Chapter 9

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☼ Sasha ☼

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Sasha

I felt the change, the shift in the heated air.  You could say it was almost pleasant and strummed over my sensitive nerve endings.

"Slave!" he barked as the sound of his heavy booted feet moved around me, but I didn't look at him. Instead, I blinked away the last of my tears not wanting to give him any more parts of me.  

What was the change?  Self preservation.

And like vines, it wrapped itself around me, grounding me.  Most people had it, clung to it in moments of distress. That fight or flight response kept you alive.  And mine was coming out fighting.

The hate for him spread like a virus, infecting every breath.  I may be trussed up, vulnerable and unable to set myself free, but it wasn't going to break me.

So far, it was all about him. His needs. His twisted game.

And I fully accepted this was my fault.  I'd given him this power.  Forgotten the most basic of rules in this world.

But he was taking no more. 

And it might not be today, but I would repay him in kind. Someway. Somehow.

On the flip side and equally as twisted or baffling to me was no matter how my mind dealt with the blows, my body absorbed each hit.  I was more than turned on. Fully aroused to where one more direct hit to my clit would have me shamefully coming for this bastard.

How messed up was that?

My therapist would have herself a tea-party with where my thoughts were at right now because apparently I was a multi-faceted mess of contradictions... including and surprisingly a tiny bit  masochistic.

Motherfuc-

A trickle of sweat slipped down my temple as I hissed through the gag when the fifteenth whack landed.

The bastard moved to stand in front of me, leaning in so I could feel his breath on my face. "You resist, slave, but I will break you."

Never.

However, I was becoming physically exhausted. My head flopped forward as another whack lashed across my skin...my thighs this time and each time he hit a new spot... then yeah, it burned like a bitch.

But I could do this.

Keep it together.

I tensed and flexed my muscles a bit, trying to get my blood flowing.

His hardened accented voice demanded attention and his thick finger came under my chin, forcing my head up. I knew a submissive wasn't supposed to look a dominant directly in the eyes. But I refused to look away. I wanted him to see the rage, let him drown in my defiance. He ripped the gag from my mouth and I clambered to get in as much air as my lungs would allow. It was a relief.

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