17
IVY
Rupert snapped his fingers twice at his side. “Are you listening to me?”
There was a curious pull at my innards. At least it wasn’t the flush of shame. He was distracting me, and it was working.
He pulled me towards a weathered wooden fence downhill and said firmly, “Grab on to that top rail, and don’t let go.”
“What are you going to do?” I turned back to see the belt hanging from one huge hand, while his other wound itself into my hair.
His stern expression was unnerving, and I watched as he carefully lay the folded belt over the fence rail. Rupert’s eyes were compelling, magnetic, and he spoke with cool authority, “Teaching you to do as you are told. Teaching you that I’m the one in charge here.” I tried to ignore the persistent aching just below my belly button caused by hi
