Ana paused, keeping her back to him, her hands trembling against her dress. "I’m tired, Damian. I just want to sleep."
"You don’t get to run away after turning my father’s memorial into a personal battlefield," Damian said, his heavy, measured footsteps closing the distance between them.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t sound angry. His tone was far worse... it was the flat, unyielding authority of a man who owned every inch of her world and intended to remind her of it.
He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around her arm to turn her around to face him. His sharp, dark eyes swept over her wet eyelashes, her pale face, and the subtle shiver running through her frame.
"You embarrassed my family today, Anastasia," Damian growled low. "You slapped a guest under my mother’s roof, and then you dared to tell me who I should have married."
Ana swallowed hard, her throat burning, her pride too shattered to fight him back. "Damian, please..."
"Quiet," he commanded smoothly, his thumb pressing firmly into her chin, forcing her heavy gaze up to meet his cold, obsidian eyes. "You want to play the defiant wife? Then you will accept the consequences like one."
He took a slow step back, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his black dress shirt, his eyes never leaving her face.
"Strip."
The single word hung in the heavy, quiet air like a weighted chain.
Ana’s breath hitched in her chest, her dark eyes widening in shock. "What?"
"Take off the dress," Damian instructed, his tone chillingly detached, leaving zero room for negotiation. "Every piece of it. That is your punishment for creating a scene today. You will stand before me completely exposed, with nothing left to hide behind."
The humiliating weight of his command settled over her. Ana stood frozen for a long, agonizing second, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. She looked into his dark, unwavering eyes, searching for a trace of hesitation, but found only pure, unyielding dominance.
With trembling fingers, her pride completely disintegrating beneath his gaze, Ana reached behind her back to grip the cold metal zipper of her high-collared dress.
The long dress pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in the cool air wearing only her dark lace bra and panties. Her chest heaved, her heart hammering frantically against her ribs as she kept her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet his eyes.
"The rest, Anastasia," Damian’s voice sliced through the silence, cold and unyielding. "All of it."
A fresh wave of heat washed over her skin. A whirlwind of suffocating emotions battered her mind... the crushing pain of her past mistake, the bitter guilt, the lingering anger, and now, the raw, burning shame of standing so vulnerable before him.
Yet, as much as her pride screamed at her to refuse, her body simply obeyed.
She had signed the contract. She had bound herself to him completely. Beneath the sheer weight of her guilt, a strange, undeniable thread of dark comfort ran through her surrender... a physical punishment to match the emotional torment tearing her apart inside.
With trembling fingers, she unhooked her bra, letting it drop to the floor, followed immediately by her panties.
She stood completely bare, her pale skin shivering under the dim lights, her arms instinctively trying to cover her chest.
"Hands at your sides," Damian commanded smoothly. He moved away from her, walking toward the sprawling leather couch in the center of the room. He sat down, leaning back like a dark, ruthless king surveying his most prized, captive possession. He patted his firm thigh with one heavy hand.
"Come here. Walk to me."
Ana’s breath caught in her throat, but she took slow, hesitant steps across the hardwood floor until she was standing right in front of him.
Before she could speak, Damian’s long arm shot out, grabbing her by the waist. In one swift, effortless motion, he pulled her over his lap.
Ana gasped in utter shock as her vision tilted. Her bare stomach was pressed against his hard, clothed thighs, her chest suspended over the edge of the couch, and her lower half raised completely exposed for him.
"Damian... no, please... " she choked out, her instincts flaring as she began to wriggle frantically, trying to twist out of his iron grip.
"Don’t move," Damian growled low against her ear, his large hand coming down to pin her lower back flat against him with unyielding strength. She was completely locked in place. "You will stay right here and take your punishment like a good wife."
He rested his broad palm against the cool curve of her bare skin, his thumb stroking a slow, possessive line that sent a sudden shiver straight down her spine.
"You will count every single stroke out loud," Damian instructed, his tone chillingly calm. "Clear and loud, Anastasia. You miss a number, we start over. Ten."
"Damian, please don’t..."
Spank.
The heavy, stinging impact of his broad palm against her bare skin cut her off instantly.
A sharp gasp tore from her throat, and hot tears of sheer shame spilled over her eyelashes, soaking into the leather of the couch. The bite of his hand left a searing, white-hot ring of heat behind.
"Count," he ordered, his grip tightening on her hip.
"O-One..." she sobbed, her voice cracking, her body trembling under the humiliating sting.
Spank.
"Two!" she cried out, her fingers digging desperately into the leather cushions.
Spank.
"Three..."
By the fifth strike, something inside the atmosphere shifted violently.
The initial terror and burning humiliation began to blur. The agonizing emotional weight she had been carrying all day... the guilt, the secrets, the suffocating grief... seemed to get consumed by the sharp, intense reality of his hands on her skin.
Crack.
"Six..." Ana gasped, her head rolling back.
Her breath wasn’t ragged from fear anymore; it was coming in shallow, heavy hitches. The sharp, rhythmic sting on her bare skin was turning into a deep, throbbing ache... a heavy, electrical warmth that pooled straight down into the pit of her stomach.
Spank.
"Seven..." she whined, her hips involuntarily twitching up into his hand, seeking the very heat that was burning her.
Her skin was buzzing, every nerve ending with sensitivity. The overwhelming shame was rapidly melting into a dark, intoxicating tide of raw arousal. She was drowning in the sheer, inescapable sensation of his dominance over her body.
Spank.
"Eight..." she panted, her voice dropping into a breathless, needy moan.
Spank.
"Nine..." Her chest heaved, her inner thighs slick and aching, completely consumed by the fire he was stoking with every strike.
Spank.
"T-Ten..."
The final strike echoed in the quiet room, leaving her breathless, her body trembling violently over his lap. Her skin was flushed, hot, and tingling, every inch of her completely surrendered to him.
Damian’s broad hand didn’t pull away. Instead, he smoothed his large, warm palm over the fiery, sensitive skin of her bottom, soothing the sting with a possessive, heavy pressure that made Ana let out a low, shuddering whimper.
Damian’s large hands locked onto her hips, effortlessly lifting her shivering, sensitized body off his lap and pivoting her around.
Before Ana could catch her breath, he pulled her down to straddle him, forcing her bare thighs to wrap tightly around his waist.
He was throbbing and fully aroused beneath his trousers, his own dark composure fraying at the edges as he took in the sight of her... flushed, breathless, her eyes glassy with tears, completely undone by his hands.
His broad palm cupped her face, his calloused thumb gently wiping away the hot tears lingering on her cheeks. His touch moved lower, tracing the swollen, parted curve of her lower lip with a heavy, deliberate pressure.
His dark eyes turned pitch-black, swimming with a dangerous, ancient possessiveness. As if possessed by the sheer weight of his hunger for her, a low, vibrating growl tore from his chest...
"Mine!"
Before the word could even fade into the quiet room, Damian crashed his lips onto hers in a fierce, dominating kiss.
Ana gasped into his mouth, a shiver running down her spine. The lingering shame and guilt instantly dissolved, replaced by a consuming fire.
She buried her fingers tightly into the fabric of his dark dress shirt, pulling him closer, surrendering completely to the intoxicating violence of his mouth.
Damian shifted her weight, anchoring her against his broad chest as his lips broke from hers to trail down her jawline. He bit into the soft, sensitive slope of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave dark, undeniable marks against her pale skin.
"D-Damian..." she whimpered, arching her back as his mouth traveled lower, tracing the burning trail down to her bare chest.
His heavy hands cupped the full curves of her breasts, his long fingers pressing into her soft flesh with a firm, possessive grip. He leaned down, capturing one hardened peak in his mouth, squeezing and sucking with a rhythmic, ruthless intensity that made her toes curl.
"They perfectly fit in my hands," Damian snarked darkly against her wet skin, his hot breath fanning over her nipple before drawing it back into his mouth, "as if made just for me."
Ana let out a breathless, helpless moan, her fingers tangling in his dark hair, completely lost in the overload sensation tearing through her body.
Damian pulled back slightly, his chest heaving, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, unyielding intensity that burned straight into her soul.
"You were made for me," he growled, his voice a low, terrifying thread of absolute truth. "And me only."
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