Her protestations only make me more angry. Moments ago she had claimed to miss ‘us.’ Which was bullshit. If that was true, she wouldn’t have left. She wouldn’t have not told me that I had a son.

“Yeah?” I ask as I survey the basement for something I can work with. Earlier, I had her wrists tied to the exposed pipes above. It must have killed her feet to have to stand in the heels she’s wearing. I remember how she hated wearing high heels, which she deemed misogynistic. So it’s her own damn fault for wearing them now.

She turns her head to look at me. “I wasn’t that interested.”

“Not interested? That’s why you got all dressed up for him, why you’re wearing lacy panties.” I walk over to where her ass rounds the edge of the table and sink my fingers into a lush sphere. “How far were you planning to go with him?”

“I wasn’t!”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Bridge.”

“I’m not!”

I shake her ass to rattle the Ben Wa balls still in her pussy before slapping a cheek. “Lying is going to get you a serious punishment.”

“What about what you’re doing? Kidnapping and…”

“And what?”

She hesitates before spitting out, “And sexual torment.”

“Torment?” I echo. “I thought you missed this. You said you missed all the crazy shit I did to your body. Or was that a fucking lie?”

She lowers her gaze. “It wasn’t.”

“And you came just now. With my cock buried in your ass.” I slide my hand between her thighs. The wetness there makes my head spin. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re just racking up the punishments.”

Even though her arms are stretched in front of her because her wrists are secured to a leg of the table, her shoulders seem to sag.

“I forgot our rules. I’m sorry, sir.”

Sorry doesn’t cut it anymore.

I saunter over to a suitcase I had Marshall bring down to me. I review the BDSM paraphernalia inside and ask, “So what punishment do you want to start with?”