INSATIABLE HUNGER AND THIRST FOR MY STEPFATHER

Chapter 003: Punishment

Lyra Dominic's POV

I pressed my back against the door, as if I was trying to escape from him, but I knew my attempt was futile simply because my body wanted him in ways I couldn't understand. My brain wanted me find out what he was going to do next. Every inch of my body that was exposed to him, craved him. I wanted to cover myself up, but at the same time, I wanted his eyes to roam my skin.

This was maddening! "You can't keep me in here forever, you know that, right?" I swallowed hard as I managed to look up into his eyes. "I've told you the truth, I swear it."

"Don't lie to me, Lyra." His eyes darkened, and the chill that creeped up my spine had nothing to do with the tremors his voice sent down there to my belly. "Besides, I don't need forever to teach you a lesson or draw out information from you. I just need one thing..."

He pulled away suddenly, and my body instantly missed our proximity. I watched as his massive figure turned back and took measured steps towards his drawer, not the one that I had been searching, one that required him to use a fingerprint sensor.

He pulled the heavy wooden chair from behind his desk and placed it in the center of the room. Then he sat down, legs spread, arms resting on the armrests, and looked at me patiently, as if he had all the time in this world.

"Come here." His voice sounded like he was growling... So soft and low that the slickness between my thighs were back. My knees went so weak that I had to hold the door for support, and it seems Rowan misinterpreted my actions. "Lyra." His voice dropped, hardening at the edges. "I wasn't asking."

"I'm not a dog." I tried to shoot back, but it came out as a weak and pathetic sound.

"Get. The f**k. Over. Here." I saw the flare of his nostrils. "If I have to get up from here, I promise it would be much worse."

I didn't doubt that and my legs began to move before my brain could even catch on. One step after the other until I was standing in front of him, naked and trembling, and trying to cover up some parts of my naked skin.

"Kneel." He commanded.

"Rowan—" I tried to argue, but the look in his eyes warned me off immediately.

"I want to see you on your knees."

I hated the way my body responded to his command. Responded to the way he spoke to me, in that degrading and humiliating way, so much that the heat spiked between my thighs, my wetness gathering, and my n*****s tightening into hard peaks. And he saw everything in real time. I knew he could smell my arousal. Hell, it was all over the room. His throat moved and his eyes darkened as his eyes moved down to the hardened peaks of my n*****s, and then, the corner of his mouth curved into a small satisfactory smile.

"Your body knows what to do," he murmured. "Even if your mouth keeps arguing." When my knees touched the warm rug of his study, "Good girl." He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, almost tender. "See? You can follow instructions."

"Don't patronize me." I shot at him, and something like a chuckle escaped his lips that I had to look up to see that my ears were not deceiving me.

"Well..." He leaned back into his chair and spread his legs, his eyes dropping lower. "I guess I could save the questioning for later and just enjoy my willing little lamb."

My core clenched at the pet name he just gave me. Willing little lamb. As if I had just walked into my own death.

"What... What are you going to do to me?" I whispered shakily, both relieved and scared that he was dropping his interrogation. What would come next wasn't going to be good, was it?

"Patience, little lamb." He smiled and stood up on his feet, and that was when I saw what he had pulled out from his drawer. A long and slick coiled black rope that almost looked wicked. "You'll be begging to give me the information I ask for."

*

He didn't rush... That was the cruel part. He took his time as he circled me slowly like a predator seizing up prey, his eyes was on every angle of my body. It was as if he was physically touching me...on the curve of my ass, the arch of my spine, the back of my neck where my hair had fallen forward.

"Your mother told me about you," he said from somewhere behind me. "The feral little girl she pulled out of foster care. The teenager who rebelled against everything she tried to give you. The daughter who disappeared and broke her heart."

"Don't talk about her."

"Why not? She's my wife now."

The word hit me like a slap. Wife. My mother was his wife. And I was on my knees in his study, naked, dripping down my own thighs.

"She forgave you," he continued, circling back into view. "All the years you ignored her calls. The wedding invitations you threw away. The birthdays you missed. She forgave all of it. Do you know why?"

I shook my head. I couldn't speak.

"Because she's a good woman. Better than most. Better than you deserve." He stopped in front of me. "And yet here you are, on her wedding night, doing everything in your power to betray her."

"I'm not betraying her."

"You're on your knees for her husband."

The shame was too much to handle at this point. "You made me—"

"I didn't make you do anything." He crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. "You could have said no at any point tonight. You could have pushed me away. You could have walked out that door before it locked. But you didn't. You stayed. You begged. You came apart on my fingers like you'd been waiting your whole life for it."

I opened my mouth to argue but closed it again. He was right. Goddess help me, he was right.

"That's what I thought." He stood, and that was the last thing he said before binding my wrists behind my back. Tight enough that my shoulders had to pull back and my breasts were thrust forward and I couldn't cover myself even if I wanted to.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"No."

"Good."

He sat back in his chair, close enough that his knees brushed against my breasts, and lit a cigarette. The smoke curled between us, and I watched him take a slow drag, exhale, and watch me through the haze.

"Let's play a game... I think you would enjoy it that way." he said. "I ask you a question. You answer honestly. If you lie, I stop touching you. If you tell the truth, I give you more. Do you understand?"

"This is insane." My heart was already racing in anticipation, and I could feel the juices of my p***y slicking down my thighs, and I bowed my head in shame about everything.

"Do you understand?"

The command in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat through me. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

I glared at him. "Yes... I understand."

"Good girl."

My stomach fluttered and more juices poured out. Was it the praise? Why did I like it when he called me that?

"First question." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, cigarette dangling between his fingers. "Who sent you to my study?"

"No one." That part was true.

His free hand came up and brushed against my collarbone lightly, tracing the slight curved of my neck and my face, and my boy arched towards his touch... craving for more...

"That's the truth," he murmured. "Interesting."

His fingers traced down, over the swell of my breast, circling my n****e without quite touching it. I held my breath.

"Second question. What were you looking for?"

"Files." My mind didn't have the chance to stop my mouth from moving. And I hated myself for this. "Information about you."

"Truth." He rewarded me with his thumb brushing over my n****e, and I gasped at the contact. The heat that had been simmering since the ceremony flared bright and I could feel my juices leaking until they soaked the floor.

"Please," I whispered, my body aching for more as if I was someone starved of water after being in the desert.

"Please what?"

"Please touch me more... Please..." I was gasping now, my c**t throbbing so hard. "Please, I'll tell you.. I'll tell you something... Just please don't stop touching me..."

He didn't answer and five minutes passed. Maybe more. I lost track of time. All I knew was the ache between my legs and the tears burning behind my eyes and the horrible, shameful desperation that had replaced every rational thought in my head.

When he finally stood and walked back to me, I nearly wept with relief.

"Different method," he said. He pulled me to my feet, turned me around, and bent me over the desk. The same desk where he'd fingered me earlier. The same desk where I would die.

His hand pressed between my shoulder blades, pinning me down. My bound wrists strained against the silk cord.

"I'm going to spank you," he said calmly. "You're going to count. Every time you miss a number, we start over. Do you understand?"