Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I adjust my cock, hard as hell after the spanking I gave her.
I think I'll prefer more intimate methods.
Chapter 4
Olena
I cried myself to sleep, and I wish I hadn't. I tried not to. I tried to be brave. But after years of suspecting what my father did, and a few times witnessing the brutality firsthand, I feel hopeless and frightened, caught in his web of lies, violence, and deception. I tried to be quiet. I didn't want him to hear me. I don't want to show weakness. But what does it matter? I'm his prisoner whether I cry or not.
I woke with the sound of muffled cries in the other room. I wondered what made him cry out in his sleep, but I won't allow myself to even flirt with sympathy. He chose this life. I did not.
My jailer sat outside this door when I woke, trying to think of my means of escape.
As if I could possibly get away. Naked and handcuffed, barely over the reaction to the medication he gave me.
And even if I could get away... where would my safe place be? I'm here because of my father. Returning to him doesn't sound like the best plan. He's kept me under his thumb since my mother died, and I'd like some freedom.
Freedom. Ha.
I'm held captive with a man who's both terrifying and powerful. There is no freedom for me.
Anger rose in me when he came into the room, building in my chest until I could hardly contain myself. I surprised even myself by slapping his face, though I have to admit it felt good. For a moment. I knew even as I reacted that I would pay for striking him, though I didn't know exactly how. I didn't think before I acted. Impulsivity has always been one of my weaknesses.
And now I stand in the corner of the room, humbled by the way he just punished me like a child. I don't know what I expected. A beating? A retaliating slap? Certainly not being hauled over his knees and spanked. I'm so humiliated. It hurts, but the sting to my pride hurts even worse.
I assess my situation from my spot in the corner. Observing details is important, but it's easy enough to remember. I'm in a room with very few furnishings.
The large bed is big enough for two. I wonder why he didn't sleep beside me last night.
Eventually, I suspect he will.
I close my eyes and try to find something peaceful to think of while I stand and wait for breakfast. I'm so hungry, my stomach growls. I didn't eat much yesterday, and whatever medication he gave me has left me shaky and irritable. I try to predict what will happen next. I try to prepare. But I can't.
He hasn't touched me sexually yet, but he will. I felt his arousal beneath my belly when he spanked me. He has me at his utter mercy, and I fear that.
"What do you want from me?" I ask him, even while I keep my gaze obediently trained on the wall like he instructed.
"Several things, which I'll tell you in time," he says simply. Great. Super helpful.
Before we can talk further, a knock sounds at the door and he opens it to retrieve breakfast. I hear him thank the person, take something in his hands, then shut the door behind him. "You may come here now, though you won't be allowed freedom from the cuffs."
I turn to him and walk, then sit where he instructs me. I don't want to look at him. I'm embarrassed by the demeaning spanking he gave me, but it's more than that. Naked, strewn helplessly over his lap while I squirmed under the weight of his palm, the punishment was intimate. And that makes me arguably more uncomfortable than the physical pain.
I dislike that I've shared intimacy with the man who's captured me. Though I've dated a few men, I've never made love with any of them. When I was brought here under my father's protection, I knew I could never bring a boy home. My father would kill any man who tried to touch me, and even if I wanted to risk it, everyone knew who I was. Only a fool would want to date the daughter of the Bratva king.
I venture a look up at my captor while he prepares our food. Now that he wears just a sleeveless t-shirt, I can see the tattoos that mark him, and I connect the dots.
Rival Bratva. I suspected as much when I saw he doesn't work alone, but with other men of similar age. I don't know much of the workings of the Bratva. My father obviously wishes I knew nothing, and I've chosen to remain ignorant for my own protection. But I do know this man does not work for my father, and he holds a position of authority in his own brotherhood.