Chapter 3

Arlari’s POV

Seventy-two hours.

That was the time he had given me to “prepare myself.” Now the countdown was finished, and I am here.

The house towers above me. It is elegant, but not in a gentle way. My suitcases felt incredibly heavy in my hand.

On cue, the doors sweep open. A butler steps out and takes the suitcases from my hand without a word. At the gates, the Don's men linger, posted like gargoyles in black jackets, their hands never stayed far from their weapons.

They watch me without blinking, and I know that if I bolt, I won’t make it past the driveway. I fight the sudden, childish urge to chew my nails down to the skin.

°°°

“Don Cortez is in his office,” he says, as we finally get inside. “He instructed you to wait for him there.”

I nod, stiffly.

But then he pauses, as if remembering something. His gaze wanders to my clothes, my jeans and rumpled shirt, the ones I’ve been sweating in since the drive.

“You are to freshen up first,” he says. “You will have a change of outfit. Don Cortez insists. You cannot be received like this. Odour is not tolerated in this house.”

Odour?

“Both on you and... in you.”

My ears flush, knowing very well what he was talking about.

I had made sure to wax before coming here. The contract had been clear, according to his mood, he liked his submissives either bare or left with some hair.

And he had requested I be clean-shaven. So I obeyed. It hurt like hell, but the sting was worth it, my brother was alive, recovering in a hospital bed. Severiano had kept his end of the bargain. Now it was my turn.

On the bed lay the outfit waiting for me. A nighty in black. Silky, foam-light fabric, folded properly. The slip was thin as I lifted it, soft, falling just to my mid-thigh. Over it, there was a longer robe tied with a sash.

I’ve never thought much about my body before. But now, in this black silk, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Curves. Hips. A shape I didn’t expect to look… this presentable. It unsettled me. My cheeks flushed and I quickly pulled my hair into a ponytail, anything to keep myself feeling neat.

On the dressing table, a collar waited for me. It was smooth and made of leather, dark and simple.

Gods above.

My reflection watched as I fastened it around my throat.

A knock came at the door.

“Are you ready, señorita?” the butler’s voice called through.

“Yes,” I managed to squeak out.

The door opened and he held it for me. “The Don is ready to receive you.”

°°°°°°

The butler and I stopped in front of a massive oak door. Its surface was carved deep with the words KEEP OUT.

The door reminded me of him.

The butler tapped on it twice.

From the other side, his voice came,

“Let her in.”

The butler opened it for me, then stayed outside.

Inside, the room wasn't all dark like I had assumed, but the space still felt dim, its colors muted into shades of grey, black, and white.

The first thing I noticed was the bed, at the far end. A rack of clothes stood tall by the wall, and to its side, a neat cupboard.

And in the middle of it all sat him.

Severiano wore an ash shirt with the sleeves rolled just enough to expose the veins in his forearms, his trousers the same shade. The plainness of the outfit made him more striking, somehow. He leaned lazily against the desk, but his eyes, his eyes… were sharp.

“I gave you seventy-two hours,” he said. “Which means you were supposed to be here this morning. Why are you just arriving now?”

“T-T-there was traffic,” I said quickly. “From my side of the city to here, it was long. I… forgot something at home. I had to go back, then come out again. Then the car—”

He cut me off with the faintest tilt of his head. “I told you before you left my office that day that I would send one of my drivers to pick you up. Even come myself, if necessary.”

“I didn’t want that, sir.”

“Why?”

The truth sat like lead on my tongue. “Because… I didn’t want you to know where I live.”

“Why?”

“Uh, I’m clean… I like the dress too.”

Wrong move.

His fingers rested lightly on my throat before going up to my chin.

“What did I tell you at the office?”

My eyes widened, realizing what I had just done.

“I-I’m sorry… I… I didn’t—”

“I said, what did I tell you?”

I swallowed.

“That e-evading your question could warrant punishment.”

“Good.”

He assumed a sitting position at the edge of the bed, with one hand leaning behind him. He gestured to his thighs.

“Lay across them.”

“Huh?”

“Take off your robe, and position yourself across my thighs.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers trembling as they tugged at the sash. The robe slid from my shoulders, spilling down my arms and pooling at my feet.

The silk nighty clung to me, thin enough to reveal the stiff points of my nipples.

His eyes took in every inch of me as if he had all the time in the world.

“Across,” he said. Patting his thigh again.

My hands shook as I lowered myself onto his legs. I felt like a child, crawling into an adult's lap, only… I was laying over his and my see-through had ridden up, a few inches away from showing my derriere to him. And the thong… he could see it.

His palm pressed into my lower back, holding me down.

“Stay.”

“Yes, Master Severiano.”

He chuckled.

“I prefer, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir Severiano.”

He hummed and I curled my fingers, ready for the onslaught.

His palm landed on my left butt-cheek.

The sting made me yelp.

“Ah—! O-one.”

I clutched at his trousers, my face pressed against his leg to hold back my scream. His body was so close, so unyielding, and gods, against my stomach I could feel him.

Smack.

My hips jolted. The silk scraped against my nipples, and they tensed.

“Mmn—two.”

My thighs pressed together instinctively, but the slickness between them made the movement humiliatingly obvious.

Smack.

Lower this time, almost at the crease where my thigh met cheek. The shock made me yelp, then whimper right after. Trying desperately to focus on the punishment and not whatever was making my thighs hot.

“Three.”

Smack.

The fourth snapped sharp and my back arched, forcing my hips into his thigh. It stung like crazy.

“Ah—four.”

“Take it.”

Smack.

“Five,” I gasped, my nails dug into his leg. My breath came ragged.

Smack.

“S-Six! Sir Severiano, uh… six.”

Every nerve in me burned. My nighty had ridden high enough that I was certain that my buttocks were bare.

Smack.

“Seven,” I sobbed softly.

One more, please.

He folded his hand, admiring the red on my skin, I felt it, though I dared not raise my head.

Smack.

The last strike landed, spreading fire across both cheeks.

“Eight.”

The silence after was louder than the smacks. He held me in place, running his fingers along the burn. While I remained painfully aware of my nipples poking him.

Then, slowly I felt his hand slide lower. His fingers brushed the edge of my thighs. My thighs clamped together as his fingers found my clit. Just the faintest press.

He leaned down.

“Now, little one,” he whispered, “spread those legs and let me inspect how well you waxed.”