hated even more that part of me already wanted him to do it again.