and irregular. He is snorting like a bull.
“Look at me!” The power behind his voice is so strong I can feel it vibrate through me.
Surreal. I’ve never heard him raise his voice until now. His need to control is chilling.
I turn away in defia nce, and he grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to face him.
“You want to fight , princeza ?” His voice is low, angry and guttural, nearly unrecognizable.
“Fuck you , you sick savage!” I lash out in a venomous hiss. I spit at him, and the wad lands on his right cheek. Good, my aim was true!
He growls , “ Na oganj ulja ne ljevaj .” You shouldn’t add oil to the fire.
I gasp as he spins me around so fast that my bad arm fl ies outward and wraps quickly around the wide bag in order to keep me from falling over sideways. Like an iron shackle, his hand encircles my good wrist and hauls it up to the chain holding the bag suspended from the wooden ceiling rafter. My chest presses tight against the bag.
“Grab it .”
My entire head vibrates from the strength of his angry voice. I’m on tip toes, but I grasp the cold chain that leads up to the mount on the ceiling. The heavy bag sways slightly with the trembling that’s coming from my body.
He step s away. What is he up to? I turn back to look over my shoulder. He’s coming at me with a black length of boxing hand-wraps. He’s planning on tying me to this bag? Oh shit! I start to let go.
“No!”
He’s fast , and I shudder as his hand squeezes hard against mine. The smooth, thick links are certainly imprinted in my right palm. Before I can fight, he begins wrapping the black cotton around my clenched hand and the chain over and over again, essentially tethering me to the weighty bag.
I’m terrified.
“Please, I’m sorry, Zoran. Please!”
His huge body presses up against mine, sandwiching me between himself and the bag. I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. I must calm down and think clearly ….
Oh my God, his c ock is still rock hard!
It presses against my back. It’s so huge that it feels like a weapon in itself.
H e’s struggling for control as he says, “You’re not fucking sorry. Don’t you ever lie to me. But I promise you, princeza , you soon will be.”
I hate that he has control simply because I’m injured. I’m pissed and scared. I hate both feelings with a passion. Is he going to rape me, tethered here to this instrument of aggression? Self-preservation takes over. I lift my knee and kick back high, swift and hard, doing my very best to hit him in the groin. He’s too tall, and I connect with what I think is the top of his knee. It must have hurt, because he grunts low and my heel burns with the pain of contact.
He snarls , “You’re a fucking wildcat, woman! Okay, let’s play, baby.”
I shake my hair away from my face and crane my neck to watch him. I’m breathing hard as he undoes the buckle on his wide, black leather belt. Not good. So not good, Carew! He whips it off his waist in a sure tug.
My mouth opens and I begin to pant.
He wraps the belt once around his powerful fist before saying in a cold, flat voice, “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll stop.”
Time suspends in a long moment of horror. The belt flies back over his shoulder before it slices through the air with a clear whoosh. It lands impossibly hard on my exposed backside.
“ Aaigeeee! ” I scream. The pain is beyond comprehension. It’s vicious and all-consuming, instantly submerging me in its raw depths.
The belt lands again.
And again .
On and on , the blows rain down and my sweating chest pushes against the weighted bag. I’m hoping, praying, that I can somehow move away from his brutal strikes. Begging will get me nowhere. I know this like I know the name of the hospital where I was born.
He wants details and unfortunately for me, I can’t give them up. I’ve been trained. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he has what he needs from me I’m as good as
“Look at me!” The power behind his voice is so strong I can feel it vibrate through me.
Surreal. I’ve never heard him raise his voice until now. His need to control is chilling.
I turn away in defia nce, and he grabs hold of my chin, forcing me to face him.
“You want to fight , princeza ?” His voice is low, angry and guttural, nearly unrecognizable.
“Fuck you , you sick savage!” I lash out in a venomous hiss. I spit at him, and the wad lands on his right cheek. Good, my aim was true!
He growls , “ Na oganj ulja ne ljevaj .” You shouldn’t add oil to the fire.
I gasp as he spins me around so fast that my bad arm fl ies outward and wraps quickly around the wide bag in order to keep me from falling over sideways. Like an iron shackle, his hand encircles my good wrist and hauls it up to the chain holding the bag suspended from the wooden ceiling rafter. My chest presses tight against the bag.
“Grab it .”
My entire head vibrates from the strength of his angry voice. I’m on tip toes, but I grasp the cold chain that leads up to the mount on the ceiling. The heavy bag sways slightly with the trembling that’s coming from my body.
He step s away. What is he up to? I turn back to look over my shoulder. He’s coming at me with a black length of boxing hand-wraps. He’s planning on tying me to this bag? Oh shit! I start to let go.
“No!”
He’s fast , and I shudder as his hand squeezes hard against mine. The smooth, thick links are certainly imprinted in my right palm. Before I can fight, he begins wrapping the black cotton around my clenched hand and the chain over and over again, essentially tethering me to the weighty bag.
I’m terrified.
“Please, I’m sorry, Zoran. Please!”
His huge body presses up against mine, sandwiching me between himself and the bag. I close my eyes and try to breathe in through my nose. I must calm down and think clearly ….
Oh my God, his c ock is still rock hard!
It presses against my back. It’s so huge that it feels like a weapon in itself.
H e’s struggling for control as he says, “You’re not fucking sorry. Don’t you ever lie to me. But I promise you, princeza , you soon will be.”
I hate that he has control simply because I’m injured. I’m pissed and scared. I hate both feelings with a passion. Is he going to rape me, tethered here to this instrument of aggression? Self-preservation takes over. I lift my knee and kick back high, swift and hard, doing my very best to hit him in the groin. He’s too tall, and I connect with what I think is the top of his knee. It must have hurt, because he grunts low and my heel burns with the pain of contact.
He snarls , “You’re a fucking wildcat, woman! Okay, let’s play, baby.”
I shake my hair away from my face and crane my neck to watch him. I’m breathing hard as he undoes the buckle on his wide, black leather belt. Not good. So not good, Carew! He whips it off his waist in a sure tug.
My mouth opens and I begin to pant.
He wraps the belt once around his powerful fist before saying in a cold, flat voice, “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll stop.”
Time suspends in a long moment of horror. The belt flies back over his shoulder before it slices through the air with a clear whoosh. It lands impossibly hard on my exposed backside.
“ Aaigeeee! ” I scream. The pain is beyond comprehension. It’s vicious and all-consuming, instantly submerging me in its raw depths.
The belt lands again.
And again .
On and on , the blows rain down and my sweating chest pushes against the weighted bag. I’m hoping, praying, that I can somehow move away from his brutal strikes. Begging will get me nowhere. I know this like I know the name of the hospital where I was born.
He wants details and unfortunately for me, I can’t give them up. I’ve been trained. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that as soon as he has what he needs from me I’m as good as
Similar Books
