Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 36 Well Deserved Punishment

Chapter 36: 36 Well Deserved Punishment

Lara POV

I ran for the door.

Emmanuel dodged with terrifying precision, turning his body just enough with perfect economy of movement.

The gunshot cracked like thunder in the enclosed penthouse, the bullet flying over his shoulder and shattering the glass of the framed abstract painting behind him.

The explosion of sound reverberated through the room and up my arm, the recoil jolting painfully through my wrists.

Emmanuel’s expression changed, turning darker and more dangerous.

I didn’t wait. I hurtled down the hallway as fast as my bare feet could carry me, the oversized white shirt flapping around my thighs. The glossy hardwood floor was cold and slippery beneath me.

I aimed for the elevator lobby. The elevator might be locked, but there were stairs—there had to be stairs.

Heavy footsteps thundered behind me, closing in fast.

I didn’t look back, that would only slow me down.

I burst through the hallway— skidded through the expansive living area with its towering windows and sleek furniture, and into the elevator lobby—

Strong arms suddenly wrapped around my waist like steel bands, yanking me backward and slamming me down to the floor.

I shrieked, the impact jarring through my bones.

"Let go of me!"

One sharp, precise press against the side of my wrist sent a white-hot flare of pain shooting up my arm. My fingers spasmed.

The gun clattered loudly onto the marble, spinning away across the polished stone.

I lunged desperately for it, but Emmanuel batted it farther out of reach with a single swipe.

I fought hard against him, adrenaline rushing through my veins, bringing my knee up hard to kick him between the legs.

Emmanuel let out a low, pained grunt. A sharp thrill of victory shot through me.

But it was short-lived.

In the next heartbeat, he had my legs pinned beneath his weight. He flipped me face-down onto the cold marble, wrenching my arms behind my back and locking them in an iron grip.

His solid, heavy body pressed down on the backs of my thighs, one large hand pinning my wrists to the small of my back while the other gripped the nape of my neck, forcing my cheek against the floor.

I squirmed, but I couldn’t move an inch.

A frustrated whine escaped my throat.

"You. Foolish. Girl."

The crushing weight lifted from the back of my neck. Instead, rough fingers yanked the hem of his shirt up over my hips, baring my ass completely to the cool air.

SMACK! SMACK!

Red-hot pain exploded across my flesh. These were not teasing swats—they were full-force, punishing strikes that left my skin burning and stinging fiercely.

"Ow—"

"Does that hurt?" Emmanuel’s voice was cutting, merciless. "It had better hurt."

There was the metallic clink of a belt buckle.

I craned my head around to see Emmanuel tugging his black leather belt free from his belt loops. Still holding my wrists behind my back, he wrapped the belt around the middle of my thighs and tightened it until I couldn’t part my legs.

Then— the ground lurched.

He hauled me up and threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.

Blood rushed to my head as the hallway I had just sprinted through blurred past in reverse. A few seconds later, I was tossed unceremoniously onto the massive bed in his bedroom. I bounced on the silk sheets, gasping.

I fisted my hands in the sheets and pushed myself upright.

"Stay there," he said curtly.

His broad shoulders disappeared into the walk in closet. He came out with a large black box in his hands.

Flicking open the lid, he pulled out first a thick coil of black rope.

Without a word, he dragged my wrists behind my back again and bound them tightly. Then he did the same to my ankles. The rope was smooth but unforgiving, digging into my skin just enough to remind me of my helplessness.

Emmanuel left me there—trussed up on his bed like a prize—and disappeared from the room.

I squirmed slightly against the ropes holding me — my wrists trussed up behind my back, ankles tied, the belt at my thighs keeping my legs together. I felt like a fish writhing on a hook.

The adrenaline that filled me from the mad chase started to sizzle away, curls of trepidation licking my insides.

He caught me again.

Even with my best efforts against him, it was utterly futile.

The only thing I had managed to do was destroy a corner of his bedroom. The painting that I had hit was cracked and hanging precariously, white flakes of drywall scattering the once-pristine hardwood floors.

Before long, Emmanuel stepped back inside the bedroom with the gun in his hand.

Looking at me with a severe expression, he unloaded it with practiced ease, five bullets rolling out onto his palm. He put the bullets on top of his bedside table, balanced vertically, one after another, evenly distanced.

Then he put the gun back together and stepped up to the bed.

He straddled me and tapped the barrel of the gun against my cheek, lightly, mockingly.

"My, my," he said. "You really do love playing with fire, don’t you?"

I didn’t answer. I turned my head away.

He turned my head back with a finger on my chin.

"Apologize," he ordered.

"No," I spat.

Emmanuel did not look surprised. In fact, for a moment he looked almost fond.

"I suppose you want a proper punishment, then, hm?"

He bent and reached for the black box of toys. He held up a piece of oblong black silicone, and shoved it between my teeth. It had two pieces of soft ribbon so that it could be tied around the head.

Emmanuel did not tie it back, though, leaving the ribbons trailing from the side of my lips.

"Bite that," he said. "Until you have learned your lesson, and are ready to apologize properly for your behavior."

With that, he dragged me face down over his lap.

"We’ll start with my hand."

A large hand stroked over the bare globes of my ass, a deliberate, gentle caress that ignited all the nerve endings and put them on edge.

Was he really going to spank me over his knee like a naughty schoolgirl, for playing with his gun?

A wave of humiliation washed over me. I bit down hard on the black silicone gag.

"I would expect you to count, but since you are being difficult, this time, I will do it for you."

SMACK!

"One."

SMACK"

"Two."

...

SMACK!

"Twenty."

I tried not to make a sound, but it was growing more and more difficult. Every smack came down hard and heavy, layering over the previous one, driving up the blistering heat.

I hid my face in the sheets, drool spilling out of the side of my lips as I kept biting down on the gag.

After every few smacks, Emmanuel would pause and play with my ass for a while. He stroked and kneaded the heated, bruised flesh, pulling the cheeks apart. He blew cool air onto me, giving a moment of soothing relief, only to come down again with an even harder smack.

Now, he dragged one fingertip slowly down the crease of my ass, lingering for a moment to circle my asshole, then down further.

"Hmmm—" he let out a low, amused sound.