Caught In The Crossfires - Spinoff

60

Chapter 60

Lola

"Come on, Cristiano," I tugged at the restraints binding my wrist to no avail and then I looked back over at him with my brows pulled together and waited for him to speak but he stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, his dress shirt stretched taut against his muscular frame. The fabric of his dress shirt strained against his broad shoulders and well-defined biceps, making my heart skip a beat as I wet my lips.

A surge of heat coursed through my
Pveins at the sight of him standing there, looking like a goddamn Greek god with his striking features—a sharp strong jawline, and high cheekbones that accentuated his sculpted face. His salt and pepper hair with that tousled, just-ran-my-fingers-through-it look, which only added to his ruggedly handsome lure.

Every move Cristiano ever made had been executed with a sense of controlled grace, making it clear that he was a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted. I could feel his piercing gaze on me, silently challenging me to confront the truth, even as he remained indifferent.

My gaze lingered on his chiseled features, drawn to the intensity in his eyes. "I-I've already told you," I stammered, desperately trying to appease him... or perhaps just myself. I was truly only trying to salvage whatever remained of our connection, wanting to bridge the gap between us. But with a curt nod and a firm line forming on his lips, he dismissed my words.

"If that's how you want to play it, then so be it," he declared, his voice dripping with authority. Without sparing me a second glance, he turned swiftly and walked out of the bedroom, leaving me bound and abandoned on the bed.

My heart sank as I watched him leave, his retreating figure casting a shadow over my bound body. Again, I tugged at the restraints with all my might, my muscles straining, desperate to free myself and chase after him, to demand some shred of understanding. My teeth gritted as I grunted, desperately seeking any slack, but the damn things held firm, reminding me of my powerlessness in this situation.

The echoes of his heavily departing footsteps in the hall gradually faded into stillness, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the inescapable reality of my predicament.

The silence enveloped me, broken only by the sound of my own uneven breaths. My mind raced with a hurricane of confusion and self-doubt. What the hell had happened between the time we went to sleep last night and him waking me up like this? Did Alessandro run his mouth?

Regret seeped into my core as the weight of seeing the pure disappointment in his eyes lingered, pressing down and nearly crushing me under its intensity. I hated myself for not being completely honest with him from the start but I also never wanted to have to tell him what I had done at all.

Tied to the bed, part of me yearned for him to return, for the opportunity to explain, to make amends. But another part was filled with apprehension, unsure if he would even care for the truth at this point. If the roles were reversed, I know I wouldn't.

Time ticked by, and my mind raced, replaying every interaction, every word spoken. The sound of my racing heartbeat echoed in my ears, a constant reminder of the tangled emotions swirling within me.

Minutes stretched into hours, and I remained motionless, the room now felt both stifling and empty, a stark contrast to the once intimate space we had shared. I was left alone with my thoughts—haunted by the daunting prospect of confronting my deepest fears head-on. Something I still was not sure that I was ready to do.

"Hell-lo-o-o-o?" I called out flatly after another passing hour, my voice was filled with slight boredom and a tinge of irritation. The clock on the nightstand served as a constant reminder of the time slipping away. If Cristiano was going to punish me I wished he would get it over with already. "I have to pee-e-e!" I desperately hoped he would hear me from wherever he had disappeared to, as the relentless pressure to relieve myself added to the already uncomfortable sensation of being bound to the bed.

"Please!" I begged some more, the desperation evident in my voice.

A few long moments later, I heard the click of the bedroom lock unlatching. My breath caught in my throat, and anticipation swelled within me as I awaited Cristiano's next move. Every fiber of my being was focused on that door, hoping to be freed from my restraints. Deep down, though, I knew better. He wasn't going to let me out anytime soon.

The sound of his approaching footsteps sent a shiver down my spine. Panic coursed through my veins and suddenly the urge to use the bathroom faded into the background as my focus shifted entirely to the man standing over my half-naked, tightly bound body.

I swallowed hard as I watched him silently place a black rectangular box onto the mattress, positioning it strategically between my forcefully parted legs. Confusion etched deep lines across my forehead as I noticed a long silver metal screw protruding from a circular cut-out in the front of the sleek contraption that was facing me. The sight intrigued me, still, unease tingled beneath my skin as I lay uncertain of what was to come next.

"Ready to talk, sub?" His stern voice broke the silence, devoid of any warmth or familiarity. His eyes remained fixed on the strange device between my thighs, his tone sharp. The air was heavy with his evident frustration, and I couldn't escape the fact that I was no longer his "Lorella" or even his "little girl." I had been reduced to a sub, and Cristiano... he was my Sir, my Dominant, a man to be obeyed and feared.

And fear him, I did.

"Cristiano..." My voice was but a whisper in the vast silence, heavy with longing and regret. His name suddenly tasted bitter on my tongue, a cruel reminder of how I screwed things up.

"No, Lola," he interjected, his voice as cold as his hardened glare flickered up to meet mine, silencing me instantly. The contrast in our dynamic was unmistakable. "You don't get to use that name anymore." My heart ached at his words, each syllable like a dagger piercing my already fragile heart.

"But..." I tried again, desperate to break through his impenetrable walls and I quickly corrected myself. "Sir, I-- I'm really not sure what you want me to say, that I haven't already..." I whispered, my words trembling slightly as I maintained eye contact with him.

A brief hint of something undecipherable flickered across his face, though his cold expression remained intact. It revealed nothing of his thoughts or intentions. "Shame," he replied, his tone firm and commanding, reinforcing the power imbalance between us. "You will in due time, sub."

As his voice echoed in the room, reinforcing the weight of his authority, a harsh reminder of our respective roles. I was the subordinate in this crucial game, a pawn, on a chessboard he had undoubtedly laid out for himself. His satisfaction, however brief, came as a blatant contradiction to the ice that typically dawdled in his eyes. It only served to heighten the unease coursing through my veins.

"Sir, I..." I began again, the words catching in my throat as his stare remained unyielding. I was at a loss, caught in the punishing grip of the unknown.

"Quiet," he cut me off once again, the single word a sledgehammer to my already shattered confidence—the quiet command in his tone leaving no room for my usual defiance. Without a word, he reached for a duffle bag that had been sitting unnoticed by me on the floor. With his back turned to me, he dropped it onto a bench-style ottoman at the end of the bed. My stomach churned, the dread welling up inside me like a dark, tangible thing.

With a brief glance over his shoulder, he directed his attention back to the bed, his eyes glinting with a resolve that made my veins pulse with intensity. "You will only speak when I permit it, sub," he declared, his voice dripping with an unsettling promise of what was to come. "And right now, you will learn the consequences of breaking the rules."

Nodding, even though he couldn't see, I braced myself, preparing for what was about to unfold. The cold dread of the unknown swallowed me whole, and I was left wishing for the man I used to know, hoping that beneath this harsh exterior, there still remained the caring Cristiano I had fallen for.

"Are you scared, little sub?" His words floated in the tension-laden silence, so distant, so cold. It was as though he was speaking to a stranger, not me, not his Lorella. "Speak."

"Uh, yes... A little bit, Sir," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper—my gaze fixed on the back of his head. I wanted him to understand, to hear the need and desperation in my voice.

"Hm. Only a little?" He mused, his tone dripping with derision as he continued to rummage through the medium-sized black leather bag in front of him. His back was still to me, obstructing my view of what he was doing, and My heart thudded forcefully in my chest, its rhythm erratic with the surge of dread that threatened to consume me alive.

"Sir, I'm...I'm still not sure what you want from me," I repeated, my voice shaky with uncertainty. The silence that ensued was punctuated by the distant ticking of the clock, each second passing like an eternity. Cristiano remained silent, his figure tense as he fidgeted with the mysterious object in his hands and I could see a smirk playing on his lips from the side of his face.

"It's simple," he finally said—his voice chillingly steady. "I want the truth from you."

And just like that I felt a sudden constriction in my lungs, the weight of his demand pressing down on me like a ton of bricks. The truth. The very thing I had been running away from all this time because not even I wanted to face that part. Or any part for that matter.

Cristiano eventually turned back to face me, and I sucked in a sharp breath, finally getting a glimpse of what he held in his hands. He was grasping onto a flogger with long, menacing leather tails adorned with small pointed metal clips at the ends. The sight sent a chill coursing through my veins, the cold fear and anticipation rendering me speechless. And yet, that didn't stop a wave of heat from rushing through me as he lay it on the mattress at the foot of the bed—still positioned between my parted legs.

Once again, his focus returned to the duffle bag, his movements precise and calculated as he began to pull out various items, laying them at the foot of the bed next to the flogger and below the black mechanical box. My breath hitched in my throat, and my toes wiggled curiously as I took in the sight of each one, their implications clear. Each item held a promise of pain, and, surprisingly, a spark of arousal.

I swallowed hard, an uneasy silence settling between us as he methodically arranged his tools. Each clink of metal, each light thud of leather hitting the soft surface of the mattress only served to amplify the mix of fear and lust gnawing at my insides. The contrast was overwhelming, the boundary between pleasure and pain blurring in my mind as I awaited Cristiano's next move.

"Remember your safeword," Cristiano instructed, his voice cold—still completely emotionless. It was a clear reminder of our roles and the power he wielded over me.

"Cashew," I whispered more to myself than anyone else, the familiar word tasting strange on my lips in the current context.

"See... little, sub," he responded. "You are capable of getting something right with me." The coldness in his voice hit me like a physical blow. I felt my stomach tighten, the sheer impassiveness of his tone cutting through me. I had always enjoyed our struggle for power, and the thrill of eventually surrendering to his control, but this... this felt different.

This felt... real, and more terrifying than any of our previous scenes together.

My eyes widened at the sight of the large assortment of vibrators laid out beside the row of whips, floggers, gags, cuffs, a copper spreader bar, and a small, dark cylindrical object I didn't recognize. The sight of the toys laid out so deliberately made me want to pull my legs together, but the golden rope lacing me up prevented any movement.

Each of the thick, veiny-lifelike cocks he took out were methodically arranged side by side on the bed. They were steely and intimidating, of all shapes and skin tones, each one bigger and more frightening than the last, causing me to ache already.

And then, Cristiano was moving around the bed. Coming closer. Each step was measured, echoing dangerously in the room, his shoes clicking against the floor. My core tightened as he towered over me and his hands reached for the restraints on my wrists, tightening them slightly, ensuring there would be no escape.

"No blindfold," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. I looked up at him, the request – or rather, the absence of one – startling me. His gaze was steady, unreadable. "You are going to see everything I'm going to do to you, sub."

The command sent a chill down my spine.

"Understood, Sir," I managed to whisper, the unease in my voice as tangible as the fear and arousal coursing through my veins.

"You can start anytime you're ready," he continued, his tone void of any emotion. The reality of the situation hit me hard, and I felt a lump form in my throat as I desperately tried to compose myself.

"I-I..." My voice trailed off, the entirety of my existence thundered, beating harshly in my ears. Cristiano's eyes were fixated on me, a predator stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Yes?"

His cold, stern gaze held me in place, a statue frozen in fear. My mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions, the words I needed to say forming and dissolving in an endless cycle because I didn't even know where to begin.

"Speak, Lola," he commanded, his husky voice echoing around the room. Once again, I opened my mouth to respond, but the words were lodged in my throat, held captive by the overwhelming uneasiness that consumed me. I took a shaky breath, feeling the pressure of his expectant gaze, waiting, always waiting.

"Now."

Suddenly frustration surged through me and I couldn't help but snarl at him. "I'm not a child, Cristiano," I bit back, using his name instead of the title he expected. It was a small act of defiance, but one that I hoped would remind him of who I was – of why he even wanted me in the first place.

His eyes snapped back to mine, a glimmer of intrigue flashing through his aloof demeanor. Though he was quick to hide it, his features almost immediately settled back into their cold, impassive guise. "That's Sir to you, sub," he retorted, his words clipped.

I swallowed hard, the taste of fear bitter on my tongue. I wanted to apologize, to submit, to somehow make things right between us again. But the words caught in my throat, dying before they could even form.

Silently, I nodded, acknowledging his correction, even as a part of me resisted. My gaze fell back to the strange device on the bed, its presence sending a shiver of anxiety through me. My heart pounded harder in my chest, the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

But he didn't look up, his focus solely on his preparations at the end of the bed. The cold mask of authority remained firmly in place, his detachment a painful contrast to the warmth I had once known.

I was aching, not from the physical restraints, but from the emotional chains that were wrapping around my heart. I wanted to scream. But I held back, the dread of pushing him further away—silencing me.

A tear slid down my cheek and I flinched involuntarily as I heard the metallic sound of something being drawn from the bag, its clinking resonating uncannily in the room. My pulse quickened and I forced myself to look at him, my breath hitched in anticipation.

I gasped when he lifted a shiny silver collar, holding it up between us. The cold metal glinted menacingly under the harsh room light, sending another shiver down my spine. He leisurely moved towards the bed, the ominous sound of his steps echoing in my ears. I tried to swallow the lump that had formed in my throat, but the uncertainty of his actions had rendered me numb, paralyzed with curiosity.

As he neared, he let the collar dangle from his hand, the links of the chain clinking softly with each step he took closer—each sound shooting a wave of anxiety through my body.

"Look at me, sub," Cristiano commanded, the authority rang deep within his voice, making me clench with desire despite my current situation. But I had no choice but to obey. Lifting my gaze to meet his, I felt a sudden wave of heat ripple through my body.

He moved even closer, the necklace now within my clear view. It was a symbol of his control, a symbol of my submission. A harsh reminder of the game we were playing. A shiver ran through me and a traitorous slick moisture pool between my thighs as he reached out, the cold metal brushing against my skin, making me gasp as a shiver rolled through me. I could feel my heartbeat echoing in the silence of the room, my senses heightened with fear and anticipation.

His rough fingertips brushed against my delicate neck, eliciting a shudder that I could not suppress, unlike with the moan that threatened to leave my lips as I bit down on them. He took his time, his movements deliberate as he fastened the choker around my neck, the metallic click echoing ominously in the room. I squeezed my eyes shut, the weight of the collar a constant reminder of the reality I found myself in.

"Now," he began, his voice breaking the deafening silence, "We're going to start this conversation again. And this time, you will answer my questions, won't you, sub?" His finger traced a path down my neck before circling around my nipple that was pressing through a shirt of his that I fell asleep last night. I inhaled sharply, the sensation heightened by the soft thin fabric of the white tee against my sensitive skin.

"Y-Yes, sir," I stammered, my voice hardly audible.

A shadow of a smile danced on his lips, and for a fleeting moment, I caught a glimpse of the man I had once known. His frigid facade cracked, revealing a flicker of something more human, more familiar. But the moment was short-lived, and the steel mask swiftly fell back into place, leaving me yearning for the man who was now a stranger.

"Good," he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine as he began to tease my pert nipples, taking them between his fingers. The touch sent sparks of pleasure coursing through my body, and I instinctively arched into his slight caress. But just as I sought more, he withdrew his hand and walked away, leaving me longing for his barely-there touch once again.

Cristiano moved back to the end of the bed, his eyes lingering on each item he had laid out before me. I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry as I watched his fingers glide over the surface of the toys. I became torn between my fear and the undercurrent of desire that swirled beneath the surface. He was a paradox I couldn't comprehend, a contradiction that left me breathless and aching for more—regardless of how I got it.

The silence stretched between us, a chasm filled with unspoken words and stifled emotions. I was unsure if I would be able to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that I had placed there, because I was powerless. Bound and stripped nearly bare, both physically and emotionally, I was at Cristiano Luna's mercy.

And it terrified me.

ツ     hope   you enjoyed  it.

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