Love & Exorcisms | 18+ | COMPLETE |

- Chapter 35 -

Damian's gloved hand was not as vicious a punishing implement as the cane, but the burn came swiftly and steadily nonetheless. I tried not to squirm, if only because of the tight way he held me. He would feel my every wiggle, he would be immediately aware if I so much as twitched in discomfort. I was determined to remain stoic, but the pace he set with his hand was brutally consistent. There was not even a moment to draw breath between each slap, and the crack of the leather seemed unbearably loud. I thought of Octavio hearing it...or Rachel. I wondered if they would revel knowing that I was being punished for what I'd done...the thought made my insides turn to utter mush.

Humiliation was both delicious and terrible.

With a resounding spank that made a squeal rise up in my throat - but luckily not escape - Damian paused and I felt the movement of him reaching up to push back his unruly hair. "Now then, Samara," he said. "Let us try again: why are you in this position?"

Another rude response rose up in me, but this time I resisted it. I drew in a shaky breath to steady my voice and said, "Because I was cruel to Octavio and Rachel. I hurt them and they didn't deserve it."

"Very right you are," he said, and punctuated it with a sharp spank right at the curve between my thigh and cheek. That got a whimper out of me, and it also made me stomp my foot in frustration. He laughed. "Ah, so that's where the sting is, hm? Right there?" Again he aimed right for that tender spot, and again, and again. I managed to stifle myself the first time, but at the second and third I yelped at each and began to growl and squirm and mutter rapid curses.

"Now, Samara," Damian said reproachfully. "Such foul language. Do you think I can allow that kind of disrespect?"

I told him exactly where he could shove his "allowances" and was met with a particularly nasty predicament. He shifted his position, moving the leg on which I rested higher upon the desk and thereby moving me upwards enough that my feet no longer touched the ground. Thus maneuvered, that wicked spot he'd found a fondness for was all the more exposed and he began to set fire to it with a determination that made my breath catch-

Before I released it in the most furious string of curses, yelps, and indignant whines.

All my struggling and noise was for nothing. Damian was immoveable, and with every squirm of mine the grasp of his arm around my waist only tightened. My flesh was burning, and the longer it went on the deeper my mind sank into a strangely calm place: my efforts to remain unbothered no longer mattered. My desire to replace contrition with anger simply vanished. For all the stinging pain my body felt light. My every limb tingled. I felt more connected to my own bodily sensations than ever before. Instead of furious snarls my cries became simply that: cries of primal pain, of endurance. I did not feel afraid. I did not feel angry or sad or guilty anymore. I could focus on little else save the strength in Damian's body and the incredible feeling of acceptance.

When he stopped, it was only after I'd ceased struggling. He did not immediately remove his arm to let me up, nor did I make an attempt to move. I lay there limp as a newborn kitten, surprised to realize my face was damp with tears. Yet I felt nothing but elation. Weariness was descending once more but even that mattered little. I felt human again. I felt as if the voices had been beaten out of existence.

"Samara?" I gave a little whine in response. "How are you?"

He began to pull me up, so that I stood dizzily on my feet, blinking tiredly. With the closeness between us broken, I somehow felt embarrassed again, as if I had left that safe space he had provided and had to once more assemble my mask. But the walls that had surrounded me lay in a heap of crumbling brick, and my backside was stinging far too much to manage to put them back up again.