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“I told you,umnitsa: I’m going to mark your body. You belong to me. You are my property. My prized possession.”
His voice moves across the room as he speaks. Something metal clanks and scrapes.
“You are lucky. This happens to be one of the better designs. I’ve seen some ugly motherfuckers back home, so count yourself blessed.”
I don’t know how he does it. How he takes what should be kind, compassionate statements and somehow twists them into something dark and threatening. I don’t even know what he’s doing right now, but something in his voice, in the way he approaches me from behind, has me struggling against the men holding me down.
“Deep breath,umnitsa.”
I shake my head. “No! Please, don’t!”
The man holding my left leg pulls it up higher on the table, forcing my knee to bend. Exposing me to every eye watching.
Master’s hand rests on my knee. Something hot hovers over me.
No. No. No.
“Please! Master!”
“Shhhh,umnitsa.” He squeezes my knee and pushes down. “Do what I say and take a deep breath.”
I don’t do it because I trust him. I draw in a deep breath because I’m too fucking terrified to find out what will happen if I don’t.
White-hot pain sears my skin.
I scream.
The pain is almost blinding. He holds it there, on the back of my thigh just below my ass, and I scream louder. Only when he pulls it off me does my scream cut off into a choking sob.
And then I’m wheezing. Sobbing. Shaking uncontrollably against the men holding me.
“Now, it’s official,” Master says proudly. He brandishes what looks like a red-hot poker in front of my face, but my eyes are too watery to see it clearly. When he turns it, I realize by the bulk that it’s not a poker at all.
It’s a brand.
I’ve been branded.
“You’re mine,umnitsa. Mine forever. Don’t ever forget that. If you do, I’ll be more than happy to remind you.”
The men release my wrists and ankles. Master returns the brand to the fireplace. I have every chance to scramble off this table and make a run for it.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
Not just because my leg hurts too much to move.
Not just because I’m so terrified of what he could do to Willow.
Mainly because I can’t see through my tears. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t stop sobbing.
He’s going to break me. He’s going to break me inside and out. He won’t be satisfied with just my body, either—he’ll want my mind, and my soul, crushed under his weight.
Even if he kills me.
Which, let’s be honest… he probably will.
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