It turns me on, that look, but it also awakens another kind of hunger in me. A darker, more perverse need. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the belt from my jeans lying on the floor. Picking it up, I wind the buckle end around my right hand and approach the bed.

Nora doesn’t move, though I can see the anxious tension in her body. My lips twitch. Such a good girl. She knows it would go worse for her if she resists. Of course, by now she also knows that I will temper her pain with pleasure, that she will derive enjoyment from this too.

Pausing at the edge of the bed, I extend my free hand and trail my fingers along her spine. She trembles under my touch, a reaction that sends dark excitement surging through me. This is exactly what I want, what I need—this deep, twisted connection that exists between us. I want to drink in her fear, her pain. I want to hear her screams, feel her helpless struggles—and then have her melt in my arms as I bring her to ecstasy again and again.

For some reason, this small girl brings out the worst in me, makes me forget whatever shreds of morality I possess. She’s the only woman I’ve ever forced into my bed, the only one I’ve wanted this much… and in such a wrong way. Having her here, at my mercy, is beyond heady—it’s the most powerful drug I’ve ever tasted. I’ve never felt this way about another human being before, and the knowledge that she’s mine, that I can do anything I want to her, is a rush unlike any other. With all those other women, it was a game we played, a way to scratch a mutual itch, but with Nora, it’s different. With her, it’s something more.

“Beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the soft skin of her thighs and buttocks. Soon it will be marked, but for now I’m enjoying its smoothness. “So very, very beautiful…” Bending over her, I press a gentle kiss to the base of her spine, inhaling her warm female scent and letting the anticipation build. A shiver ripples through her, and I smile, adrenaline surging through my veins.

Straightening, I take a step back and swing the belt.

I don’t use a lot of force, but she still jumps when the belt lands on the round globes of her ass, a soft whimper escaping her lips. She doesn’t try to move or crawl away; instead her small fists grip the sheets tightly, and her eyes squeeze shut. I swing harder a second time, then again and again, my movements taking on a hypnotic, trance-like rhythm. With each stroke of the belt, I sink deeper and deeper into the blackness, my world narrowing until all I see, all I hear, all I feel is her. The reddening of her tender flesh, the pained gasps and sobs that issue from her throat, the way her body quivers and trembles under each stroke of my belt—I drink it all in, letting it feed my addiction, soothe the desperate hunger gnawing at my insides.