Caden delivers the sternest punishments and does not comfort me or make me feel good after for the longest time. Soon, I will be begging him to make me come, eager to do whatever wickedness he has planned in the hope of relief.
Dashing the tears from my cheeks, I steel myself and turn. Our suite here in the north tower has a day room and spacious bedroom with the most decadent four-poster bed, decked in forest green, white, and gold bedding and matching swags. There is a wingback chair over by the window, which Hawthorn collects, positioning to face the bed before he makes himself comfortable there.
Dark eyes, heated with lust, Brook lounges on the bottom of the bed.
Caden is waiting for me, standing before the bed and close to Brook.
I feel small as I come to stand before Caden, my body humming with anticipation. My breasts feel heavy where Hawthorn toyed with them earlier before taking his pleasure from my mouth.
Fearless is the word that most often comes to mind when I look at Caden.
Dominant.
He understands things instinctively about me that goes beyond an Alpha’s natural ways.
Head lowered, I offer up the collar, watching as his hand gathers it up. It may look tiny within his broad hand, but it will fit perfectly around my throat.
“Turn around and lift your hair.”
The mere instruction sets the butterflies in my stomach swirling, and I do so without hesitation.
Hesitation will bring a swift punishment to my bottom with the cane or crop, and I will be doing as I’m told anyway.
The sensation of his fingertips brushing my throat as he places the collar around brings a full body shiver. I sense Hawthorn and Brook watching, but I focus on the soft leather collaring me. Caden takes his time, fingers gentle, leather wrapping snugly and the little heart shaped bell tinkling. My breath stutters as the small buckle is tightened. It doesn’t hurt, but it fills my awareness. Fingers run along the edge of the collar testing the fit. He has often used this on me, but he’s careful and always checks it in the same manner as the first time. Tears sting the back of my eyes; Caden may harbor darkness, but I never doubt his love for me.
“Drop your hair now.”
I release it, swallowing against the dryness in my throat, fighting the urge to touch the soft collar, for that is not allowed.
He brushes my hair over one shoulder before bracing his arm around me to enclose both collar and throat within his strong hand. “Can you feel the collar?” he asks.
I nod, swallowing again before I can get the word out. “Yes.”
“Focus on the collar, and only the collar,” he says. As he releases my throat, the collar becomes the center of my world like he is still touching me there, still holding me.
The suddenness with which he tugs my bodice down stirs a shocked gasp from me. The small bell tinkles as my breasts spring free and are cupped within his waiting hands. “The collar,” he repeats before taking my engorged nipples between fingers and thumbs. He rolls and tugs them roughly, and I bite my lip to stifle a groan. Slick is pooling from my pussy, trickling and coating my inner thighs. I squeeze them to try and ease the ache. Since the day they claimed me as their mate, I’ve not been allowed to wear underthings, for they demand ease and frequent access lest they need to take or touch. I’m desperate for one of them to take me now . . . for all of them. I want their cocks filling my pussy, one after another. The sense of connection and completion is greatest when they are deep inside. It’s the only time when my fears and franticness subside. “The collar,” he says once again, voice harsh, commanding, and I must obey.
The collar has a powerful effect on Caden, but it also has a powerful effect upon me. Every twitch and shift stimulates the tiny bell. It seems to magnify the sensations, twisting everything up twice as fast and twice as strong.
The sweet torment stops as swiftly as it begins. My nipples throb in tandem with my pussy. “I’m sorry I left the room,” I say, wringing my hands anxiously as Brook passes the paddle to Caden. “I’m certain Posey is suffering, and I needed to check on her.”
Hawthorn makes a scoffing noise, and I dare to shoot the stern first Alpha a glare.
Brook chortles.
Caden sighs.
I’m bent over the side of the bed, and my skirts thrust up before Caden begins my punishment in earnest. I do not take my punishment with grace. I am a hellcat with claws. I am a screeching banshee at odds with the sweet, tinkling bell on my collar. My cursing could make the coarsest sailor blush. I have Belle to thank for that.
As the stinging engulfing my well-chastised bottom rises to a fiery roar, I become a begging, repentant Omega who makes promises to never take such risks again. So deeply do I succumb to the fantasy that I am truly repentant, even I believe my words.
“I do not believe a word that pours from your pretty lips,” Caden says, spanking my bottom without a hint of compassion. “Take her hands,” he says to Brook, pausing when my wriggling takes on a wild edge. “That she still has the energy for such tall tales is evidence that her punishment is not close to being done. Now that her pretty bottom is nicely flushed, it’s time for the crop.”
I greet this determination with a wail of
