Uncovering You: The Complete Series (Mega Box Set) (298 page)

His fingers hook under my chin, and he jerks my head up. “Do you understand?”

I meet his eyes for a splintering second. I can’t stand it—I turn away.

His fingers tighten on my throat and he forces my head back. “You will not do that again,” he says softly. The threat in his voice is clear. “When I speak to you, you will look at me directly.”

I’m genuinely scared now. “Yes,” I whisper.

“Yes, what?” he prompts. “What do you call me?”

“Yes, Alastair,” I try.

He slaps me. He does it so hard that I fall to one side.

“That’s right,” he tells me. His voice takes on a frightening, dark edge. “That slap is for forgetting.”

Slowly, I pick myself up. I’m shaking, I’m trembling. In fear? In excitement? In… anticipation?

I can no longer tell. My feelings are jumbled together in such a tightly twisted knot that I cannot distinguish between any of them.

“Take your clothes off,” Alastair says.

I blink. “Wha—” I start to say.

He slaps me again. I fall down and cry out.

“You will
not
speak,” he says. “Unless given permission. Now strip.”

Slowly, I push one shoe off with my foot, then the other. With shaking hands I lift my shirt over my head. There are tears in my eyes. Cool air rushes over my skin.

Alastair watches me. His hands are clasped behind his back. But his growing arousal is obvious.

“Drop it,” he commands when my shirt is off. “On the floor. Do not break eye contact with me as you do.”

Trembling, I reach out, and let the shirt flutter down. I look at Alastair the whole time.

“Good,” he says. “Now the same with your bra.”

I reach behind my back. I unclasp it. I slide it off.

“Together with the shirt,” he says.

I drop it into the same pile.

“And your jeans,” he commands. His voice is hoarse. “Your panties too. I want you fully bared to me before we begin.”

“I’m not wearing any—” I start.

The third slap blindsides me. It’s so much harder than the previous two. Pain shoots down my cheek.

This time, I taste blood.

“
Don’t
,” he growls, “make me remind you again.”

I cower there for a moment.

“Get up!” he snaps. “Up, and take your jeans off.”

Through teary eyes, I do. My fingers have a hard time with the button, they’re shaking so bad.

Why am I doing this? I think.

I slide the final garment off my body. Alastair makes a deep sound in his throat when he sees me naked before him.

“Good girl,” he tells me. “Your initiative pleases me.”

I drop the jeans with the rest of my clothes. He turns off to the side and walks to a torch.

He picks it off the wall. I watch him, wary. The cold air makes my skin prickle. I sit on the edge of the bed and pull my knees up and hold them tight.

I feel less exposed that way.

Alastair comes back. He kicks my pile of clothing away from the bed.

Then he drops the torch and sets fire to them.

I gasp. An acrid smell fills the air.

He twists back. His eyes dare me to speak.

I don’t say a single word.

We both watch the little conflagration.
Why am I doing this, why am I doing this, why am I doing this
? I repeat, over and over in my head.

On the outside though, I’m surprisingly stoic. Now that the worst is done…

But you can’t presume that
, a little voice reminds me.

I shiver once more.

Alastair turns back. “Your second lesson,” he says, strolling around the bed, “is that everything in this room belongs to me. The bed. The fire. The light. The very
air
you breathe.” He glances at the high window. “All of them are mine. Just like
you
are mine.

“Your body is mine. Your clothing is mine. Your heart, your soul, your mind… well,” he smiles cruelly, “We will make those things mine yet.”

I turn my head to keep up with him.

“You must give yourself to me freely. Do you understand? Any sort of resistance on your part—” he smacks one hand against the other, making a loud sound that makes me jump, “—will be met with appropriate punishment. Is that clear?”

I nod.

“Say, yes, Alastair, I understand.”

“Yes, Alastair,” I repeat. “I understand.”

“Good.” He comes up to me. He leans one knee onto the bed. His fingers run down the length of my spine.

I suck in a quick breath at the unexpected tenderness of his touch.

“Verbal confirmation,” he says, “is very important to me.”

I swallow the blood that’s built up in my mouth. I give an unsteady nod.

Suddenly he grabs my hair. His fingers pull it by the roots.

I cry out at the sharp stab of pain. He yanks me back. I fall to the mattress.

Then he’s leering over me, one fist twisted in my hair. He pulls so hard the tears return to my eyes.

I cannot speak, so I just whimper.

“Oh, there, there,” he says softly. With his free hand he strokes my cheek. “Don’t cry. My poor, sweet Dani. We will make a queen of you yet.”

He leans closer. His face hovers an inch above mine. “A queen,” he whispers, “but first, a
slave
.”

Then he bares his teeth and scrapes a long, hard line up my arm. I flinch away. He catches my trap and bites down. I cry out in pain. It’s so sensitive!

He pulls up away before letting go. My tears flow freely.

“Get up,” he tells me. “Stand, and hold onto the pole.” His eyes go to the one on the left of the bed. “
That
one.”

He lifts off. I don’t move right away—I’m terrified.

Why, why, why?

“NOW!” he yells.

His voice is like a thunderclap. It jolts me into action.

I jump up and put bare feet on the cold stone floor. I walk forward and take hold of the iron bar.

I notice, for the first time, there are shackles hanging from it.

Alastair comes up to me without a word. Calmly, he reaches up and places one shackle around my wrist. It’s heavy and cold. The edge cuts into my skin.

He clamps it shut. Then he does the same with the second one.

“Comfortable?” he sneers. I know he doesn’t expect an answer.

He runs a finger down my spine, from the back of my neck down to my buttocks. He grabs the flesh.

“You feel good, Dani.”

He spanks me.

It’s just one slap. But it causes a cascade of realization to rip through me.

I see how helpless I am. How vulnerable. How completely out of my depths and completely under his control.

I start to cry.

Alastair walks to the front. He leans close and cups my chin in his hand.

“Right now, I’m Sylvain,” he whispers. “This is your only chance. If you want me to stop, say so now. Otherwise…” his eyes roam the room, “our night has just begun.”

I take a series of short, gasping breaths. My tongue is glued to the top of my mouth.

I cannot speak.

Sylvain waits… and straightens. He is Alastair once more.

“Good girl.” He picks the whip up. “Now, stick your ass out. Every word you utter in this tower earns you one lashing. I’ve kept count.”

His voice takes on a deeply sadistic quality. “There have been seventeen.”

Chapter Twenty

In my own bed, on freshly-pressed sheets, my backside burns. My entire body is sore and hurting.

And yet I do not cry. I left all my tears with Alastair.

When I wake up in the middle of the night on a sudden spasm, dreaming I’m back in the Black Tower, being punished by him… I do not cry.

No, all my tears have dried out. And I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what dark, deranged, twisted part of my psyche being Alastair’s appeals to… but I do know that I want more.

I
crave
more. I crave the punishment. I need it. I deserve it.

Where else am I going to find my soul but in the deepest pits of despair? Who else is going to show me,
teach
me, how much I’m able to endure, but Sylvain Alastair?

Who else is going to bring me to the promised heights of pleasure but he?

And so I stand, on legs barely able to hold me.

I walk over to the desk.

And I sign the contract.

Epilogue

“Why are you here?” he asks me. He strokes my cheek.

“Because I disobeyed you,” I say.

“That’s right, my lovely. His hand tightens on my neck. He jerks my head up into a frightfully painful position.

I’m so vulnerable.

“And how long will you remain?”

I whimper at the pain cascading down my spine. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

The chains that hold me just inches from the floor dig into the flesh of my arms. Alastair runs a hand down them, then brings that same hand over my naked body. He lets it roam from my shoulder, down my arm, then over my breasts. He stops it at my pussy and presses two fingers to it.

I gasp.

“Oh,” he says softly. “I think that you do.” He thrusts those fingers in and explores my depths. “I think you know exactly how long you’re going to be here... Dani.”

I start to cry. I hate it when he uses that name.

“Please,” I say. “Please—”

His fingers move faster, harder, in sharp, painful jabs.

“Please what, Dani?” he presses. “Please what?”

“Please,” I say. “
Please don’t stop!”

“Gah!” he growls, and rips the fingers away.

I sway forward and droop down, body shaking, pleasure lost. The cold, dark chamber surrounds me.

“It’s a good thing I am so bewitched by you,” he says. He walks over to the hanging whip. He picks it up and strokes its length before me.

“Now,” he says. “You know what each word grants you.”

I close my eyes, and, trembling, I start to sob.

The End.

The Alastair Affair, Book Two is available NOW:

http://www.amazon.com/Alastair-Affair-Sylvain-Billionaire-Romance-ebook/dp/B018HJ3Z1Q/

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- Scarlett Edwards

November 2015