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“Lev’s going to get up and then you’re going to sit down on that hard ass chair, and finish your punishment. If you squirm or try to take the pressure off your hot butt, or that ginger in your ass, you’ll just sit there longer.”
Standing up, Lev steps to the side and Vik guides me to the chair, then stands back, his arms crossed as he watches me carefully lower myself into it. The wooden seat feels awful against my poor butt, but the pressure on the ginger is horrific. A fresh round of tingling starts up, and I know it’s only a matter of time until it becomes an unrelenting burn that’s going to make me want to stand up and yank the stupid fucking plant out of my ass.
Closing my eyes, it takes everything I have not to move in the seat, planting my feet and forcing all my anger into staying still.
“You’re finished, Baby, come here, let’s get that out of your ass,” Vik says, and I leap up from the chair and rush toward him.
Pushing his hand between my cheeks, he makes a big deal of pulling the plug out, twisting and pumping, until it finally pops free and I’m left with just the awful burn in its wake.
Lifting my chin with a finger, he stares down at me. “We know we’ve thrown a lot at you in a short space of time. But mouthing off and storming away will only ever result in you getting your ass spanked. This might not be the life you’d have chosen for yourself, but it’s the life you’re going to live. You’re going to be our wife and we’re going to enjoy putting babies in this belly. You’re ours and the sooner you learn to accept that, the easier it’s going to be on all of us. Now Lev is going to put you back in that sexy little bikini because dressing you and undressing you like a doll is his new kink.” He chuckles softly. “Then we’re all going to walk back to the den where we’re going to relax for a few hours and not think about all the fucked-up stuff that’s going to be happening in the next few weeks. Okay?”
I want to tell him to fuck off. I want to tell him I hate him and the others. I want to tell him that I’ll never consent to any of them touching me again. But I don’t say any of those things, because a weird lethargy settles over me and instead of spitting some of fury and anger that’s screaming inside of my head, I nod.
The rest of the day passes quickly. The light easiness that had grown between us is gone and in its place is a tense, forced quiet that’s exhausting.
Lev fetches me a long, black cover-up when it’s time for lunch, but I still feel self-conscious knowing my ass is red and I wince every time I sit on it. We eat in stilted silence, then file as a group back out to the pool.
I want to be alone, but I know if I tell them that, they’ll refuse. “I’m tired,” I announce. “I think I’ll go take a nap.”
I know it’s an excuse. They know it’s an excuse, but it’s not so much of an excuse that they can call me on it. Because I do plan to sleep, hoping that oblivion might bring me some clarity.
“Do you want some company?” Vik asks.
No. “If you want.”
It’s clear from his expression he wants to call me on my lie, but really, what can he even say when I’ve offered to have company I very clearly don’t want?
“I’ll come check on you in a little while. Are you still saying no, Malishka?” Dimi asks, his tone a seductive whiskey-smooth drawl.
“Yes.”
His jaw tics and his expression hardens. “Sleep well, Alabama.”
I don’t know why I flinch at the sound of my name on his lips. He calls me Malishka nine times out of ten. I don’t even know what it means, but when he started using it, I preferred the nickname over him calling me Alena. But right now, him calling me Alabama feels worse.
“Could someone wake me in a couple of hours? I’d like to take a bath,” I ask formally.
“Of course,” Lev says equally as politely.
All three of them watch me walk away, and the emotional distance between us seems to build with every step farther away I get. By the time I climb into the huge bed that I hated only a few days ago, tears are filling my eyes and I feel strung out and emotionally overwrought.
It’s ridiculous for them to think I’ll just accept that this is my new life. It’s outrageous for them to tell me how my future will look without even asking me if that’s what I want. It’s barbaric to allow Vik to spank me every time I argue against their controlling behavior. But if I hate them as much as I think I should, why do I despise being alone right now? Why does this bed just feel empty and cold without them in it? Why does the thought of being without them make me feel like the sun will never rise again?
Only a few days ago, I crammed myself beneath the vanity table to feel safe, and now the safest place I’ve ever been was pressed between the three of them while I slept in their arms.
It’s been less than a week, but somehow being touched, craved, and adored by them has filled a void inside of me that I had no idea was even there. Their obsession and unyielding determination to own me is changing me and I don’t know how to stop it.
I want to hate them. I wish I hated them, because hating them would be better than missing them when they’re only downstairs.
I don’t want to be the stupid girl who falls head first into Stockholm syndrome for the men who kidnapped her, but I think that’s what’s happening to me and I don’t know if I should fight it, or accept the inevitability of becoming almost as obsessed with them as they are with me.
As my eyes drift shut, I fall into a dream where I chose to come here. I dream of meeting them on the street and knowing they were destined to be mine. I dream of them wooing me until I fall for them all individually and then all of them together, knowing that I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have the love of not one, but three beautiful villains.
It isn’t until I wake up that reality bleeds into my fantasy. I didn’t come here by choice and I didn’t meet them and fall in love. But can I look past how I got here to decide if I ended up in the right place, despite the path that led to me being here?
Padding into the doorless bathroom, I wonder why the lack of privacy doesn’t bother me anymore. Dimi told me there are cameras everywhere in this house, even in this bathroom. Any illusion of privacy has been stripped away from me here and it’s jarring to realize that it doesn’t fluster me as much as it did just a few days ago. I guess it doesn’t make sense to worry about them seeing my body when they’ve touched every inch of me.
Turning on the faucet, water pours out and starts to slowly fill the enormous tub. Baths were a luxury I haven’t really had an opportunity to have in years. Living on the street, I washed wherever and whenever I could. Mine and Monica’s apartment didn’t have a tub in the tiny bathroom, and even though Darla’s house had a tub while I was living there, she rarely let me use it, saying filling the tub cost too much on the utilities.
