Page 80 of The Cannibal

“I hope you know how to beg for forgiveness,” he laughed.

“I—” Snap!

“No talking.”

“But—” Snap! Snap!

“One more word and it won’t be the belt making you cry.”

I let out a desperate whimper. The cold floor pressed against my clit, I couldn’t help but squirm. The sting of my backside kept me warm, at least. I was beginning to feel all my limbs tingling, my head lighter than ever. My palms pressed to the floor as they were tucked under my chest.

I’m almost there.

I stared at him in the corner of my eye—then stubbornly lifted my cheek from the floor.

He straddled the back of my thighs, grabbing a fistful of hair between leather-clad fingers and pressing my head back to the ground.

“You love this, don’t you?” he taunted low in my ear, his other hand squeezing my breech. “The way I will catch you, every time, every day, until my heart quits—only then will you be free of me.”

“You can catch, yet you will never tame,” I whispered, “but it sure is fun seeing you try.”

A sonorous, predatory clicking vibrated loudly in my ear, and then another, lighter harmony. I couldn’t tell which of us it was.

“Go on then, get up.” He let me go, the weight from my legs lifting.

I turned to look at him.

With open arms, he gestured. “To the bed.”

I bent my legs to lift myself up, but then I stopped.

His foot was on my skirts.

After yanking it from under his shoe, I made it to my knees before he did it again with his other foot. I see the game now. When I pulled the skirt again, I yanked it hard enough to avoid any slack as I stumbled to my feet, toward the bed.

Except he hooked the looped belt under my ankle and tripped me, dragging me across the floor until I was farther than when I’d started.

I propped myself up with my elbows to stare at him. If I couldn’t run, I could taunt.

Shifting directions, I crawled toward him.

The lightness of my head and the tingling all over my body made my movements so languid that it forced my muscles to relax. When my brain wasn’t firing on all pistons, I could truly appreciate the skin I wore. Carefree confidence was easy when your mind was light—a rare occurrence for me.

His hands tightened around the leather of the belt, holding it in front of his waist as he watched. Another flash of lightning behind him. He towered over me just like the windows of the room. The only thing I saw was the reflection of his eyes in the shadowy silhouette.

With one palm on each of his shoes, I rested my chin on the front of his hip as I stared at him.

Like bestowing a veil, so gently, he placed the belt over my head and around my neck, looping the tail through the buckle before it slithered closed around my throat. Firm, but not pulling. He knew better than to be rough when my teeth were so close to his cock.

He lifted the tail, tightening it slightly as I stood on my knees, hands placed on the front of his hips to balance myself.

His wet trousers couldn’t hide the bulge tenting the fabric. I was practically salivating; my stomach twinged as I clenched my jaw. My lips brushed it, rubbing my cheek against the bulge. I didn’t have to look up at him; that’s what he loved, after all.

My eyes fluttered up to stare at him through my lashes, my lips parting ever so slightly, my fang scraping against the middle seam of the trousers, one stitch at a time.

The belt squeezed my neck as he raised his hand on the tail, until I was stretched straight.

“Let me go.” I swallowed. “Whatever your brutish sensibilities are, I’ll do it.”