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“I’m not Gregor, meisie, but I will not be lied to. You’re going to learn and I’m going to enjoy teaching.” His hand turned my face so I had to stare into his eyes. With a cloth, he wiped away some of the sand, some of the tears. “You may not believe me yet, but I think you’re going to be happier by the end. You’re mine now and you’re precious to me. I’ll never hurt you terribly like him. Never. Understand?”
Understand. As if his words helped.
Though maybe they did. Even in my misery I began to think. He wasn’t Gregor.
“I won’t be gentle all the time,” he continued, in that horribly reasonable tone, like a man aiming to convince his pet that it couldn’t go out through the cat flap today.
Choking in breaths in an attempt not to cry, I frowned, looking downward.
“But sometimes, I will be. It’s the punishments you should fear, and I need to punish you now because you’ve been bad.”
“No.” I shook my head, in a determined way. If I wished it enough, it might come true. “You can still let me go.” I met his gaze, though I cringed. “Please? Let me go, Pieter. I wasn’t going to write about you, or Glass, or the others. I swear.”
“Shh. You can bear it.”
“I won’t do it. I won’t tell. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
But he only snorted, and picked me up, then he toted me up the beach to a bench under a roof at the jetty. He dragged me across the bench with my bottom up, sat beside me and pushed up my dress. Then he edged my panties down to the top of my thighs and spanked me. My knees were jarred into the sandy concrete. Every finger mark he left seemed an insult. When I attempted to rise, in spite of still being handcuffed, he tsked and pushed me back then hit me harder. With Glass somewhere nearby, I bit back my noises, clenched my jaw. Only a gasp or two escaped me. Damned if I would show how this affected me.
Another slap landed on my ass, cramming me forward onto the metal slats, then another, and another, until the pain seemed to balloon out from my skin with each pulse of blood. My humiliation, anger, and misery, tangled up and shattered my self-control, and I cried.
From then on each blow drew more loud cries or words of protest from me until I was barely conscious of what came from my mouth.
By the time he was done, Glass was preparing to leave, and the props on the plane were turning. Through my tears, I saw this, before I turned away, embarrassed that he too saw my degradation.
This was far beyond what I could have imagined Pieter was capable of and I was trapped here with him, with no one to see what acts he perpetrated on me.
I had to get away. From the corner of my eye, I could see the endless surface of the sea. This was so far from civilization, from other people and he could overpower me with one hand. There’d been a rifle unloaded with the boxes. I didn’t even know where this island was. Despair wrenched another sob from me.
Then he laid his big palm over one cheek of my ass. The burn from the spanking seemed to intensify where his skin met mine.
“Poor Jazmine. I guess I should feel sorry for you. Do you think you’ve been punished enough?”
What a dumb question.
If I was good, subtle, sneaky, maybe I could slowly win him over and convince him to free me?” “Yes,” I squeaked out past a sniffle. “I do.”
“Hmmm.”
Chapter 29
The ache in my finger stump on my left hand reminded me of what I’d lost to Gregor, but having Jazmine ass up before me, over this bench, what did that mean to me? The feel of her softness under my palm, and knowing I could stop or I could keep going until every bit of her was equally red...
Crazy.
Such a gorgeous ass too, attached to a woman I should really have naked right now. The breeze played with the blue-and-yellow cloth of her dress where it lay shoved above her waist. Where I had left it. Me. Her owner.
I could do what I liked with her.
The headiness of this situation was getting to me.
All my careful thoughts had been obliterated by the reality.
The roar of the plane’s engine faded into the noise of the surf crumpling onto the beach on the other side of the island. The sun would be going down in a few hours. I should be thinking of organizing all the gear, but I had a woman here, trembling at my touch. I squeezed her butt then scraped my calloused thumb across her skin, brushing a mark I’d just made. Nothing. No reaction. I dug my nail in harder, still harder, scratched it along. And she whimpered and tried to shift away.
Fok. Scintillatingly good.
There was no one to see what I did to her. Not for a hundred miles or more of bare ocean. Only the fish, the birds, the crabs, and me, the big dirty-minded sadist.
