Page 17 of Nice

"Jamie wouldn't ask you to do this. Stop and let me go. Please! I promise not to have you arrested. Just please."

I hate the tremble in my voice. It shows just how scared and weak I am. Biting down on my lower lip, I try to keep from sobbing out. I'm trapped in the middle of nowhere with a madman. Everything comes down to a razor focus. What the fuck am I going to do? As my brain whirls about, my kidnapper smacks the other ass cheek with the same vigor, sending a sharp spike of pain exploding over my skin. Shrieking, I toss my hand behind me to stop him from smacking me again, but he simply gathers it into his hand and pins it to my back.

"One," he punctuates with another smack. "I don't know any Jamie. "Two," another hard smack. Tears start to roll down my face and drip onto the floor. "I am not a prostitute. Call me that again and you'll get way more than a spanking."

Is that what this is? A spanking? The few times my parents spanked me, it felt nothing like this. Then again, I was fully clothed and not completely at their mercy. In fact, knowing my mom, she was probably holding back.

"3," two swats this time, one on each cheek in rapid succession. "You have earned this spanking, and I will not repeat why. If I have to, I will add to your punishment. 4," these swats land just where my ass meets my thighs. Pure fire races up my body and I buck hard against him, trying to flee the pain he's inflicting. "You are completely at my mercy. No one is going to rescue you. The sooner you accept that fact and submit to my will, the better it will be for you."

I snort, completely unable to help myself. "Submit? To you? I don't even know you!"

His hand rests again on my lower back, his thumb drawing maddening circles over my spine. "I'm Asmodeus Josef Alberic, better known by the title of Krampus."

My body freezes. What. The. Fuck. Does he really think he's some mythical creature? Fear flows through me and I process his words. He must be mad. I'm stuck here with a delusional psychopath! This can't be happening.

He starts back up with the spanking, his hand firm and unyielding as he metes out his punishment. The more I struggle, the harder he grips me. His cock brushes against my side, an ever-present reminder that this monster is actually enjoying himself. Closing my eyes, I note the moisture gathering between my thighs the harder he smacks me. I just don't understand. He stops for a moment and brushes his fingertips across my blazing backside. Liquid heat fills my body at his touch. The small scrapes of skin against heated flesh does something odd to my insides. They twist and churn, begging, no, demanding more.

Until now, I never understood the women who enjoyed pain in their lovemaking. Now, I have a very intimate understanding. The more he touches me, the more desperate I become. I writhe at his touch, silently begging for him to stroke lower, to ease my torment. His dark chuckle sends shivers racing up and down my spine.

"Well well, looks like I snagged myself a little masochist," he murmurs, his fingers pinching and plucking at my skin. "Already drenching wet for me I bet."

Gritting my teeth, I shake my head and squeeze my thighs together. I don't think I can bear the mortification of him knowing how turned on he's making me. Hell, I don't even understand my own reactions to him.

Asmon grips my ass cheek in a painful grip. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

Yelping, I buck against his hand, trying to loosen his grip, but he just bares down harder. "If I'm counting correctly, that's twice you've lied to me, isn't it?"

I slump forward in defeat. Who the hell am I trying to fool? Sniffling, I turn my face up as best I can to look at him. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head and leans closer. "I must have misheard. It sounded like you just apologized."

"Yes. Okay? I lied. I don't know why the hell you're turning me on, but you are. Satisfied?"

"Oh, my dear little human, I'm not even close to being satisfied."

His words send a shaft of fear into me. I can't be falling for this psycho. He doesn't even think he's human. What the hell will he do to me? "Please don't wear my skin as a suit." My whispered words hang heavy in the air. Fuck. Did I just say that out loud?

Loud laughter shake's Asmon's frame, jostling me along with him. It takes several minutes for him to get back under control. "You watch way too many horror movies. Luckily for you, I will not allow that garbage in my house while you're staying with me."

"You can't keep me here forever you know. Someone will notice I'm missing."

His body stills underneath mine. I wish I could see his face, to know what was going through his brain. But we just sit there, our breathing the only thing breaking the silence. "You're right," he finally sighs. "I can't keep you. We better get on with your actual punishment so I can send you home." Untangling my legs, he stands me up and grips the chain before rising himself.

My breathing starts to even out as relief fills my body. It's almost over. If I can last just a little longer, I can be free and go home. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. But do I want that? Looking up at the man before, my heart cries out for just a moment. But what does the heart know? My mind is fully aware of the danger being here is putting me in, but there's something that's calling to me. Something dark and primal. When has my life ever been this exciting? Do I really want to leave this and go back to microwave meals and scary movies in the dark?

Unable to resist, I slide my fingers across his smooth face, tingling at the slight chill in his skin. Moving up from there, I brush through his hair before skimming my fingers across his horns. Asmon ducks a bit, keeping me from standing on my toes. Varied expressions cross his face, but he mostly just looks pained.

Is me touching him hurting? His brows furrow as I keep touching the horn. With him a bit lower, I can slide my palm across. Seeing as I've played with barn animals before, I know what a horn feels like, and I expected the same rough texture and sensation. However, this one is quite smooth. Like polished obsidian or glass. The ridges dip and rise across the surface, filling me with an unnatural urge to see what it would feel like elsewhere. Squirming, I try to keep my thoughts to myself, but once again, there's no hiding anything from my captor.

"If I knew my horns were such a turn on, I'd have used them on you earlier."

"Wait, they can go down there?"

He laughs but remains still. "The curve would make that rather difficult." Asmon opens his eyes and pins me with a heated stare. "But we can certainly try if you would like."

"I'm good. But thanks." I keep palming the cool horn, refusing to let my brain come up with scenarios in which that would work. Instead, I turn it to more academic thoughts. What is it made of? Obviously, it's fake. Nothing comes out of the body feeling that smooth. With a quick jerk of my hand, I yank down hard on the horn, hoping to pry it loose and confront the man with evidence of his own delusion. Instead of popping off, it remains steadfast. Not even a shift. The only thing I manage to do is jerk his head down closer to me.

With a painful roar, he grabs my hand and shoves me away before feeling around his head. "What the actual hell woman?" Squeezing his eyes shut, he feels around the horn and rubs his scalp a bit. After a moment, his eyes fly open and his angry gaze glues me to my spot. His steps are silent and lethal as he stalks towards me.